#EveryDayinMay - It's Swagurday with my GoVoxBox!

Pop on over to read the last of Crystal's blog series on New Orleans!

Influenster is the bomb diggity, you guys. I just finished up my last VoxBox, and yesterday I received a new one! If you aren't a member at Influenster, you should definitely check it out. What's more awesome than a bunch of free stuff showing up at your house? Not much, my friends, not much. A VoxBox is a collection of products set around a theme -- my latest one is all fitness stuff -- that you receive in exchange for trying out and reviewing. Not a bad deal!

So here's the scoop on my latest Influenster swag:

Not only is it a box of free goodies, it's pretty, too!

I came home from work to find my VoxBox sitting happily for me on the coffee table. I was supposed to quickly change clothes and head out for a concert, but I couldn't help but peek inside, and I am so glad I did!

Inside I found:

• a brand new Next Step shaker bottle from The Vitamin Shoppe
• three Next Step protein shake packets (chocolate, vanilla, and berry)
• Blue Diamond Blueberry flavored almonds
• Profoot Pedi-Rock (it's soft and squishy!)
• Profoot Orthotic shoe inserts (perfect for someone about to be hiking all over the place!)
• Aqua Spa Body Creme in lavender and chamomile
• Voucher for a FREE Muller yogurt product
• Playtex Sport Fresh Balance tampons

All my pretties laid out in a row!

The shakes and new shaker bottle couldn't have come at a better time. Since I was in such a hurry to make it to Turbo's spring concert, I didn't have time for dinner. The bottle is super cute and instead of the normal little metal whisk ball that is in most shakers, this has a fun purple plastic mixer that looks like an oversized jack (does anyone even remember playing jacks as a kid or am I really that old?)

I grabbed the chocolate packet and the bottle and filled it with some ice and water. The packet says to use 8 ounces of water, but I normally don't like mine quite that strong. I used 10 ounces, but the flavor was strong enough that I probably could have used 12. It. Was. Delicious! Sort of like chocolate milk, but a little sweeter, and very creamy. Surprising, since many protein mixes can be sort of thin when only mixed with water - I was thrilled that this shake was so good! A lot of protein powders I've tried have a strong after taste or can be quite chalky. Next Step had none of that! I really enjoyed it.

You can almost see the cute little mixer jack in there!

 I am typically a big snob about protein mix ingredients, but hey -- this was free and my only real option for dinner, so I barely even glanced at the ingredients. I'll do a thorough check and see what I think when I have my next shake, and report back here. There was a pretty long list of ingredients, which is normally a red flag for me -- plus, the shake was very sweet, so I know I need to check what kind of sweetener is used. Since I enjoyed the shake so much, I am hoping that this will end up being a mix that I will buy for myself in the future!

My yummy protein drink all mixed up, and the Blueberry Almonds, too!

I grabbed the almonds to take with me, not sure if the shake would fill me up. I definitely didn't need the almonds -- the shake totally satisfied me! But I wanted to see what they were like, so I tore open the bag and gave them a shot. I love almonds, and typically buy them raw without any salt or extra shenanigans, so this was very different for me. If you like blueberry and a little sweetness added to your almond, you'll definitely like these. I'll probably stick to my raw almonds mostly, but when I'm craving something sweet, I would eat these again.

And because I have a serious addiction to lotions, I also opened the Aqua Spa and put some on my hands and arms before leaving for the concert. Super happy that the smell isn't overly pungent; it's a soft lavender that isn't overpowering but lasts for quite a while. The creme is thick but not oily, so I will absolutely use it again.

I'm looking forward to trying out the ProFoot products soon. The Husband and I have an overnight hiking trip next weekend, so that gives me the perfect reason to test those out. So far, everything in this VoxBox has been amazeballs, so I'm excited to try out the rest!

What about you guys? Any new favorite products you've tried out lately? I'd love to hear from you!

#SOL14 - Mindset Reboot

I've been stuck in a circle of sorrow for the past couple months, choosing to have a pity party about my health issues  -- choosing self-defeat -- instead of focusing on the good things.

So my back hurts.
I can walk.
And my neck is chronically stiff and sore.
I can stretch.
I've gained weight by eating mindlessly.
I can focus on each moment and choose what makes me healthy.
I've slid back and am heavier and weaker than I was before.
I am completely capable of regaining the healthy body I want.
It's all up to me.

I turn 40 in September. I can choose to live mindlessly through each day and tumble toward that milestone without making any changes, or I can kick this bad attitude to the curb and start doing something about it. The time will pass either way. The real question is: so what am I going to do about it?

Since my doctors want me stretching daily but the physical therapy exercises are seriously boring me to tears, I decided to take up Pilates. I've done it before and loved it, and I know that when I love an activity I am much more likely to keep it up. I did my first round today, with Sass by my side. Since I want to workout from home, I decided to follow the beginner's workout calendar over at Blogilates. We laughed through most of it, even when she was rolling around on the floor yelling, "No more, no more - wow, this really hurts!"

Welcome to the burn, sister.

And since Grimm has come home, I need to work on leash training him. This is a great excuse to get out and start walking again. Eventually when my back and knees are stronger (and when he outgrows his puppyness), walking will become running. But I won't be able to run again unless I first walk.

Food is the easy part. By choosing to live in the moment and notice my choices, I tend to have great success in eating well. It all comes down to consistently making the smart decisions that will lead me to my end goal -- a long, healthy life.

Being active is the hard part, not because I don't want to do it, but simply because I ache everywhere and am sleepy all the time. Setting appointments for my daily walk and Pilates will be key to pushing through the first begrudging minutes. I know I always feel better about myself and am in a more positive mood with each workout I make it through.

I had hoped to do more of this during spring break, but the truth is I needed this week to just sit and think about what is truly important to me. I restarted my daily meditation practice and found myself falling easily back into that place where the past and future regrets and worries fall away. All that matters is today.

And I am very thankful for today.

I do my best to stay behind the camera these days. This was taken March 14, 2014 with Sass and Grimm!

#Slice2013 - Day 28 of 31

Have I mentioned lately how much 2013 has been rawking my socks off?

I mean, let's get serious for a minute:

• Completion of savings budget? Check!
• New home? Check!
• House remodeling successes? Check!
• Possible career enhancing opportunity of ultimate rockstar happiness? Check!
• Dos' knee surgically repaired and healing beautifully? Check!
• Back on track and eating clean? Check! (YES! Finally! Yay! It feels sooooo good!)
• Writing daily, working on new ideas? Check!
• New fitness venture, enabling me to motivate myself and thousands of others -- while working with the inspirational fitness diva from The Sweaty Betties? Check!
• Ability to bring people along with me on this unbelievably fabulous fitness adventure? Check, check, and uber-check!

And there are other blessings as well -- too many to list, too many heart-happy moments, too many smiles, too much joy to keep all to myself.

Loving life, my friends. And there's still more to come!

W: weights

w

WEIGHTS, LIFTING

I learned the power gained through weight lifting about four years ago. I had never considered myself to be an athlete, or even remotely capable of anything falling under the category of “sports.” But then, after losing about 100 pounds and needing a way to firm up all the undesired flabbiness that comes with a huge weight loss, I grabbed myself a personal trainer and timidly opened the door to lifting.

Here is what I learned about myself:

1.     Contrary to my lifelong belief, I am athletic

2.     I am stronger than I believed

3.     I push myself past the point where many people would stumble and quit

4.     I love lifting

Many women are afraid of lifting because they believe weights will hulk them out like a super-charged steroid-ridden power lifter. Not so much. Even lifting seriously heavy, a woman’s body just isn’t designed to grow gargantuan muscles without some serious supplementation on the side.

When I was lifting regularly and eating clean, I was leaner, stronger, and smaller than I had been in my life. In my life, people. It only took 2 to 3 one-hour sessions in the gym each week to maintain a body that, while not as sculpted as a fitness model, was still strong and healthy.

Right now I’m on the road back to that kind of regular dedication to myself. It’s a hard battle to fight, when it’s so much easier to let kids, a husband, work – really, any number of things – take precedence.

But here’s the deal – the truth of the issue that people just don’t like to face – eating right and being healthy aren’t about the calories or the scale or the number of reps or increase in weights.

Being healthy is about being dedicated to you. And when you can master truly putting your best health before anything else? I think you’re making an amazingly impressive statement: I matter.

And when you matter to yourself, people can’t help but treat you differently. Because you’re worth it, and you know you deserve a life filled with healthy choices – from the food you eat, to the people you surround yourself with, right down to what you’re willing to spend your money on.

Funny how I learned all that through “lifting things up and putting them down.”

SOL Tuesday: WTMNBN, Part 3

This post started here, moved forward here, and has landed rather quietly on the doorstep of today's Slice of Life post. I hadn't intended to share this today, but it seemed to want to be heard. Sometimes, you just have to follow the words home again.

My last WTMNBN post left my story ten years ago, in 2002. I struggled with my self image and my weight for the next 4 years, shedding and gaining the same 20-30 pounds -- as if my body were part of some twisted bungee jumping adventure. Always bouncing around, never stable.

In 2006, my mom flew in from Illinois for a visit.  It was a normal Mom visit -- filled with food, food, and more food. Mom loves the following things more than most things in life: onion dip, M&M's, Coca-Cola, bread & butter, and Taco Bell. Or McDonald's. This sounds cruel, but it isn't intended to be. I love my mom dearly. It's her lifestyle that makes me cringe.

She woke me early in the hours just before dawn on the day she was supposed to return home. She was in tears, her body hunched over, her arms wrapped around her belly. It didn't take long for me to realize this was more than an ordinary stomach ache. As the sun came up, we headed to the hospital.

My mom was rushed into a room that was roughly the size of a walk-in closet. Honestly, there are probably closets out there larger than her room at the hospital. There was nothing on the walls, no counters or cabinets, just stark white floors, walls, and ceilings. A rounded bench jutted out from one wall; as if seat and wall had been molded together from a single piece of Play-doh.

Later, the nurses told us that they had been out of rooms, so my mom was placed on a gurney in their holding room for drunks and other "crazies" that can't be trusted in a normal room. It made for an interesting experience, to say the least.

I watched my mom sleep through the next several hours, only waking to request something to drink or a warmer blanket. She was pale and weak; her face tired, her body slack. I had no idea why she was in so much pain, why her digestive system had blood in it, or what the possible diagnosis would be.

I was scared.

Hospitals have always petrified me. I've spent way too much time in emergency rooms, outpatient clinics, overnight stays -- you name it, I've been there. To this day, every time I walk into any type of medical environment I have to fight back a wave of nausea.

But this was more than my typical hospital-paranoia. I spent hours that day worrying that I might lose my mom.

After 10 hours of sitting and waiting and waiting and sitting and letting my mind wander rampantly through the land of the delirious and back, we found out my mom was suffering from diverticulitis -- a completely treatable disease caused by her years of atrocious eating habits.

I remember a few things vividly from that day:

1. I was angry. Watching her lie on the hospital bed, I envisioned the same situation years into the future -- with my own kids sitting by my bedside. Me, missing out on graduations and weddings and grandchildren -- all because food was more important than family, my own health, or my future.
2. This thought crept around my brain, and refused to leave: every choice we make to eat foods that are from a fast food place, too fatty, or fried... every time we choose to sit on the couch all night instead of being active... every choice we make that favors flavor over fitness -- is also a choice for a long, slow, painful suicide.

I stopped over eating. I stopped indulging in Ben & Jerry's. I stopped drinking soda. Stopped smoking. Stopped the secret McDonald's stops on the way home from class at night. 

I started walking. Every day. I started researching heart healthy, nutrient rich recipes. I started truly taking care of myself, for the first time in my life.

I invested in the art of being me.

By 2008 I was healthier, stronger, and slimmer than I had ever been. My 35 year old body put my 17 year old body to shame.

And I wasn't doing it for vanity. I didn't want the skinniest, prettiest body. I didn't place an emphasis on how attractive I was.

I wanted to live. Plain and simple. For a long, long time.

The measure of my success was found in the energy I had, the laughter I shared with my kids, the ease with which I could run and play outdoors with my nieces and nephews.

If something was known to be unhealthy, I didn't let it near me. It wasn't difficult. I thought of my mom, lying in that terrible hospital room, I looked at my children, who deserved a mom that cared more about them than she did about food.

And I just did it.

It would be a perfect fairy tale if that were the end of my story. It is, after all, a beautiful "happily ever after".

But there's more to this story.

Today just isn't the day to tell it.

Book Review: Becoming Odyssa

Becoming Odyssa follows Jennifer Pharr Davis as she transitions from an insecure college student into a strong, independent adult ready to seek out her own adventure. While solo-trekking the Appalachian Trail (over 2000 miles of often cold, wet and treacherous wilderness), Davis learns many lessons about herself, humanity, and her faith.


While reading Becoming Odyssa, I found myself connecting with Davis' spirit of independence and love of literacy. I picked up the book because my husband and I are planning our own hiking trips and plan to eventually land on the Appalachian Trail, but I had no idea how important Davis' story would become to me, or the depth of emotion I would feel each time she struggled or succeeded as she traveled from Georgia to Maine.
Most hikers that complete the entire trail end up with a trail name, and Davis chose her own: Odyssa, modeled after the original epic adventurer, Odysseus. Links between the two great heroes are sprinkled throughout the book, and I enjoyed the similarities between Davis' journey and that of Odysseus.
It is said that anyone that succeeds in completing a thru-hike in the short time span allowed to finish the trail by October will forever be changed. The trail is a pilgrimage, a way to remember our roots, to reclaim our lost selves. Davis discovered this on her own when she hiked the trail in 2005. Since then she says she has never felt more beautiful than when she was on the trail, without a mirror for 6 months. I think this is a truth for many of us: we see our true beauty when we realize what our bodies are completely capable of. Beauty then, is found through the strength in our bones and the endurance of our hearts, not in the shape of our face.

Going Primal

I just finished reading The Primal Blueprint by Mark Sisson.  I read the first few chapters out loud to The Husband, since we were driving down the road and I wanted someone to share the information and discuss it with me.

I love reading this way, plunging through a few paragraphs, stopping to throw out a comment, reflect, ask questions, discuss connections.  Reading PB was transformative for me, but I think perhaps not for the same reason as most people.  Maybe I’m wrong.  You tell me.

Here’s what I learned, as a brief incredibly long and rambling timeline:

January 2007

Thrown into nutritional reform due to my mother’s midnight Emergency Room visit (which resulted in a diagnosis of diverticulitis).  I swore off everything fried, fatty, and fast, dropping my nightly Ben & Jerry’s pint for more veggies and fruit.  Although I was overweight at the time, my main concern was changing my horrible habits so that I would still be around when I had grandchildren and actually be healthy enough to enjoy them.

I searched the aisles at Barnes & Noble until I came up with a heart-healthy cookbook that would help me reach my goal of less processed food prepared quickly for a hungry family.

I joined the local Y, and dropped in every day on my way home from student teaching, spending 30-45 minutes either walking or slowly jogging.  The weight machines were curious, elusive aliens that I watched but never approached.

June 2007

In only six months, I had dropped 70 pounds.  I walked for graduation at a happy 150, smaller than I had been in high school.  I had moved from daily walks to running 2-3 times a week.  Even when we went out with friends, I opted for lean meats and veggies.  I loved the way I ate; I no longer felt tied to calories or the scale.

August 2007

My first teaching job begins.  I learn quickly how difficult it is to maintain a healthy lifestyle when surrounded by doughnuts at staff meetings, chocolates during training, and baked goods from parents.

January 2008

At 165, I seek out a personal trainer to help me learn my way around a weight room.  I’m petrified about lapsing back into a life of unhealthy eating and a scale that reads 220 or higher.  For the next six months I meet with my trainer 2-3 times a week to lift hard, do minimal cardio bursts, and sprint through the parking lot dragging her along behind me.  I give up running; cardio is boring once I discover the fun of my new circuits.

June 2008
I am a lean, mean, muscled machine.  I feel strong, healthy, more vibrant than I can ever remember.

Summer 2008 in a Nutshell

Although I made huge physical strides in 2008, and felt better about myself than I had throughout my life, I suffered a huge hit on a personal/family level, which I allowed to tear me down.  This was my fault -- not the problem, but my intense reaction to it.

I spent the summer in a daze, hurt and depressed.  I abandoned workout out, rarely ate any of the fortifying meals I had become so accustomed to; in fact I rarely ate anything. (At first.  Then came the tsunami of food.)

December 2008

By the end of the year, I managed to pull myself back together, but the damage was done.  I was out of my routine and lacked the willpower to get myself back in the gym.  I was still fairly close to the same body shape and weight from earlier in the year, and I think I let that safety net become a guise for my new lackluster desire for optimum health.

Summer 2009

Back to my old habits.  Fast food, soda, lying to myself.  “Everything in moderation is okay,” I told myself.  At 170 pounds and  too financially strapped to head back to my personal trainer, I decided to make changes on my own.  My thoughts were completely different from my original 2007 desire for health, however.  I missed the image in the mirror.  I missed how 
I felt when I was lean.  Let’s face it, I missed feeling sexy.  With a roll of fat popping out of my skinny jeans, I was angry with myself.

The pictures I had taken along my journey haunted me.  Flat belly, strong biceps, lean legs.  I wanted it back, and I wanted it FAST.

The focus was not on heart-healthy nutritious foods anymore.  I needed minimal calories, high protein for muscle building, low fat, low carbs.  I needed immediate results.

I was back in the gym, walking or running or climbing for one or two hours at a time.

I was back in the gym, lifting weights, when I wasn’t online researching methods to build muscle and drop fat as quickly as possible.

Oddly, with all my sprints and long runs and heavy lifting and minimal food -- nothing changed.

Well, nothing changed quickly enough for me.  I dropped about 10 pounds (mostly water I’m sure) and toned out a little, but mostly all I ended up with was an insane hunger for more food, and frustration over my slow results.

In the months that followed, this became my pattern.

Work my butt off, starve myself with packaged “foods”, get discouraged and binge.

Honestly, you’d think I just plain became an idiot during that time period.  I already knew what worked -- I’d done it before!  


But I was so hellbent on quick answers that I kept chasing my tail.  Never getting any closer to my goal, always getting further away from a healthy self image.

February 2010

I discover Lyle McDonald’s Rapid Fat Loss plan.  Less than 20 grams of fat and carbs a day, lots of protein, and forums full of people (mostly men) proclaiming oodles of weight loss.  The problem?  They complain of dizziness, nausea, low energy levels, and random digestive issues.

No matter, I can totally do this, I think.  And I do.  Egg whites, tuna, veggies -- no fruit, no nuts (which I miss terribly) -- but for 4 weeks I manage to feast on mostly protein.  I drop 12 pounds, look leaner, and actually feel pretty amazing.  Lots of energy and mental clarity.  I wish I could eat little to no carbs all the time, but Lyle’s book talks about glucose and your brain and metabolism issues -- and honestly, after a while I just get sick of tuna.  And eggs.  And turkey.

Off for another round of yo-yo’ing.  

June 2010

I read Born to Run by Christopher McDougall.  I remember my original love for running, learn a lot about tribal nutrition, barefoot running, and survival.  Something in the back of my mind begins to click into place.


July 2010
I’ve been following the blog Diary of a Modern Matriarch  for a while, but she started a new blog, Primal Matriarch.  It’s all about “eating primal”.  I’m digging the recipes she shares, and the abundance of fruits and veggies she talks about.

I email her, and she tells me about PB by Mark Sisson.  Lots of veggies, fruits, nuts, meat, eggs ... and the list goes on.  All the foods I love. (It reminds me of the Rapid Fat Loss Plan, but doesn’t swear off all the delicious fruits and nuts and dairy that I crave)

As I read the book I’m talking with The Husband about this horrible merry-go-round I’ve placed myself on.

All in the name of the perfect body.  Beauty.  An image.

Yeah, it makes me sick too.  

We talk about how when I originally lost 100 pounds it had nothing to do with how I looked, and everything to do with how I felt, and how I wanted to feel in 30, 40, 50 years.

PB reminded me that what matters most to me is not how cute I look in a bikini, but how much time I’ll be able to spend running down the beach with my grandkids when I’m all wrinkled with time.

It reminded me that when I was able to lose weight and get healthy I was NOT eating processed junk.  I was enjoying real foods: foods rich in color and taste, that grew out of the ground, could be eaten raw, and didn’t require an expiration date for me to know if they were okay to eat or not.

It reminded me that when I enjoyed working out I was lifting heavy, playing around with cardio, and sprinting once in a while.  I was doing these things in short sessions, a few times a week.  Not every day; not for hours at a time.

It reminded me that the way it all started for me -- nothing fatty, fast, or fried was exactly what I needed; what I should have returned to instead of banging my head against the pantry door looking for answers that don’t exist.

I have come full circle.  The way I originally became healthy was by having a true desire for health, no matter how long it took.  I looked for foods that would strengthen my heart, deter cancer, lessen the risk for various diseases.

When I lost my way, I tried to find every shortcut home possible.

I learned there are no shortcuts.

I’ve been eating primal for three days now.  I feel stronger, less bloated, and proud of my choices.  Sure, I’m giving up grain, but I feel I’m getting a lot in return.  No more calorie obsession.  No more starving myself.  No more praying for a quick fix.

This is the only body I have to work with.  I’m worth more than a constant, frustrating hunt for a shortcut that doesn’t exist.  

I’m worth more than always wanting a body that is only seen in airbrushed magazine ads of 14 year old girls.

I’m worth a lifetime of healthy eating, playing in the sun, enjoying myself and my family.

Nutrition is my Cheshire Cat

Would that I were wise enough to wander though the maze of macronutrients, carb cycling, and cutting phases, this post would not even be necessary. I do, however, need to remember what I have in my arsenal of nutri-knowledge, before tumbling into the deep end and never returning...

In 2007, my mom was down for a visit.  We ended up in the ER one morning because she was in severe pain that refused to be soothed, topped of with bleeding from places one should never --I repeat never-- be bleeding from.  10 hours of sitting with a parent in a hospital room with little communication to the outside world can do a lot to a person.  My mom, lover of all foods fried, fatty, and fast, has never been a bastion of health.  I sat watching her doze, wondering what it would be like for my own children to sit with me, having no idea what was happening, no idea what was to come.  Ten hours of wondering and worrying, as I am prone to do, and the result ended up being rather simple.  One, she was diagnosed with diverticulitis and given a fairly strict diet to keep future episodes from occurring.  Two, I decided that I never wanted my own children to fret over me all because I happened to also have a ridiculous obsession with all things fried, fatty, and fast.

At the time, I topped the scales at nearly 220, enjoyed a nightly pint of Ben & Jerry's Phish Food, and hid the evidence of my daily McDonald's trips in ways that included stopping at gas stations along the way home to toss the remains of my salty, fat-laden day.  Fairly embarrassing to admit, hugely devastating to live.

Immediately following the ER visit and my mother's return to Illinois, I literally ransacked my home -- all the temptations -- cookies, chips, ice cream --oh the lovely ice cream-- went in the trash.  These were replaced, after hours of googling and researching and book reading, with real food.  A concept I had never truly considered.  So gone were the days of processed meals and in came a life lived for quite a while from my Heart Healthy Meals in Minutes cookbooks.  My children wrinkled their little noses at the vegetables, lean meats, and startling lack of carbs in our new meals.  My family grimaced when I measured and counted and scrutinized every bite that went in my mouth.

I was on a mission.  I was not going to be 50 and unable to play with my grandchildren or enjoy the latter half of my life, resigned to sit on a sofa with a Diet Coke and a remote control.

So I was at the gym, doing the only thing I knew to do at the time.  I ran.  First, I ran for 30 seconds.  Then a minute.  Two.  Five.  Ten.  A silent mantra played in my head the entire time, "I am victorious.  A winner.  A princess, royalty.  Undefeated, unstoppable, I am a warrior."  And on and on it went, my music rattling through my brain as I forced myself to keep going, keep going, until there was just nothing left for me to give.

And I continued my nutrition research, eventually giving up the sugar free pudding and South Beach cookies that I had substituted for the delicious carbs I loved so much, and leaning to add in some protein powder here, some extra veggies there.

Six months later, I had dropped 60 pounds.  I weighed less than I had in high school, felt better than I could ever remember, and had more confidence that I knew what to do with.

And still, I continued to dabble with nutrition, trying to find the truly healthy foods.  Surely the holy grail of all that is good for you was out there somewhere.

Happy with my weight loss, but not exactly thrilled with the sagging flesh left in its wake, I sought out a personal trainer and was introduced to my new love -- weight training.  I threw out cardio, tired of running, running, always with the running, and spent my time grunting and groaning and sweating until I was deliriously dizzy and muscles were forming where I had never seen them before and I for the first time ever thought

I am an athlete.

It was a truly miraculous event.  I loved how strong I was, loved how far I could push myself, loved watching my form in the mirror as lifted more and heaver each month.  It was intoxicating.

Time can be a tragic thing, and upon reaching the height of my fitness regime, I also hit the low of my previous marriage.  It was as if life was being sucked away from me, and I spun out of control for about 6 months.  No care for nutrition, no desire for workouts, just a 24/7 path of self-destruction that I get sick when I spend to much thinking about now.

Fast forward a year and a half, and I'm finally in a place where everything is emotionally back in place and I'm ready to take care of my physical self again.  So I'm back in the gym, back on the right path nutritionally, but still irritated as hell whenever I read up on the best macronutrients and the proper calorie intake and everything in between.

I get that we're all different, and there is no perfect number that magically works for everyone.  But can I tell you something?  I really wish there was!  I like rules, I like systems, I like lists.  I like everything to fit into a neat little container that is easily sorted.  Nutrition is not The Container Store.  It's not neat and tidy, not easily navigated.  It's hunt and peck, baby, try a little of this, work on a little of that, throw in a pinch of luck, and you find the perfect balance for a rock hard body.

But for a worrier like me?  I'm constantly wondering if my calories are too low, or God forbid, too high. Did I eat enough protein for maximum muscle building?  Am I eating carbs too late in the day?  Would I be better off cycling carbs?  Is my metabolism screwed for life due to my insane inability to stick with it, dammit?

You see the problem.

Whenever I get like this, I have to put myself back in that hospital room with my mom, remembering the whole point of it all is health, Kelly, and nothing more.  Yes, I want rock hard abs, and yes, I have competition dreams, but in the end, if all I ever do is add years to my life and the ability to enjoy my children and my children's children, shouldn't that be enough?

Yes.  And sometimes... sometimes, sometimes, I can remember that, and breathe.

Grievances, aired.

I've been feeling rather snarky lately, one eyebrow popping up as I squint and sneer and generally lament my place in the universe as surrounded by dunderheads. Yes, that is correct, dunderheads.

Not entirely certain who to blame for a) the dunderheads and b) their irritating ability to know my location and find me in the worst possible moments, I'm afraid my only option is to file a list of grievances to the universe in general. It is my sincere hope that this list will serve as a boon that keeps the dunderheads at bay and raises me to the status of Person of Most Awesome Untouchableness. Or something of the like. I'm open to options.

Without further ado, The List:
1. Teenage children, if you have been told to do something, DO IT. Nobody cares how burdened you are with homework, and chores, and ...oh... that's right... you just sit around playing video games, downloading music, and texting anyways. So shut up. Try paying a mortgage, feeding a family of 6, and meeting all your work deadlines. Then we'll talk.

2. On the same note, just because you want something does not ultimately mean it is going to appear magically in your grabby little hands. In some cultures (now, breathe, for this will be painful), children actually have to earn items of desire on their own. I know, I know -- it seems crazy -- working for the things you want... for now, you can keep on about the way you've been for so long. Keep dreaming, bub, maybe you'll wake up with a room filled with your utmost desires.

3. Gym patrons, I acknowledge your newfound New Year's goal to become the best you you've ever been. It's sweet. Really. I know every time I've waited for January 1 to start something new it's always been a smashing success. So I'm glad you're at the gym with me now, sweating on all the equipment, hogging up the treadmills so you and your bestie can plod along and share The Bachelor commentary as you watch, hands firmly grasping the side rails. I also love sharing the limited amount of free weights in the gym with you. I love it so much, that when I see you swinging (literally, swinging, the weights up and down as if the weights are a monkey, and you are just a vine trying to shakeshakeshake itself free) the weights around whilst seated in front of the smith rack, with a myriad of smaller free weights lined up around your feet as tiny worshippers to your towering form, I can't help but grit my teeth and shudder with emotion. I do, however, fear for your safety. Gyms are dangerous places. I hope against all odds that you are not bludgeoned to death with a random weight or strangled to breathlessness with a yoga mat. Boy, what bad luck that would be!

4. And you. Ohhh, you know who you are. Whining, sniveling, complaining, aching, moaning, groaning, dead weight, YOU. Why do you come to the meeting with fresh, new zingers of ideas ready to fire them off as if this is an ordinary occurrence? All the complaints and refusals to complete work melt away when suddenly we are faced with a way for you to strut your peacock feathers and rise through the ranks. It doesn't matter what devastation you leave in your wake, does it? As long as you come out on top. Well, obviously you must deserve it. And, let me tell you, it is my utmost desire that you get exactly what you deserve. Perhaps soon, when workplace finds itself one drone short, you can step up and claim your prize.

Thanks for listening, universe. I don't need an immediate response or correction to these areas, which, quite frankly, I simply see as "improvement opportunities". A week or so should be plenty of time to get things in tip-top order, right?

Whew. I feel better already.

Promises are meant to be kept

Although I'm not particularly happy with the template, at least I'm up and running. This was a main goal of mine for the year -- to stop facebooking my life to death with one-line blatherings about my current state of mind and start thinking more about my words, to start writing more than just yipping into the night like a dog begging for attention.

In attempting to decide what all miscellany to include on this blog, I wandered across my flickr account, which is rather sad and barren of any activity in the last year or so. However. However, however, however ... seeing all those photos from my (failed) 365 days of self portraits, taken while I was wowing myself at the gym with my awesome personal trainer, made me realize how unhappy I am with my current state, or lack thereof, of fitness.

I'm not sure why it is so frustratingly difficult to plunge back into the deep end and stop eating like I have the metabolism of a marathon runner. I'm tired of beating myself up over snacking on junk, and irritated at myself for not leaving it all at the gym like I used to.

The truth is, I'm happiest when I spend an hour at the gym each day and eat like I'm training for the freaking Olympics. It's my zen. An odd zen, sure. But whatever, it's mine.

So. No more excuses. No more, "Oh, it's just one day off the gym, one more snack I have no reason to be eating."

I have all the knowledge and resources of months with my trainer, more willpower than should be humanly possible, and enough strength to get through anything. Why am I wasting what so many people wish they had?

The dread plague seems to finally be wearing off, and I did actually make it to the gym the day before I fell into a three day snotty slumber. The grueling effect on my legs from my one day at the gym is a constant reminder of how far I've fallen. Tomorrow I will return to the gym, tiny notebook of uber-routines in hand, and I will not --I repeat-- will not, let myself eat anything that will sabotage my goals.

There are too few days in life to squander them on feeling sorry for myself. I've done this before, I can certainly do it again. Who knows? In a year, I might just be walking across the stage flashing poses and flaunting my muscles for all to see. At my best, this was becoming a very real goal, but my fear of being on stage in front of the world made me skitter away from it.

But if this is the year for shedding my chameleon... if this is the time when I finally drop all pretense and stand in the raw and let my true self show? I can't think of a better way to do it.

It's time to start researching shows. And perhaps invest in some anti-anxiety meditation techniques!