Run, girl, run. It’s really living.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.

The air is calm and cool against my skin. There is a dampness still clinging to the city after an early morning rain. I love these kind of mornings. Some people nearby complain to each other about the “dreary weather,” but this isn’t misery – this is rejuvenation. I slide a finger against my smartphone and hit play. The sound of music rings in my ears and the corners of my mouth creep upward into an appreciative smile. I’m really going to live today.

I set off down the street, my feet pounding on the pavement carefully. The last thing I need to do is fall. It’s around 10:30 in the morning so the convention attendees are already running around. I pass a few people, smiling as I habitually do to new faces, and receive smiles in return. My heart is beating harder and my legs are beginning to remind me that they don’t like to run. I ignore them.

I cross my first street and skip over the large white blocks as if playing a game. A lady in bright pink hair with bright red lips smiles at me. I hear her shout a “Woo!” as I jog off. I feel like a rock star.

It’s been nearly three blocks and my legs, hips, and ankles need a break so I slow down to a walk. My body is buzzing with every step and it’s an exquisite moment where I feel alive. Suddenly the early alarm clock doesn’t seem to matter; this is what I wanted to do.

I jog a few more blocks up to the large park, walking intervals in between. I decide to turn around after stepping up and down the local government’s staircase several times. I’m feeling good, I think. Let’s get a little crazy. As if in total conspirator agreement, my music speeds up and hits a particularly enthusiastic note. I start sprinting down the street.

Yes! I’m doing it! Run! The world is my oyster or something and I … My body creaks and my knee stings me with pain. Nope, nope, nope, nope!

I slow down and come to a stop, my shorts halfway on an archeological dig to my uterus, and my ankles ready to secede and declare war on my foolish brain. I try to quickly recover my breath and fail to suppress a stupid, goofy smile. For that one moment, I was a superhero. I was really living.

My music calmed in time with my steps and I headed back to the hotel. I passed more convention attendees. I smelled more than they did. I didn’t apologize. I marched back quiet and proud that at least today, I chose to live and it felt wonderful.

Working Out My Attitude, Not Just My Body

bb453wb-w484h484z1-33621-stay-on-the-internet“Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference.” – Winston Churchill

It’s Friday, and that usually means thinking about my favorite FPS or fitness. Today it’s the latter as I reach the end of the eighth week of my pre-holiday MMA/weights training schedule. It’s been a fun two months of punching, kicking, and lifting, but I find myself nearing the finish line without the results I was looking for in this process.

With just three weeks to go, I’ve barely lost any weight (still holding on to that happy holiday and fun steroid weight gain) – a whole 7 pounds, which is pretty slow for me. It’s extremely frustrating considering I have an entire box of clothing waiting for me ever since 2011 when I was 30 pounds lighter and on a high from being a part-time fitness instructor. The weight came off so quickly then and I suppose I’m having a hard time realizing that I’m older now and it might not be coming off quite the same way. (I also really like beer now.) Continue reading “Working Out My Attitude, Not Just My Body”

Getting Back on Track

Week 4: Insanity & Les Mills Pump Hybrid Schedule

This week I’m finally back in the swing of things after a seemingly marathon stint of parties, vacations, and dining excursions. Instead of back-tracking and essentially “punishing” myself, I’ve decided to just keep positively moving forward. My birthday is in two weeks and I’m nowhere near where I want to be. I have spent a lot of time over the last few months sort of stuck in self-loathing, which only leads to further emotional eating, weight gain and general misery.

There’s really no point in it. Over the last week or so, I’ve started working to accept myself for where I am at the moment. I’ve stopped focusing on the giant box of size 10 clothing in the closet that I haven’t fit in since 2011. It’s only further damaging my self-esteem to have that tower over me like a giant failure when I can’t get to it. So this past week, I had the opportunity to stay with my husband at a high-end resort and just vacation for a week. I went to Target and bought clothes that fit – regardless of their size. I even found a bathing suit that fit and made me feel comfortable. I felt good all week, guys. I was in the pool; I was happy; I was so much better just accepting me for me, rather than focusing on the tiny girls in skimpy bikinis (I admit I did a little; I’m not cured – yet).

Continue reading “Getting Back on Track”

Battling Shamedrea

It’s not even a week into my new 60-day fitness program and I am already fighting to stick through the hard points of my workouts and say no to every chocolate bar, energy drink and french fry within a 20-mile radius.

You see, I have a nasty little voice inside my head, who I’ve named Shamedrea, or “Sham” for short. Shamedrea is the manifestation of all of my nightmares, my fears, my stress, my enemies – she’s everything bad in my past, present and possible future; she’s really quite a terrible entity. And unfortunately for me, Shamedrea has me wrapped around her little bitchy finger. She has an uncanny ability to instill me with self-doubt, drag me down detrimental paths of self-loathing, depression, and, naturally, shame.

Continue reading “Battling Shamedrea”