Shut Up, Judgy Voice.

So I’ve had a wicked cold for coming up on a week. So many things suck about being sick, such as:

  1. I get really tired of laying around
  2. My work piles up as I am foggy-brained from taking medicine to help me feel better so I can work (irony)
  3. The breakneck pace of our weekly schedule carries on despite my being sick
  4. I can’t work out, even though it would bring me some endorphins, which might help me feel better (more irony)

Yesterday I did feel a bit better so I decided to give training a try this morning at my usual 5am class. I just felt like I needed to move my body a little, even if I wasn’t at 100%.

This could be a blog about showing up, but it’s not.

This could be a blog about doing your best, no matter what your best looks like, but it’s not.

This is a blog about the judgy, bitchy voice in my head that told me, as I decided not to do my fourth round because I was just DONE, that I had not done enough.

I hate this voice.

I made a decision this morning, as my body felt weak and shaky after my first three rounds, to cut my workout short and head home. I had done enough for the day and I was determined not to feel bad about this.

But the voice…the voice in my head told me that I had not done enough.

That voice often tells me that I don’t do enough…

That I don’t keep my house clean enough…

That I don’t keep in touch with friends enough…

That I don’t do enough for my kids or my husband…

That I don’t work hard enough at my job…

That I am not enough.

This morning, I made another decision. I decided that, even though I couldn’t completely silence the voice, I wasn’t going to listen.

I gave what I had this week–whether it was around the house, with my family or work, or at the workout this morning–and that was enough.

Sometimes, “enough” is going to look different based on the week, the day, or even the minute. Life seems to move at warp speed and we can’t always give the same amount we do on other weeks/days/minutes. And that’s ok. We give what we can, and that’s enough.

So today, I choose to tell that judgy voice to shut the hell up.

I am enough, and so are you.

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Put on the suit.

Fun fact: I am a huge Avengers fan. So when I title a post “Put on the suit,” there’s really no excuse for me NOT to include this photo:

avengers

Oh, hello.

But this post isn’t necessarily about superheroes. Well it sort of is. But anyway, on with it.

So it’s been a crazy week. (“What else is new, Steph?” you ask.) The school play is tomorrow night so we’ve been running to dress rehearsals, and preparing for shows tonight and Saturday night. But before we GET to Saturday night, we also have a big children’s event at church on Saturday morning, followed by lacrosse practice, then my son’s birthday party on Sunday.

Not to mention the fact that I have family members arriving tonight at 6pm to go over to the school with us to see the play, and the house is a mess and I have no conceivable time between now and 6pm when I could actually clean it. Well, I guess I could be doing it now but I’m pretty sure my husband and kids wouldn’t appreciate my running the vacuum at 5:03am. So yeah, dirty house + impending company=more stress.

My blood pressure just rose writing those two paragraphs.

But in the midst of this week, I had a very cool epiphany on Tuesday.

Tuesday was a kind of “meh” day. After a school delay because of MORE WINTER WEATHER (I can’t even talk about it) I worked from home for most of the day. I also had to miss my date with the iron at 6am because of the aforementioned weather.

I had a ton of work to do but couldn’t seem to get focused.

I tried to focus on cleaning up around the house but still felt so “off.” So I told myself I was too busy (not) working to clean.

I accomplished very little that day except eating a bunch of crap that was in my house for no good reason. You know, just because it was there and I couldn’t put my finger on why I was so stressed and unproductive. So obviously, eating some shitty food was the right answer.

sarcasmI tried to cut my losses by planning a work out date with Mr. Badass at 6pm. But I couldn’t find a sitter.

General malaise ensued. More food was eaten. I figured it was a wasted day and got on with it.

Then I decided to stop being an asshole and signed myself up for the 7pm class to do the ole “kid switcheroo” as my husband came out of the 6pm class.

At 6:20, I (rather reluctantly, in full disclosure) went upstairs to get ready for my 7pm tabata workout.

Again, full disclosure, I tried to think of some excuses that would make it okay for me not to go.

And then it happened.

I pulled on my sports bra and workout gear, and I immediately felt better.

I know that sounds ridiculous, but it was somehow true. As soon as I was in those black pants with my sweet ass blue training sneaks on, I felt like myself again.

The bad day was left behind. The crappy food. The sense of general wrongness.

I was ready to go kick some ass. (And I did.)

For me on Tuesday, those workout clothes were my equivalent of Ironman putting on the suit.

Ironman

It felt wrong to choose a photo that did NOT include RDJ’s face.

So what’s your suit? Put it on, and kick some ass.

***update: At 7am, I managed to clean up my house a touch, with the help of a handsome husband. I wouldn’t call it “clean and pretty,” but at least  it is “vaguely presentable.”***

This is a shameless horn-tooting post. You’ve been warned.

Listen, some days you just have to revel in your own awesomeness, especially when said awesomeness comes from working your ass off regularly. Plus, I’ve been meaning to post some more detailed info about my workouts, and this is a good excuse to do it.

Today’s workout was The Hulk, created by my amazing (but possibly evil genius) trainer Christa. It is a strength circuit with looooooong intervals (over a minute) where we are encouraged to lift as heavy as we possibly can with the goal of leaving the workout feeling like a limp dishrag. (Mission accomplished. In a very big way.)

We’re also encouraged to keep a scorecard of how much we lifted and/or how many reps we did. This can get a little confusing–well, at least it did for me today because my brain started to get addled after awhile and I would forget to count, etc.–because you’re running from one exercise to the next, choosing the right weight, and trying to log your results all in a short rest period between intervals.

Folks, get ready for the shameless horn-tooting I’ve promised you. Because I rocked that workout in a serious way today. I couldn’t even believe what I did today, and am so proud of my progress, and some MAJOR WINS I had.

Now, my clothes didn’t actually tear apart during the workout, but I seriously felt like the Hulk.

So, here’s what I did, in the order I did it:

  • WIN! Explosive shoulder press: 6 reps with 2 40# dumbbells (that’s 80# total, just to make sure you didn’t miss it), and 5 reps with 2 35# dumbbells
  • Goblet squat: 31 squats holding a 45# dumbbell
  • Seated row: I used a purple band (the most resistance) AND a red band (lowest resistance) combined and did 19 rows
  • Box jumps: This is a HUGE WIN for me today. There are 3 levels of box jumps with the Rogue boxes: regular, high, and you-must-be-insane high. Since I overcame my terror of the Rogue boxes, I have mostly been doing regular, with one or two high mixed in when I’m feeling especially saucy. Today I did 10 jumps onto the high box, and I am so proud of myself. I wanted so badly to turn it over to the regular level, but I resisted the urge and kept jumping high. (To give you some perspective, the high box probably comes up to about my mid-thigh.)
  • Bridge lift: 22 reps (I think?) with 70#
  • Unexpected win! Farmer carry (using the hex bar loaded up): 155# Holy. Shit. I actually didn’t realize how much I was carrying until the end of the round when I went to get my scorecard filled out. I counted twice to be sure because my math can’t always be trusted.
  • A bit of a fail. Romanian Deadlift: I had some trouble with these today. I picked up the heaviest weights I’d ever tried for these, 2 45# dumbbells, and it wasn’t the weight but my grip. My forearms following those farmer carries were just done. Plus, Christa came over to show me that I was bending down too low. I ended up dropping one of the weights on my foot like a dork, and during this whole process, completely forgot to count how many reps I did. But, the good news is that I (barely) made it all the way through the round with those super heavy weights.
  • Jam ball slams: 26 slams
  • Meh. Chin ups (using the equalizer bar): these are my nemesis; one of my weakest exercises. I did 11.
  • OH YEAH! Pushups: For the first time today, I tried using a resistance band to make my pushups a little (okay, a LOT) more challenging. I was able to do 3 pushups with good form and depth using the red band (lowest level of resistance). After I dropped the band, I did 12 more pushups.
  • Goblet lunge: I did 17 reps with a 45# dumbbell. And at this point, I was seriously feeling exhausted.
  • TRX chest press: I did 10 reps on the lowest angle I could do…not quite parallel, but getting there. I came up a few inches towards the end of the interval and did 3 more reps.
  • Wall ball: I did 15 throws with the 18lb ball, and I was super proud of the height I got.
  • Blurg. Pull ups: Well, shit. Pull-ups are the part of the workout that make me feel defeated, especially when they come at the end of a workout where I’ve been pushing to my max. I used one purple and one black band to assist, and I managed 2 full pull-ups before I had to start holding midway. I know this is the way I’m going to build up to dropping a band, but it still feels so lame. I didn’t give up, though. I kept pulling as high as I could and holding til time was up.
  • HOLY BADASSERY WIN!!! Deadlifts (with the hex bar): So here I am. It’s the end of the workout. The last interval, and I feel like I could just be done. Oh, and have I mentioned yet that today’s workout was the 6th workout I have done in a row this week? Yeah. I could have gone easy. But I didn’t want to. I decided to see what I had left, because I think we always have more left than we know. I loaded that bar up for a total of 205#, thinking I’d have to drop down during the interval. I DIDN’T. I did 5 slow, painful, excruciating pulls, each time sure it would be my last rep. At one point, I actually felt like I might cry a little from the exertion and the emotion I put into that last round. But, with 5 seconds left, I made that 5th pull. It was such an amazing feeling to know that I really had pushed to my absolute limit.

Okay, so, I am definitely proud of myself. But why should you care? Maybe you don’t, and that’s cool. But my point to you is this: I am just a normal person, with no superpowers or special talents. And if I can do these things, really, ANYONE can.

All that stands between someone saying “I wish I could…” and someone (like me, today) saying “I did” is the work. Are you willing to do the work?

I am so grateful to my trainers, Christa, Karin and Mike, who motivate, teach, encourage and inspire me regularly, but at the end of the day, I did the work.

And guess what? I’m still working, so those pull-ups, chin-ups, and Romanian deadlifts better watch their backs.

I’m Avenged…Barely.

This is a quick hit and run post, but I had to share this struggle of a morning. The workout was the Avenger…40 second intervals with alternating strength and cardio. We like to call it “super hero training”!

Usually, I love this workout; it’s fun and challenging. Today, it was challenging and miserable and I barely made it through. It was frustrating and I was so angry about it. What the hell? How can I be struggling this much when I’m working so hard, especially coming off a rest day? Even the stations that I typically hit like a rock star posed a serious challenge.

But I gave what I had and then, afterward, I came across this message:

Image

So, in the spirit of my new outlook to focus on the positive, here are some good things I am taking away from my workout struggle this morning:

  • I dragged my sorry ass out of bed at 4:42am and actually WENT to this workout
  • I did both 40 second rounds of power jacks without stopping
  • I hefted two 35# dumbbells during split jerk intervals (not gonna lie…those bitches were HEAVY!!!)
  • I (mostly) kept up with my very fast and agile partner during the ladder runs

These are all things I couldn’t do a month or so ago (well, except for the first one). And I did them today.

I wonder what I’ll be able to do by next month?

My Own Worst Critic: Check!

I am seriously privileged to work out with some amazing women. Last Friday morning, during the stretch after a workout, I had a very sweaty conversation with one such amazing woman. She told me how much she was enjoying the blog. (As have many others; I am truly grateful for all the positive feedback and honored that so many folks are reading. THANK YOU!)

But she did tell me one other thing (well, actually two…) She said she didn’t like the name of the blog, and that she thought I was way too hard on myself.

Okay, okay. I plead guilty to beating myself up on a regular basis.

Just to be clear, I am creating a sort of semi-humorous self-deprecating persona on this blog. But, to be even clearer, that’s pretty much who I am. I make jokes–often at my own expense–when I am nervous or out of my comfort zone. (Sometimes it’s just because I’m hilarious, but you get the idea.) As for the name, “Fit Fat Girl” is kinda catchy, and it will transition perfectly into “Fit (Formerly) Fat Girl” at some point in the future.

But overall, yeah, this friend is right. I am definitely my own worst critic. In my own mind, much of the time I’m not smart enough, strong enough, funny enough, cool enough, ANYTHING enough.

Image

I’m not really sure this fits what I’m saying, but it had to be included. For obvious reasons.

I do have my moments when I realize I am all those things, but they are precarious moments for sure, and they can be blown over by the slightest wind. Or even a tiny hiccup.

Take today, for instance. I just came off a truly amazing weekend. I watched people I love absolutely CRUSH the Fugitive Mud Run. (Completing a mud run was not my goal this year–I just don’t feel like I can afford to split my focus; I have to be 100% focused on my body transformation goals. Next year, watch out, mud runs!)

Afterward, we celebrated with a legit scheduled cheat meal, and then on Sunday we spent more time with great people. Oh, and I worked out about a million times. Five tough workouts in a row is no joke, but I finished it strong this morning. And all week, I’ve been getting such awesome feedback on the blog. I felt EVERYTHING enough, and more.

And then.

I let one comment from one person knock me down. Well, maybe two comments from two people. No need to get into the deets, but basically I had my efforts ignored by one person and sort of belittled by another. Aaaaaaand, despite dozens of compliments and empowering moments in the last week, I have been completely deflated, miserable, self-loathing, throw-myself-a-pity-party discouraged. Lame. I am so freakin lame.

Why am I lame? Because: I. LET. THIS. HAPPEN.

Yes, I know you’re all hearing Eleanor Roosevelt in your heads along with me. (Aren’t you? Am I the only one who hears her?)

ImageThe point is, whether you can hear Eleanor in your head or not, whether the two people noted above were uncool or not, this is MY fault. My deal. My hangup. I let it get to me; I allowed myself to be made to feel less than I am. Shame on me.

That shit’s gonna stop.

So these are now new goals for me: to be kinder to myself. To try to focus more on how far I’ve come instead of how far I still have to go. To surround myself with people who build me up, and tune out those who might be insensitive, thoughtless, or looking to cut me down.

Don’t get me wrong–I still plan to kick my own ass on a regular basis. There will be no getting complacent over here, and that’s the flip side of being too hard on myself…the good that comes of being my own worst critic: I keep pushing. I keep working. I always look for the next challenge, the next goal, the next step forward. How much better can I be? How much faster can I go? How much more can I lift? How much more can I give?

So even though I’m discouraged TODAY, even though I let stupid crap get to me TODAY, I’m still moving forward. Tomorrow is a new day, and I will wake up and be awesome. Like, Chewbacca on the drums awesome.

How about you?

Quick Inspiration from My Close Personal Friend, Tina Fey

Tina Fey

Tina Fey is such a badass.

Okay, so we’re not actually close personal friends. More like acquaintances. Okay, not really even acquaintances. But I DID read her book and obsessively watch 30 Rock and all her SNL shows AND all her movies. So I feel like we’re almost friends. Well, we could be, because I think if she got to know me, she would really like me. And possibly even think I’m somewhat funny. And then maybe I could be like an assistant writer for her or something, and then we’d go get coffees together and laugh about…you know what? Just forget it.

My point is, I love the simplicity of this. We tend to overcomplicate our shit sometimes, don’t we? And the more we think about all our excuses–why we can’t work out, why we SHOULD eat that cookie, why we can’t possibly get out of bed for such an early class, why “just this one time” it won’t matter–the less we get done.

STOP THINKING SO MUCH, and just get it done. Nike got it right, people. Sometimes, you just have to do it, whether you want to or not. Even when it hurts. Even when you’re tired. Even when all the odds are stacked against you.

So, listen to the woman, bitches! (And dudes, too…) Get your stuff done.

This morning, I felt lousy. I heard that annoying voice in my head telling me it was too early, I was still getting over being sick, the workout probably wasn’t a good idea, I could take another day off, blah blah blah. I had to shut it down. I had to stop thinking and just put on my workout gear, stumble downstairs for my coffee and then GO.

So what stuff did you get done today? Tina Fey and I want to know.