Tag Archives: fitness

EMBRACING THE I DONT KNOWS & MOVING FORWARD

I’ve heard it called a mid life crisis. I pictured a 50 year old man with a bit of a gut, a receding hairline he’s trying to save, and a sports car he shouldn’t have bought. I pictured him flirting with younger women and making a fool of himself. I pictured a cheesy shirt and some jewelry he shouldn’t be wearing and a dirty martini. Its what I pictured. What crept up and slapped me square in the face was what it really is. Not so much a crisis as a stage of life. A transition. A skin shedding. A wing spreading. A death and a rebirth….and most shocking of all….not a HIM at all.

Admitting Im in a “transitional phase” (as the experts like to call it) is humbling, embarrassing, cathartic, cleansing, funny, and disappointing all at once. Im only 44 years old. Ill be 45 in a few months but I don’t think theres an actuall time stamp on when this shit happens to you. You can be 38. You can be 58. Its not exactly about an age but more about whats going on in your life. And whats going on in my life? Ha. Great question. Wish I had an answer for that. Since the age of I don’t even recall Ive pretty much had my shit together. I knew I wanted to be married, have a family, have a home, plant roots and be a Mom. In 24 months my oldest leaves for college. My youngest will be doing online school so it matters not where he lives. So it goes without saying I’ve given some thought to what this means.
For the first time in forever the NEXT place I go, live, stay, adventure….it wont matter how good the school district is or what the property values are or how far of a commute it is to work or school or grocery stores. It wont matter that a great preschool is nearby. It wont matter if its within 30 minutes of soccer fields or tumbling gyms or indoor bounce houses or any of that. ANY of that. It was so very difficult for me to become a Mom. I had MANY miscarriages. The one in the 5th month was the worst. And the most painful. I thought Id never get to be a Mom. So when I became one I was ecstatic and grateful and thought I’d found the identity I’d needed. Wanted. A name to call me- MOM. I have loved every damn second. The tantrums, diapers, potty training, first day of Kindergarten, sleepless nights, swim lessons, soccer games, all of it. All. Of. It. How crazy privileged I’ve been to get to do this parent thing. Some don’t get to.
There’s been a grieving in me for things that wont ever be. I wont ever live near my parents and they wont make every game my kid cheers at and there wont be weekly Sunday dinners with cousins and large family gatherings and accepting that has been hard. And sad. And cathartic. And DECIDING that I get to decide what life looks like now, whats normal, whats ok….took time.
I think we all go through this whole “transitional phase”. Maybe some just slide by it almost unnoticed. Maybe some don’t even blink at it. Maybe some are so happy to be getting on to the next phase of life that its a happy time. Maybe some are sad. Maybe some feel they are losing some purpose and identity as their kids leave. And maybe a few are like me- kind of flailing. Flapping their wings and trying to fly away while keeping one foot in the nest with the kids. Trying to figure out if this is what being “grown up” means. Trying to find what and who you are at this next phase.
Its a strange thing getting older. I feel more confident, sexy, smart, sure footed and calm than I ever did when I was actually younger and prettier and had less wrinkles and was rocking a pair of shorts. Maybe God gives you the nicer body and face when you’re younger to make up for the idiocy that engulfs your brain. I would NOT trade the things I know for the younger body. Not in a million years.
The type A in me wants to know what happens next. Where will I be? Where will I live? Who will be in my life? How will love look? Is it a cabin on a mountain, secluded, just me and the mountains to hike. An occasional trip to the local pub to grab a beer and a conversation. Will it be a little cottage on a beach and days spent running in the sand (ok walking) and a suntan and waves and walks into town for good food. Will it be a condo downtown near all the “stuff” and I can walk to coffee and shops and see people all the time. Honestly any of those sound amazing. As long as there’s no fences. NO FENCES. Not knowing is scary. Not having kids here all the time is scary. Not knowing what life holds is scary. But its also fucking amazing. So just like the day I became a Mom- scared shitless, not knowing what the hell was in front of me, how Id screw this kid up, how Id get through it all…..I get to look ahead at a new phase and be scared shitless….and excited..and anxious…and not know. So I’ll flap my wings a little, test them out, I’ll laugh and I’ll cry and I’ll pray and I’ll dance in my socks and I’ll put one foot in front of the other…..because backwards is no place to go.
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NO PLAN B

There was a girl who never left the sidewalk. There was a girl who never colored outside of the lines. There was a girl who stood on the sidelines while others jumped. And judged them. I could’ve fallen off the curb, gotten a bad grade for the bad coloring, gotten hurt because I didn’t know what was over the cliff if I jumped. She was cautious and timid and nervous and anxious and sad. I don’t miss her.

Ive written about this before- Im sure I have. But I’m not going to go back through my blogs to see if I have because I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. When I want to write, I write. Whatever comes out. I promised myself that years ago when I started this blog…NO EDITING.
I am aware that my lack of schedule, lack of planning, lack of organization drives some people crazy…especially my Beachbody Team. God Bless them. Without Lori, Traci, Amy and a few others I’d forget my head. Grateful for amazing friends that compliment my craziness. When I decided to become a Beachbody Coach two years ago I made a DECISION. There will be NO PLAN B. My husband has brain rot. I don’t know how long he’ll be able to work. Or walk. Or talk. And there’s something about looking at your kids in the eyes and knowing…I AM THEIR FUTURE. IT IS UP TO ME…that gets your motor spinning and your pride thrown out the window. Balls to the wall or nothing at all. And that is how it has been for the most part. There are days…Lord there are days I curl up, cry, climb a mountain and want to never come down. But I do. I always do. When you’re a Mom you just don’t have a choice. And I don’t have a Plan B.
Years. YEARS I spent poo-pooing this whole “scam” of marketing and “selling” to your friends. I guess I just didn’t understand what it all was. I know I didn’t. Plus I was afraid. I have worked out to Tony Horton since 2008. I could’ve joined this Coaching gig 9 years ago. If I’d been braver. If I’d been less skeptical. If I hadn’t been afraid of taking leaps of faith. Could I kick myself for that? Yes. BUT. It has all worked out exactly how it was supposed to. A passion for fitness and helping others get & stay fit help motivate me. And the people I work with….not co-workers…FAMILY. They motivate me as well.
I spent last weekend being spoiled in Los Angeles by a company that TRULY cares about the health of this country. That knows there is no magic pill or shake or anything else that will make you healthy. Its hard work. Its getting off of your ass, moving more, eating less, and eating well. Thats it. Thats your magic pill. And I can get behind that 100%.
Now in 3 days my upline coach is treating me and a few other coaches to a weekend in Cabo San Lucas. Holy WHAT? For doing my job. I honestly think I might be dreaming some days. Unorganized, forgetful, technically challenged me…who would’ve thought it? You know who? ME!! Because I decided. I decided to jump before checking. Leap before looking. Stop worrying about the details. No one gives a shit if your pictures look perfect or your family looks all loving and sweet or your fitness is on point or if you have perfect wording or time things perfectly. No. One. Cares. You know what they care about- that you can relate to them. Thats it. I tell my coaches who are worried about making mistakes that they should be more worried about NOT making mistakes. Those that make no mistakes are never going to succeed. I make a 1,000 mistakes a day. And I own them. And love them. And learn from them.
I am absolutely no one special. No one who knows anything more than anyone else. So giving advice is a bit over confident of me. But I will anyway. If there is anything Ive learned. Anything Ill teach my kids. They’ve watched this journey first hand you know…its DO NOT HAVE A PLAN B. If you have one, you’ll know its there. Its a safety net. Its a back up plan. I no longer believe in those. At all. I know I wouldn’t be where I am if I’d had a Plan B. It is so beautiful, so freeing, to walk through life NOT KNOWING whats ahead. No plan, no spreadsheets, no time limits, no having to answer to anyone else but ME. Life is way TOO SHORT for me to be making plans ;).
Balls to the wall or nothing at all!
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THE PASSING OF THE GUARD: AN ART DESK AND A NEW CHAPTER

I started this Beachbody thing in February 1st of this year so it’s been 8 months that I have been coaching. I love it. I work from my kitchen counter. I don’t love that. We have these swively stools and I sit and stare at the cabinets as I work. My printer is downstairs in the basement. So when I print something I have to run down there. My workout space is also set up in the basement. All of my Beachbody DVD’s, my weights, my yoga mats, my exercise ball, my husband’s weight bench, etc, are all down in the basement.

I also started my term as Colorado Springs Chi Omega alumna Secretary recently. And Im pretty sure my sisters are concerned about their dues checks and membership forms floating around in my chaotic house. Im not exactly what you’d call organized. I may be Type A with my workouts and my social life but not so much in my business life.

My daughter claimed this amazing little nook in our basement when we first moved here for her art supplies and desk. She has a great desk and a bazillion art supplies, paints, brushes, charcoals, sketch papers, etc. We set up the area when we first moved in. She used it quite a bit for awhile. She is in 8th grade now and her interests have changed. Her LIFE is cheerleading. I cannot IMAGINE for the life of me where she gets that!!?? Her little art supplies have not been touched in months. Instead she tumbles across the basement, stretches, back bends, jumps, practices cheers, and coordinates matching hair bows to workout outfits. Oh…and her makeup has taken over the art supplies. 😦 I think I am sad. I am so happy she is growing into such a beautiful, smart, responsible, driven young lady…despite her crazy mother. But a little part of me is sad. The art brushes are all dried up.

I realized recently I cannot function on my kitchen counter. There are Chi Omega alumna forms, checks, and letters everywhere. There are scratch papers with Beachbody notes, my spirals, and my workout schedule scattered on the counter as well. Beachbody and Chi-O have merged to create some crazy sorority workout mess that I cannot keep control of on my kitchen counter.

So I asked Maddie if I could have her nook. Her art nook. She didn’t seem to mind. She just asked that we organize (and by “we” I mean me) her art things and put them in the storage closet. We have 2 HUGE storage closets so there is plenty of room. I spent last night (while she was at cheer) emptying her desk of art supplies and filling it with my spirals and Chi-O forms. I even STARTED a little bulletin board to decorate with inspirational things to hang above the desk.

She came home last night and said “wow you just really evicted me from my nook, huh?”. I asked if she was ok with it. She said yes. She didn’t say much else. I went to bed.

This morning I went down to “work” at my new area and glanced at my bulletin board. Right there in the middle was this big green “child-like” note pinned to it. I think Maddie and I both knew that putting the art supplies away was more than just putting the art supplies away. Time moves too fast sometimes. ENJOY. EVERY. SECOND.

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