Now that things have settled down for us, and we are pretty well into our normal 'routine' while school is in session, I'm finally trying to establish my own routine. One that doesn't just involve making beds, doing laundry, making dinner, helping with homework, etc. I've stuck pretty solid with my workout routine since last December, but I tend to get a little rigid on the cardio-treadmill routine which has lead to somewhat of a weightloss plateau. I'd really love to get another piece of cardio equipment to break up the mundane-ness of my workouts. . . but what I really need to do is integrate some strength training into my routine. I say it like that because I have never been one to lift weights or really get into that kind of working out, to be honest certain weight lifting exercises used to make me nauseous, even when I did them on a regular basis. . . back in the day. Um, like 15 years ago or so. I will be the first to admit I am totally a wimp that way despite being pretty physically fit and involved in athletics a majority of my life, I'm way more of a lift lighter weights and do more reps, than push myself to go all out and do super heavy weights. My weightloss has hit kind of a plateau, which I know is totally normal, so I have been actively looking for some sort of strength training options for me on my crosstraining days that I'm not on the treadmill. Enter kettlebells. . . . I've found a place that practices strength training and primarily uses kettlebells and things such as good ole push ups, pull ups, and other core strengthening exercises utilizing your own body weight. The first day I went, I was fully prepared to 'feel it' when I left. . . . . and feel it I did, for about an entire week afterwards. The first day focused on upper body. . . I . . . can't. . . even. . . . describe. . . the pain. Despite the pain, I forced myself to go back two days later and participated in a workout that involved both upper and lower body. So by Friday not only could I not lift my hands above my head, but I barely made it up or down stairs, or sitting on the toilet without doing some sort of acrobatics which tricked my mind into thinking any given movement wouldn't hurt. I literally limped my way around, and looked like an 80 year old getting in and out of the vehicle. . . and despite the pain, I made myself go back the following week. Just when I thought I couldn't handle another day of pumping Aleve down my throat, epsom salt soaks, and icy hot; the pain subsided. I almost thought about not going back, afraid to be in that much pain again but I forced myself. The third workout was lower body. . . . I was certain there would be no way I would walk the following day. But then a glorious miracle happened, I woke up that next day and didn't feel so bad. Proof that the body is an amazing thing, and can adjust to a new routine in a relatively small amount of time.
The physical change of a workout routine is just a small measurement of success, I think the mental battle is the harder of the two. I seriously was not into small group exercise at all; however, I also didn't want to spend buku bucks on a Y membership that I knew I wouldn't utilize to the maximum. I was still set in my 25 year old mindset that group exercise was not my thing. . . . but I had to try it, cause honestly strength training is what I was looking for, and I am not educated in correct form, weights, etc. to save my life. It's kind of ironic how my skinnier, 25 year old body was so self conscience when in reality I had nothing to be conscience about. Eleven years later, 15 lbs heavier, and three kids later, I went into that place with my own agenda and literally could have given a shit less what everyone else was in there for. We all had our own agendas, I don't even once remember really looking at anyone else besides the group leader, nor did I wonder what I looked like to them. I like to think that my 36 year old body and mind represent 'Tom' in this photo, and the group of everyone else represented my 25 year old mind. . . . 36 isn't so bad afterall.
A few weekends ago a close friend of mine and I attended an amazing Christian women's conference that focused on parenting. The conference was in Rochester, MN and had some pretty amazing keynote speakers, such as author/pastor/doctor Gary Chapman. I selected four smaller breakout sessions to attend all of which focused on some aspect of parenting skills. The conference itself was great, and it was really my first 'break' from the kids since last April which didn't require someone other than my husband to take the kids. As great as the conference was, enjoying a few drinks, the quiet meals and having an adult conversation with one of my closest friends was probably the highlight of the weekend. Our conversations can range from the day to day things, venting about our lives, to deeper conversations of religion or parenting. We laugh because almost twenty years ago we literally only spent one semester at UW-La Crosse together, but forged a friendship that has lasted a lifetime and remained strong despite distance. She teased me that I left college for some guy. . . . . the truth was that I left college because I was homesick, but that guy eventually became my husband. Little did we know that that same guy that took me away from her, would bring me back to her almost 20 years later. So we took a minute to revel in the amazing role God has played in our friendship and are so thankful that now rather than talking every once in a while, we actually get to spend time with each other on a pretty regular basis.
In writing this post, I feel like such a brat-it's all about me. But then reality hits me. . . . every day. . . and I can assure you that really no part of my life is all about me. And if someone wants to think I'm spoiled because today's post is on what kind of workout I'm going to have for the day or what is the next 'break' I can plan for myself, they're going to anyways. The 'Tom' mentality in me sings a little TSwizzle in the back of my mind "the haters gonna hate, hate, hate. . . . ".
What's new:
Alex has been busy getting a decent amount of hunting in, opening weekend of gun hunting I got to watch him shoot his second doe and aim for a couple of bucks. I don't enjoy the sport of hunting myself, but I really do enjoy just sitting, participating and watching those that do like to do it. My dad came up to spend opening week of gun hunting with all of us, and it really meant a lot to myself and Alex to be able to spend that time with him. For anyone who doesn't know my father, he is an amazing storyteller, and those stories always flow a little easier when my dad is in the prime of a hunting or fishing season so we got to hear just a few good one's this past weekend while the three of us sat together. Since moving those moments are cherished just a little more, and I'm so thankful that at little drive doesn't stop him from coming to spend time making memories and establishing new traditions.
Laura and Ainslee have been out enjoying the wonderful weather we've been having and have found themselves a series of planks in the woods that they like to play pirates on. All of my children have learned to go outside and enjoy the fresh air no matter the season, and entertain themselves and it's wonderful to step outside and catch them in the act of imagination. Keeps them younger, just a little longer in my own mind. These two were also plagued by the stomach flu last week (one of those forms of reality hitting me. . . really hard), luckily it was fast moving so it only kept them each down a few days and moved through the house relatively fast.
Take a moment to stop and count your blessings this wonderful Thanksgiving season!
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