Self Pride

I am so very proud of my own accomplishments.

It has taken me a very, very long time to be able to pat myself on the back.

Being on the receiving side of a complimentary statement has been difficult for me, and I find myself trying very hard to say, thank you, and not offer up some self-deprecating side note as to how or why I got here.

And I had to dig deep, to figure out, that I'm doing this for me, above all.

I am proud of myself.
I have self pride.
And I don't need anyone's approval, or disapproval, for that matter, because I have to lead my life.
I have to do, me.
But I feel guilt.
Because I'm supposed to put my family first.

Why can't we be selfish?

There is a lot of judgment when one puts themselves first.

My health, now and long term, is incredibly important to me.

If I don't look after myself now, how can I expect this body to hold out for the long haul?

I guess the answer is, I can't.
I can't expect this body to endure years of neglect, and in my later life, rely on it to perform, and be healthy enough for me to enjoy life, and my adult children, and hopefully, grandchildren!

So, I'm doing the upkeep and maintenance now, with the expectation that my body will be healthy, or at least healthier, when I am aging.

And to do so, I must sometimes be selfish.

I live my life for me, but in doing so, I'm a healthier Mom and wife.
My body can keep up with my kids.
I can play on the park with them.
I can pick them up, and hold them for long lengths of time, and carry them, when they are tired.
My mind is balanced because I exercise, which makes me a happier wife, too!
Ask my husband, who knows when to kick my rear out the door for a run when I'm turning into a dark and dangerous rain cloud!

I'm aware that lots of women do not choose the path that I've chosen, and that's just fine!
I cannot offer insight into anyone's life but my own, and we are all doing the best we can, with what we have, but in my own experience, trying to be healthy has been most beneficial to myself, but also to my family, and I can only hope that my good habits will rub off on my littles!

Having goals is one of the habits I hope they pick up, but knowing that not meeting their goals isn't failure, is a life lesson I hope they take away, too.

I make goals continuously.
Once one has been met, I'm typically already moving onto a new one.

I registered for the Edmonton marathon earlier this year.
I realized that training for the full marathon was going to monopolize many family holidays over the summer, and decided that they'd sacrificed enough already while I had trained for the Goofy race, so I dropped into the half marathon.

In July, while we were on holidays, I discovered a bump on my heel.
It was uncomfortable only after I'd been running for an hour or so, and I ignored the pain.

I had a feeling, even before I started physio, (for my achilles tendinopathy as it turns out), that I wouldn't be running any half marathon this summer.
And yesterday, as I poured over everyone's race photos, and stories, I was really, really bummed.

I had hoped to run a sub 2 hour half marathon yesterday, and instead of running anyways, and pushing myself beyond my limits, and risking injury, I opted to spend the morning at the Cameron family Olympics with my loved ones.

My younger self would have run in spite of the pain.
A less mature version of me, wouldn't have been able to stand the disappointment of not running.
But this new me, knows that a relatively minor injury can become a much bigger problem in around 2 hours 10 minutes, or the time I would have likely clocked yesterday, worse for the wear and not even close to meeting my goal.

I've got a half marathon in California in November, that I'll be running in costume and alongside my Dad, again, and I'll be healed and in excellent form for that.

After that, I'm planning to shift my focus onto lifting heavier weights and doing less steady state cardio, so I'm not literally, running my ass off!
This will be a whole new ball game for me, but I'm excited to see what my body can do, while I'm busy looking after me!

80:20

Every week, I'm given another chance to make my percentages work in my favor.

Every week, for me, is usually Monday(ish), and I have 100%.
I start with 100%.
Every day, every moment, every choice, starts with 100%.
From there, I can gauge how "on" I've been.
I've never, ever been 100% "on", 100% of the time, but when I am most successful, I am around 85-90% "on", on average, for the week.

Some weeks, when there are birthdays, and get-togethers and I just don't friggin' feel like making wise choices, I may have a 40% week.

As long as I'm comfortable with the consequences of a 40% week, (read:gaining) then it's an OK choice for me to make.
Most of the time, I'm not okay with throwing away my hard work, so I strive for at least 60%.

And for me, 60% is maintenance.

To be honest, I usually think of every day as 100%.
I find it easier to split my day up into 80, or 85 or 90%, but some days are super duper great days and can make up for the not-so-great days.

Losing weight is hard.
It's hard, because you have to be incredibly patient, and diligent and committed.

That 40% week?  The one that likely had some extra hormones involved?
It might see several pounds of gain on the scale.

But I'm sure you've heard it before, and I'll say it here again.

THE SCALE IS A LYING BITCH.

Usually when you haven't made excellent choices, there was some fat and salt involved.
Salt = Bloat.

No one can possibly gain 7 pounds in a week, unless they're have a really, really good time.
Or pregnant.
Or both.

So the point is, be patient.
It takes hard work, and discipline and a long damn time.

But it WILL happen.
You get out what you put in.
Half time work, will produce half time results.

Which means it might take a little longer, but that's juuuuuuuuuust fine, because the results are for life.
Gaining didn't happen overnight, and neither will losing.

Make the percentages count.

Bikini Bods

I wore a bikini.
In public.
Where there were loooooots of people.

Nobody pointed and snickered.

Note to self - during anything UFC in Vegas, the Hotel
Gym will be crowded with posers...

No one gawked, or gave judge-y eyes.
Nobody laughed out loud or made fun of me.

The world kept turning, and nobody really noticed.

It was, most definitely, a milestone day for me.

I wore a different one the next day, and it was just, simply, easier to do.
And, I imagine, I will give fewer and fewer eff's, the more I wear them.

I should mention, that I was wearing these tiny garments while I sat by the pool at the Venetian Hotel in Las Vegas.
I spent two whole days there, while my Mom was at a nerd gathering teacher convention, doing nothing but WHATEVERTHEHELLIWANTEDTO!

It.  Was.  Bliss.

I slept in!  Til 8!  It was nothing short of merciful, as I haven't slept through the night, and then also until 8 in more than 5 years.
Both mornings I went to the gym, and didn't hurry.
The treadmill was a touch screen!  It also had a scale so I couldn't lie about my weight.
I may have muttered, "you don't know me, bitch!", at the treadmill when this happened...

Classic Hot Dog Leg Pose.
I wasn't ready to post a bikini selfie...

I spent as much friggin' time as I wanted in the shower, blowing my hair dry - all the way, and straightening it.  I put on make up - even eyeliner!  Straight!  Because I was rested enough to not have shaky hands!  I put lotion on (I haven't done that since I was dating Blake!  Yikes!), and then donned my bikini to go lay by the pool and read.

BA-LISS, I tell you!

What I did notice by the pool, was that there were a lot of skinny gals wearing bikinis.

I did not say that these girls were fit.
There is a term of endearment for these girls, but I'm not going to use it.

They were skinny.

There were also loads of not so skinny gals wearing bikinis.
And everything in between.

Zarkana - it was Cirque du LSD.
Always exceptional, though.

What did I take away from this first-time experience?

Wear the damn bikini, and know that everybody looks just friggin' fine!

Don't judge, because you are not being judged.
And even if you are, behind those big, ugly, bitchy sunglasses, WHO CARES!
You bought a super cute bikini, so wear the damn thing! 
And not just in your backyard!
Trust me when I say, you look just fine!
Body confidence is so fetch right now!

Now, I'll tell you a little  story that will make wearing a bikini seem like its no big deal.
(It isn't, by the way.)

On our last, beautiful, stress-free evening in Vegas, my Mom and I walked the strip.  I wore a nice, cool dress, as did many other ladies.
We were crossing between hotels and noticed a couple of cabs waiting to turn right, except they could turn, and just weren't...
Then, right before it happened, I heard a girl say,
"they have no choice!"...
And I walked over a huge grate blowing air...
And my dress flew up over my head...
And I got a woohoo.
And it wasn't embarassing at all.
Because I had on really cute ginch.
And I look just friggin' fine.

Every Mom needs to take a trip like this.
It absolutely makes you appreciate your kids, and it's almost like taking a second vacation because you're so excited to see them after being gone for a short time!

Taking selfies is NOT my forte!

I felt like I had a new freshness about me, and for at least three minutes after I first saw them, the kids were super cool and didn't fight or scream or whine.

And then I remembered that I only kinda' missed them for the brief two and half days I was gone.

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?