Keepin' It Real

Remember when you were younger and teeter totters weren't illegal in playgrounds and you'd stand with one foot on either side of the middle and balance?
Remember how much fun playgrounds used to be, in spite of their imminent danger?

Maintaining weight is a little bit like that.
It's pretty difficult to stay perfectly balanced, but like a teeter totter, you can easily keep either side from hitting the ground.

I've been maintaining for about a month now and quite enjoying it.
I'm not in my "ideal" body, but I'm taking a break and practicing for what will be my life when I do get there.

I've never really stopped to think about that.
The fact that there are a million plus ways to lose weight, and God only knows everyone knows exactly how to gain weight, but there's not a whole lotta love for the maintainers.

I was looking for a nutrition coach because I felt, and still feel, that when I'm ready to take this body further, a coach is what I will need.

I was going a million miles, thinking that any minute now my body would reveal all the hard work I'd put into it, and when I wasn't seeing the vision in the mirror I've been hoping for, I wasn't disappointed but rather motivated.

But I know myself and I knew that this was heading to a bad place.
A place where if I went all in, and failed, that I might end up with 50 or more extra pounds due to frustration.

I'm not going back to where I was, ever.
And since I'll be maintaining for the rest of my life, why not take a break and "practice"?

It's quite a lot easier to maintain than it is to lose, but it's difficult in ways I couldn't imagine.

I'm not stepping on my scale, which is a whole other level of freedom I never knew I needed.
I'm letting my (new) clothes tell the story.

I also know that I'm not more than 5 pounds from my original goal weight at any given time because I do weigh once a week.

I get to have a little more flexibility in my diet.
I get to eat a couple of extra "mini" cheats during the week.
Salted.  Caramel.  Timbits.
Uh huh.
They da' bomb.

I think I'm coming close to feeling ready to continue on and change my body a little bit more, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared of how I will look with 10 fewer pounds.
Will anything even change?  Or will my belly just get more wrinkly?

If you'd have shown me a picture of how I would look at this weight, 6 months ago, I'd probably have been ecstatic, but now that I'm here, I'm sad.

Are we ever truly happy with our bodies?
Am I allowed to be let down by my body?
Am I allowed also to know that it can do amazing things and appreciate it, but also be deflated a little at the hard work that has resulted in this?

I'm entitled to feel how I feel, and I'm being completely honest, although I know it can be frustrating to hear someone who's a little bit or a lot smaller than you, complain about how they look.

That used to be me.
But I am trying to be transparent and paint a picture of the weight loss struggle that isn't all rose-colored glasses.

I bought another bikini.
I think I've got four now.
I'm planning to wear the hell outta' them this summer because, well, shit, I've got three kids and I think I look pretty darn okay in a bikini at this stage of my life!

My arms are looking more muscular, and I'm quite sure if you look waaaaaaaaaaaay up at the top of my midsection you might see a glimmer of ab definition.

Last week, on the eve of my last baby's first birthday, I was at the gym and I grew a few tears in my eyes as our arses were being handed to us in killer workout, because I have never been so strong, fit, or capable in my life.
My last kid is turning one and here I am, keeping up with, and sometimes on par with,  some seriously phenomenal athletes.
Not even one year ago I had still been pregnant, and yet here I was, killing the workout with no modifications.  None.  Just doing it.  Like everyone else.

A very real concern for me, is what am I going to do?!?!
Do I want to gain muscle?  Run marathons? Triathlons? Crush PRs?

I'm not even sure, and it's overwhelming to try and decide what my goals will be, while letting others fall to the wayside, but it's also exciting to think that I can truly do anything I want to with this body.

Chasing 5:40

I ran my 12th half marathon a couple of weeks ago.
Not to toot my own horn, but I'm getting pretty good at them!

I haven't trained as much as I'd like, which was a choice, but I still felt good.

I still made a goal for myself, and I smashed it.

I'd decided that I wanted to do better than 2:15, and I was pretty sure I could do around 2:10.
I did a 2:08:47.

What was frustrating about that particular experience, was that my first 10k took me 1:05.
That means, the second 10k, and an additional 1.1km took me 1:03.
Negative splits, or, running faster in the second half, is a good thing, but this race wasn't evenly matched.

Boo.

I could have, and should have been closer to 2:00.
Next time.

But it's OK.
I've learned not to beat myself up, because I will most definitely have another opportunity to be faster.
A 5:40min kilometre will get me a sub 2hr half.

I've known this for quite some time and I want it soooooooooo badly.

I'll get there, because I've made a goal of it, and I'll make a plan for it.

But I also make goals within goals, and mini goals.

I virtually have a goal every day, be it for a workout or in my everyday job as a Mom, and often, both.
See, like today, I'd like to not yell so much.
It's hard.
Really hard.
And I didn't even aspire to not yell at all.
Just not so much as I usually do.

When I walk into the gym and we get started on the workout, often we'll know approximately how much time it will take.
I always choose a person in the class to keep up to.
And I often make mini-goals within the workout, which has seen me through some very trying sets.
It's made me stronger, and it's proven to me how resilient I really can be.

Also, I workout with some strong, fast motherf*ckers and it makes me crazy proud to see them crushing goals too.

I've looked at our family schedule for the next month and I can't make it fit an extra workout in, but come mid June I'm going to take a month and do 12 classes a month, or 3 a week, instead of 2.

I am friggin' jacked about this!

I'm excited to see how my body/running/life will change and I'm really starting to enjoy the gym.
I truly don't have an end goal in mind, but I'm damn sure I'll have some along the way.

This guy.
Right here.
Cracks us up and completed our family.

Totally unrelated to my post, but I thought I'd share a pic of my littlest when he was 5 days old.
He turns one in two days and I'm sure I'll be a blubbering mess, as it's the last, 1st birthday we'll celebrate.
He's such a beauty, isn't he?

Today, I'm Wearing Mascara.

Y'know how some days are just not Friday enough?
It's Thursday.
The most frustrating day of the week.
Alllllllllllllmost there...but not quite, sucker!!

From the moment my beautiful children got up today, the first sweet things out of their mouths were whining and screaming.
Yay.
"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!  I WANCHOOOOOO!"
"I no want enfing fo bekfest."
"I'm tired of school!  Why do I haaaaaave to go?!"
There was also a crying baby in the background, because no day is complete until everyone is crying.
All at once.

I could actually visualize a me-shaped hole in the wall where I was planning to run through it to escape.
And then I had to suck the boogs out of someones head and the tiny paper filter who's ONLY job it is to keep those boogs out of my mouth, failed.
Friggin' gross.

Also, I've got dried, crusted oatmeal on my shirt - which isn't a huge deal, except that I don't actually put real pants on everyday, and when you put real pants on, you have to put on a nice(ish) shirt, and so I did, and then when I was feeding my almost-one-year-old, he gave me a big smooch with his oatmeal face.
On my chest.

Can't complain too hard about that because it was super cute when he dive bombed me with affection.

Damn kids!

I need an escape.
I need a workout.
But I'm not scheduled to have another one til next week and it's too cold to pack these guys up and go running...
OHMIGOD!!!
*sigh*
Deep breaths.
We will get through this!
Sober!  Workout-free!

GAH!  My middle literally just came upstairs from where she was decompressing in front of the TV and reached her little face, complete with cracked and scabbed chapped lips, up for a kiss.
My heart is melting into a puddle.

And there ya have it.
The universe always comes through for me.

D'you think there's a kiss quota?
Like, can we kiss our kids too much?
'Cause I kiss mine a lot.
I'm talking, envision Pepe le Pew(sp?) smothering that poor cat while she's trying to pry him off of her.
It can be kinda like that.
What if I meet the quota?  And I can no longer smooch them?
I really, really hope there's no such thing.
Because I think all Momma's love to kiss their littles.

At least I never have to worry about getting lipstick on their faces.
Because I've never worn lipstick.

I don't actually wear makeup all too often.

I wear it so infrequently that my girls have no idea what to do with it.
Ellie, the middle one, will take an EOS lipbalm and apply it to her entire face.
You go girl.

I want for them to do whatever they like when the time comes that they are able to make the choice about makeup.
(Also, when is that time?  In my head, it's around 18, but I have a strange suspicion it's much sooner than that...)
If they want to experiment, cool.
If they want to go au natural, that's cool too.
If they never want to shave.
Ever.
That's alright.

But I can't say I don't worry about how the world will receive them based on what they choose.
There is no "right" way, and no matter how they'll choose to present themselves, they will be judged, and I hate thinking about that.

Do they get to judge others' appearances?
No way.  Nope.

I need to let that stressor go, because it's useless to worry about something that hasn't happened and even more useless in that I will have no control over that situation.

What I can control is how I teach them about beauty.
If you want to wear makeup, g'head!
It's fun!
But...do you have to wear makeup?
Of course not!
Do you have to fit a certain size to consider yourself beautiful?
No, no, no, no, NO!
Just be yourself, girls.
You are beautiful, just as you are.

They need to know that.
From us.
Forever.

I need to know that too.
For myself.