Gainzz

There is a rocking chair in our house that is a fundamental piece of furniture.
It has gently rocked three children to sleep, for countless hours.
It also reclines, which means it has tracked many hours of forgotten sleep, as well.
It was a wedding gift, from my parents, when we learned, just one day before jetting off to a tropical place to get married, that we would be parents 9 months later.
The big, comfy brown chair is where I grew a lot of love for my children.
Where, after a day that they have tested my patience to it's limits, I can rock them into a peaceful, dreamy state, and then stare at their beautiful, innocent faces.

As I snuggled my last baby into slumber tonight, I reflected on the fact that for the first time, I am able to cross my legs as we rocked together.
A very simple thing, for most, I'm sure, but I do not take these things for granted any more.

I have lost many pounds in the past year, but I have gained too many things to even begin to count.

Not taking for granted the fact that my legs can cross, and stay crossed, comfortably, is one of them.

Being a confident Mom, is another.

Someone has a camera, and would like to take our picture?  Sure!  Go ahead!  I'm not even worried about how I'll look, because I know I'll look just fine, and won't be looking for the imperfections and shortcomings of my body.

Walking up stairs and not being winded.

Choosing whatever I want out of my closet, and knowing, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it's going to fit, and not emphasize something I'm ashamed of.

Having my children come to gym classes with me, and be inspired, encouraged to be fit.
Priceless gain.

When you lose weight, there is no recipe, or instruction that says, you will feel x once you lose y amount of weight.

It's impossible to know exactly how you'll feel.
It's even more daunting, when you've never actually been at y weight.

I'm training for my third marathon (crazy?!  Right?!), and I'm a bit behind on my training.  I've mapped out the weeks until the race, and I won't get my two 32km runs in, but I'll get one in.

I ain't even worried about it.

I'm so confident in my body's ability, that I know I'm going to PR this race.

With the least amount of training I've ever done, but with the most fit body I've ever lived in, I'm going to make this race my bee-otch.

In all the poundage lost, I never dreamed of what I would gain.

Running Momma's

Today had loads of good moments.

Of course there were plenty of OHGODIHATEMYLIFEWHYCANTSOMEONETAKETHESEWRETCHEDCHILDRENAWAY moments too, but many more than that, were the mmmmmmmmhmmmmmmmmmm moments.

I wanted to bottle up one of those times.

D'you ever want to be able to just stay in one particular minute for a lifetime?

The minute where my 5 year old is quietly, and ever so patiently painting a dinosaur after she'd cleaned her room and also the toys up in the living room, my three year old is twirling around, spilling sparkles off her Cinderella dress while listening to Shut Up & Dance With Me, and the boy is giving me smiley, humming, goobery smooches through the gate.

I'll write about it, in the hopes that one day, I can look back and reminisce about these simple times.

I was thinking, though, about how quickly we can go from, "Yay!  You peed/pooped/sat on the potty!", to "Seriously?!?!  Does anyone flush the toilet in this joint?!?!"

The milestones are fleeting, and yet sometimes I feel like they'll never be able to dress themselves, or clean up their plates, or brush their own teeth and hair.
The biggest kid is only just baaaaaaaaaaarely fitting into my lap anymore, and so the proof is there, that they won't always be small and cuddly and want to hold my hand.

But alas, in those lovely, fleeting reminders of their sweet, dependent littleness, I'm almost simultaneously snapped back into reality because someone is crying and/or screaming and there's also likely a diaper to change and watermelon to wipe up off the floor.

*sigh*

And then it's 8:06 and we have to hustle, (man, I say that word a LOT) get out the door to get the big kid on the bus so I can pack up the youngsters and get a run in.
Snacks, check.  Water, check.  Appropriate shoes for the requisite park stop, check.

Annnnnnnnnnd, quick check of the chariot tires so the 80lbs I'm pushing doesn't feel like 480lbs.
By 8:30, I'm in my happy place, with the kids along for the ride.
One of those good moments I was talking about?  Yea, it happened right there.  Sharing my passion with my kids.
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmhmmmmmmmmmmm.

And as we started running, she said, "Mom, I go to a' gym wif you tomowoah?", and I couldn't be upset with her for the screeching she'd done first thing that morning.
That girl has my whole heart for my whole life, even though she's got pure caverns of hellfire for a personality.

On my run, I happened upon some of my oldest Mom friends.  I've known these gals since our biggest kids were only weeks old, so that's more than 5 years!  We've seen each other go through many more additions of children and other life struggles and we still want to hang out.
It's seriously amazing, because really, there's got to be 50 kids between the 9 or 10 of us, and if you multiply that by minutes in the day, it's a miracle anyone's got the time!

These ladies have started running.
It makes my eyes well up to think about it, because these Mommas are taking their health and fitness into their own hands.
They all have small children, and some have tiny babies too.
But they're meeting, and running and learning what their legs can do.
And I am so very, very proud of them.

I received a message from one of these smokin' hot girls, where she said that she'd seen me running and was inspired.
Yes.
Just, Yes.
All sorts of, YES!

If you see me running, and it makes you want to run, then, girl, get out there!
You CAN do it!
It's so very cliche, but if I can do it, you can too.
I come from a lineage of sumo wrestlers.
Not distance runners.
You can do this!  Seriously!
It's not going to be easy, or feel particularly good at first, but you will always feel fantastic afterwards.  Always.

She went on to say that the first run almost killed her, but that she was going to go again the next night.

That, my friends, is perseverance.
And it applies to your whole life.
Keep.  At.  It.

Whatever it is you're doing that you think is hard?
Well, it's probably going to feel harder before it gets easier.

But then, suddenly, it just is easier.
You're stronger.
You're faster.
And one day, you're a runner.
Still a Mom.
But now, also, an athlete.

Good for you, girls.
You are inspiring loads of others.
Myself included.

And if I ever see you out there, I will be  honking my horn and cheering you on as loud as I can!
Welcome to the club!

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.

Faking it

A few weeks ago, we celebrated Easter with my family up North.

My family has turkey on special occasions.
Actually, if you know my family, they have turkey a lot more than that.

More than any other family I've ever met.

Like, once a month, we have turkey dinner.

Ask my husband.  He loves it.
Except he doesn't.  In fact, he'll say, "are we having turkey again?"

My Dad mentioned that he needed to get a few things on turkey roasting day.
A turkey baster was on his grocery list.
For a family that cooks a turkey at least every three weeks, I thought this was odd, so I asked.
"What happened to your old turkey baster?"
He explained...
"I had an emergency in the garage."
 Of course.  Get in the car.  Let's go get a new one.

While I was in Fort McMurray, I ran out of my favorite protein powder.
I went to the local Popeye's because I knew they carried it.

The guy who works there, who is ca-ute, asked me if I was looking to lean out.
What?!
DUH??
Isn't every woman looking to "lean out"?
Cue nervous laugh - of course nice-looking-bodybuilding-guy.  I'm trying to lean out.
YOU DON'T KNOW ME!!  YOU DON'T KNOW MY STRUGGLES!!
Now, please, just give me my giant tub of birthday cake flavored powder, so I can get outta this place where I don't belong!

Feeling like I deserve to be in a place like that, or in the gym, or not at the back of the herd of people at the start line of the race.
This is new territory for me, and although I've worked crazy hard to get to this place where I do, in fact, deserve all those things, I'm finding the biggest struggle is making my brain match the place where my body is at.

Losing weight is relatively easy.  Energy in vs energy out.  Create a deficit.
The mental challenge is by far the most difficult.
And a challenge I must accept, if I want these results to be life long.
Fake it til you make it.  And so I shall.

I DO deserve to be the healthiest version of myself.
I DO deserve to have killer triceps and a new marathon PR.

I had to drop my bar a couple of times today during the workout.  I finally broke out my wrist straps, and took my badass-ness to a whole new level.
I deserve that too.
To be a badass.

If You Never Get After It, It'll Never Get Got

I took my oldest gal with me to physiotherapy the other day.
The kind ladies who work there gave her some coloring books and crayons.
There were 64 crayons in a pristine Crayola box with a sharpener on the back.
SIXTY-FOUR crayons.
And a sharpener?!?!

I'm in my mid thirties, with three kids and I had no idea that it was possible to, a) get 64 crayons, and b) purchase such a large package that it comes with a built in sharpener.

True story.

I have also discovered that you can purchase a larger box of crayons than 64.
How many shades of green does one child need?  Seriously.
But, am I stifling her artistic abilities because she doesn't have 17 shades?

I'm failing, again.

Damn you, Crayola and your plethora of colors!

The gym I go to is connected to the physiotherapy clinic, and I caught myself reminiscing about the first few times I started going back after baby #3.
(Am I ever going to get used to that?!  I still think, "WOW!", in my head, after saying that I've got three kids.)

I remember standing in the gallery, watching the class before mine do Turkish Get Ups.
I put capitals on that because this movement deserves that kind of respect.
(Google it.  You won't be disappointed.)

At the time, I completed the workout, but I would have lifted a light weight and probably been relatively slow.

Neither of those things is a bad thing, or makes me a lesser athlete.
I was just in a more beginner place.

Now, however, I'm able to do 25lb kettlebell Turkish get ups, and I'm able to do them relatively fast.
I can also flip a freakin' tire.
Lots of times.
And deadlift allllllllmost as much as I weigh.
Seriously cool stuff!

When I sometimes think about where I came from, I could cry.
Actually, a lot of times, I do.
This process has been hard.
This process has tested me.
This process has shown me what I'm really made of, and yet, I continue to underestimate my abilities.

I want more for myself, and to get there I'm going to need to do more than try.
I'm going to need to fail.

"You'll never know unless you try."
No.
I'll never know unless I fail.

I'm adopting this as my new motto, because today, at the gym I was inspired.
Like, really,  inspired.
I deserve this.
I deserve anything I want because I'm going to put in the work to get it.

I choose lighter weights than I'm capable of because I'm afraid.
But I'm going to be pushing harder, because to get what I've never had I need to do what I've never done.
If you see me lifting more than you think I'm able to, you're probably right.
But I know that if I have to drop my bar, or drop some weight to finish my set, that you're not judging me for that.

THAT'S what I love about my gym.
If you're struggling, someone will give you the encouragement to get at 'er and finish.
Support is what we all need, really, and it's nice to feel like you're part of a team that wants you to meet your goals as badly as you do.
I heart Spark.

I'm meeting with my nutrition coach tonight because it's time for me to get into the nitty gritty business.
I've lost weight, but I need some new guidance, different guidance, and I'm able to recognize that the time is right for that.

Bicep.  Pump.
I'm tellin' ya, I'm goin' after it!
And maybe some abs, but we'll see how much sugar I'm willing to give up.

Me and sugar, we've had a strained relationship, but I think we can work out a compromise.

If you read my blog and you've ever felt inspired or motivated, that's amazing, thank you!
Everyone needs that!
Know that I take inspiration as I need it too, because I'm not quite where I'd like to be, but I'm close.

I've stopped calling it a journey, because that implies that there is a final destination.
And now I know, that I've always been here.
I'm the same.
I'd just like to see a bicep hump...