Nice to be Nice

We live in a world where more than ever, we are connected as friends, neighbors.
But in our real,day to day lives, more than ever, we live in a cutthroat, winner takes all world, where, really, no one is your friend.
We're not even nice in the most basic way to each other anymore.

We carefully sculpt beautiful, gleaming virtual lives on the world wide web, where, in real life, this world has become so angry.

I struggle to teach my children empathy, because the concept is so foreign.
"Why should I have to do anything for anyone else, when they're not doing anything for me?"

I'm trying to teach them that even though people are going to be mean to you, that sometimes you still need to be nice.  That we don't wait for someone to be kind first, because that may never happen.

I'm also trying to teach them that even though people might not be kind to you, or help you, that doesn't mean they're trying to hurt your feelings or take advantage of you.  They're simply trying to take care of themselves.

I'm finding this to be the most challenging thing about parenting.  Raising kids in a heavily virtual world, when in real life, self-destruction is happening all around them.
For this reason, I need them to rise even taller.
I need them to be kinder, softer, gentler than me.
I need them to understand that being nice is just that.
Being nice.

Not because you'll get something in return.
Not because you need to be better than anyone else.
Not because you're trying to accumulate some sort of mythical "point" to cash in on some other occasion.

Simply for the reason, that it's nice to be nice.

If I myself let in the bad, then my day can reflect the ugly stuff real, real quick.
Unfortunately, when I display that nasty meanness, my kids will bounce it right back to me.

It takes no damn time at all for every single person in our house to be upset.
And that sucks cojones.

It's very difficult to teach my children these difficult lessons when I myself have to fight so hard to maintain niceness.
I want to scream and shout and tell that sh*tty person that they're sh*tty.
The life lessons I struggle with most, are probably the most important for me to teach my kids.

The ones that come easy to me, will likely come easier to them.
If I can emulate good qualities, with ease, I can hope that one day, my kids will too.

It's these habits and traits that are so heavily influenced by the new ultra-connected world, that I need to work harder to instill in them.

Life is not fair.
It's so difficult to teach a tough lesson like that.
And even though life isn't fair, we need to be nice people anyways.
To everyone.
Especially the ones who are unkind to us.
Sometimes they're the ones who need it most.

One Year Ago

This time last year, I was resting to prep for the Goofy Race.

I remember sitting on the edge of the fountain in the lobby of the Coronado Springs hotel.

It was 3:30am and I was waiting for my Dad to show up in his costume, which I had yet to see.

I remember thinking that this was all a dream, and that this had been the loftiest goal I’d ever dreamed up.

How could it already be race morning?

Listening to Some Disney tunes...

How could it be possible, that just five short days ago, I thought I’d be running both races solo, with my lil family and my in laws at the finish line, and now, today, my Dad is running alongside me for the half marathon and will be waiting for me, with my Mom and everyone else after the marathon.

To say that the weekend was a dream come true would be a huge, huge understatement.

I dreamt up the goal more than a year before, but found myself unexpectedly pregnant instead, so when the time came to re-register for the following year, I was fully aware of the time it would take to train and the fact that the new baby would be just shy of 8 months old.

I am not a detail-oriented person, however, I am stubborn as a bull, and when I decide I’d like to pursue a goal, come hell or high water, I will accomplish it.

(Unless it involves giving up donuts.  I won't do that.  Nope.)

I was very, very emotional at the finish line.

3:33am.  January 10, 2015.

We look like a Disney Race poster, no?

My Dad comes into the lobby of the hotel wearing a Prince Charming costume that’s been combined with regular running gear to create, complete with white gloves, a beautiful and amazing costume.

On that day, as we rode the shuttle to the start line, waited in long ques for porta potties, where just steps away there were dozens of empty ones, and then made the long, long, very long, trek to our corral, my Dad got many shout outs for his costume.

I, in my very original Anna costume, got few.

To have a goal, an aspiration, and then to have your family stand alongside you, not only encouraging you, but even participating, has been something I’ve spent a year trying to put into words.

Best.  Running partner.  Ever.

I am a grown-ass woman.  I am a grown-ass woman with three kids and a husband, which I think gives me a few cred points in the game of attempting to adult.

And, yet, last year, I flew to Florida and then California, to run a half marathon in Disneyworld, and then Disneyland, with my Mom and Dad.

And it will forever be one of the most memorable years of my life.

How in the hell did I ever get so lucky, as to deserve all of this?

When resolution time rolls around, for many, many years, I had the same ones every year.

I want to lose weight.

*sits back, puts hands behind back and waits for this magical thing to just “occur”*

But for the first time ever, and with no relation to New Years whatsoever, I set out to run injury free, which I knew meant losing weight, because my body was suffering, having to carry 50 extra pounds, each time I set out to hit the pavement in my runners.

I want my kids to be proud.  I want them to say, for their whole lives, that their Mom is a runner.  An athlete.  An inspiration.

I want my husband to smile when he thinks of the obstacles I’ve faced, and be proud of the fact that none of the goals I set would be possible without him.

I want my Mom and Dad to be proud of me, and I know they are, because they’ll fly five timezones to be with me over the biggest running weekend I’ve ever embarked upon.

And most importantly, I want to make sure that I’m proud of me.

I want for New Years to come and go, and to make small, silly goals, because what I’m really thinking, is, how  can I possibly top THAT year?!?!

I want to come upon every January 1, and have not one regret for the year I lived before that.

It’s been around 18 months since I truly took control of my health, and to say that I only felt like I was living my life fully from then on would not be an exaggeration.

I remember getting dressed in my Mrs.Incredible costume on the morning of the marathon.  I felt very unsure of myself, and my feet were tired and beginning to blister, so I was already feeling a little bit defeated.  I was emotional.  I was fragile.  I was on the verge of crying during that entire, 5:00:12 race.  I DID cry.  Several times.  But more than that, and more than ever, I felt strong, invincible and capable of any-damn-thing.

I will forever cherish the memory of coming around the corner to see the giant inflatable Baymax character, and bursting into full, hyperventilating, ugly sobs.

It was around mile 20, which is when I truly find my grit during the marathon.  It gets hard.  And there’s many miles still to go.  But I'd already run so many.

Part one of two, and only 1/3 of the distance was complete.

Yikes.

So, so many tears.  Thank GOD for

fake lashes!

Big Hero 6 is a fleeting movie.  It will likely fade into my childrens’ memories, like many of their current obsessions do. It was not so much the character, but what it meant to me in that moment.

My little girl, who had just turned five, was waiting for me at the finish line.  My little girl, as well as her adoring little sister and their baby brother, who all have been the greatest motivators of my life.  Who have inspired me to be the best me I can be, were in love with this giant white character, and as if on cue, the corresponding song came on my iPod.  In that single moment, I was able to dig deep.  To dig beyond my most uncomfortable place, and carry through, strong through the finish line.

I was a warrior that day.

I am not an elite athlete.  I am just clinging to the back of the “mid pack”.

But my kids.  They think I’m a real life friggin’ super hero.

Only Kinda' Sorta' About Resolutions

Women's Health magazine has recently announced that it will no longer feature the words "bikini body", "drop two sizes" and other such phrases on their covers.  Not from print in the entire magazine, but from the cover, which is OK, because a small step in the right direction, is still a step.

For much of my life, I never dreamed of, or even had the desire to wear a bikini.
I had to stop for a minute last week, as I said to my Mom, "do you know where my black bikini is?  It's my favorite one?"

Not only have I started to buy and wear bikinis, but I have so many that I have a favorite one.
I do not, by any means have a perfect body, but I do have a bikini body.
As in, I put bikinis on my body.

I have two daughters and I cannot tell them to wear whatever they like, because they're beautiful, and then turn around and not wear what I like because I'm self conscious.

Actions speak louder, friends.

I am going to tell you something that will make you uncomfortable.

Do you want to have a bikini body?
Well, guess what, you already do!

If you have a body, then you have a bikini body.

We recently spent a week on vacation in Mexico and I wore a bikini every.  Single.  Day.
In a not-so-distant past, I would have written a self-deprecating sentence about having, by no uncertain means, a bikini body.
But I do.  I can wear a bikini.  I can freaking ROCK a bikini.
But it wasn't easy.
It was so difficult to do.
The first day.

After that, it actually wasn't difficult at all.

The first day I felt incredibly self conscious and I was certain everyone was judging me.
They were.

Then I had a few cocktails, and accepted the fact that I was being judged, (and, really, had I been wearing a one piece suit, I'd have been judged for that too, so...), and just embraced the fact that I was wearing a two piece swimsuit, alongside my girls, so they can know that the nicest thing a woman can wear is any-friggin'-thing she wants with a huge side o' self-confidence.

So, the uncomfortable bit?  If you feel your body isn't "worthy" of wearing something, you really should resolve to get over that.

I wear long pants and at minimum a t shirt to the gym.  My legs and arms shouldn't be seen.
But. truthfully, they look just fine, and I feel badass when I wear a tank to the gym.

However, this year, starting tomorrow, when I purge my workout gear of shitty superstore t shirts that are too big and hold onto sweat like sponges, I am going to wear workout gear that keeps me a)dry, b)mobile and, honestly, c)looks cute.

I've worked very hard for this body I live in, and although I want to take it somewhere different this year, right now, right this very second, it's worthy of any damn thing I want to put on it.
I know that the New Year can really rev our engines, and give us a bit of pep, but this second, any one of you who are reading this can and absolutely should be confident and proud.  If you want to change your bod this year, I support you wholly, BUT, your current one is pretty amaze-balls too, capiche?!

"I'm not going to go on vacation/join the gym/do anything new or challenging, until I've lost ___ lbs." That shit's bonkers, so seriously, know that you're worthy of anything you want.  Right now.

And, in my humble experience, of purchasing my first bikini last summer, and following up with a serious addiction, to the point where I now have a favorite 'kini, I can tell you, that if you put on the bikini, you will feel exposed, and uncomfortable.  But do it again.  And again.  And be confident AF, because if you do that, then that's all anyone will notice.