I Did It

I did it.

I did the damn thing: got on a stage and competed as a bikini bodybuilder. To say this was no small feat is a monumental understatement, never mind the additional challenges presented in a global pandemic.

Those who know me are aware that I enjoy a good challenge, namely of the physical order. Athletics have always been a significant part of my life; being an athlete is single-handedly the reason I ended up in Pittsburgh. I was a gymnast, a swimmer for a brief stint, and a soccer player. I’ve run a marathon, been part of several marathon relay teams, run a half marathon, and completed a few sprint triathlons. There was a Tough Mudder a few years back that ended in a broken ankle, so technically I didn’t finish the full course, but I got through half before the horrific snap – but I digress. My point is, I’m always chasing something. Truth be told, I feel a little lost if I’m not preparing for some kind of a competition. It appears as though I’ve been hard-wired to be driven by physical goals. And because I’d run the gamut of all kinds of races by May of 2019, it came to no one’s surprise, least of all mine, that I’d go after the bodybuilding stage.  

Let me make a distinction here: my goal was always to step on stage to compete, but not necessarily as competitor. What I mean is, I’d never planned to make this my lifestyle – a highly unpopular reason to get on stage. My plan was to approach with a Rocky mindset: go the distance. Weight loss was not the goal, nor my greatest achievement – not even close. While I’m in awe of the physique I have built, the achievement I sought was the endurance. I didn’t need to beat Apollo, I just wanted to last until the final bell. There’s an entire sect of folks who say competing in a bodybuilding competition as a “bucket list” item is a horrible idea. They will cite the enormous leverage on the body required to reach this goal, and they’re not wrong – this is HARD AF. To get to, what is referred to as stage lean, requires significant sacrifice, not to mention potential severe tolls on the body – the physiological tax is considerable. At some point, you will be fighting against biological cues, as the body was not designed to function optimally below a certain body fat threshold. Towards the end, I felt hollowed out like a carved pumpkin for Halloween, and I was damn near tears on the daily. That being said, while it’s a gross generalization: there are risks to everything in life. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t take on certain endeavors, I just see it as a need for proper education, guidance, and mitigation when possible. It is precisely why most hire coaches, and I was fortunate enough to have two on my road to the stage. And this is probably another faux pas, but honestly, IDGAF – both of my coaches were integral.

Summer of 2017

Let’s take it back to the summer of 2017. Lucy and I’d spent a lovely day with some friends doing the touristy Ducky Boat and ridden the Monongahela Incline. At the top of Mt. Washington, a photograph was taken of me and my girl. When I looked at that picture, I was taken aback by what I saw in myself: a woman who’d been consumed with Motherhood for four and a half years, and who’d allowed her own health to fall to the bottom of the priorities list. I was 39 and the heaviest I’d ever been. It was then and there that I decided I would become “Fit by 40,” and find my mojo again. I was a former Division I athlete, dammit. I could and would build back the body of a healthy and strong woman that I knew existed inside of me. So that’s exactly what I did. I began running with friends at work in the mornings before school. I did Weight Watchers. My combined efforts helped me drop about 20 lbs., but then I stalled. In October of 2018, as I was recovering from the broken ankle, I hired, on the suggestion of my dear friend J, Adam. Adam took me on as a lifestyle client and helped me drop another 20 lbs. Seven months later, I’d bitten the apple. In May of 2019, I went from a lifestyle client to a competition client. Adam helped me build for a few months, and then we began prep in August of 2019. I chugged and persisted until March of 2020, dropping another almost 25 lbs, when the rug got pulled out from under me and the world succumbed to a pandemic. I was roughly two weeks out from the stage. And it all just vanished. Initially, we decided to hold steady and watch to see what shows would go on, but the constant cancellations and moving target end-date proved to be too difficult, so I made the decision to begin reversing (slowly raising calories, and lowering cardio), and shelve the stage for a year.

Perhaps it was the isolation of the pandemic, maybe it was burn out – there were so many variables, but in May of 2020, I made the decision to end my coaching with Adam, and move on to Mark. There were no hard feelings; I was sensing a complacency in myself, and needed a more militant kick in the ass, and a change in protocol scenery. Mark provided what I needed at that point in my journey and the road to the stage continued with a nine and a half month building phase. In January of 2020, once again, I began to prep.

The current narrative lends itself well to the platitude: things happen for a reason. This prep was different in so many ways. I wasn’t a newbie and knew what to expect. My adherence was damn near perfect, and even though I could choose the foods that fulfilled the macros prescribed to me, unlike my last prep, I made nutrient dense selections. Fitting in that gourmet cookie, or the pint of Enlightened ice cream, never factored into my train of thought. And honestly, I felt better, even into the gritty final weeks when cardio was high and food was low. I do believe there’s truth to quality, and that not all calories are equal in terms of biological benefits. That’s not to say that folks who fit in the treats aren’t successful, because there are plenty who do, and are just fine. For me, anecdotally, the whole foods route worked really well, and I was less susceptible to cravings of those highly palatable treats.

In the end, Adam brought me to the dance, and Mark helped me cross the finish line. For that, each deserves due recognition.

For all my history as an athlete, even at the highest levels of pressure and competition, nothing – and I mean nothing, compared to the intensity of preparing for the stage. The sheer mental and physical endurance required was astronomical. This was a relentless daily choice and dedication that I’d never executed and went far beyond the simple “no thank you” to an offered cupcake. Motivation waxed and waned; it was through absolute discipline, grit, and ganas that I hit the target. Planning, prepping, weighing out every morsel that I consumed, blocking out time for lifting and cardio, making sure I got my steps in each day – it was all-consuming.

But it was worth it, and I kept my head (mostly) along the way. There’s a dark side to this sport, one that comes with side effects not limited to, but including disordered eating and body dismorphia. Dieting down can also really mess up your relationship with food. Because I came to this sport a little later in life, I believe I was granted the advantage of having had many years to figure out who I was and recognize the depth of my personal capital. Here I was, willingly working towards getting on a stage in an itty-bitty, albeit beautifully bedazzled, bikini, and asking to be judged on my body. I knew before the show that no matter what happened, my worth did not rest in the critique of those subjective judges. Whether I placed or not, I firmly believed (cause believing is the important part), that I was a woman intact, whole and beautiful, strong and successful. The outcome of the show would not determine my mark on the world; I already had a life and existence that far-outweighed whatever medal or trophy (or apparantly swords, because as it turns out, I won 3 swords) with which I could ever walk away. The external validation, while nice (not going to say it isn’t), wasn’t necessary, because I’d already validated myself. There’s a shit-ton of self-work and self-love in those previous few sentences, a place to which I did not arrive easily. It took me years to get here, but I had help along the way, and one of my very first mentors was Laura Moses.

In high school, I played club soccer, and Laura was my coach. She was uncompromising in every sense, and she worked us doggedly. We had two-a-day practices in the summer under the hot sun, we ran miles upon miles on the strand at the beach, did sprints in the sand – and you know what? We were fit. We were a good little team, but even when our skills didn’t match up against another powerhouse club, we’d win simply because we could outrun them for the entire ninety minutes. I was always at the back of the pack when it came to fitness, the last one to cross the line, the goalkeeper bringing up the rear on miles long runs. I specifically remember one afternoon run at the beach. I was determined to keep up with the pack at any cost. I wanted so desperately to win some kind of accolade from Laura. So I did it. I kept up. And puked in the sand at the end of the run because I’d taxed my system so greatly. After discharging my lunch, I went up to Laura as the others were getting sips of water and asked her if she’d noticed that I’d kept up. She said, I did. Then turned away from me to call everyone into the sand for sprints. That gutted me – not even a simple “at a girl.” And it was then and there that I realized I could not rely on others to validate or praise my efforts. Laura helped me realized, I would have to do it myself.

Working towards a goal like this can be intensely isolating as the sport, by nature, is solitary. There  were definitely days when I felt the loneliness, but mostly I felt support by an entire squadron of friends and family. I cannot say enough about my friends, especially the ones I work with. I have raved about my colleagues, ad nauseum, and I will continue to do so. They buoyed me, daily. Checked in with me, asked thoughtful questions, responded to my posts with infinite encouragement, left flowers on my desk with thoughtful notes – honestly, I could go on and on. Friends outside of work sent texts and applause, regularly. J, my back-pocket-therapist talked me down off of several ledges, listened to my fears and frustrations, and always set me straight with just the right amount of care and tough love. J opened this door for me two years ago, helped me see what was possible, and for that I’m ever grateful. My parents were cheering me on from the get-go, and really, since Day 1. For anything I’ve ever attempted, even if they secretly harbored concern, they have always been ferociously supportive.

 

And then there’s Jesse and Lucy. My ride or die crew. The ones who endured along with me, who never complained when I was too exhausted to figure out dinner beyond “briner” or a frozen pizza or takeout. Who never made me feel bad when it got to the point that I was eating my extra lean ground turkey and 
they were enjoying heaping servings of spaghetti, or giant bowls of ice cream. My husband who understood I needed to retire to bed between 8 and 8:30 in order to be up at “four ass early.” My daughter who had to go for walks with me more times than I can count because I couldn’t leave her home alone, and I needed to hit my 10k steps. While I was doing the work in isolation at the gym, they were absolutely affected by the time I spent away from them – and they were just as much a part of this whole endeavor. I know my daughter watched it all, took it all in. I can only hope she saw a mama determined, and a woman who prioritized her own goals, not allowing the responsibilities and obligations of life to overrule her ambitions.

So what’s next?

Truth is, I'm not sure. Initially I had intended to do one more show at the end of July, but in the last couple of days, it has become clear to me that I got what I needed. I met my goal, I feel incredibly satisfied, and there is zero compulsion driving any need to do this all over again. And the best part? I am completely at peace with this decision. Zero regrets. For the immediate future, my focus will be lifestyle related: I’d like to figure out a balance of being physically active, but without an extreme carrot. Maybe hike more. Throw the bikes on the hitch and rack, and ride more. I want to sleep in and sip coffee on Saturday and Sunday mornings. I do have a photo shoot scheduled for later this month, as I'd like to immortalize this physique I worked so hard to build, but other than that I’m going to take my time to properly reverse, bringing my body back to a healthy and sustainable weight, and enjoy an indefinite respite from the all-encompassing mind absorption that is prep.

I have learned so much through this process, but the two biggest takeaways are that I am stronger than I thought, both mentally and physically. This was supposed to have been accomplished a year ago, but because of the pandemic, it stretched another year. There were so many days I just did not want to do it - but I refused to throw in the towel. I couldn't have come all this way to not see it through. Two years I labored at this, and for two years I proved to no one but myself that I could do really hard shit. The second takeaway, and probably the most profound, is that I am loved. The outpouring of support, the gifts, the recognition and acknowledgement from family and friends has been beyond anything I ever expected. That will stay with me long after the lines of my physique have faded.

Not too bad for this almost 43 year-old, if I do say so myself.

 

The Athlete: Nature or Nurture?

A few nights ago coverage of the Ironman came up as a listing on the cable guide. I immediately clicked on it and settled down to watch. Big Red was out of the room and when he came back in he basically took one look at the TV, did something like roll his eyes and then smile a knowing smile at me. And then busted out his laptop.

I have had a longstanding fascination with triathlons, especially the Ironman World Championship held each year in Kailua-Kona, Hawai'i. It is a freakishly mutant event in which one swims for 2.4 miles in the open sea, bikes for 112 miles and then runs a full length marathon. It is a 140.6 mile endurance test unlike any other, and anyone who finishes rightly deserves the title of "Ironman."  Some years ago I competed in sprint triathlons. The sprint is the neo-natal version of the Ironman. A paltry half mile swim, 12 miles on a bike and a 5k run. I did it twice, writing about my 2008 experience here and here.

But the seduction of the Ironman still lingers tacitly tucked away, only to surface every now and again.

And I don't know why.  I've tried to explain it, mostly to Big Red who finds the whole concept of competing against yourself ludicrous, let alone paying an entrance fee to be allowed to swim, or bike, or run, or all three. I try to illuminate the notion of a self-imposed challenge, the deep-seated quest to see how far you can push yourself - the chance to be your own personal hero. He still thinks I'm crazy. Then I have to remind myself that not everyone thinks like an athlete. That is my history, so it is the perspective from which I sit. Big Red does not share the same experience. Which begs the question: is the mindset of an athlete innate or learned? Would I still be the same me with the same physical drive had I not participated in sports?

An article in Psychology Today suggests that motivation is the key factor in the success of an athlete. Motivation is "the only contributor to sports performance of which you have control." It is that fire that carries an athlete through the "grind" when things get tough. But how do you get motivation? It's not clear at all. The only thing I can say for sure is - I've got it. Whatever that thing is a person requires to push themselves - it's in my skin. Granted, the capacity of drive I had in high school to be the best of the best has since waned and I've moved into a more comfortable post-competitive athletic space. Being that kind of driven, that's a shit-ton of pressure to put on yourself, and it is exhausting. Exhilarating, but definitely exhausting.

Yet the athlete in me remains. She hasn't gone anywhere, she's just a more balanced adult version. I have mollified and appeased her with occasional races, a marathon in 1999, the two sprint triathlons, a few 5ks and a 10k, and a couple of stints as part of a marathon relay team. But every now and again she surfaces, whispering ever so faintly I want to do an Ironman someday, to which I reply:

That's the dream. The goal. The ultimate personal challenge. I don't know when, or how, but I'll get there.
Someday. Definitely.

Back on Track.

Even though I have today off, I was alert and wide-eyed at 6:30 am. So you know what I did? Got up, asked Olive if she wanted to go for walk, to which she replied with an enthusiastic bark and sprint around the room. And so that's what we did. We went for a 40 minute walk. On the menu for today: chopped veggie salad, cucumbers with beet hummus, Greek salad, and fruit.

That's all I wanted to say.
I'm back on track.

Happy Memorial Day weekend.

Temptations.

It is at THIS point in the year that I generally slip-up and give into the edible temptations that come with the closing of a school year. Inevitably there are parties and potlucks, all of which provide plenty of opportunity to shovel unrelenting amounts of delicious treats down my pie hole. Oh the food - the glorious food! Thus begins the weight gain  portion of my yo-yo rhythm.

It is also around this season that my fine-tuned workout regime starts to fall by the wayside. Again, with the end of the year, because of all the parties and extra-curricular activity, there seems to be little time for working out. Or rather, I'm too tired and "busy" with other crap to work out.

The combined digression of healthy heating and lack of exercise propels me, again, for the umpteenth time into a cycle of gain weight, feel like shit, lose weight, slack off, gain weight. Uh. I'm so over it. So. Over. It.

So here's what's going to be different this time around, because I'm a fiery kind of determined that my efforts of the past four and a half months will not be frittered away. I'm going to first recognize and acknowledge this pattern. Being aware of what is happening is the first step, is it not? As the parties come up and the glorious grub is presented to me in all its splendor, I will allow myself to indulge. What I will not do, as I've previously done, is gorge. I will taste what I want. I will enjoy it. And I will stop. Finally, I have made a commitment to continue exercising at minimum, three times a week. Even if it's just to take Olive on a 30 min walk.

I refuse to gain back the almost 30 lbs. I've lost. Yes, 30!!! Technically, I'm about a half pound away from the big three-oh - close enough. I feel amazing and I don't want to lose that feeling. So if I feel myself slipping and falling back into the quagmire of weight gain, I will remind myself of how well I both look and feel.

Feel free to hold me accountable.

An Athlete Always

Tomorrow I'll be part of my staff's team running the relay portion of our city's marathon. There are three others running the half, and one crazy-ass running the full 26.2 miles, which by the way, will be his second year in a row for doing so. He's my hero.  I did the full 26.2 in 1999. At the time I said I'd never ever do that again, but in the years since, I've flirted with the idea of the doing the full again. Not only is it a beast of a run, but the time required to train for it is pretty extensive. You don't just show up ready to run 26.2 miles without logging some serious wear on your sneakers.

I've completed two sprint triathlons, and this is my second year doing the relay. Big Red thinks I'm coconuts for participating in these events. He thinks it's inconceivable that someone would pay to participate in such a torturous event. But how do you approach a pedestrian perspective with your own that's chalk full of a history of athletics? I've been competing in some form of sport my entire life. For as long as I can remember, really. Gymnastics, swimming, soccer, triathlons, marathons. It's safe to say that I'm no longer a "competitive" athlete in the sense that I'm trying to win trophies and championships. No one is counting on me for anything. In my adult life, athletics has become more of an internal competition. Man vs. Man - Me vs. Me. Can I best my time from the last round? I enjoy pushing myself and challenging my body, and I will admit it's nice not having a coach screaming at me to do so. I like relying on my own intrinsic motivation. The pressure cooker of high-end competitive athletics is one I absolutely do no miss. Not for one second.

I just got finished making my mix for tomorrow's leg of the marathon: Black-Eyed Peas, Kanye West, Ke$ha,  Lady GaGa, Michael Jackson, P!nk, Pitbul, Tina Turner, Nelly, Rihanna, LMFAO, Whitney Houston, The Monkees, and Queen.  A motley crew of music, no?

4.7 miles. Wish me luck.

And Happy Cinco de Mayo.

ps: I think I may have broken my plateau - logged another 1.4 lbs lost. Score.

OCD.

Happy Saturday Morning. Today's edition of Glass Half Full is brought to you by the sweet mollifying melody of rain. It's been downright daggone hot in the Steel City. For the past several days it was as if we'd skipped spring altogether and been thrust into summer. Lambent blue skies and 80 degree weather. We even broke a record high that had been in place since the 40s. The rain is a welcome respite from the heat, and perfectly sets both mood and tone for today's project.

The title of this entry is twofold:

1. Yes, OCD is referring to the traditional take on the acronym. Sometimes I refer to myself as Monica Geller after Courtney Cox's character on the 90s show, "Friends." I am somewhat comically obsessed with keeping neat and organized. Living by the philosophy that everything has its place is comforting. I enjoy lists and being able to check off items pleases me to no end. I use the term OCD here as more of a tongue-in-cheek reference; while I enjoy cataloging and orderliness, I realize the true disorder is no joke.

2. I'm creating my own OCD acronym: Organizing Circulating Dinners. In my recent efforts to get and remain healthy, I've revamped my menus and have amassed a sundry of dinners. Using my cookbooks, recipes passed along from friends and the glorious phenomenon known as Pinterest, I now have somewhere near 50 recipes. No kidding. And I keep collecting more and more.

I've been able to get all meals listed in a Word document. The next step is to take a trip to Staples and pick up some large note cards. I'm getting three different colors; each meal will be categorized as one of the following: vegan, vegetarian, conventional. Ideally, each card will give the name of the meal, list ingredients and directions, and give nutritional information. I don't plan on getting it all done today - I don't have nutritional information for everything, but intend to add the information as I make the meals for which that info is missing. Once each card is finished, it will get laminated, I'll punch a hole in the corner, and then put it on a metal ring. Imagine a key chain of quick to access meals with all pertinent information. Easy quick menu planning makes my little heart sing!

Speaking of little, I've added another 2.4 lbs. to my weight loss, putting me at -22.4 lbs. I keep on keep'n on and am sticking strong with my workouts. As I sipped my once-a-week mug of coffee this morning, Big Red and I caught an infomercial for Insanity. Um, there are no words. It really does look insane. I'm not quite ready to take on Insanity and will happily remain with my P90X for the time being. Perhaps Insanity will be the next step?

Big Red has also hopped on the healthy train. The week that has just ended was the first of two that Big Red has off in the interim between jobs. He ate a revised and healthier breakfast and had for lunch whatever I took. He dropped 4 lbs. this week. He's going to continue to follow in my footsteps again this coming week and reports that he's feeling good. And of course that make me feel good. I'll be more than happy to quit buying Pop Tarts and crap-filled hot dogs. He's even tried to lay off the coffee a bit, a well-known Big Red vice.

Happy 4 days into Spring 2012.


ps: Big Red is also making big progress on the small bathroom renovation. Drywall is up, second coat of mud is up. We're buying primer, paint, and tiles this weekend. :)

Banner Week!

For a while I've had little to write about. Well, you know how they say life shows up in threes? Whoever they are - they are right. This week was a banner week.

I. Big Red
I haven't really spoken of Big Red for a while because there wasn't much to put on  paper screen. Big Red's story is a bit convoluted for those who haven't been following so I'll give you the shortened version as best I can. Here's the lightening fast wrap-up of what's happened with Big Red since we arrived back in our Steel Town in the summer of 2008:

• He gets hired within a week of our return, making a really great flat-rate salary at an Audi/VW dealership. Turns out the dealership sucks big time and he works with a bunch of chauvinistic cheating pigs.
• He leaves dealership to work in an independent shop - sigh of relief. This place is a little further, but worth the commute. Turns out his boss begins to cheat him so that he won't have to pay Big Red. Huge bummer.
• He leaves the small shop and takes a break from being a mechanic altogether; quits working, stays home for 8 weeks and finishes our basement over the holidays.
• When it's time to look for work, he's weary of going back to any kind of shop so he gets a job as a parts delivery driver making $8/hr. While the money is tight, he's home before me, and his demeanor completely lightens up; he's the happiest he's been since we've been here.
• Then the mother of all job opportunity arises. He has a chance to go work for an independent shop, one where they specialize in taking care of vintage race cars. It's a dream. He begins the job in the summer of 2011. We all breathe a collective sigh of relief and I write about it here. And then the worst things happens: the dream becomes a nightmare. Big Red is treated like crap, referred to a "f*@king monkey" in front of clients. He comes home many nights dejected and confused. He begins to spin into a darkness I've never seen before. This job lasts six weeks. Just when we think everything is lost and there's no hope, yet another way out turns up - a job at a Toyota dealership where his friend works. He jumps on it and begins in the early fall of 2011.
• Big Red's spirit brightens and things seem to mollify themselves. But no, of course not, that would be too easy. Turns out this dealership is no better than the previous one. There's plenty of brown-nosing mechanics getting fed work. What becomes clear as day is that dealerships just SUCK. It's an environment that breeds corruption because income is on the line. Takeaway the variability of income, and I'm certain things would be better. But that'll never happen. Big Red begins to look for a way out.
• Through the most unconventional turn of events, through a friend of a friend who knows his mother, Big Red is told to "call" Mr. W. Mr. W is the owner of a small shop that caters to vintage race cars, among other race cars (open-wheel). When my mother-in-law gives me the message, I'm nervous because I know that Big Red's palate has been soured with his experience last summer at the other race shop. Nevertheless it's another chance. I give the message to Big Red, he's understandably skeptical. I encourage him to call anyhow. He does. Meets Mr. W, and realizes that Mr. W ain't like the others, and actually refers to what he does as "a craft." Big Red is over the moon. They negotiate a salary, yes a freaking SALARY, and Big Red begins work on April 2!

What's the moral of the story? Risk. You must be willing to take risks. Had Big Red snuffed the invitation to call Mr. W because he was afraid to encounter the hell he had previously, he would have missed out on the chance of a lifetime. And folks, this really is the chance of a lifetime. Working with Mr. W will allow Big Red to travel and do unique amazing work. It's the piece of the puzzle that's been missing since we moved back. I am beyond excited for him, and more than anything relieved. When I hurt, it's my own problem and I can fix myself. When my husband hurts and I'm left helpless because there isn't a damn thing I can do, I feel useless. There are few things worse than seeing someone you love, to the moon and back, hurt so deeply. Likewise, there are few things better than seeing that same person happy.

II. 20+ lbs.
This morning I weighed in and I've crossed the 20 lb. threshold. I'm down a total of 21.2 lbs! I am ECSTATIC.  Yes, I still have another 18 to go, but I'm more motivated than ever. I've kept up with the P90X, but I have made a few of my own modifications. I did not like the Kempo so I'm substituting that for a day where I take long run (5-6 miles), or I hop on the elliptical. It's going incredibly well, and I'm damn proud of myself. My battle with food continues to be won, and it's actually becoming less of a battle. Earlier this week one of our math teachers had pies for "Pie Day" (3/14), and offered up some to those of us eating in the lunch room. While I could of just said no and skipped it altogether, I quickly realized that it wasn't necessary, but that I'd have to exercise restraint on how much I took. Look, I love food and that's never going to change. I can still eat sweets if the craving hits, I'm just much more aware of what I'm eating and how much of it I'm going to eat. I took a sliver of key lime pie and a sliver of peanut butter pie. I enjoyed every single morsel, my craving was satisfied, and I didn't undo all my hard work.

III. New Website
My photography is slowly growing. I don't have a large client base by any stretch, but word is quietly getting around. I've known for a while that the next step in growing my photography business is to put together a website. I'm not ready to invest hundreds in some flashy set up, so I've been scouring the internet for free options. This week I found one through www.wix.com. I don't own my own domain just yet, and am planning to take that second leap this summer. It isn't terribly expensive and it's something I'll definitely take care of. Until then, my photography business can be found at: http://www.wix.com/ilenemarshall/photography. I will continue to update my galleries, hopefully getting some students to do some senior portraits soon. I'm proud of what I've put together and while I know it's relatively simple compared to the super-professionals out there, I'm quick to realize I'm not a super-pro. I'm a full-time teacher with a budding photography business. For now, I think it's a great start.

P90X = OhEmGee.

*this is insane - www.beachbody.com*

In an effort to avoid the discouraging plateau of weight loss, I've employed the use of P90X. Well, at least I started the program today. That is, AFTER running 4 miles in the frigid just barely above 30 temp with blustery winds. Man did that run suck. But I got through it, came home, and popped in Day 1 of the P90X program.

This sh*t ain't no joke.

It's more than overwhelming to look at the thirteen week schedule, in fact it's horrifying. So instead of looking ahead, I'm just going to focus on whatever workout that needs to be done TODAY, and then maybe I'll think about TOMORROW. But that's it. I don't want to psych myself out.

What I plan to do is a little more than ambitious: combine P90X along with a running schedule. My feet were actually cramping up during the dvd today and I'm wondering if it was a lack of potassium or a lack of hydration. I'll have to read up on that because the cramping was super annoying. It felt as if my toes were trying to bend themselves around one another.

Perhaps it's a placebo affect but I swear my arms already look and feel more cut. It's probably my mind playing tricks on me. Whatever.

Tonight Big Red and I tested out a new recipe - sweet potato burgers. They were good, they just weren't very sturdy. The recipe even warns you of this, but I wasn't ready for the kind of fall-apart softness of these burgers. We ate them on whole wheat organic sesame buns with avocado, onions and some horseradish mustard. Yummo!! Our side was an order of these super delicious salt and vinegar fingerling potatoes. They are incredibly mouth puckering tasty and I highly recommend you try them.

Tomorrow will be leftovers and Day 2 of P90X.

I'll keep you posted.

3.2 lbs.

There isn't much to say today other than I'm just 3.2 lbs. shy of hitting a 20 lb. loss. Which means - I'm almost half way to my goal. Some weeks my numbers are big and some weeks my numbers are small. When I weighed in this morning I only recorded an 0.8 lb. loss. The other week it was 3 lbs.

I hate to admit it, but the damn scale moving is probably the most motivating factor. Sucks I know because the scale doesn't always tell the whole truth, but I'm just being honest.

My clothes are beginning to fit poorly, but because I'm still well into my journey, I don't want to buy anything yet. The other day I had to roll the top of one of my pairs of black work pants. Yes, roll, as in fold over. They don't have belt loops so I had no way of keeping them up other than rolling the top of them as if they were a pair of sweatpants. I guess you could say this is a good great problem to have.

It's early, and a tad bit too chilly out, but I think I'll hitch up the dog and take her for a walk. Then when I get back since I'll be all warmed up, I'm going to hit the elliptical. No sense in wasting a perfectly good morning, and the poor dog hasn't been on a walk for a while because of the weather. It'll do us both some good.

Happy Weekend.

...day 21...

...and things couldn't be better. I just weighed in and lost another three pounds. Since the start of this eating challenge I'm now down 5.8 pounds, giving me an overall grand total of 14 pounds since the clock struck 2012.

And it feels A.M.A.Z.I.N.G.

Typically when I get caught up in some new eating fad, it's hard at first, takes a while to get used to - all the usual crap. The brilliance of this eating challenge has been that for not one second has it been difficult. I eat when I'm hungry and I pretty much eat however much I want - which for this gal, who loves her portions!, is so satisfying. I'm not cranky, I don't "miss" anything. I've had a few sodas here and there when I've really felt like it, Big Red and I bought some ice cream last weekend, and I even had (twice) a coffee mug full of delicious butter pecan - full fat, mind you. I'm no longer fettered to the scale and can patiently wait until the week's end to weigh myself.

It's amazing.

I've been working out hard this week and plan to for the coming week as well since my free membership at the gym ends on the 26th. If I can knock out a few more pounds before the membership is up, I'll be pleased as punch.

Some of the recipes I've come across have been incredibly delicious and one, well, not so much. I honestly didn't think eating plant-strong with plenty of veggies, legumes and fruits would be this easy. I've virtually eliminated all animal products for the duration of this challenge. I did though make some orange chicken, from scratch using THIS recipe the other night. It was scrumptious served over brown rice, although I noticed how heavy the meal felt and how I couldn't put down the portion I normally would have. Oh, and I did sprinkle about a 1/4 cup of shredded cheese over top of a vegan casserole - mainly for Big Red. But honestly, other than those two moments, it's been clean eating out the gate. And I feel clean. It's almost like my body is rejuvenating itself and running on premium fuel.

Even though the challenge is going to be up after this coming week, I definitely see myself carrying on with these habits. How could I not? My body is responding beautifully to the food I'm eating, it's definitely responding the calories I'm torching at the gym - even Big Red noticed the other day: Your body feels different, stronger and more lean. What woman WOULDN'T want to hear that?!?!?! And even though I know I'm doing this for myself, I would be lying if I didn't say his noticing didn't stoke the encouragement fire. Some other folks have noticed the weight loss, mainly in my face (isn't that always the first place to show? why can't it be the belly or thighs? or even the back fat?), and a colleague commented on my baggy pants the other day.

It all makes me feel great.
It all makes me feel amazing.
Have I mentioned how amazing this has all been?
The proof is in the pudding plants.
Time to head to the gym. :)

New Class & Getting Healthy

Wednesday began the new semester, and with that, my new course: Post-Secondary Prep. Can I just say that I'm totally loving it? I know - we're only a few days into the semester, but I really am enjoying myself and my students. I think they're feeling the same way.

I have always loved to read and write - for pleasure. That enjoyment seemed to easily translate into teaching English, at least, it made sense when that whole become a pediatrician - oh wait, you have pass calculus and organic chemistry to become a doctor? realization hit me smack in the forehead. What better than to teach what you love to do? Welp, it's not that simple. First of all, lets all rewind back a few years back to when we were sitting in those desks for six hours a day and our teacher was telling us that we had to read the first three chapters of A Tale of Two Cities. Remember the groan and suck of teeth, the silent promise never to read a single page because who gives a flying fart about some French peasants and aristocracy. I mean, what does that even mean - aristocracy? Remember locating the Cliff's Notes (cause there wasn't an Internet back then), scanning the synopsis and trying to skate by?

I do. I remember all of it. In fact, I remember not reading one single book in its entirety for all four years of high school except for All Quiet on the Western Front. Go figure. Now imagine trying to be the adult standing in front of those teeth-suckers and getting them to read a book they don't particularly want to read. And then imagine getting them to write a proper essay about the book they never read. Yeah. Right.

Despite dragging dead carcasses through quicksand (cause sometimes that's what it feels like being an English teacher), I did enjoy myself. I did not enjoy the endless paperwork or the grading, but I did enjoy getting students to identify with characters and attempt to get them to see something about life, perhaps even their life, within fiction.

But those days are done. And I'm nothing but smiles because now I get to be less of a teacher and more of a counselor. I was once accused of being a "cheerleader" instead of a teacher. One of my supervising teachers said this of me in my final semester of student-teaching. I challenged her asking what was so wrong with being a cheerleader. I wanted to know why that was an issue. I don't remember her answer; clearly it wasn't memorable. I think counseling students is a lot like being their cheerleader. In my new role, I get to take on those traits.

Eight years in and having recently ditched the traditional English teacher role, I think I'm coming into my own. I've found the capacity in which I'm supposed to teach. I get to help students look inward and question their values and what they want from life. I get to help them seek out the very best pathway that suits their dreams and aspirations, while illuminating possible roadblocks and challenges, and aiding them in attempting to create a framework so that they have a map for life after they leave the relatively safe haven of high school. Yesterday we discussed ground rules for discussions about controversial topics. We talked about the skills necessary to engage in a conversation where one party does not agree with the other. They were brilliant. They spoke about respecting one another, and questioning the topic rather than attacking the person. After we were comfortable with the rules, I lead them right into the fire - I told them they were going to discuss abortion and whether or not it should be legal.

They amazed me with both their candor and maturity. They policed one another making sure no one interrupted and they worked hard to stay on topic and avoid tangents. By golly, they were talking to each other with respect, and they were listening. They were actually listening to one another. And I loved every minute of it.

Three days in, and I love this class more than any other I've ever taught. It is my creation, my baby, and my students have embraced it (so far) with open arms.

In other news...

I'm down another pound or so!! Pat on the back. When I got up this morning it was too early, of course, so I had me-self a banana and natural peanut butter, then hit the gym. Yay for free passes. I ran 2 miles on the treadmill then did some weights. It's been a week since starting the challenge and I feel wonderful. I hit Whole Foods last night for this week's groceries and again, I did not break the bank. Yeah, baby - this woman is rocking it. I also brought home a peanut butter and chocolate bar for Big Red. Yes, it was organic made from angel wings, or something like that - but the guy deserved something for his willingness to go along with my dinner meals - the most recent of which was a flavorless meatless meatloaf. FAIL.

I recently read a friend's post, "Change Will Do You Good," on her blog Remission Statement. Mia writes about getting rid of her plastic storage containers and replacing them with glass. After reading her post, it got me to thinking about all the yuckiness out in the universe and today I purchased my first round of glass storage bowls. I plan to add more in the future. Mia also gives links to some other really cool finds that are both safe and reusable. Speaking of reusable, Big Red and I, after almost two years in this house, are FINALLY recycling. I got another trash can that would fit behind the one we have in the kitchen, and now that second trash can is the designated recycling bin. Inconvenience is no longer an issue - go us!

...day 4...

Today marks day four of my participation in the Whole Foods 28-Day Healthy Eating Challenge, and I'm happy to report - so far, so good!

Sunday, I made it to the gym and picked up my free 28-day pass, and then hit Whole Foods, armed with a veggie laden grocery list. Here's what I posted on Facebook after my return: Going in with a very specific grocery list, I definitely felt like less of a tool among the super crunchies, the yuppies, and the bourgeois...AND I managed not to spend my "Whole Paycheck." And it's true. My bill was remarkably similar to what I would have normally spent at my usual go-to-grocery store. Are the tides changing?

I hit the gym on Monday after work and worked out with a trainer (part of the deal was one free evaluative session).  It was a Biggest Loser style session that probably only lasted a half an hour but has had lasting effects on my body, namely the fire-like searing soreness in my arms and ass. Long stretches of walking lunges and squats, and using an industrial sized rope among other brilliant moves. I even went back to the gym yesterday and ran a bit on the treadmill.

I spent the day today teaching with my arms half bent because it hurt too much to straighten them. With regards to my ass, well - it just hurts.

As for what I'm eating, the whole point of this challenge, I'm totally rocking it. I made a vegetarian chili Monday night and it turned out scrumptiously:

Photo Cred: www.ezrapoundcake.com

I followed the recipe I found via a pin on Pinterest, which by the way, I have discovered and for which I've fallen deeply under the spell. The chili recipe was originally posted on the blog "Ezra Poundcake: The Kitchen Confessional of Rebecca Crump." I made a few modifications, swapping out the 4 large tomatoes for a can of crushed tomatoes - I read it incorrectly and bought 4 large potatoes. I had the can of crushed tomatoes and used them without any issues. I omitted the hot spicy stuff and added a few dashes of liquid smoke. I served the chili with brown rice and some corn bread. Once again, the recipe was tested and approved by Big Red, who, as we all know, can sniff out a healthy meal a mile away. He even had seconds. Tonight I reheated my portion and added a few shakes of Red Hot. Yummy.

Next meal on tap is a meatless meatloaf. I'm a little skeptical, but am going to to give it a go anyhow. I am though excited about next week's meals. Last night we had our first nutrition class, and the gentleman leading the way prepared three dishes, all of which were excellent, totally fresh, and totally healthy. This weeks lunches have been big salads, and next weeks lunches will be a quinoa affair. As for dinners - on tap will be a bulgur wheat and tomato stew, as well as a peanut sauced steamed veggie dish.

I haven't weighed myself since last weekend, and won't until this weekend. I don't know if it's a placebo affect, but I feel better and my clothes aren't as snug. I suspect I will have lost something, given my trips to the gym and all the plants, veggies and fruit I'm consuming. In fact, the only processed food I've been eating are my little 100 calorie pretzel packs for snack at work, an occasional whole grain English muffin, and a few bites of a vegan (I know, who thought) chocolate mousse.

Everything else going down this pie hole has been whole food, fresh and unadulterated. Damn. That's definitely some good eats.

Hanging in the Strip

I've finally found my way back to this blog. Truth is, there hasn't been much to mull over. I guess I could tell you the story of how at this year's staff holiday party, a colleague mistakenly thought I was pregnant. Yup. Actually put her hand on my belly, eyes all lit up and asked if I was pregnant. My response: Nope. I'm just really f*@$ing fat right now, but thanks for coming! Yeah, that was pretty awesome. I didn't go jump off one of the many bridges readily accessible to me, instead I reacted as any female would - I proceeded to stuff my face for the rest of the evening. And then the very next day moved the elliptical out from the corner of the storage room (which has since become overrun with construction crap) and into the family room. I aimed it right at the TV. The social faux pas happened a week ago. Since then I've been eating better, walking the dog, and riding the elliptical. I guess sometimes we need someone to overstep themselves to shake us out of our slumps. It's not like I haven't noticed; I've just been in denial. That's all I'm going to say about that.

As for the rest of my life, the usual has been going on - the hyper gluttony of Thanksgiving, pulling out the Christmas crap (I personally LOVE Christmas crap), and counting down the days until Winter Break when I get a respite from my students, and they get a break from me. Cause let's be honest, as much as they get under my skin, I'm sure they'd chirp in with a similar vein of thought. Or would it be a tweet instead of a chirp? I don't tweet, and I don't plan on tweeting. I don't even own a smart phone. I still have a flip up the front lid type of cell phone. Do I really need the Internet right at my fingertips at any given moment? Really? Nah. I'd rather spend my money on a digital photography class at the local center for the arts. T really wants to take the class and thinks it's a good idea. I think it's a great idea, but the tuition is a tough pill to swallow at the moment. I told her I'd be up for it (and the cost) this coming spring.

Speaking of photography, in my last post I mentioned a possible opportunity to photograph a couple on their wedding day. They chose to go with someone with a little more edge. I was SO okay with that. Like I said before, the idea of doing a wedding, even if it was just going to be the couple and no one else, makes me incredibly nervous. Perhaps someday down the line. Right now, I'm just content photographing newborns, pregnant ladies, and of course, Miss Daisy, T's daughter. I went over there recently and took some holiday pics of the little one. She's just too freaking cute. It's almost painful how cute she is. Her eyelashes are insane. That girl will never need to buy a tube of mascara.

I still have a lot to learn when it comes to snapping pics. That being the case, T and I decided to head down to the Strip District this morning. The Strip is about a half mile of shops, wholesale food markets, and all kinds of eateries, bakeries, and sidewalk food. We brought our cameras with us and had another go at practicing our art. Before heading to the strip we went to the West End Overlook, a great spot for getting an awesome shot of our little city.


I shot in RAW this time around. It's my first time shooting in this format. In the post-editing process, I did notice a difference. My ability to control the colors was much more acute. I dig it. I like how the images turned out.

I'm trying not to let myself get overwhelmed with how much there is to know in the world of photography - cause let me tell you, there is A LOT. At least if you want to do it right. I know much of pulling the trigger on a good image has a tremendous amount to do with the photographer's eye and instinct. I think I've a little bit of that in me. It's the technical stuff that I've got to study and practice. I'm hoping to add another lens to my bag, and a bag for that matter, this Christmas. Hopefully, Big Red - err, Santa, brings me the bag I've asked for. I sent Santa an email last week with a link to where to purchase said bag. It sure would be nice to travel to California for Christmas with my camera  tucked away safely in the perfect camera bag...

summer: day 30

I don't have much to write about these days. Perhaps it is my woman of leisure status, but honestly there ain't much to scribble out. It's been humid in a way that I haven't experienced in a long while. When I step outside to let Olive relive herself at 8 am, it already feels as though mother nature herself has gotten a bee up her bonnet about nesting and has unnecessarily (and cruelly) bundled the world with a sopping wet wool blanket. Poor Olive. After she relieves herself she wants little to do with investigating the leaves and branches in the yard. She promptly returns to my side as if to beg with those melt your heart eyes: Can we please go back inside where there's air conditioning? And that is what we do. Return to some semblance of breath-ability and comfort. 

I have been reading and finished my second summer book, Half Broke Horses, by Jeannette Walls. She also wrote the very popular memoir, The Glass Castle. Read that one too. Super good read. Her second book, a novel by technicality because it is written in first person, is at heart, her grandmother's memoir. It had me from the very first page until the very last. Once again, I have read a book that leaves me wishing I wish I could have written that! But a novel? I don't know if I have the patience for all that detail and all the in-between that belongs to a novel. I am a poet by nature. I like the concise nature of its form. I can pack a punch in ten or twenty lines without having to give readers all the filler. Although...I will say that I am attempting to branch out a little more. This blog, for instance, is an example of that growth. I want to hone my skills as writer of creative nonfiction. I'm dipping my toe in the Gilbert - Sedaris - Didion pool. Whether or not I'll be able to perform an effortless butterfly in said waters remains to be seen. I'd like to believe I have the chops to give it a worthwhile attempt. One of my first attempts is the essay, "B&B." 

I am also trying to get through my first issue of The New Yorker. I bought a subscription as a gift to myself for completing seven years of teaching. It is definitely a magazine of superior writing quality, but - not all the articles are of interest to me. There are a couple I'm going to scan or simply skip. Is that wrong? Can I not call myself a reader of The New Yorker if I commit such atrocities? Is it really an atrocity to skip articles in a magazine? I also subscribe to People (goes along with my quality TV watching lineup). I read every single article in People. Yeah, I know - it appears I still have a long way to go. Working on it.

I continue to exercise, walking Olive first and then either going for a run myself or hitting the elliptical. Although the scale says nothing is happening, I feel so much better than I did in June. I'm eating healthy, attempting to keep my cuisine simple and enjoyable. Occasionally I'll indulge in a summer treat here and there. I've also decided something. I'm done with counting calories. I'm done with doing "diets." I don't mind the occasional fast or cleanse, but I'm done with all the other crazy fads and whatnot. I know what to eat. I know how much of it to eat. I'm going to listen to my body and how I feel. The scale will always be there, I haven't been able to throw it out, but I'm not going to live and die by it anymore. You can hold me accountable on that one.

Today is day 30 of my beloved summer. I'm not panicking just yet, but I do feel a sense of the passage of summer time. I've got a few fun things lined up for August: Lunch with MJ, a trip to The Fake Beach (read: Lake Erie), T will be giving birth to Miss Daisy, and Mom is on a hunt to find cheap tickets so that she can come out for a visit. 

Summer is NOT OVER yet.

Not no way, not no how. 

Guess I did have a few things to write about.