Have a Little Faith

Trust the process.
Trust.  The.  Process.

Most of the time I have to just have blind faith that the changes I'm making are having an impact on my body.
Sometimes though, the changes are measurable and visible, and that's when all of the sacrifice and hard work pays off.

Measurements can come in the form of clothing, which is really friggin' cool!  Or, they can come as a PR, or personal record.

Pull ups.
Not strict, but kipped, which just means I use momentum to help swing my body up.
And I can do them without any assistance.


I can do about five in a row.

For me, this was a big deal.
This was a momentous day.

Small victory for some, but during that hour long class, it was enough to bring me to tears.
Again.

A young man behind me in class today told me I was a beast.
Hell yeah, I'm a freakin' beast!

I'm getting better, I'm pushing myself, and if in that process I look like a beast, then I'm definitely doing it right!

I am a force to be reckoned with.
I am not to be underestimated.

I lose sight, I lose faith and sometimes I fall far, far away from my goals.
Sometimes my clothes that fit just one month ago are pleading with me to put the timbits down.
Sometimes life is very, very stressful and I stuff junk in my face to try to feel better.
Old habits die hard, and to be honest, I don't really see stress eating ever going away entirely.
I just try to keep the monster quiet for the most part with alternative remedies that don't involve food.
It's been a sad couple of months for me, and my emotions are speaking loudly - telling me that some carbs will make it all feel better.
Truthfully, sometimes the carbs DO make me feel better.

I don't always resist, and I don't always feel bad  about giving in.
I'm finding the balance, and I'm learning not to beat myself up, because it is so very pointless.

I've been getting to the gym a lot lately.
It's stress relief during this trying time, and it's one of my happiest places.
I'm noticing that almost weekly I'm lifting heavier than I've ever lifted before - and not just for one rep, but for many, many reps!

I'm pushing over 100lbs above my head on a regular basis - which for me, is a huge accomplishment!

Much more than my skinny jeans looking bangin', I LIVE for PRs.
I get so excited and emotional every single time I lift heavier than before.
Losing weight has been the most amazing side effect of the heavy lifting, but I will never again focus on my scale because it is relatively unimportant in the grand scheme.

My butt is growing (in the good way, right V?!), and I did not take a compliment recently about it, but instead dove into the self-deprecating shit that comes naturally to me.
That is something I need to get better at - still.

Having faith that significant changes take time - sometimes a very long time - is one of the greatest challenges I've encountered.
If I put in the work, then changes will happen.
If there's one guarantee in life, that just might be it.
Nothing else is a given, really.

So, self, have a little faith in me.

Have a Little Faith

Trust the process.

Trusting anything can be so difficult!

Most of the time I have to just have blind faith that the changes I'm making are having an impact on my body.
Sometimes though, the changes are measurable and visible, and that's when all of the sacrifice and hard work pays off!

Measurements can come in the form of clothing, which is really friggin' cool!  Or, they can come as a PR, or personal record.

Pull ups.
Not strict, but kipped.
And I can do them without any assistance.

I can do about five in a row.

For me, this was a big deal.
This was a momentous day.

Small victory for some, but during that hour long class, it was enough to bring me to tears.

A young man behind me in class today told me I was a beast.
Hell yeah, I'm a freakin' beast!

I'm getting better, I'm pushing myself, and if in that process I look like a beast, then I'm definitely doing it right!

I am a force to be reckoned with.
I am not to be underestimated.

I lose sight, I lose faith and sometimes I fall far, far away from my goals.
It's been a sad couple of months and my emotions are speaking loudly - telling me that some carbs will make it all feel better.

I don't always resist, and I don't always feel about bad about giving in.
I'm finding the balance, and I'm learning not to beat myself up, because it is so very pointless.

I've been getting to the gym a lot lately.
It's stress relief during this trying time, and it's one of my happiest places.
I'm noticing that almost weekly I'm lifting heavier than I've ever lifted before - and not just for one rep, but for many, many reps!

I'm pushing over 100lbs above my head on a regular basis - which for me, is a huge accomplishment!

Much more than my skinny jeans looking bangin', I LIVE for PRs.
I get so excited and emotional every single time I lift heavier than before.
Losing weight has been the most amazing side effect of the heavy lifting, but I will never again focus on my scale because that is so far in second place that it might as well be 50th.

My butt is growing (in the good way, right V?!), and I did not take a compliment last week about it, but instead dove into the self-deprecating shit that comes naturally to me.
That is something I need to get better at - still.

Having faith that significant changes take time - sometimes a very long time - is one of the greatest challenges I've encountered.
If I put in the work, then changes will happen.
If there's one guarantee in life, that just might be it.
Nothing else is a given, really.

On your Fourth Birthday, Lady Ellie

I sat in the room with my enormous belly underneath my folded hands.
The other Mom's from my midwife group had brought their new little babies, some as old as three weeks already.

I had to hold back tears, and pronounce that, "it's easier to be pregnant, than have a new baby to look after".
I hated waiting for the arrival.
One day over due, then two, then six.

Then my brother married the most wonderful girl, and still, a week overdue and celebrating in Jasper, no baby.
I gained a lot of weight.  I was friggin' huge.
I really didn't want to be pregnant anymore, and I just wanted to meet you.

You had your own plan then, and still do.

The day you were born was both the most hectic day of my life, and in complete contrast, your birth was my most calm, and relaxed.

This is you.
Wild and unbridled, and yet, you can be so, so sweet.
So kind and generous.

And in the very next breath, you are breathing fire.

My second born girl, you have grown into a beautiful, strong, unapologetically independent kid.
Not my baby anymore.
You're growing tall and losing your adorable baby chub, and your strength and grace is starting to shine bright.

It's impossible for you to be turning four, as I remember vividly your birth day as if it were moments ago.

You made your own plans to arrive and although your Nana, sister and I spent the entire day killing phone batteries while timing regular contractions walking around West Edmonton Mall, it was less than one hour of discomfort before you made your grand and magnificent entrance.

We were going to call you Grace.
I still adore that name, but it was evident almost momentarily that you were meant to be an Ellie.

Spunky and radiant.

Your smile is sometimes all I need. 
Your imagination is like none other and when you lean on the window sill at the front of our house, I can only dream of what you might be thinking.

Your Dad and I, and I'm sure your brother and sister, want you to know, on your fourth birthday, that we love you bigger than Texas and that life without you would be un-glittered and utterly boring without the glamour and charm you bring every day.

Happy birthday Ellie!

Fork McMurray

Before I could properly say "Fort", it was Fork McMurray.
This is the same way my three year old says it now.

I wasn't born in Fort McMurray.
We moved there when I was four months old.
It's the only hometown I've ever known, and in my lifetime I've seen it change from a virtually unknown city of 35,000 to a bustling and easily recognizable metropolis of more than 80,000.

I left to go to University, and aside from a couple of boomerang stays of no more than a few months at a time, I haven't had a permanent residence there since I was 18.
Even still, I've never felt more like I'm "home" than when I'm rounding the corner from Highway 63 onto Beacon Hill Drive.

We moved into the house on Beaverglen Close when I was barely 6.  It was the summer before I started in Miss Cox's grade one class.
My first night, I remember looking at the pink patterned wall paper and seeing Laura scribbled on a bit of wall where the wallpaper had been peeled up.
Laura Tees, who lived there with her family before us.
I remember my brother and I exploring the neighborhood  and finding a park with a tire castle and zip line and some immediate friends.
It was a large neighborhood.  One of the largest in the community of Beacon Hill.

When I was a little older, I wanted to paint my room white.  We put hand prints in different colours of pastel paint all over the bottom half.  Any time a friend came to play, they were to provide a semi-permanent mark of themselves on the wall.
We renovated that house many times over, making it more and more our own.
Added a deck, then later removed it, and built a new deck.
Dad and I built the entire garage one summer, with only a little bit of help.
It is still one of my greatest accomplishments.

We discovered our lifelong passion for running, and ran around Beacon Hill countless times.
Garth, Dad and I would occasionally go out together, but more often than not it was just Dad and I, and maybe the big yellow dog, Belle.

I discovered I had been accepted to my chosen University program, standing in the kitchen one morning.

I felt the most intense heartbreak of my life in the house.
Went through some very difficult years of bullying and mean girl bullsh*t.

I remember having my shoulder accidentally dislocated by Andrew in the basement, when I was in grade school.
Dad shook a bottle of salsa one day and it went all over the roof because the lid hadn't been put back on quite right.

It's still very fresh and raw, and it's not even "my" house anymore.
I'm not even the one dealing with this unimaginable loss.

I can't even begin to think that I have any idea how my parents, my brother and sister-in-law and 1600 other families, feel right now.
I don't know how you all feel, but I do know that everyone will grieve this loss differently and I will, without question, support you in whichever way you need.

The house is gone.
Reduced to a pile of ash and rubble.
The memories of that house, I will put to paper, so that they will never die, and so that my children and their children can read about the wonderful things that happened in Beacon Hill, and not just the enormous tragedy of May 3,2016.
I'm posting this so that's it's current, but like many of my blog, or journal entries, I plan to return and add memories and thoughts.

Four people grew up in that house.
My parents were just 25 when we moved in, so they themselves were coming of age, and I'm sure have their own memories, separate from mine.
I know my brother would have his own set to think on and smile about.
I'm not sure how I'll feel when I go to see the place where our neighborhood once was, and I'm not sure I even want to go see it.
What I'm certain of, is that the fire didn't take away any of the important stuff.

I love you guys all so very much and I'm so, so sorry that this happened to you and to all the people of Beacon Hill, and the other communities in Fort McMurray that were devastated by the fire.

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.