The Open.

I've stared at the cursor for sometime now.

I have things I would like to say about The Open.

There's a chance you haven't a flying clue what The Open is.  If you were to give it a quick google search, you would be flooded with all things Crossfit.

I have never, (and my tune might be changing now), but until this point, I have never considered myself a competitive person.  I just have never cared about how I "rank".  In running, and I would include crossfit, as well, there are solid ways to measure your progress.  Singular.  Just you.  The Open is the way the organization allows everyone to see how they are doing in a competitive, but not intimidating setting.  You are able to see how you have improved from the past years.

I struggle with competition because the result is that one individual wins and another loses.  One is better than the other.  It's hard to lose.  It can be disheartening to learn that someone you've worked really hard to stay on par with, has broken away from your scores, or from your pace, during a race.  Sometimes your gas tank is empty, while theirs seems to be bottomless.  I get it.  I'm not the kind of person who gets worked up over these things, though, so you want to play monopoly with me!  I will be so happy when you win!  Seriously!

What I love best about Crossfit, is that, unless your last name ends in -Dottir, then you're not reeeeeally in the competition.  And what I mean by that, is, that you're not going to win.  This is cool.  This is completely and utterly acceptable for those of us who will never qualify for regionals or compete at THE Crossfit Games.  We have our heroes, and athletes we look up to and get excited to watch on tv, but in the meantime, we'll just be over here, at our gyms, being fitter than the general public and cheering each other on with a fever and intensity that only the Crossfit community knows.

This has been my first year competing.  I go to the gym a lot.  Like, a lot.  I truly love it there.  It is my one hour for myself, for my physical health and most importantly, for my mental health.  I have had two coaches in my life, who have both recently mentioned that I am athlete, and that I should start treating myself as one.  I have never considered myself an athlete.  I am super proud to consider myself a fit person, but in my mind, the title athlete is reserved for the especially fit.  Those dedicated folks who put in deliberate work and eat for performance and take fitness very seriously, and, well, actually, that is me.  And I am, in fact, an athlete.

When I was prepping and doing the Open workouts, I liked to do them as soon as I could, and I preferred to do them alone, or with just a handful of people.  I would read the workout, go over the movement standard to make sure I understood, and then I would do a bit of visualization.  For every single workout I do - running, crossfit, cycling, swimming, whatever, I have a gameplan.  I typically set mini goals, within the workout, and then try to stick to the plan.  I always show up and give everything I have, for that one hour.  I want to leave every effort I have at the gym.  I don't want to leave thinking I could have done better.  When all you have is one hour to commit to your health, quality is number one, because the quantity is set.  There is no do-over.

One of the first workouts I did, coach Brad was my judge.   He said to do just do my best, and I said, like I always do.  The Open workouts were no different from any class I attend, except that I had a judge.  The proof that I don't cheat myself, is in the scores I produced.  And the only person that really matters to, is me.

See, the truth is, I've been training my whole life.  For many years, it was for running races, but for the past 5 years, it's been for Crossfit.  I have been doing the work and making progress and earning the muscle I have.  It's hard.  Sometimes I want to quit.  It's hard for all of us.  Training, and now competing, gives me a sense of confidence.  Like nothing else I've ever done in my life.  As someone who has had more self-doubt than anyone should have in a lifetime, this reassuring confidence is welcome.  It is time that I consider myself an athlete and it is overdue that I treat my body accordingly.

The Open is for everyone.  There is an option for every single person and this competition, like most, is you against you.  I will never win a competition, and this is fine.  I do real work and I reap real rewards and I am an athlete, nonetheless.

Tire Pumping

So, I've been thinking on this for some time, and I've decided to take a bit of a detour from my regularly scheduled blog posts...

My New Years Resolution for the past few years has been to tell people when I'm thinking or have thought something nice about them.

It has been such an awesome "bucket filling" experience.  How often do you see a friend, or even a stranger, and think to yourself that they look good, or happy, or that their hair looks super nice, and that thought does nothing more than float through your brain before you're thinking about something you need to check off on your to do list.

But if we take just a minute or two to maybe go out of our way to actually tell these people what we're thinking, we are pumping some tires that might have badly needed it.

When I receive a compliment, no matter how small, it can often carry me through the day.  Sometimes it puts a giant smile on my face for several hours, and sometimes it can motivate me to make some more healthy choices for the day.  But a little bit of feather fluffing can go a really long way!

We live in a different time.  With a few key strokes, we can give a review for every single place we visited in a day.  Many people do this, and as a busy Mom who often only has a few minutes to screen the internet for the best brow waxer, or burger joint, I appreciate their efforts!

The thing is, we can go to the same restaurant 20 times and have great service, and one time, we may experience an inconvenience, and yet, this will be the time we pipe up.  Sometimes, it's blasted all over a Facebook page.  Sometimes, it's a google or yelp review, or maybe we just tell everyone we know.  But for the 20 positive visits, we said nothing and told no one. We live in a time where we can greatly damage a business, big or small, and we can throw really big sticks and stones to personally attack people, all from behind our computer screens.

It feels so good to tell people how much they mean to you, or what kind of impact they've had on you.  So good.  And it feels fantastic to hear it!  If I am walking with my kids and we pass a group of people who are swearing, or maybe just being bullies, I am sure to say something.  That kind of sh*t bothers me!  (Kidding!  Kinda...), but there have been far too many opportunities pass, where I could have said something kind to someone and I didn't.

I am forever working on this because my brow furrows in resting now, for all of the things that need doing.  I am constantly thinking about what comes next.  And I do notice the nice things and I want to take the time to say something.  I remember the times I have filled buckets.  The book we read to our kids is entirely correct.  When you fill someone else's bucket, you also fill your own.  I am forever talking about not having time, but I truly would like to protect just a few minutes, every day, to fill buckets.  Wouldn't you, too?

The Thing That's Giving.

Somethings gotta' give.

It's not just something we say.

This is real life.

Though you may think you can do it all, I believe that most of us are well aware that you, cannot, in fact, do it all.

Somethings gotta' give.

For me?

It's my car.

Hands down, and without having to consider another option.

It's my car.

(I see you nodding your head wildly Mom...and Nikki...)

My car is an utter disaster.

As in, I can clean it, detail it, wipe down every single surface and crevice and nook, and within 24 hours, there is yogurt sprayed on the ceiling, goldfish crackers all over the floor...crushed.  Tiny bits of garbage and probably 8 pieces of art work will be scattered from the dashboard to the floors, because, obviously, the car is where school projects and garbage go to procreate.

I cannot, and I will not maintain cleanliness, because I'm OK with the "thing" that's giving.
I'm lettin' that shit go.

Can you IMAGINE what else would fail if I happened to start taking care of the car?!?!

It terrifies me to even think about the shift that would cause!  It would be like the butterfly effect!  Castles would crumble!  It could mean that my kids don't get their weekly daily bath, or that there are only two food groups on their plates, or maybe we wouldn't get in their nightly reading, or...(this list is infinite, in case you were waiting for it to end...)

My car.

We spend quite a lot of time in there, and for the record, I would sure like for it to stay clean.  I would.  I do not enjoy that is like a real life wasteland, in an itty bitty space.  I am not a type A personality and it doesn't even bother me how filthy it is, but I really would like to live in a nice clean car sometimes.

The silver lining though?  If you're ever in need of something?  I've definitely got it in there somewhere!  Gimme a minute, and maybe grab a plastic bag so we can throw some of this garbage out while I go look for it, but I KNOW I've got a puke bag/hair tie/nail clippers/safety pins/yellowpages from 1998 in here somewhere...

From There to Here

Had my hair done last weekend.  Lashes put on.  Spray tan the night before, and then hair braided and makeup done the morning of.

So self indulgent.  So self centered.  So narcissistic.  So needed.

I have been working hard for this.  It's been strictly for aesthetics, outer appearances, and though it's not an admirable way to live your life, it has been such an experience to fall in love with myself - and with what my body can do.

A lot of people have been telling me, have told me, that I'm beautiful inside and out.
Wow.  Seriously.  It makes me so emotional, that I have so many kind, thoughtful people in my life who think so much of me.  I am crazy, crazy blessed to live my life with this tribe of supporters.  Crazy.
And I am grateful for every single kind comment, and like and share on all of the social medias, and in real life.  SO grateful.  I have had a giant smile on my face all day!

But there's something I'd like to share.

I distinctly remember going on a trip to Hawaii many years ago with some friends.  I remember vividly that I did not feel I deserved to go on such a nice holiday because I was very large, and I was extremely uncomfortable in my body.

I have felt this discomfort for most of my adult life, and for much of my childhood too, because for the vast majority of my life, I have carried a lot of extra weight.

Shout out to Crossfit Leduc, amiright?!

The thing I want to share is something that one can only know if one has lived in a very large body for any period of time.

When people tell you you're beautiful at any size, you don't disagree.  You don't.  But, when you are living or have lived, as an obese person, it's a whole world that some people cannot comprehend, because when they say they loved you when you were also large, only you can know that you, at some point, didn't, or don't, love yourself, and that all the love in the world, pouring in from every which way, cannot get to you, because you don't feel a drop of it for yourself.

On that Hawaii trip, there are some pictures of me.  I have cleverly disguised my size by wearing baggy clothes, or making sure there were people, or objects blocking my body, or sometimes avoiding the camera altogether.  I was not comfortable, and to this day, it is the strongest memory of that trip for me.  Not feeling comfortable in my body.  Sucky, right?  That a gorgeous trip to Hawaii holds such a lousy memory?

So, the thing is, I feel as though this phenomenal group of people, who have been along this crazy journey called life, and have loved me, unconditionally, forever, might not truly understand how it feels to live obese.

I never doubted that you loved me.  I never doubted that you would be there for me.  I just assumed those things.  But inside myself, I fought a really, really hard battle.  A battle made entirely of inner dialogue, but that dialogue was filled with some of the most horrid, disgusting words.  Words I would never, ever in a million years say out loud.  Words that I hope my daughters never even consider to think.  And that is my why.

I love myself now in a way I could have never fathomed.  I set this goal out for myself, I worked hard, and persevered and thought about quitting every day.  But my why, is those two girls and little boy, who are molding self images, and who have seen their Mom do some incredible sh*t, but who will never know of the internal war I waged on myself for way, way too many years.  I wanted to prove to myself what I was capable of, and although these pictures are stunning and I am eternally grateful that this journey has been captured, I do not take that away from this experience.  What I take away, is a normalized relationship with food and with myself.  That's it.  When I see it written there, just a simple sentence, it seems small.  Trivial.  But the truth is, I have spent a whole lifetime longing for this.  And I've only just realized that I had the power to be in control.  I did.  All along.

From there to here?  It's been the longest road I've ever traveled.  It's not even over.  It never will be.  That's one of the things I've learned.  I know that sometimes people think, "well, I'll just go and do that", when they think about losing weight, but they don't consider that in the 'getting there', you will face some tough sh*t.  You will battle demons and memories and thoughts head on.  No one gains weight simply by eating too much.  Nonononono.  We gain weight because food helps us cope.  Food is easy, and comforting, and always there.  It is on the difficult days, the ones where you are ready to quit and you haven't gotten out of bed, that you will dig deep, and discover the self love you have repressed for so long, and you will get up and grind out that day.  Those are the days that cause the most transformation.

I know that some of this is inspiring.  I am honored, honored to think that even one person could think of me as an inspiration.  And I want you to be inspired.  I do.  So much.  I've been inspired a million times along the way too, in a million different ways.  If I can wish for you, though?  It's that you are inspired to love yourself.  Right now.  Don't wait.  I regret the energy and time I wasted not loving myself, and I wish I'd done it sooner, and I want for you to love yourself now, as you are, because the girl in these pictures?  She was always there, waiting for the self-love

Thank you Brandi, for being, and continuing to be, my tour guide.
www.motivateandbfit.com

And thank you to my dear friend Kelsie for capturing this emotional day!
www.kelsiekellyphoto.com

And BIG thank you to Crossfit Leduc for this facility, coaching and family.  You are some of the greatest people I know, Brad and Annie!
www.crossfitleduc.com

Haaaaaaammmiiiiiiiies...

No Explanation Necessary

Every single year, when the calendar passes Christmas and Boxing Day and the week before New Years meanders on, we start to see more and more posts about how the past year can bite it, because it sucked, and hopefully the next year is better...
Like every year, we are handed a fresh, brand new sheet of paper to turn into something amazing, and then here we are again, on Dec 29, balling it up to toss over our shoulder and begin again on January 1.

We define our lives by the sh*tty things that happen.  We define an entire year by the sh*tty things that happened.  How often do you hear someone say, "man, that was just a really great year!".  On December 29?  Not many...

But what if instead of remembering the few awful things that happened, and deciding that the whole year should be scrapped, we chose the things we achieved, obstacles we overcame, and celebrated them, but then scrapped the whole resolution bulls*t instead?  Hmmmmmm?  Whadyathink?!?!

Some not so pleasant things happened last year, but way, way more phenomenal things happened, and  I looked back on 2017 with pride.  See the good.  Find the positive.

I do not make resolutions because I don't need that kind of negativity in my life.

Instead, I make goals.  Doesn't "goal crusher" sound way cooler than "resolution crusher"?  It does.  I'll just go ahead and answer it for you.  Goals are measurable.  Goals have plans and action and the acceptance of setbacks.  Goals will still be around in June.  Resolutions are usually just a fart in the wind by then.

My goal this year?  To stop seeking approval.  Validation.  I am enough.  I do not owe anyone an explanation for how I live my life, and I do not need to hear yours.  Make your page beautiful this year.  You do you.

There's a window where I work, where, in good lighting, you will catch a perfect reflection of yourself.

I've worked here long enough to see many different reflections looking back at me, and many of them have made me sad, and many of them, including my gigantic pregnant bellies, have made me so happy.

I can recall seeing myself, after returning from my last maternity leave, and noticing that my shoulders were rounded.  I remember thinking to myself, that my goal was to sculpt myself some nice shoulders.

I caught myself in that window the other day.
Goal = achieved.

I am on the single digit weeks in prep for my photo shoot in January, and I am driven as f*ck.
Let me tell you, my focus is sharp, and my "why's" are crystal freakin' clear.
I know why I'm doing this, and I am so confident in myself, that when you have something to say about my transformation, I do not feel the need to respond.  I am just that confident.

I heard a fella on Instagram the other day, Gary Vee, you may have heard of him.  He's a crazy motivating individual, and he will make you believe in your damn self.  He was talking, passionately, about goals. The message was, who's permission are you waiting for?  And it.  Was.  Good.

There were some choice words in his video, but I would venture to say they were warranted, but the truth is that most of us are scared of our goals, sometimes because we are seeking permission from somewhere. Acknowledgment.  Validation.  As if, once we get that, only then can we pursue our goals.  What?!  Like, why?? Sometimes, you need to be super honest with yourself.  What bullsh*t excuse is it this time?  Are you waiting for permission?  Who's green light do you need before you can go on and live the life you want?  Who's?  It has only been when I decided, for my damn self, to do what I want, that I have been the most happy.  That I have felt like I have had the most purpose.

But, why do you want to do a photo shoot?
For myself.  That's it.  Myself.

I do not owe you, or anyone else an explanation.

You?  Person I don't know very well?  Or maybe even person I do know well.  I will not explain to you why I am making the choices I am.  I've learned that opinions should be regarded like shoes.  Check them out, perhaps nod and then move on.  Do.  Not.  Put.  Stock.  Into either shoes or opinions.  Both will come and go, and pass you by, and neither will have any bearing on your life.

I am very close to having my day.  I will be uncomfortable.  I will have some difficult days leading up to.  This is the sprint though.  This is the part where I leave it all out there.  No more saving it.  This is the time to empty the tank.  I did not come this far to only come this far.  My hope is that I will have this memory forever.  There will be photos that will baffle me.  I'm positive there will be bloopers pics too that shall  never be released for other human eyes!  This has been such an emotional ride, and the closer I get, the more I can feel the doubt.  The wishers-that-I-fail-'ers.  It's hard to know that there are people who want to see you fall.  Waiting for it, even.  But my goal this year is that I will not worry about other people.  I will have such strong faith in myself and my abilities, that I won't have the peripheral vision, even, to notice the peanut gallery.

Transformation game is strong, and it's just barely 2018.

Stand UP.

Stop standing like that!

I heard that one day from my very favorite physiotherapist during our warm up at the gym.

I slouch.
All the time.

It's a terrible habit and I started to say, "I can't help it...", before she cut me off with, "Yes.  You can."
And she's right.

A lifetime of being a chubby girl has trained my body to have a permanent hunch.
I am trying to concentrate on proper posture and standing tall, but I have to think about it all the time because I've been slouching for 30+ years.

Why have I always rounded my shoulders?  I don't think I would be the first fat person who wanted to fold themselves in, trying to be smaller by bringing my sides closer together.
Stick my chest out?!  WTF?!?!  Do you see how big these things are while I'm slouching?!?!  If I pop them out, they're going to take out a swath of people!!
If I stand tall, I will take up more space.
And I do did not want to do that when I was a larger person.
I'm still learning to live in this body.
I don't recognize myself in pictures and I'm quite sure the vision I have in my head of myself is different from how I actually look.

I should have stood tall and proud then, but now that there are three little peoples' eyes watching me, I feel I need to be especially careful to have good posture - which exudes self confidence through body language.
(Fake it 'til 'ya make it, right?!)
How can I tell them to be proud of themselves, while my body seems to be curling in on itself, in an unnatural looking way?
I'm careful not to criticize my body, which strangely, I never did as a larger person, but now I have to stifle it.
When you gain 5 or 10 pounds, and you weigh 210, it's not really a huge deal and most certainly will go unnoticed.
Gain 5 on a 150lb body?  Your clothes will remind you that it's too much!  Ta-RUST me!

It's important, though.
It's important that I lead by example, and although my kids will only ever remember this version of me, this, size, of me, I lived in a very different meat suit for a much longer period of time than this current one, and it's important, that they know to be confident, at any size.

More importantly, I think they need to know that their body is nowhere near as important as their heart, and that the person they are on the inside is what people remember.  What counts.
So be kind, and hopefully I can teach them that their body is just something they live in.
In a world that tells us to be always conscious of our body, our beauty, I think it's so important to try and show them that without it ever being something they have to think about, they can be confident.

I myself struggle with trying not to think so much about my physical self.
I've been focused, laser-beam focused on changing my body, but I need to now just be, so that I can raise two girls, and a little boy, who are not body conscious, but just, conscious.

So, stand tall, just be confident, and you may have to do what I'm going to do.
Fake it 'til I make it.

On the Daily

So, sometimes when I'm cleaning up my children's dishes, I take the last swig of their drink.

Done it lots of times.
Only this time, my adventurous son had put several bits of his lunch into his milk.
Mmmmmmmm.  I'll just let you imagine that for a sec...
I won't be doing that again.  Lesson learned.

I was wrangling that sweet little cherub into a restless nap today, when I thought to myself, "I wonder if I can order a pumpkin spice latte when Blake and I go on our date tonight?  I need to know what all the hype is about pumpkin spice."

The crazy, hectic, stressful chaos that is daily life, has become so normal, that in the midst of my sons screaming, kicking fight to get to slumber, I can still be daydreaming about this evenings kid-free festivities.

Now, I'm not a type A Mom and I'm certainly not one to stress over the little stuff, but I do recall in the days that Audrey may have been portraying similar behavior in spite of her extreme exhaustion, that I may have just given in, and subsequently suffered the consequences for several more hours before she surrendered to sleep, in a closet.

I'm quite sure it's more the aging process than it is raising little people, but I seem to give fewer and fewer effs about the stresses of life in general.

I know what's important and I wholly engage in what I have prioritized, but I'm finding that I'm happier than I've ever been because I try not to invest energy into sh*t that doesn't matter to me.

Raising good kids.
That's pretty important to me.

Creating and putting the effort into my relationship with my husband.
That's really important to me.

"You treat me like garbage."
She spat at me, through clenched teeth.

We had just spent an hour and a half at the park.
We had brought a friend of hers, even.
And when we walked in the door, and she asked if her friend could stay for dinner, and I said no, and she said this to me.
"You treat me like garbage."

How do I emphasize the depth and pain of her words?
As I remember that I myself have used the word garbage to describe someone else's behavior at one time or another, and now it's being spewed back at me.

I asked her to repeat it.
She wouldn't.

I told her that was the indicator of how hurtful her words had been.
If it hurts to repeat the statement, then it was too mean to have been said in the first place.
I try very, very hard not to say things I will eventually have to apologize for.
I expect the same restraint from my loved ones.

Sometimes the plan is to go something like this:

Take kids to do something fun.
Come home.
Cook and eat dinner together (Eat.  As in, the one beautiful, healthy meal I've made).
Bath/brush teeth/book.
Bed.

Sometimes most times the plan is derailed because, well, life.

Some days are bad.
They start poorly, with a giant cup of coffee through the drive thru, when I'd asked politely for tea, and then they continue to spiral into a self-pity party and end triumphantly in someone vomiting on the floor.
There are no words to emphasize the difficulty that is raising little people into grown ups who are not as*holes.
There are no words to emphasize the struggle that can sometimes be marriage and family.

I've heard that nothing worth doing is easy, and I can only cling to the hope that because it is often so damn hard to be a wife and parent and also try to maintain the original me, that maybe, just maybe we're doing something right.

Note to self:  Must try harder to appreciate the days that are easy, and effortlessly enjoyable.