The Time of Our Life

My littlest guy needs clothes.
He's growing like a bad weed.
The heel of his socks hits midfoot, so therefore they tend to come off half way through the day.

I don't like shopping at the best of times, so while I was at Costco the other day, I decided to zip into the clothing tables to look for some jammies for him.

Then I started crying.
The table that holds sleepers for 3m-24m is no longer a table I will ever shop at for my kids again.
Ever.

Not sobbing, just a few tears.
Enough that my middle said, "Why you cryin', mama?"
*Exhale
Exhale to stop from falling into an ugly cry because there are no more babies at your house and your daughter is the sweetest damn thing on the planet right now.

Post-shopping, I decided to take my littles to an indoor playground called Café O Play.
Super fun for the under 5 crowd, and jam friggin' packed with pregnant ladies.

I don't really hover when my kids are at an indoor playground, because, well, I brought them there to run rampant so I could read my book.
I know what their cries sound like and I go make sure they aren't flushing toys down the toilet or hitting some else's kid periodically, but for the most part I'm what some might call, a "free-range" parent.
(Please don't call Social Services.  They aren't actually feral children, and they always wear pants when we leave the house.)

While I was sitting back watching some of the chaos playing, I realized that many of the conversations around me were between pregnant Mom's.
No lie, I bet 50% of the women there were knocked up!

And when you're pregnant, your world revolves around your pregnancy.  (Guilty!)
It's kind of a big deal.

Now that I'm a veteran Mom, though my experience can be applied only to my own littles, I realize that the act of being pregnant is so, so brief.

It feels like a huge life event, and at the time it is, but you grow your babies for not even a year.  Then, they're born in another seemingly huge life event, again, only fleeting, for them to begin growing at an alarming rate.

So alarming, that six years later, your oldest is reading chapter books and two more have joined the herd.

They say that the nights are long but the years are short.
Or something like that.

The nights are long.
They're STILL long, six years later, but I get it now.
They grow up so fast.
So.  Fast.

My husband and I disagree sometimes.
(Shocking, I know!)
We tend to chock it up to little sleep and the fact that we're just trying to get through these trying years when the kids are so needy and dependent and we're not sleeping.

But this is it.
This is the time we will look back on as the best years of our lives, and I don't want to remember that we clung to our helmets, headed into the battle day, and hoped for the best.

I want to remember the memories we're making, and not the fact that creating the memories was stressful.
I don't want to say to my husband, "Phew!  Glad we survived that!"
I hope that one day, when all the kids have left home, we can high five each other, because, we nailed it.

And also, by then, we'll be alone again.
And I don't want to wish for the kids to move out and for us to be alone, but it will be nice to have the guy all to myself again!

Group Fitness

Group fitness.

If you read that word and envisioned Jane Fonda in a leotard and body suit counting down in an aerobics video, then this here, it's for you.

I'm going to change your idea of group fitness.

And, I hope, maybe encourage you to check it out.

I have belonged to two families of group fitness that have, without exaggeration, changed my life.
I started out at BMS Bootcamps out of Leduc.
If you're brand new and nervous about walking into a group of people you don't know?
This place is for you.  Take a friend, even!
If you'd like to learn how to properly do exercises so you don't get injured?
If you want to be held accountable, and be able to just, simply show up, but still get a serious arse-kickin' workout?
Then head over to BMS Bootcamps.  You can try it for a whole week for free!

http://www.bmsbootcamps.com

Group fitness is for everyone.

I am an introvert.
I don't typically like people, in general.
I don't like to have plans, or to commit to anything, really.

I should be the type of person that likes to just get my gym membership and go do my own thing, alone, at the gym.
But being an introvert does not in any way, make me a self motivator.
I know myself well enough to know that investing in gym equipment for our house would be the same as taking fistfuls of my cash and burning it.
I won't use it.
I need to have someone pushing me to challenge myself.
Even more than that?  I need to have an extremely hard working group of people motivating me to grab the heavier weights, or pick up the damn pace!
(Still struggle with this, even with the coaching!)

Group fitness is for everyone.

If you're scared of being judged, then lemme tell ya', going to the gym is not where you want to be.
I've never felt so much staring and eye-judging as when I've gone to the gym.
Am I doing this move right?
Does it look like I have any clue whatsoever what I'm doing?
Do I even belong here?

Ugh.  I am not good at going to the gym.  The conventional gym.

My current home is Spark gym. 
That's where my heart belongs.

http://www.sparkgym.com

Spark Sport Conditioning.
Sounds pretty badass, dontcha think?
Me too.
I really love this place.

I'm not even sure I could put into words how much I love this place.  F'reals.  It gets me all verklempt because of the difference in my life this place has made.

With both groups I've belonged to, anytime there has ever been a newbie show up, they have been welcomed with immediate openness and encouragement.
We don't leave anyone behind.
Everyone is new at one point, and if you just keep coming, and grindin' it out, you will gain two things:
1)Hella' muscle
2)Friendship

And when I say friendship, I actually mean your fitness family.
These people will give you the extra pep when you're dragging butt.  They will push you beyond any comfortable place you've ever known.  They will make sure that you know that THEY know you haven't been showing up.
They will notice and congratulate you on the changes that will happen to your body.
They will notice and congratulate you on the incredible improvements you've made in your strength/power/speed/agility...

Group fitness is not about showing up and having an instructor "teach" you a fitness lesson.
It can be, because the truth is, it's whatever you need it to be.
It is a coach guiding you through a very difficult workout.
I often tell people that both gyms I've belonged to were like having a personal trainer at a deep, deep discount.
If you want to really challenge yourself, the coaches at both BMS and Spark will have you working way outside your comfort zone, which, really, is where the beautiful changes happen.

I've included links to both of my fave group fitness organizations, but you don't really need to click on the links.

You just need to go.
And if you're nervous, message me and I'll go with you!
Let's go get schweaty together!

Eff Your Willpower! (And Mine, for That Matter!)

I'm going to let y'all into my honesty bubble for a minute.

My hubby was at a council meeting one evening, and my two big gals were at Grandma and Grandpa's for a sleepover.  So it was just me and the little guy for the night.

I worked out that morning, so that box had been checked, but then I thought to myself, "Self?  Y'know what we could do tonight?  Just you and me and the munchkin?  We could order pizza!"

So, I sat down at the computer and pulled up the online, safe-behind-my-screen-so-I-can-order-whatever-I-want, BP's menu.

Then I thought, man, I don't get an evening with just one kid, where the weather is gorgeous, I haven't run in a gazillion years (or so it feels), and I could totally test out this stupid, bitchin' ankle injury because it doesn't feel too horrendous.

What.  A.  Conundrum.

Do I order pizza, or go for a run?

I did NOT rely on my shitty willpower.
I do not have any.

Instead, I dug deep down and remembered my why.

Why am I doing all of this?
What are my goals?

My success this time around has very, very little to do with willpower.
Trust me.  I have none.  Zippo.

It has everything to do with facing every temptation with, why.

Imma' use one of my favorite snacks as an example, because, I don't buy these little gems, unless I would be OK with the consequences of eating the entire box.
See?  Eff the willpower!
Oreos.
I'd like to eat two oreos.
Alright, since you're already in the bubble, two more oreos!
Because, well, they're oreos and I worked out.
And I deserve to eat two more goddamn oreos.

Stop.  And just think for one second.
Why are you doing this?
Will this choice, this little, not so long lasting struggle, get me to my goals?

It isn't reaffirming every day, why you are doing this.
It's reaffirming at every crossroad choice.
Every choice during the day that challenges you, and that isn't a healthy one.

You will have LOADS of these decisions in the beginning of the journey because the lousy behaviors are more natural than the healthier ones, but the difficult choices will become fewer and fewer until there might only be a few a day, but then again there might be an entire day's worth for several days.

You must face, head on, each difficult decision, with the question;
Why?

And you may have to do this over, and over, and over again.
And, truthfully, some days the lousy choices will be made.
It's OK.
Learning to accept that there will be failure, is, in fact, success!
It's kinda' like teaching your kids, well, pretty much anything.
You will have to repeat the lesson again, and again, and again...

I'm at about a year of weight maintenance.
For one whole year, I have consistently worn the same clothes.
The same size clothes.
I'm unsure if I have ever done this before.
Ever.
In fact, I feel like I can say with a fair amount of certainty, that I've never done this.
I still reach for my jeans and think, shit, these babies aren't going to fit today, and yet, for an entire year, they have!  Some days they're a little snugger than others, but never so snug that I can't still wear them.
(Bless you loose, flowy tops for just such days!)

After a year, do I feel like I've got everything figured out?  No.  Nope.  HAHAHAHA! 
No.
I still struggle.
I still feel like I could so easily fall back into old habits and end up where I was.
And I could.
I will forever have to remind myself, why.
Because I am an addict.

Not only have I maintained for a year, but I haven't stepped on a scale in months.
MONTHS!!!
I used to be a slave to that lying bitch!

The last time I stepped on it, I was 10lbs heavier than 6 months before.
But those jeans?  They still fit.
The fact that I'd swapped my 40+km weekly mileage in favor of more heavy weightlifting, might have something to do with that.
So more than my weight remaining largely the same for the past year, I'm way more proud of the fact that I'm listening to my body and trying to fuel it and remember how it feels when I fuel it with garbage, so my motivation stays, why.

So, why am I going to forego those two oreos?
Because my love for oreos will never wane, but I know there will be another chance, another day for a couple of oreos.
But today, right this minute, my goals are more important.

Ouch! Right in the Self-Esteem

I went to the gym the other day, and as I was packing up to race out the door and grab MrS, a woman stopped me and asked about an exercise I was doing.
As in, asked me for advice.
WHA?!?!?!
She asked what it was called, and of course I had to consult my notebook because I couldn't remember if it was a bulgarian or romanian move...
Why aren't there any Canadian moves?  Pick up your socks North 'Merica, we're falling behind in the world of weightlifting move naming!

I told her its good for the muscle under your bum and that it can help define the line between your legs and bum.
Because I'm a not a personal trainer and I literally have no idea the difference between lats, traps and delts, or abductors and adductors...or the names of any muscles, really...

So, after I was finished doling out some real primo advice, she says, "I bet you don't have any cellulite, though."
And before I burst out laughing, hard, loud, uncontrollable laughing, I softly sang to her, we are gonna be the beeeeeeeest of friends.

Not really.
The singing part. 
All the other parts are true!

But, really, isn't a compliment the absolute best thing?  Since I've lost a bit of weight, and my body has changed, I've received lots of compliments.
I still struggle to accept them with grace, and not self-deprecate with some joke about the chubby bits that remain, or how I only do cardio so I can eat donuts...which is actually a true statement.

I have fallen head over heels with lifting weights.
Some people's body's are built for certain activities.
I am not built for, say, ballet, or any sport that requires a light, nimble, lithe body.
I am bulky, and big and I hold weight in the middle.

Not to say that lifting is only for bigger people!
Nothing could be further from the truth!

Weight lifting is for everyone!
I can't wait for the old school mentality of, "lift light weights and do a whole bunch'a reps if you wanna get toned, and lift heavy weights for only a few reps to get bulky."

Ya, no.

I know plenty of gals (and guys!) who lift heavy a** weights, and look nothing but fit.
That being said, having muscle does give a "lumpy, bumpy" appearance.

As a long time runner, I have lots of running friends.
A common conversation amongst runners, goes something like this:
"What races are you training for?"
"Oh, a winter half in February/March, then two or three halfs this summer and probably a run-cation in the fall"

I'm not doing any races this summer.
(Which likely won't actually happen, as I have no control and will definitely give in and do something!)

So, when a very kind, runner co-worker asked me this question, I told her I was going to focus on lifting because I've always had to scale according to my long runs and I want to see what I can do with no limitations.

She said, again, kindly, "oh, so you want to be lumpy and bumpy."

Well, actually, hell yes, I DO!
I'm sure it wasn't meant to be hurtful, but I really had never thought about it before.

I completely understand that each individual person wants to look a certain way.
I get that.
But I would never say to someone, "oh, you want to be skinny-fat and have weak, noodly arms?"
I don't actually care how you want to look!!
Why should you care how I look?!?!

I am trying, and struggling, to simply do me, and not worry about what others think of me, but it's hard to face the ugly judgement, and especially so, when it's not meant to be hurtful.

I need to grow thicker skin...

Until then, I'm just going to be over here, becoming the best version of me that ever was.

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.