New Me Versus Old Me

1. Imagine "New Me" is your best friend.  
2. Be honest with her no matter what.  
3. Recognize her hard work and success in spite of setbacks and frustration.
4. Defend fitness as her absolute birthright.  
5. Feed her body and soul with the best ingredients.  
6. Surround her with people who do the same.  
7. Don't let anyone underestimate her- especially "Old Me"
8. Have patience- for life has seasons of blatant growth and quiet root building
9. Schedule FUN-sing, dance, laugh and cheer for/with her.
10. Honor her dreams-Remember--I can see her when some can't and I swear she won't let you down.

Merry Christmas Genius-You Know Who You Are

  Merry Christmas Genius!  You already know practically everything I would say as a trainer and a client.  I am blessed beyond my measure.  Training would be amazing even if all that happened was that the future changed so much for the better.  But, like Christmas, training takes the past too and mostly revises it. So these old wounds and scars that once caused so much pain and regret: being obese, being fired, being injured, weak and ever-so-convinced that nothing would ever change--they cease being the offenses they once were and ultimately become the map that saves not just your own life, but that of anyone who follows.

Commit to Yourself & Get Paid for It!

Experts know the value of keeping a food diary when it comes to weight loss.  Studies (like one conducted by American Journal of Preventive Medicine) show that people who record their food intake 6 days/week or more lose twice as much weight as those who did not.  But, did you know you can get paid to track your nutrition?  From your smart phone, you can access PACT an app that links to My Fitness Pal. 

https://www.pactapp.com/

PACT allows you to make a commitment like tracking your food every day; and if you keep your PACT, you get paid $1/day (not to mention the health benefits that should inspire such goals)

How does it work?  You set up a penalty for not meeting the commitment which is linked to your credit/debit or Paypal account.  If the $1/day isn’t enough to motivate you; PACT has shown that paying the price (again the health/wellness costs should be enough, right?) for missing the mark keeps users highly motivated.  But, not everyone-- of course, that’s where the reward money comes from.  So, commit to positive change & get paid for it too!

Dancing on the Edge

And so it goes, the demon is never too far away. It's the one that circles and tempts you into a feeling of false complacency, the feeling that you can eat what you want and you don't have to run or do any work out if you don't want to. It keeps edging its way into my success and trying desperately to sabotage the best of my healthy food choices and exercising goals. The demon invites you to the dance. It spreads its arms in perfect posture begging you to enter into its hold. It seems so enticing, beckoning you into itself, promising you that sugar and lazy hanging  around are deserving treats and will only take you a turn or two around the dance floor for a little while.  Not too much pressure just  gently letting you in to begin spinning around, languishing into yourself, dancing around the very thin edge of a spiral only to be sucked into its vortex of false promises.

Today I woke up in a sugar stupor. Too much picnic food and not anything remotely healthy. Frankly my recent unhealthy choices were not as bad as previous years, but what I discovered is that I don't have to eat as much as I once did for me to get drunk on sweets. Yes, I use the word drunk because I realize now how toxic sugar is to my body. First, I woke up not feeling good, second my thinking was hazy and not clear, third, I continued to make poor eating choices until late in the afternoon. Then, something inside me made me want to stop dancing.   I made the decision, with help from someone who understands the dance, that  this current dance party was over.  I had to physically make myself leave the floor, put on my sneakers and run, yes run to shake off the urge to continue spinning out of control.

What I know for sure is that this dance will probably beckon to me again since most of my life I have chosen its steps. But I have a new partner that is gaining strength within and setting me up to call out the demon of the spiral before I step out onto floor. Commit to success it says because that is the only dance you have an invitation to attend.

My Scale is An Idiot

It's May.  The display on my scale hasn't changed in 2014.  Well, that's not exactly true; over the last 4 months it has inched up and back the same kilogram or two.  What the hell?!?  I am training harder than ever.  My nutrition is stricter than ever.  And God knows the enemy in my mind is as quick to pounce as ever despite a decade winning the obesity war  (and yes it is WAR): "You are getting nowhere...What a waste of time...energy...money!!!"  Moments like this cue up images of Mexican food and Gelato like movie trailers in my head.  I mean...what's the difference, right?  EXCEPT MY SCALE IS AN IDIOT.  Correction, it is idiotic to use a scale as an absolute measure of success because:

Have to admit that I have been an unwilling student of physics most of my life.  But, I know my enemy better than I used to.  And so, in January when my training changed to prepare for the Tough Mudder I recorded my measurements.  I wanted to understand how lifting heavier weights and adding more explosive exercises would manifest on me physically.  And, now, 100 days later, I can say for certain I WOULD BE AN IDIOT IF I MEASURED THE LAST 100 DAYS BY MY SCALE.  Here's what really happened while I did the first monkey bars and vertical jumps of my life:

 

  

Six inches in 100 days.  Maybe you'll always have a naysayer in your head.  But you don't have to listen to her.

Tough Stuff

When I signed up for the Tough Mudder I knew there was only one thing about it that appealed to me--the team--my actual team and the entire Team running along side of us. The camaraderie culture of the Tough Mudder is an amazing, inspiring part of this event; you'll see it over and over as teammates and complete strangers literally lift each other up throughout the day.  Crucially though, this is probably where my affection for the Mudder ends, and the actual challenge just begins.  Which means I basically detest and suck at most of what I signed up for: dirt, pain, fear, extremes, etc.  Making the day of the Tough Mudder, well, not surprisingly, miserable.  A chosen misery, that took all of my agility, strength, allies, and grit to keep advancing on the path... not unlike the challenge of obesity itself.  And although I barely have what it takes to earn an orange headband at the Tough Mudder, on the Obesity Course, I am working on the black one, already anchored at the top of that Everest and reaching as far and as long as I can to anyone who needs a boost over that slippery slope.

 

Getting from Here to There with Excess Baggage

So one of the lovely details about modern commercial flying is the baggage and deciding between carrying on and checking the luggage.  There was a time I avoided checking bags no matter what items I might have to go without.  But the security demands that dictate the liquids you carry and the apparent threat of one's shoes now have converted me.....especially when like today I am packing a week's worth of stuff.  And, though I may concede the $25 fee I am not about to hand over another $60 for exceeding the weight restriction.  So there I am at 3:45am weighing first myself and then hoisting the huge suitcase so I can weigh us both.  My husband has to check the display because if I move at all to see the screen the scale will just read "error."  I have to hold the bag vertically to stay still and it's extremely hard for me to basically upright row such an unwieldy thing and stay motionless so he can check.  But, I manage it for the 2-3 seconds we need and happily we confirm that the suitcase is just under the limit.  I am grateful when I can set it down and just wheel it to the car.  But, then it occurs to me that even though I applied all my muscle to hold it- the combined weight of me and the suitcase is still 45 pounds less than what I once weighed alone-about as much as the bag weights today.  So, I regularly carried more than twice that much around every minute with no breaks and far less muscle.  Somehow the fleeting burdens of my travels seem inconsequential now.  And, if TSA inspects further they'll find that getting from here to there takes running shoes, trail shoes, hiking boots, a baseball for massage, The Stick and a jump rope for a girl like me to make it all the way to Sedona.