Sometimes I do Feel Like Wonder Woman

 For as long as I can remember I have been a HUGE Wonder Woman fan. From the Wonder Woman Underoos to the Halloween costumes with the stinky plastic mask that no kid could ever see through. I watched the Lynda Carter Wonder Woman show every time it was on. She was amazing and even as little girl I knew I wanted to be like her. Don’t get me wrong, I loved that she was a princess, but that wasn’t the complete reason for me. She was smart and beautiful and thin and strong as hell. THAT was what I wanted. Being realistic as a 39 year old woman, I know I will never be able to lift a car, or pick up a full grown man with one hand, but I want to be like her. An office worker by day and bad ass by night.

Tonight was one of those nights. Backing up a little, I have been going to Mr T (this is the name I will be referring to my trainer as from here on out) for six months now. I already told you about how I have a way of getting in my own way, or rather staying in my own head, and how going to see him I would get worked up and almost making myself almost sick. Well, after I wrote that blog about figuring out this problem I had, and working through it, I have been able to move past it. Or rather, I continue to work through it.

Mr T told me earlier in the week that when I came in on Friday he was going “put the hurting on”, so I got scared. I felt myself getting queasy… I  even tried to figure out how I was going to get out of it, BUT I DIDN’T! I knew that it was not what Wonder Woman would do, so I went!

When I got there he smiled at me, and I knew that I was in trouble. When he smiles at me with the “oh yeah, its go time, Cupcake” look, I knew I was going to suffer, and this work out would be nothing to sneeze at! I didn’t let that get to me, though, I smiled back and played dumb!. He upped the weight, he pushed me harder than he had in the past. **I will say that we had to stop using some of the free weights and kettle bells because my hands and arms were swelling and turning red as they sometimes do…  and when Mr T saw what was going on, he moved me to the machines to give my hands a rest. Anyway I worked my butt off on those machines! At the end of the work out, Mr T smiled at me and said “good job tonight.” THAT WAS WHAT I WAS LOOKING FOR!

I may not be lifting cars or fighting crime, but like Wonder Woman, I showed him I was a strong woman who wasn’t scared to push the limits and fight the battle in front of her. I loved it. I loved how good I felt when I left the gym. I was even smiling – and I very rarely can say that! Not often do I feel this good about myself, but for tonight I will put on my cape, pretend its flapping in the air, and remain #wonderwomanstrong on my journey of #becomingabetterme !!

 

Opinions and Limits

As I sit here and write, I openly admit I am my own worst enemy. I judge myself more harshly than anyone else could. Especially when it comes to what I have NOT done. I see a challenge and at that point in time I don’t attempt it. Thinking later that I knew how to do it, and that my skill level would allow it, but the timing was off or for whatever reason it was not possible right then.

Take the slippery wall for example…  As a fairly intelligent person (yes, that was me somewhat complimenting myself), I completely understand the physics of it, and HOW it should be approached. “HER” was sooo scared of it because she didn’t understand how to correctly work with it. WE sat down and had a lengthy conversation and I talked HER through it. In the next race – she did it. Granted, there was help from battle buddies, but the fact that she got within their reach was huge. HER had never got within arms reach until I explained the HOW TO to HER. I, on the other hand, did not try it because of my arms. It was close to the end of the race for us and my fingers were already looking like Vienna Sausages and my arms were fried. Instead of just walking around the wall, and ignoring the volunteers “Come on, you can do this,” and “just give it your best,” and “STFU!” I felt the need to tell him why I wasn’t trying it. Like in his head he thought I was a weenie, or just not “Spartan” enough to do it, so I had to explain that that was not the case it was a medical condition limiting my ability to go further.

After the race, HER kept making comments about my “medical condition” and how that was all I would talk about when there was something I couldn’t do. Yes, that is true… I did. Maybe they didn’t need to know. Maybe they didn’t want to know… but I felt judged by them for NOT doing what was in front of me. HER later told me that I needed to push myself more, and stop making excuses for why I was not doing the challenges.

As this blog is not about HER, I will stop there, but honestly, that is a perfect example of how I stop when I need to and how I know my limits. HER opinion mattered to me, I wanted HER to be proud of me, but not to the point that I had to risk my health and the safety of those around me to do what she wanted.

That is why that meme hit me so hard.  There are so many of us struggling in one way or the other, but the truth is, you have to put faith in yourself. Not only to know your limits, but also know when it is good (and safe) to push past them.

Have I always made the right decision or pushed as hard as I could? No, definitely not. But knowing that I am the only one I have to answer to makes all the difference. I am my biggest and worst critic, but in this journey of #becomingabetterme, I am just going to have to learn to stop worrying what others think because honestly – in my heart – I know I am doing the very best for me I can.

 

 

Dressed for Success

It is no secret, I love jammie pants. I love sweatpants. I love Tshirts. I love my comfies.

The very second I get home at night, I go straight past my family and into the bedroom to change into my comfy clothes. After that, and only after that, do I say hello to my family. If I could work in jammies I would. Heck,  I would live in them. That is, unless I am going to the gym. Crazy, huh?

When I started working out a few years ago, I was scared to wear anything besides a frumpy tshirt and and baggie old sweat pants. Being XXX pounds the idea of exercise clothes was cringe worthy. As I looked around the gym all I could think was , “wow. I bet they think I am a slob.” but really,  that was me being self conscience and projecting my fears on those people around me.

But back to my point… As I wore those baggy sweats and that ratty old tshirt, I felt horrible about myself. Some of those ladies in gym were sweating their hearts out wearing their cotton/spandex blend pants and their flowy style tank tops with the bright colored sports bra underneath, and here I am looking all frumpy and not really putting my all into my work out. I watched them intently as I pedaled away with my no resistance and only getting a mile every 9 mins or so. I wondered how they did it, but I pedaled on.

As the summer came I couldn’t wear my sweats anymore. They were far to hot, so I decided I had to try something. I bought me a few pairs of cotton capris and a few of those flowy tanks and even bought myself a mild colored sports bra that was “ok” to show a little.

The next day that I went into the gym I had my bright pink tank with a shiny black sports bra and a pair of black cotton pants and I was nervous as heck! In my head, all eyes were on me and every snide comment known to the gym was aimed at me. In reality, no one gave a squat. (hehe, that made me laugh, bad pun, I know!)

What happened next surprised me. I busted it! I pushed myself harder, lifted heavier, and even had sweat running down my back for pretty much the first time during a work out. I loved it!

It was then that I decided that I would “dress for the work out I wanted” and I do. Take Saturday for example. I wore my cotton/spandex capri workout pants and a Spartan shirt and I put in 3 miles. It felt good. Then tonight it was a Spartan finisher shirt and a pair of yoga pants and I got my best mile yet on the elliptical. I have to admit I am proud of what I have done.

Now, I know I have said that I do love me some sweaties… and even more enjoy the comforts of a big baggie tshirt, but those are not proper gym attire. They don’t inspire me to get my hiney in gear. So for as much as I love my R2D2 jammies, they will be reserved for the couch or those few and far between veggie days!

 

Unexpected Lessons

I love when things happen and after its over I get to think back on the event and see it from a completely different angle. Tonight was one of those evenings.

Due to recent action of a certain teenage girl, I had to invent an interesting way to punish her, and part of that included coming to the gym with me. I realize that doesn’t sound like a big deal, and since the point of this conversation isn’t about the trouble, I won’t burden you with the details.

To my point, since this teenager still need to condition herself for her swimming, I had to make sure her work out was appropriate. I consulted the coach and got a list of specific exercises he wanted me to have her do. After giving me the list he added, what I consider the best advice ever, “if there any exercise you do to ready yourself for your Spartan races, add those too!” Boo-yeah! I get to introduce some pain!

So we got to the gym and it was pretty normal. Since there were specific things that Coach wanted her to do, I decided we would start with cardio. Seven minutes on the elliptical was the beginning.  It was while I was on there my mind started turning. I was going to have to do what I see my trainer doing. The more I thought about being the leader the less I worried about what I was doing.

From the elliptical I had her doing some arm exercises, showing her the proper technique and doing the exercises right along with her. I put her on a machine and explained what muscles it was going to work, tested the weight she needed to work with, and pushed her to do just a few more reps. Then I did the same machine and did my reps.

We moved on to some of my favorite/hated plank push ups, and as I showed her how to do them I caught myself slipping more into the role of the trainer.

We pressed on and the work out lasted for about about 30 mins. As it was MY work out and I was leading it, I felt so good! I was pushing myself. Something I really hadn’t done as much as I thought I had.

When we got done I was smiling, sweating, and so happy!

You ask what angle I am looking at them from now? Well, simply the other side of me. When I focused on something besides my pain and worry, doing the exercises is so much easier to deal with. I know how silly that sounds, but its true. It was almost like I had to trick my brain into not seeing what I was doing as physically taxing bs, but rather my own instructional video.

When I am with my trainer, I know I am not easy to deal with. I look at him and think “how can you just stand there and boss me around like that?!” Well, I get it now. Its empowering.  Watching the person you are helping do better – even be better – changes how you see working out period.

I know that tomorrow I am going to be sore, and probably wont be able to walk, but tomorrow I will feel like that voice in my head just used her brain for good instead of to tear me down.

Get Out of My Head!

For those of you who know me, you know that I do have a few minor (or at least I hope they are still just minor) health issues. I have muscular skeletal issues in my forearms that even the specialists were stumped by, which causes me to lose grip in fingers/hands. It also causes the muscles in my arms to tighten so much that you can see the each strand of muscle in my arms and I can’t use them at all. Along with both of those symptoms I get swollen fingers.

The other minor issue I have is low blood sugar. If I exert too much and don’t eat enough I get light headed and have on a couple of occasions, passed out.

Although neither are really life threatening I do still have to be careful with how far I really do push myself. I know my limits and butt right up against that line on a regular basis, but I still try not to go too far.

I do have one “disease” that I hear is curable, but still plagues me every day. Its called (in scientific terms of course), my own lack of confidence. That stupid little Heather in the back of my head telling me that I can’t do it.

She is a mean b*tch sometimes, but to a certain degree, I understand why. She and I have made it 39 years doing what we knew we would be good at, and staying inside that little bubble where we knew we wouldn’t fail.

I know I spend a lot of my time reminding others that “THEY CAN DO IT!” or saying “YOU GOT THIS!” and I believe that. I believe that my friends can do whatever they set their minds to. The little Heather has faith any pretty much every one but me.

I didn’t really realize how bad I was in my own head until I was talking to Hammy tonight. Yes, I knew I had a ridiculous fear of the elliptical…but I didn’t know how deep this insecurity went until we were talking.

See, the thing is, when I am with my trainer I can get about the first 15 mins with little to no struggle, but after that I start to worry, “am I going to over do it? am I hurting myself? have I been drinking enough? have I eaten enough? have I eaten TOO much?” and that is when it hits me, I start getting nauseous and over heated and my palms get all sweaty and light headed… and you name it, it happens.

Since I have really been trying to be better, I have told myself daily that I can do it. Sad thing is, Little Heather doesn’t agree. She doesn’t think that we can handle all of the physical activity, so she goes on her negativity kick and I listen.

I have come so far, physically and emotionally, but I still have so much further to go.

I have been able to cross the four, five, and six foot walls, I have handled the bucket brigade to the best of my ability, I have mastered the cargo net, have even jumped a fire, but I still haven’t been able to overcome my own self doubt. Frankly, I don’t know how to do it.

I often post treadmill photos or goofy pictures of my and the punching dummy at the gym or even before and after pictures. I do that to look back and remind Little Heather that I did it. Maybe it was just a mile, or 15 mins, or even just being on the bike, but I feel like every little bit of proof I can give to the little b*tch, the closer to having faith in me she will get.

Am I crazy, probably. Will that change, I hope so. Am I getting there, definitely.

Just have to figure out how to either turn off that little voice, or find another way to believe in myself.

 

Like Minded Folks

Hammy (the husband) was messing around on Twitter and made a comment about how one of the gals he follows was talking about how she is on a journey to lose weight and get stronger. I think her line (which could soooo be a tag line for me) was “I might be short, but I am strong”, which of course made Hammy tell her about my journey as well.

Anywho, as I think about everything, but especially everyone, this journey has brought into my life I can’t help but smile. In the beginning of my first blog I talked about how Tampa was where it all started. It is fair to say that had that trip not been what it was, I would not be here typing this right now. Truly some of the best people I have ever met, and to this day make me smile, or laugh, or in some cases shake my head at their goofiness (Eric, Mike, that’s for you!) I watched this group of people who had known each other for approximately 16 hours sit down and have dinner and make fun of each other like they had been doing it their whole lives. I told Mike at breakfast that I had probably heard him say 10 words, but every one of them was a zinger! Eric just made me want to hug him like a teddy bear! Kelly and Michael, I don’t think I could have made it without your smiles. This group ran under the banner of the Corn Fed Spartans. Down home, Midwesterners with a joy for running.

For my first race, The Dirty Girl, I got to meet the ever popular, and so worth it, Momma Bear. Even though she dropped me on my butt, I still love her! I added Heather to my list of forever friends that day too. Now technically I had already “met” her at Denny’s in Florida, but I hardly count that since I was half asleep and we were sitting with our own travel group. Her laugh still makes me smile inside every time!

Then I went to the Indy Sprint (which for the record is over an hour away from Indy… thank you Spartan). As I got to see the group from the Tampa trip and the Dirty Girl,  I was overjoyed! I think my highlight was  getting to add someone that I now consider one of my best friends, and my favorite ginger, (Chris) Lauderdale.

From there we traveled to Chicago. It felt like I was just building a pyramid and the foundation was this great group of people who I really felt comfortable with. I got to meet some of the northern CornFed folks. Eric and Mike introduced me to Windie, who even covered in mud was a bright spot in the day!

Then it came to a place where I wasn’t even having to travel to meet new and amazing people. One friendship started out as message of Facebook saying “your comment about not needing a before picture on Transformation Tues, because you don’t even want to think about the person you were – and are only moving forward from here was wonderfully said!” has become someone who had enough faith in me to send me his jersey, because he knew I could do it. Thank you, Scott.

 

Another Facebook friendship happened by just being a nerd and a Spartan all at the same time. Joe has turned into a sounding board, and someone I talk to daily. Thank you, sir!

Even instagram brought me closer to an amazing Spartan Chick. I had been following Jennifer for quite awhile and it was at a race that she introduced herself to me. She amazes me with strength daily, and she doesn’t even know it!

The more people I knew within the team the more connected I felt to this journey. Yes, I picked it for myself, but in some ways, I feel like this group carried me towards it. Aside from reminding me that I could be more and that they were there to help me achieve that, this mud and racing thing brought me back to a wonderful friend. Angel and I had known each other since 8th grade, but it wasn’t until we dove into Spartan that we came back around. Every race I have run since really getting into this, I have run with her, and every race I haven’t run, I have been there to support her.

Anywho, as I look back to this last almost two years, I cannot believe how long the list of wonderful people have been added to my heart. I know this story is about me, but ultimately, I wouldn’t be ME if it weren’t for each of you!

 

***PS… There are soooo many of you CFS’ers that I would have loved to add to this, but I didn’t want to break your trust in me by using your name without permission. You know who you are, and I love you for it!

 

Blogging Myself Out of a Rut

The end of the year is always rough for me. Not really in a bad way, just rough as in very busy way. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Kat’s swim season, New Years, year end reports at work, the cold, the snow… you know what I mean. Anywho, you take all of those things and put them in basically two and a half months and that leaves very little Heather time. Sadly, the thing I have to cut is the gym. I wish it were not so, but I have to be realistic. Like they say, “Sometimes, it is what it is.”

Here it is the middle of January and I am finding it hard to WANT to get back into the swing. I know I did this last year, I remember this EXACT feeling, even though I was not half as dedicated going into 2015 as I am and have been going into 2016.

In the months leading up to my first Spartan Sprint, I did the gym thing. I had no idea what to train for, or how to train, so I stuck with the basics. A lot of my work out was on the bike or a few select machines. I won’t lie, I never really push myself. I don’t think I even understood the concept to be honest with you…

I ran Miller Park. I finished my race. I felt good. Not physically good, physically I was beat down, but good in my heart. Proud of what I had accomplished. The fact that this race was in November, I remember thinking that I was basically good until after the new year. (I did squeeze in a Santa Hustle 5k in December, but that was just a fun run. No big medal, No obstacles. No stress) After that, I basically just let the couch eat me for the rest of the winter.

March rolled around and the days got longer and the air wasn’t as cool, so I decided I should really get back to it. I spent roughly 3-4 days a week at the gym. The more of a change I noticed in my body the more I wanted to be there.

I laugh as I type this, but my mother once told me, “when you exercise regularly and eat right, your body starts to crave that activity and doesn’t really want the sweets and junk food.” I thought she was crazy until about April. I NEEDED THE GYM. I NEEDED FRUITS. I NEEDED VEGETABLES!!!! I indulged all of those needs, and it felt good.

By mid July I was spending more like 5 days at the gym. I upped my game to the treadmill, the elliptical (which I have already shared that story with you), some free weights, squats, dead lift, and more of a variety of the machines. I even invested in a trainer in September. I was going to be ready for my next race this time!

Again towards the end of the year I was doing a Spartan. As a matter of fact one year minus 7 days later I was running my second Spartan Sprint.This time Ft Campbell. Although comparing the two races would be apples and oranges, I felt WAAAAAY better about this one. It was longer than the first one and a mud run vs a stadium race, but I felt better prepared and physically stronger through out the race than I did my first one. Heck, I even managed to never get the pukey feeling that I had several times in the Miller Park.

When I fire jumped I felt that same good in feeling in my heart. Yet again, I accomplished something that previously I would have died laughing just thinking about.

The few weeks that followed that race I was out of town with Angel and Chris as they finished their race season. Then came Thanksgiving, then Christmas, then New Years… and here I am. Coming full circle. Smack dab in the middle of my year end reports at work, battling 11 degree temps with a full 3 inches of snow, and just now home from Kat’s swim meet.

I have heard that sometimes you just have to talk yourself back into what is good for you, and that is what I am trying to do here. I know I need the gym, I know it will make me feel better, and I know I will be happy once I get back to it… this time I can honestly say I am not lying to myself when I say I will be going back. Not today, probably not tomorrow, but the gym has become a way a life, and I plan to not stray from the Heather that it continues to transform me into.

 

Confession of a Fraidy Cat

I called myself a “fraidy cat” for a good reason. See, 2014 was not the first time I tried to get into shape. In 2012 I started going to the Pavilion that is attached to the high school… there were about five machines, seven ellipticals, and two bikes. It always seemed that when we went in the bikes were taken, I had NO idea what to do with the machine, so the elliptical it was.

(I will go into the whole ordeal with my thoughts on the machines at some point in the future, but that is definitely a blog for another day.)

Here is where the confession comes in. I would get soooo nervous just standing by the elliptical that my heart would start racing, my palms would start sweating, and I would feel like I was going to die. JUST BECAUSE I WAS STANDING BY IT! Since I basically was mid heart attack, doing anything on the stupid machine was almost impossible, so three minutes in I would have to stop. I couldn’t breath and my heart was trying to pop out of my chest. Needless to say, I decided I really did not need to exercise. So back to the couch and my fat life I went.

Once I got serious about it (as I talked about in the last blog), I knew I had to start small. So it was all about the bike. I could do three miles in about 20 mins with no resistance added. Then I could do four miles in about 25 mins, then I got it down to five minute miles, but still tiring out after about four miles. I knew the key was to try pushing a little harder each time, so I started adding resistance. Eventually I was doing seven – ten miles on the bike setting my resistance at two, while rereading Fifty Shades of Gray on my Nook. (Did I mention this blog is a zero judgment zone, well it is!)

When I got to that point, I knew I needed to up my game.

I am not sure I mentioned, at my current gym, the bikes are right next to the ellipticals so I was constantly aware of their existence, but would do everything in my power to avoid them.

Anyway, upping the ante meant it was time for the treadmill. Now, I had used one before, and had anxieties with them, but nearly like I did with the elliptical. So I got on. No elevation, just a walking speed, and one mile at a time. The first time I did it, I walked for about 13 mins and managed to get about a half mile, AND I WAS DYING!

I allowed myself the to stop as it was truly a good next step. Once I got home I started to beat myself up about it. “Can’t believe I didn’t even go a full stupid mile! How are you ever going to do three miles on a course if you can’t do one on a stupid treadmill!?” I was so mean I hurt my own feelings… but I pushed on.

Time went by and I was upping my elevation to an incline of 3.5, and getting a mile done in about 21 mins. As I was doing this fairly regularly, I would walk by the ellipticals and eyeball them fiercely, but still not giving in to the urge to try again.

And then I did. I got on it. Was I scared? Well, heck yeah I was! My insides burned, my brain tried to stop the internal riot that was my body protesting, and I was scared to death. But my earbuds rocking out to Walk the Moon, and my feet were trying to keep time, I did my first mile in a little over 14 mins. I did it!

That damn machine (pardon my French) did not take me down!

Now, in all fairness, I do not do the elliptical every time, I really have to be in the right frame of mind to get on it, but I do still walk by it, smile and know that I can do it. Maybe just for a mile, or 15 mins, but I can do it.

Who knows, maybe 2016 will bring me up to two miles on that stupid thing and one step closer to #becomingabetterme ….

How My Story Begins…

 

The beginning… where do I start?

I would probably say it was in February of 2014… in Tampa Florida. Or more specifically in a mini van on the way to Tampa Florida.

Up until that point in my life I had always played it safe. Never really doing anything for myself, but really not knowing what I wanted to do… or if I really wanted to do anything for myself at all. I had always done whatever it was my family needed or wanted me to. Don’t get me wrong, I took care of myself, but hobbies were really limited to things that I could do at home or ones that involved my family. My husband always tried to push me to find new and fun things, but I just didn’t know what I wanted, so I stayed put.

Back to the trip. I was with a friend, in a crowned mini van, on the way to watch these people do this crazy OCR thing… I had no idea what that meant, but I knew I didn’t want her going alone.

Over the course of that weekend, I learned that OCR – Obstacle Course Racing, was something that these people did for fun. I knew this stuff existed, but I thought it was just on American Ninja Warrior or Wipe Out… not real life.

But these people… these people whom I traveled with, were like me. Worked 9-5, had families, were even in their 40s… were just out to show themselves they could do it.

I wanted to be more like them.

Fast forward to the April of 2014. I joined a gym… yeah, I could not believe it myself. I. JOINED. A. GYM.

I really was not good for much but the bike, and even that tired me out, but since I committed to doing a 5k Dirty Girl Mud Run in May, a 5k Neon Dash in June, and then a Spartan in November, I had to do something.

I was sooooooooo scared. Like ready to puke my guts up scared, at the beginning of the Dirty Girl. I made it… barely, but I made it. To be honest, it killed me.  I had waaaaay more training to do before I would be ready for anything else.

Moving forward even further, by the end of October, I had managed to get get in a couple more 5ks and even a 10k, but the upcoming Spartan Race scared the you-know-what out of me… for days I cried, scared of failing, scared of disappointing me and my friends, and even a little scared of dying… but I did it. I really did it! (please note: there was whining and crying, but I did it)

Feeling like a BEAST going into 2015, I knew I had to up my game. So I went from the bike to lifting weights AND walking on the treadmill. I thought I was the cats meow (as my grandma would say!)! So I signed up for a few more 5ks, another mud run, and even thinking hard about doing another Spartan.

Somewhere in the middle of 2015, I felt a rut… I needed something to help move forward and that is where my hashtag came into play… #becomingabetterme

I wanted to be more than this new body I was working on. I wanted to be a better person, PERIOD.

Now here is it the start of 2016 and over the course of the last six months several of my friends have asked what I have done to get where I am… so I decided that part of my #becomingabetterme campaign (hehe, I like calling it that), I would journal all the good, bad, and ugly that happens as I try to do the right thing, and show my friends that it isn’t easy – but it doesn’t have to be horrible and painful either.

***side note: one of the hardest things for me is to get in a rut and forget what I had done to get to that point. This blog is not only for anyone who wants to read it, but for me to remind myself that I am #movingforward, #gettingthere, and am #stilltrying.

So, to those of you who have made it to this line, thank you… this is just the beginning of the story of a better me….