Another Reason to Work Out

Exhale, lift, squeeze, hold, release, inhale, pause....

I was so lost in my meditative state, mid bicep curl, I didn't even notice a friend standing a mere few feet behind me, waving for my attention. 

This is why working out is my escape. 

The mind-body connection is, undoubtedly, highly important to pay attention to in order to avoid injury when lifting weights, but often overlooked is its incredibly centering, calming and empowering potential. It is meditation in motion with an added muscle-challenging intensity.

There are many things that drive my work outs and I've touched on them more than once throughout my relatively young blog. I've gone over why I choose not to work out for the calorie-burning effect, the amazing bond shared in a group fitness class, and the joys of trying something new, among other reasons. This reason is more quiet and strength driven. 

When I train clients, I try my best to make sure they understand the reasons for why they are performing a certain exercise. I don't care so much that they can lift something up and put something down- that's all well and good, but we'd both be doing each other a great disservice if I were just being paid to watch that happen. 

I want clients to understand what muscle they are working and why it matters. I want them to focus on the contraction and relaxation of the muscle fibers and mentally hone in on the firing of the nerves. I want them to not only strengthen their skeletal muscle, but their mind-body connection muscle as well. Working out then becomes a total experience.

Within the 24 hours of our day, there is already far too many actions that we mindlessly move through the motions of. Most of our days are spent on autopilot as we repeat the same things, follow the same schedules and carry out the same tasks, day in and day out. Personally, I believe we can all benefit from daily practice of being in the moment, even if only for a few minutes at a time. 

It would all do us good to learn to slow everything down and just breathe. 

But, I get a lot of scoffs when I try to get people to actually take time to sit. And breathe. and do nothing else. 

Sometimes, I don't even have the patience for that. 

So this is my alternative when I'm not trying my darndest to practice seated meditation. 

Exhale, lift, squeeze, hold, release, inhale, pause....

Strengthening my mind as I strengthen my body with every rep, every set, every workout. 

There's nothing like it. 

Ahhh....

Loving Ourselves First

As I browsed through some blogs, I came across this on feelgoodeating.blogspot.com:

"A fool in love makes no sense to me. I only think you are a fool If you do not love."

What a beautiful quote! 

I believe that love is one of the strongest powers in existence. I could go on to argue that love gives purpose to life. 

Love is passion.
   Love is relationships.
      Love is respect for self and others.
         Loving yourself and others and to be loved is happiness. 

To love ourselves is to take care of our own well-beings. 

Without that fundamental base of self-care, how can we expect to provide the best love and care for others? Far too often, there is an imbalance between the energy we spend in the outpouring of care versus the energy used to make sure we are at our well-est. 

Imagine if we held on to a fraction of the energy we expend doing things for others, meeting others' deadlines, and making sure others know we love them. 

To love and care for yourself is not selfish, but necessary.

Making sure we feed ourselves nutritious, yummy foods, keep our bodies strong and limber with proper stretching and exercise, maintain mental stimulation for our brains and honor our needs for rest and relaxation are all vital for us to thrive and reach our fullest potential. 

To believe we do not deserve the same love we share with others is nonsense. To dishonor our bodies, minds and spirits through neglect, poor quality foods, physical and chemical abuse, and negative self-talk only broods more negativity. 

We all deserve happiness; taking self-care measures to bring more light and positive energy into our lives puts us in a much better place to be able to share that same bright energy with others. 

So here's to cooking a good, hearty meal, getting to the gym, allowing room for more laughter and taking long, soothing bubble baths to ease ourselves to restful sleep!

Why I Hate Calories-Burned Monitors

By the time I was done with my highly intense 20 minute, hop-on-hop-off, sprint-a-minute-walk-for-two, interval training on the treadmill, the calories burned monitor displayed a whopping 428!

Yeah, right. 

In the world of fitness and weight management, numbers receive far too much power than they deserve. Calories, pounds, fat grams, carbohydrate counts... (all of that, in fact, is an entirely other topic in and of itself that I could go on and on about, but I digress...) I say- keep math in the classroom, where it belongs and leave the calculations to our accountants. 

If I could, I would smack a sticker that says "enough" on the calories burned monitor of every piece of exercise equipment. Instead of feeling the pounding of our hearts , the beads of sweat on our skin and the endorphin rush in our brains, we look to the digitized number on a machine to tell us good our workout was. 

I don't think so, ya big ol' pile of metal, wires, plastic and rubber! 

"I just burned 500 calories on the elliptical!" Great. Wonderful. But, how do you FEEL? 


When it comes to fitness, let's forget the numbers and reassess the reasons for working out in the first place. 

The truth of the matter is, exercise is a very inefficient way of burning calories. Gasp. I know. A bold statement coming from a personal trainer. But, think about it: In order to burn off the equivalent of one tiny M&M, you have to walk the entire length of a football field. No thank you, I have better things to do with my week. 

So... am I saying that working out is a waste of time? NO!

I don't know about you, but getting in a sweaty session at the gym makes me feel wonderful, regardless of what any caloric-expenditure equation will be able to tell me. 

At an intimidating 5'0", I feel empowered as I feel the heavy weight of cold metal in my hands. The feeling of accomplishment from hauling my body weight up into a pull-up and pressing twice that weight with my legs? There's nothing like it. 

When I'm doing my thing at the gym, I'm not thinking, "must burn off the slice of pizza I had this afternoon." 

...but, rather "wow, my body is stronger than I give it credit for!" and that's what it should be about- appreciating the strength of our muscles and recognizing the awesome abilities of our bodies. 

We should be constantly celebrating our individual power rather than suppressing it by punishing ourselves with diets, workouts that we have to rather than want to do, and telling ourselves we are somehow bad for eating one thing over another.  

I feel sad for those that drag themselves to the gym, miserably trudging along on the treadmill, glaring at the calories burned monitor, waiting for it to reach some magical good-enough number... They're missing out on a chance to really experience what it means to do something wonderful for their bodies and overshadowing a chance to experience a natural uplifting of their spirits by focusing on a number that, in reality, is far from accurate, to be quite honest.

Exercise is a beautifully intoxicating experience that I partake in on most days of the week. I don't do it to manage my weight, change my appearance or balance out my food intake- those things come as a bonus. I do it for me, for the health of my mind and body and to remember that I am strong, able-bodied and powerful beyond what any number will ever be able to tell me. 

We Grow and We Change (Thank Goodness!)

eIn middle school, I was the nonathletic kid in gym class who exaggerated a wheeze in order to be deemed medically unable to complete the one-mile run. At one point I was “diagnosed” with exercise-induced asthma and was prescribed an inhaler to be taken in the nurse’s office (where I spent most of my gym-class hours). Every year students were required to have a mile run timed and only once did I drag my spiteful heels through the entire four laps, clocking in at an impossibly slow 20 minutes, stopping every few minutes to retie my self-untying shoelaces and stretch out a pesky reoccurring cramp. Getting me to run was like pulling teeth. I hated every step of it and rolled my eyes at the weekend afternoon joggers diligently hitting the pavement, confused as to why they weren’t sprawled out on the couch with a bowl of Cocoa Puffs chased by a scoop of ice cream.

Fast forward to today: Just back from a sweaty end-of-workout jog in the near 100F heat, I excitedly tack on another three miles to my ongoing outdoor mileage log, overjoyed that I have amassed over three marathons’ worth of pavement. I keep at least two pairs of sneakers in my car at all times (right now, four) along with clean socks. Instead of drooling over the newest toy, my eyes sparkle as I window shop for a runner’s wristwatch equipped with GPS. Suddenly, I had become the afternoon runner I had once scoffed at as a child; I’ve changed, to say the least.

Thank goodness we aren’t defined by our pasts. Hallelujah for being able to make decisions, create change and reform our likes, our goals and ourselves.Had you told a preteen-me that I would one day be a wellness fanatic and an avid runner, I would have laughed through a mouthful of Oreos and turned back to my cartoons. I was no athlete as a child, but today I am proud to have earned that title.

Years don’t have to pass by in order to make a personal change for the better- that’s the beauty of the power of choice. If there’s something I don’t like about myself I have two options: do nothing or do something about it. I am a constant work in progress towards the best version of myself and I intend to make daily strides towards that end, no excuses made. Since my tweaks have been constant, I don’t have to look as far back as 13 years at the “exercise-induced-asthmatic television loving couch potato” in order to see the positive changes I’ve made, but the drastic comparison it presents sure is entertaining!

Running in 91F Can Cause Temporary Insanity…

Two and a half miles into my four mile run in the 91 degree weather, I pulled back my pace to conserve energy and switched to a light jog, planning to amp it back up once I reached shadier grounds; the sun relentlessly beat down on me with no branches or shadows to blunt its power. At my slower rate, a car passed me by as I momentarily locked eyes with the driver. Instinctively, I created a back-story in my mind and concluded that he had been unimpressed at the slowness of my movement. I found I was mentally defending myself against this make-believe judgment, spewing back that I had run the first two miles at a much faster roll and fully intended to add some sprints at the last stretch. How dare he judge my less than optimal pace? How dare he assume I was a slow runner? The car was miles away by then.

Growing up, I was conditioned by constant feedback, both negative and positive, to gauge how well or poorly I was doing. Grades, piano recitals, play performances, art pieces… all meaningless until after I was told how wonderful or atrocious they were.  I developed a need for validation of my efforts, otherwise, they were pointless. Like any other habit picked up as a child, it was hard to unlearn and un-need validation for my hard work, but it had to be done in order to live a happy life and have healthy, non-codependent relationships.  

Running, lifting, sweating, changing my body and improving my fitness are all personal efforts of mine. I put in a lot of time, energy and all around hard work in to myself in order to practice what I preach and be the best possible version of me. These things are my own- not in competition with anyone (but myself) and not to impress anybody (but myself… sometimes!). If I shave a rep off of a set or knock a mile off of a run I know I can complete, I am only cheating myself out of my own personal goals. I’ve come to know my body. I know my personal bests… how much I was able to lift the last time… how far and fast I ran the time before (and I’ll be damned if this time I don’t match or break those records!). I need no one to tell me how hard I’m working and need no recognition as to if my workout was a success or not. I am my most honest, informed, and accurate critic and I need no one’s validation to confirm or tell me otherwise!

Old habits die hard. Sometimes they creep back when least expected and manifest in the most odd of ways. I ended the mental argument I had been having between the random driver-by and myself, swearing it must have been partially fueled by the sweltering heat. How silly I had been, giving any weight to the opinion of a man that was most likely just checking out to see if I had huge knockers (which I most certainly don’t… sorry to disappoint, sir). After regaining sense (and sanity), I picked my pace back up once out of the unshaded stretch of road and ended my run with a few interval sprints. As I took a lap around the driveway, I felt the endorphins flooding through my body and I relished in the wonders of “runner’s high.” Ahh… yes, that’s right… after the miles have been logged and the time has been checked, that immeasurable feeling right there that only I can experience? That’s what it’s all really about.

Learning from Injury

Last summer, I cried when the persistent pain in my shoulder was diagnosed as “long thoracic nerve palsy.” Hearing the clinical terms scared me as I associated “palsy” with “something really, really bad.” The nerve damage greatly reduced my range of motion of my dominant arm and made lifting anything over three pounds impossible. I felt defeated on the weight room floor as even the lightest dumbell was too heavy; just a week ago, I had been able to press 20 pound dumbells over-head with ease. Even with the reassurance of  my physical therapist, I worried that I would never regain the strength that I had worked so hard to build.

After the initial mental/emotional sting of being injured subsided and after doing research on my condition, I was able to see the shades in between the black and white. Since I had always been active, my body would theoretically respond and repair quicker than if I had led a sedentary lifestyle. Looking for the universe’s message in the situation, I realized I had not given my muscles a prolonged break from constant weight lifting in years. So, I resolved to take a one-month weight lifting hiatus, as much as it pained me to do so, sticking only to cardiovascular training. In the mean time, I would experiment with different forms of cardio while I attended physical therapy.

Performing my exercises in therapy, I felt embarrassed that my shoulder blade winged out under the slightest pressure of lifting a three-pound handweight. When I reached for something above my head, my right arm laid limp and useless beside me. Even the weight of my own arm was too much for my shoulder to handle as I had to assist it upwards with the help of my uninjured arm. The frustration was endless, but I kept telling myself to trust in my body’s ability to heal and to be kind to it in its weakened state.

Over months of work, I slowly climbed the weight stack. I learned to recognize the smallest of signs of progression; Reaching for a bowl without having to assist with my good arm or bringing my hands to touch overhead during yoga were celebratory feats. The gratitude I had for the human body’s musculo-skeletal system grew with every menial task I was able to accomplish.

Almost a year later, I still catch myself babying my shoulder, afraid to undo any prograss I had made or, worse, reinjure it. With kindness and trust in my body’s abilities to heal and grow stronger, I am back on the weight room floor, setting personal records and attacking new highs with more intesity than every before. I relish in my abilities to do an unassisted pull up and hold a flexed arm hang for moments at a time. Just months ago, asking my shoulder to support such movements was laughable. I am not at 100% recovery, but I am very close. The progress is still slow, but that is okay.The lessons I’ve learned along this path have been worth the frustration. I’ve learned to be patient with as my muscles would only let me inch forward no matter how badly I wanted to leap. My ability to let go has been tested as I never discovered where the nerve damage came from, and I probably never will. I embrace that my body is the only one I will ever live in and I must treat is with love, compassion and care in order for it to bring me through a (hopefully) long, strong and healthy life!

The Silent Language of Runners

The warmth from the sun being tempered by a slightly cooler breeze coaxed a pair of running sneakers on to my feet, sending me on an outdoors jog, despite the fact I had deemed it a “rest day” for my muscles to recover. Taking it at an easy pace, I paid no mind to the time or my miles-per-hour. This run wasn’t about athleticism or personal records- it was about feeling the earthbeneath my feet and enjoying nature’s gift of a perfect summer day.

There is an unspoken set of mannerisms among the running community. A slight nod of the head or wave of the hand is normal as paths are crossed. It’s a polite, subtle recognition of a mutual love for pavement pounding. Sometimes, it serves as a nonverbal “hey, I feel your pain” if the weather is challengingly extreme or a hill seems to be at a 180 degree angle. It’s like being in a club with a secret handshake and all it takes to become a member is to place one foot in front of the other and repeat.

I rounded the second to last turn on my usual route and saw a man with grayed hair, wearing multicolored spandex running gear and a dark pair of athletic sunglasses in the distance, running towards me. He seemed to be in his late fifties or early sixties, but in great physical condition, nonetheless. I gave him a quick wave of acknowledgement.

As I came around the final half-mile marker bend, trudging along at my casual pace, I saw the same man out of the corner of my eye, gradually gaining headway on me. Out of admiration of his conditioning (and partially due to my competitive nature), I picked up my pace, just enough to steadily keep a few feet behind him. I remained on the uneven sidewalk as he opted for the flat roadway’s shoulder.

There are two baby hills within the last quarter mile that I usually sprint, fueled by a runner’s high that never fails to push me through. As I revved myself in to full speed, I passed my unofficial running partner, ending my run at the top of the driveway accross the street, panting for air, feeling accomplished. Turning my gaze towards the man, we caught eachother’s attention as he gave me an enthusiastic thumbs-up and I smiled through my gasps, shouting “thank you!” knowing that he knew I was grateful for the extra motivational mental push he provided me.

As I crossed the street, I realized that the man was actually my neighbor. I watched him turn in to the driveway that I had used as my finish line for years. All this time, I lived across the way from a fellow runner that ended up being a source of motivation for the end of my run. On any other day, that man would just be a fellow road-runner that understood the unspoken runners’ launguage.  I smiled to myself as I realized that motivation and inspiration can come from anywhere- even from the neighbor accross the way that I had never once introduced myself to.

Tail Wagging Persistence

My dog has never harmed a living creature.. Not to say she hasn’t tried. She’s chased rabbits, sprinted after the elusive chipmunk and squirrel, pursued our backyard groundhog and even attempted to catch a bird in flight. I really don’t think her instinct is to kill- even when she had captured a grasshopper that had lost use of two of its legs, she only toyed with it between her front paws, never actually doing any fatal harm. To her it’s a game and the prey she sets her eyes on are just toys in perpetual motion.

At eleven years and seven months old, she still pounces after scurrying animals as we go on morning walks. Sometimes her attempts seem so feeble that I wonder if she’s acting more on instinct than intention. She will lift her rear towards the sky and ready her now-shaky legs to spring in to forward movement, her play-thing in the cross-hairs. Lurching towards the doubtlessly-faster-and-more-nimble-than-her creature, she excitedly goes in for the non-kill, relentlessly returning to me with tail in a high-wag. No matter how many times she’s failed, she never gets discouraged and never loses her willingness to try again.

I thought back to all the things in my life I’ve vehemently pursued and dropped when success hadn’t come after the first few attempts. I thought of the frustration I’ve felt when I didn’t catch what I had thrown myself after. I thought of the immense sense of discouragement that ominously grew darker whenever I let an opportunity slip away. All these negative feelings, brewing within me. All those missed chances that just might have gone right had I tried just one more time. Had I kept my proverbial tail wagging, regardless of a win or fail or had I not let one negative outcome effect my expectation of the next attempt… what could I have accomplished by now? How much frustration, anger and disappointment could I have avoided?

Understandably, my dog’s mental capacity is a bit different than mine. Blessed and cursed by a higher level of brain function than that of a house pet, it’s harder for me to hold no attachment to a past failure in order to try again with an equal amount of gusto, but there is always a line that can be towed between being logical fact-sorting realist and a hopeful life-of-a-dog-inspired dreamer.

Cognitively, I can change my method of attack in order to increase my chances of success on the next attempt, but I don’t have to feel so dejected with each unsuccessful try. Learning from my furry companion, I can be happy that I even went for it at all, wasting not even a passing moment on the negative feeling of having failed. Not once had I seen Biscuit drag her tail between her hind legs, even though her rate of success remains at a whopping 0%. Not once have I seen her stress out over letting the bird fly away or the squirrel scurry up a tree.

Perhaps she knows that there will be other opportunities, or maybe she understands that there is more to life than a failed moment (or fifty!). It’s possible she knows that regardless of if she catches the chipmunk or not, I will hug, love and kiss her, free of judgment of her poor hunting skills. Could it be that this dog with the simple mind knows secrets to life happiness that I do have yet to learn? In this case, it seems to be that way. She seems to have figured out how to remain enthusiastic about pursuing goals and chasing targets. She may never catch her prey in the span of her hopefully-long lifetime, but one thing is for certain: with a smile across her face and a nonstop wag in her tail, she will never, ever give up.

Out of My Own Way

Dizzy and seeing stars, I gasped for air, gulping it down, causing my stomach to churn, ebbing on nausea. I regained the slightest bit of composure, watched the timer count the last second of the interval and hopped back on to the speedily-rolling belt of the treadmill, grasping for any last bit of motivation I could to complete the high intensity interval training run I had set out to accomplish. With ten seconds left of my final uphill sprint, I wondered if I could finish. I contemplated cutting the last stretch short… “It’s only ten seconds less than what you had wanted to do. What’s the difference?”

Fueled by anger towards the fact that a voice of such negativity and dishonor even existed within me, I dashed out the last ten seconds and pushed myself to sprint another ten. I wasn’t punishing myself for toying with the idea of cheating myself out of my workout- a negative cannot and should not be corrected by another negative. Instead, the added sixth of a minute, although barely conquered with teeth ground shut, served to prove that my limits were not as limiting as I had thought.

Harder this time, I sucked in as much air as my lungs would allow, aware that I was “that person” in the gym with the audible working-out soundtrack blasting “Erika’s Inhale-Exhale” on repeat. Hidden in the pained wince of my face was also a subtle smile from the pride i felt for getting through it all.

As I dismounted from the treadmill, I felt a buzzing energy in my legsthat I could easily have mistaken for/settled to call fatigue. My aim was to push my abilities to high levels and my wobbly legs were proof that I had met that. Much like the positive pain I referred to in a previous post, the soreness in the muscles of my legs was welcomed and earned. To the uninvited negativity that nearly made me quit before I was ready to, I vow to raise my personal bar even higher, yet, partially as a mockery of the nay-saying voice… try and stop me now.

Body Love

As I sat in the sun, basking in its warming rays, I imagined I was a flower soaking in the nutrients that would make me bloom brightly. Much like a flower, sun exposure bodes well for the human body, regulating internal rhythms, boosting feel-good brain chemicals and allowing vitamin D to be produced. As thankful as I am for warmer weather and the giant star in the sky, I realized something more meaningful.

Without effort, if the body does as it should, the aforementioned benefits are automatically reaped from the sunlight. I don’t have to process the sunshine’s rays in any way nor do I even have to be conscious about absorbing the sunlight. From this, I developed a deeper appreciation for the complexities of my body in its daily tasks to simply keep me alive.

Those that have studied anatomy and biology understand the intricate inner workings of the human body and everything that it does on any given moment. It’s so easy to take it all for granted and end up abusing our bodies by not feeding it well, not moving and giving it proper exercise, not allowing it to rest and relax on a regular basis… then of course there are the more obvious offenders such as excessive alcohol, chemicals, tobacco, etc. 

This post will remain short and sweet because intuitively, I’d like to think we all know what is best for our bodies- I will spare the lecture that was in the works. Eat right, exercise, 7-9 hours of sleep, adequate hydration, yada yada.. I know, you know, we all know. So to cut to the chase, the body is an amazing machine. Appreciate it, love it, treat it well because it is the only one you will ever be given!

Trying Something New

Normally, I take Mondays off from the gym, giving my body at least a day’s rest from training as recovery is just as important as the actual workout. Particularly sore from another intense Sunday morning Body Combat class, I woke up this morning with every intention of allowing my muscles to relax.

On weekday afternoons, I’m a mother’s helper, taking care of 2 teenage boys. As I read over the day’s to-do notes left by their mom, I noticed that at 5pm, I would be driving one of the boys to a restaurant that happened to be only a few miles from my gym.

(Side realization: My gym is a 20 minute drive from my house, without traffic. Calculating the math, I spend an average of 240 minutes, or 4 hours commuting to and from the gym. Usually not a fan of driving, these 4 hours are well worth it, even when there are at least 5 other gyms within a 10 minute drive from my home.)

Hoping to make the most of my drive, I decided to challenge my body a little harder  and temporarily push off recovery day. Then, I realized that I would finally be able to make it to Zumba at my gym- a class that I had never been able to fit in to my schedule! As a new instructor, I try to sample as many other instructors’ classes as I can, so I was excited, even though my muscles were screaming for the night off.

Never one to half-ass a workout, I quieted the nagging soreness of my fatigued muscles and gave the hour-long class my all (which wasn’t a difficult task as I fed off the high energies of the wonderful instructor and the other members in the class). I was even lucky enough to be invited up on stage for two different tracks! I left the class dripping with sweat and smiling from ear to ear, my spirits soaring high. 

As I sit here at the end of my day, every muscle from my neck to my toes ache and plead me to take tomorrow to rest and recover (which I fully intend to!). Although giving gratitude towards my body is no unique subject in this blog, it is something I hope to consistently do. It is far too easy to take for granted the endless abilities of an able body and I hope that this thankfulness is not one I would have to wait to know of once it’s gone. On this same note, I hope to practice kindness towards my body, treating it with grateful respect. There are different types of muscle-aches, even though they all register as pain. The pain from when I all-too-often twist an ankle or the pain during a six-month recovery from long-thoracic nerve palsy are unpleasantly unwelcome; but the pain from challenging the limits of my body… tearing down muscle so it can grow back stronger… though still making me wince from time to time, is a pleasant reminder that with hard work, my able body can accept the challenge, rise to it, and take it on like the ninja I am. Ki-yah! 

Linked by Exercise

The room was filled with buzzing energy. Sweat glistened off every body in the crowd. The music pumped through the speakers as hips shook, swiveled and shimmied. It was a diverse group- aged early 20s to mid 60s, tall, short, petite, heavier set.. all was accounted for and no matter who they were or how they looked, each and every person was smiling ear to ear, letting the music move them…. all on a Friday morning.

As everyone on Facebook knows, I was at Zumba instructor training all day yesterday. The eight hour long event embodied everything that I love about the fitness industry- a room filled with people all there with a common goal, a shared interest, a similar passion- to challenge personal limits and to spread the exciting energy of moving the body. Even though it was a studio filled with strangers, we all were connected through a special bond that needed no explanations nor introductions.

It truly is a testament to the nonjudgmental attitude a health/wellness professional attempts to maintain. The benefits and love for fitness never discriminates based on shape, size, race, nor gender. Every body, as long as it is human, is meant to move and when exercise ups the heart rate, those feel good chemicals stimulate the brain, bringing levity and happiness to chronically stressed and depressed lives.

Every day that I’ve worked on building my wellness business or challenged my body with exercise, I am reminded how thankful I am that I found my calling in fitness and health. It was always a fear of mine to have a job that I dreaded clocking in for and in this industry, I never once had to face that fear. Doing what I love makes “work” not feel like work at all. Through this passion, I’ve met some of the most wonderfully motivating and positive people and found a second home at my gym (that I’m certain everyone is tired of me raving about) that at times feels more familiar than my own house.

Uphill

The repetitive movement of running sets a perfect stage for meditative serenity. The steady tempo of foot-to-pavement strikes in cadence with the sound of air filling the lungs and circling out again. In this mental peace, thoughts come and go freely- an ideal environment to absorb any lessons being sent my way.

On a recent, particularly hilly run, the world presented me with teachings so pertinent to my disposition at the time that it was clear that life happens with purpose- it is not all random. About two miles through, I looked out in front of me to a stretch of road that seemed nearly vertical. I felt a flighty sense of panic as I momentarily considered the options of turning around or choosing a different path. I suddenly recognized this defeatist attitude as a reflection of habitually quitting when faced with seemingly large challenges. As the past has proven, failing to follow through when things get tough only presents me with pangs of regret and self-disappointment.What would my life be like had I not cowered when obstacles obscured my visions? How difficult would it really have been to tackle the proverbial mountains in my way?

If I chose to avoid that steep hill by turning around or choosing an alternative path, I would have compromised my deliberately planned route. I would have robbed myself of the inevitable sense of pride that would have come from following through with my original plan. The choice was obvious as I realized that, amongst distracting myself with reminiscing and lesson learning, I had been steadily making my way up the hill, anyways. With the simple motion of placing one foot in front of the other, focusing only on the next step immediately in front of me, the hill that seemed so intimidatingly impossible at first was disappearing behind me as I edged towards the top.

Before the next song even came on through my iPod, I had passed the peak of the hill, my hamstrings and calves enjoying the rewarding downhill slope that followed. How silly I felt to have even considered changing my path, all to avoid a (relatively small) uphill stretch of pavement. It was then I realized that the (only) way to take on, tackle and overcome any challenge is to take it one step at a time. Any hardship has the ability to be paralyzingly intimidating when looked at in its entirety; but breaking the daunting hill down and focusing only on what is manageable in the moment strips it of its debilitating powers, making anything seem 100% possible. 

Body Viving and Dropping the Ball

Saturday 4/28

It’s no secret that the gym is a favorite place of mine. Saturday, I rushed out to my gym at a particularly early 8:45 in the morning to make it to a featured master class, Body Vive. Inevitably, there will be many future posts on things I am grateful for pertaining to my gym, but on this day, I learned how thankful I was to be able to laugh at myself.

When trying new things, there is always a learning curve where mistakes will be made and perfection is not expected. Thank goodness! Growing up, I constantly felt the pressure to never make a mistake and carried the expectation to be perfect (now, I understand my parents’ intentions were to push me to reach my highest potential, not to cause me stress… yet another thing I am thankful for, in retrospect). This forgiveness to err that I’ve adopted towards myself was much called for during Body Vive’s 55 minutes of new steps and movements.

Regardless of my unfamiliarity with the class, I took a spot, front and center, directly face-to-face with the instructor, my Body Vive ball within reach. My first thought was “Gosh, I hope I don’t drop that ball and make a fool of myself!” Of course, the self-fulfilled prophecy that it had become, not only did I drop my ball once, but lost it a second time! Initially, I felt embarrassed as I chased the ball as it rolled passed other less-butterfingers-prone Body Vivers, thinking I was probably the only klutz that lost her squishy, purple ball. I laughed it off and fell back in to formation.

A few steps later, we were instructed on a new move that had us turning in different directions, in (what was meant to be) unison. My feet fumbled beneath me as I mis-stepped, mis-turned, and mis-Vived.  Much to my delight, it seemed most of the room joined me in my confusion as we crashed into each other and bobbed when we should have weaved. At that moment, I unclenched my useless grip on attempted perfection and released it with a wave of laughter. Truth of the matter was, most people in the classroom that morning were just as new to the program as I was. I was NOT the only one making mistakes, stepping left when told to pivot right. But, I was the only one that thought my self-described epic errors made any difference!

After I realized the normalcy of my mistakes, I allowed myself to laugh at my missteps. I was able to enjoy myself as much as everyone else was enjoying the wonderful class and got an added ab workout from all the laughter. If I can’t laugh at my own mistakes, then I impose a sentence on myself to take life far too seriously. I guess you could say that on Saturday morning, in my first Body Vive experience, I learned a valuable life lesson to be grateful for the ability to laugh at myself, all stemming from dropping the ball- twice!

Fighters' Energy

A grey, rain-cloud covered sky on a particularly dreary Sunday morning makes sleeping in late and claiming residence on the couch an attractive option. Sunday morning, to me, means Body Combat- a 10:15, hour long, mixed martial arts group fitness class at the gym- and I wouldn’t have it any other way!

Group exercise classes are all fun and offer a great change of pace to a workout routine, but to purpose this class as solely a calorie-burner would be doing it a disservice. It is so much more than punching and kicking in unison- every week, I leave the class stronger- not only physically (and boy, is it an awesome physical challenge!) but mentally, as well. Today, my gratitude goes out to the class that leaves me completely breathless and drenched in sweat. The charge of a classroom filled with people, all fighting for the same goal of fitness is intoxicating. I feed off of the palpable energies of the other class participants around me, allowing it to push me farther and harder.

I would be a fool to not mention the role of the instructor, Lori, as she sets the tone, bringing out the best in each and every Body Combatter in the room. It amazes me to watch how one person can create a motivational wave amongst a consistently filled studio. The inspiration from the class sticks with me throughout the week as I hear her cues of not only which leg to kick with, but also to never stop fighting, never give up.

This class that has become a routine a part of my week. I always leave with a renewed appreciation for my body and a reminder of how strong I really am. The motivational vibration from yesterday morning’s class is still buzzing within me as I kick off my week and, without a doubt, it will help pull me through these next few sun-less, rainy days!