A couple of years ago I signed up for personal training at my gym. To be honest, it really really sucked. The first trainer they gave me was awful. I won’t bore you with the details, suffice it to say he was inappropriate and completely clueless. The second trainer dropped a 65 pound weight on my head, and then I got pregnant and then the workouts got so watered down I hardly saw the point. After I had Lucy I decided to take a stab at coming up with my own workouts. I did some research online, had a Biggest Loser marathon, and enlisted my sister as a workout partner.
I lost forty pounds over the last eight months and while those aren’t Biggest Loser numbers, I’m still happy with my progress. As anyone who has attempted to lose a significant amount of weight can tell you, IT IS HARD. Some weeks after busting your ass you barely see the scale budge. Sometimes you do. This time around, I’ve done a lot of mental work as well. Instead of thinking about what size my jeans are, I have been working on thinking about how strong my body is. Am I a size six? No. Not even close. I probably won’t ever be. Am I winded when I get to the top of the stairs? Not any more.
I used to obsess over how much I hated my body, how it looked, how it felt, and what I felt like inside it. After I had Lucy I had a whole different perspective. My body did something completely crazy and wonderful. It grew and nourished another human being for nine months at the end of which it was cut open to bring that life into the world and then it put itself back together. Somewhere along the way, I realized I was fighting a battle with myself that I couldn’t possibly expect to win. Hating and hiding weren’t going to get me anywhere. I needed to find a way to take care of my body so it could be there for me when I needed it.
I’ve spent the last eight months putting one foot in front of the other, weaving my way through sleepless nights, hormonal cravings, and depression. My progress has not been fast, but it has been steady and when I fall off the wagon, I do my best to get back on and not just give up. My body is now able to do things it couldn’t before and I feel stronger. I’m happy with that.
Every month I try to come up with a new playlist for working out to keep me interested. A good playlist is really important to me because I use the music to push my pace and give me a second wind when I get tired. Andy can listen to podcasts or books on tape when he runs, but I have never been able to do that. I get bored so quickly. One minute I’m on a tutorial learning How to play timbales, another minute I’m on a Youtube channel teaching Origami. I swear the minute I start a workout the monkeys that live in my brain go berzerk. I typically shuffle the list so I don’t know what’s coming. It keeps me on my toes. I tend to be a pop/rap only girl when it comes to working out. I believe strongly that this is why pop music exists. Maybe some of you can listen to your supercool fancy music when you work out, but I need a strong beat and a loop, dammit. Oh, that reminds me, this playlist is not meant for all audiences. There are some bad words. You have been warned.