Tears

Too many early mornings+

Still getting used to the new work week+

Reinjure hand+

A hurt heart=

Tears.

Lots of tears.

Exercise is supposed to help.

It doesn't.

Or at least it hasn't thus far.

My hand injury has cut into my hikes, the one truly therapeutic outlet I have when it comes to strenuous workouts.  Without my poles it's too much, and I learned the hard way that too much grip too early stretches the bone.

It saddens me it doesn't look Vulcan.

It hurts worse now than when I first broke it, and the discoloration has returned.  This is day three of near constant pain.

Then my heart took a double hit.

Since my brain injury (which inspired this quest), I've struggled to find my heart.  Misunderstandings, lack of needs being met...little things have been insurmountable as of late.

I never want to exercise again.

Funny how my mind takes it out on something that is supposed to help, isn't it?

I will be at CrossFit in the morning.  I hope I sweat to the point of throwing up.

I will beat this.

Excuse me.  I have tears to dry.

The Son & I

This is my son, affectionately nicknamed Lad.

At ERAU aviation history lecture.

Early Monday morning I roused him from his teenage slumber, forced him to eat and get dressed to join me at CrossFit Prescott.

Back in The Professor's lair.

It's his first day, and I have a still broken hand.  The plan is for Lad to go through the training, and we (Joey & I) adapt it for my broken bones.

Day One starts with rowing-which I can now do by hooking the bar in the crook of my elbow.  I instruct Lad in the regular technique...

Yeah.

What's impressive is I am able to keep my speed under 3 minutes per 500 meters basically utilizing just my legs...I'm feeling a twinge of pride when I finish my 500 meters one second behind my lanky 6'2" boy who is using both legs and arms.  We head over for instruction; I am determined to observe only, and not talk.

Easier said than done....

At a certain point, Joey tells Lad NOT to look at me....so I jump up and move behind him.  I cringe watching his awkwardness...surely he inherited that from his mother, eh?

The Professor assures me everyone looks that way when they start.

Really, Spock!  I don't chase alien women!

As Laddie figures it out, Joey and I set up the adaptions.  Instead of ring pulls, we switch it to straps which hug my wrists, eliminating the need to hold on.  For kettle bell squats, he threads a chain with straps on the end through the handle-I can position them on my wrists or in the crook of my arm (and oh my word-to do weighted squats again-delicious.  I am so infected with the weight bug.) Push-ups are out of the question (lol-I couldn't do them before, nevertheless now) so a 45 sec plank is substituted.  Regular squats needed no adaption...and off we went on three sets (10 for him, 15 for me.)

It felt this fantastic.

I loved it.

Yes, I finished after my son.  But I freaking got it done-with a broken hand.

The rest of the day I ran from appointment to appointment...and I felt great.

Perhaps it just takes three months for endorphins to kick in?

Or is it because I shared it with someone?

I ended the day with three of these.

Perfect day.

40 paces ahead...

If I had wanted to be, I could have been 40 paces ahead on today's hike.

Gleefully sitting on the bench off the wimpy side trail of Thumb Butte, 2/3rds of the way up.

I hiked in a dress today, because it's a sporty dress.

I also had to work prior to the hike, and it was better than going to those appointments in hiking clothes, right?

Swinging my legs, not out of breath, waiting for Chris to catch his breath.

So it's 15 weeks today since I first hiked Thumb Butte and started my Quest.  For the first time, today I was the fitter hiking partner, totally understanding the horrors of a Thumb Butte climb.

It was sooooo pretty today!

Pretty terrifying, isn't it?

The rock stackers had been there before us.

I'm not unsympathetic to the breathlessness of a first Butte hike, but it was difficult not to smile.  I had conquered this Butte already, and now it was another's turn.

Is the Quest better as a partnership?

Is sharing the rigors of a fitness quest make one more likely to show up?

Since breaking my hand, my fear has been losing what I had earned through sweat.  Now I wonder if my quest is more about relationships than anything else.  

Just what do I hope to find?

Not smurfs.

Already found Bronies.

And that local radio hosts are a hoot.

And that I shoot better with my left vs my right.

Today, I got to be the leader, instead of trailing 40 paces behind.  Perhaps the best thing to come out of the Quest thus far is the growing number of people contacting me, and letting me know they started their own quest.

Just keep moving.

My journey has been up and down (literally) but the one thing that has sustained it is accountability.  Meeting someone to hike, or writing about a local business-I was part of a partnership.  Working (or hiking) with a common goal.

Instead of Just Do It, it's Win/Win.  Exercise is easier with two.  Whether that be a hiking partner for that trail, or a center full of people-it's just better when people are looking for you to show up.

Fitness Quest-keeping it real.

Weekend Workout

This is becoming my morning:

Flipping sore.

Except the thing I love is wearing my ph!s when I do it.

The hardest bit is the lunges and the wall sit-my legs are tired and cramping; I'm ready to give in.  In fact, I have to do the wall sit in two segements, or it simply does not work- I cannot hold it over 30 seconds.

Yet.

Everyday...

I start out days with coffee and breakfast, which is this:

17...count'em

Then my mini-workout.

Those two things done, I am free and clear to navigate.

I've got Mr Sulu in my head.

Weekends are nice with a workout at home-and I'm pleased to say, I love the results.

Easy Button? Wrong!

You know how people share ridiculous memes for exercise?  I saw one today that intrigued me:

Morning workout!  Get'er done!!

So some radio host out there "Did this this morning!  It was great!" Back in 2014, and it's been shared 24,765 times.  I figure 24,765 people can't be wrong, and those people on the radio are such good, honest, hardworking, fitness-focused folks, right?

Let's just say I know people on the radio and really should have known better:)

Anyhow, I get out of bed and grab a cup of coffee, slug it down and pick out some tunes.  The dogs are excited to see me doing jumping jacks to my favorite song, and ram into my legs several times as they run back and forth.  I get to 80 not quite out of breath, thinking this isn't too bad.  Now sit-ups.

The dogs think I'm on the ground to play, and I have to push the puppy, Giup, away.  With the broken hand I can't hold my hands behind my head, so I modify to the butterfly leg sit-ups I do at CrossFit Prescott.

40 is a lot of sit-ups.

Just FYI.

I can't do push-ups with a broken hand, so I switch them to side-tap planks.  A full 20, one tap per side equalling one.  It's getting tougher to finish the set.

My workout partner.  Never left my side.

Squats.  I rock these...but my knees are getting a little jello like.

Not strawberry, either.

Lunges...I've always hated lunges...

Almost as much as Indy hates snakes.

Finally, the wall sit.  This can't be that hard, right?

Pretty certain this guy looks happier than I did!

I collapsed on the floor, my quads screaming in pain.

But I did my workout for the day!  In just five songs, wearing nothing but a tshirt and underwear!

No picture of that!  Move along, move along.

Sweat soaked, I looked at the clock.  15 minutes.  Not a bad way to start the day.

The Morning After (Captain's Log, supplemental)

Regret is not a word that describes me.

I love to live-I cannot change the past.  The only "what if" I can change is the one right in front of me today.

Last night we celebrated Becky's birthday-it was awesome to gather in celebration.  I think we all may need to do it more often.

Hiking partner Becks blowing out her birthday candles.  It's a cheesecake!!

Last night I ate cheesecake, corn, potatoes, kale & a Bloody Mary burger at her birthday party.  I regret none of it.  When I chose to do something, I go all out.

This morning, I am all about my legs

Oh, I am a vain girl when my legs are deliciously sore.

For two weeks, I've been limited with the broken hand.  Hikes had to be less intense as I need my trekking poles for tough ones (and my hand makes that impossible), workouts have been nonexistent while I lined up new trainings to fit around my broken hand.  I've tried to remember to do at least 45 squats a day (without weight) but this past week I even missed those.

So while the King of Athletics of the Central Highlands may give me a wry smile when I delight in my 65lb barbell squats (I did 60)- I am beyond thrilled.

I didn't lose everything when I broke my hand.

I didn't forget my form.

My core was much stronger than before (and I used it!)

I held a plank for 45 seconds without crying (six times.)

My reward is sore thighs today; my glorious calves (oh, I'm pure vanity today) don't feel any different.  They're not sore as they already rock.

I can feel my gluts, my hamstrings and my quads; tight from the workout. 

I absolutely love it.

I love that when I struggled near the end of each set, I remembered to engage my powerhouse and push through.

I love that I did more than I thought I could (oh, I know it's baby stuff.  But it's MY baby stuff.)

I love that I now know it wasn't a passing infatuation with lifting.  I love it.  This has GOT to be a regular part of the Quest.

And I want my son to join me.

He ate too many Nastee Dogs yesterday.

I am very proud of the relationship we have; I'm the only mom I know with a son who puts his arm around his mom at the age of 14.  We do monthly little dates to Embry Riddle for Aviation History lectures, but the last one is this week until fall.

What if he becomes my lifting partner instead?

The King likes the idea.  I love the idea.

I don't want to compete-that's too in the box.  My son well knows I'm getting fit and want to stay fit so I can hike with HIS son, which is not even a possible reality for another 20+ years (if ever.) In the meantime, I've only got him in my life daily for the next four years.  So to little date at CrossFit?  I don't think I'd ever regret that.

I like that.

A lot.

Time to get the King to call The Professor.

 

What we do for our kids

Today,

Oh my word...I'm typing with my right thumb.

Let me check...no pain.  Well, maybe with the shift key.  Hang on...

Ok, two handed approach.

Obviously, my broken hand is feeling better.  My shoulder still sucks, but the pain is manageable.

It had to be-because Parry & I were going here:

Fossil Creek, AZ

Parry's BFF Maria is moving to Washington state this summer, so we went on an Arizona adventure with Maria, her sister Elsa (with her friend Olivia) and their mom, Janie.  

Somehow I endured a two hour car ride there, the last 45 minutes of which were on a rough dirt road through the mountains at 15mph.

I wanted to puke.  The pain of a pinched nerve is white hot; for me it's aggravated in a car.  I couldn't let Parry miss this trip with her BFF, so I gritted my teeth and went.

Awesome log bridge.

Once there and I had my pack on, the pain eased up and was only a minor in inconvenience.  We hiked in 1.5 miles and enjoyed the many waterfalls of Fossil Creek, moving our swimming holes as the day went on.

Janie took a swim, too.

About twelve feet deep here!

Heading to the bridge; my daughter is the tallest one:)

20ft up and 20ft deep.

The final stop at the bridge and the ride home hurt.  Not just owie but really hurt.  Shifting gave two second breaks; misery set in.

I kept my mouth shut about the pain.  It's her day, not mine.

Nearly home & rocking it out.

Pain will never stop me from making sure my child has the memories she deserves.  While very uncomfortable, I made it through the day.  I did notice the pain no longer radiated as badly down my arm; hopefully a good sign.

So, a three mile hike under duress. Lots of sunshine, and a 13 year old with fantastic memories of an Arizona day with her soon-moving BFF.

Priceless.

I'd do it all over again.

Awareness

 I must start each day with the news.

Granted it's a British tabloid, but I did know about Bruce Jenner in 2014.

I found the British press scoop the American press, on American news, by 2-4 hours.  Matt Drudge introduced me to the Mail, so it can't be all bad, right?

I forget so many don't know who Matt Drudge is.

I assure you, she knows. 

Any how, I have to have my news fix.  After three news sites I switch to blogs, and then scroll through Facebook.  Satisfied I am aware of what's happening in the world politically (and not politically), I can start the day.

Apparently, this is how the 20% feel about exercise.

Me on the Tower tonight.

I've been made aware that those with the addiction must exercise, or they feel irritable-much like I do if I don't have my news fix first thing.

I'm really loving the retro-1930's equipment.

Pilates focuses on six principles:  control, center, flow, breath, precision & concentration.

Just in case you're only looking at the pictures.

When I manage to hit all six in a set, I am amazed at the immediate improvement, and more importantly, the awareness I have of my body and it's muscular system.  Inhaling or exhaling appropriately gives strength when needed, keeping center allows for not only better form but better strengthening.  I do not feel my mind wander at all as I complete these movements, rather I am fixated on the task at hand.

I wonder if this is how the 20% feel all the time they exercise?

The King assures me that he is like that, but it takes discipline.  (Yet I managed it in a week!  Yippee!)

I am loving the results...

Awareness of the six principles has helped me find a place that I can truly clear my head for an hour and focus on exercise that is showing good results.  Just like I have a need to be aware of the news, I'm finding that this new awareness during exercise is very fulfilling.

Seems I've become aware of a lot of things as of late.

Haven't heard from Maverick lately, so I thought I'd check in.

This afternoon I was telling a friend about the fictional character Miles Vorkosigan.  Ever the source of amusement in my literary sphere, I can't help but think of him tonight.

And on that bombshell...

The Return of the Corn Star

Last week, I really struggled with fitness.

I felt like this most of the week.

I had hiked the Canyon for the second time, and did not feel the need to do anything else for the week.

Except hate on chihuahua's.

While Pilates intrigued and saw some fruit, why bother hiking?  Why continue the quest?  My clothes fit, so...

This is the skirt that started it all.  On 2/7, it rippled on the sides.  Not anymore.

It all boiled down to this:  it was my wedding anniversary to the King.

West Fork hike, last Friday.

For some time now, I'd marked our 17th anniversary as a fresh starting point.  1 plus 7 equals 8...and lately 8's had been cropping up with increasing regularity.

The tire from STS-88.  Seriously.

That meant serious fitness, serious work, serious marriage, serious housework, serious mothering.

I don't do serious well.

So last week was my meltdown (not coincidentally, it coincided with PMS) and this weekend was a mini-getaway.

Bacon, brie, arugula & Dalmatia fig sandwich.  Seriously delicious.

It reminded me that the King is my match.

He hasn't left me despite my tiara, or my repeated demands for selfies.

Yes, it's the start of our 18th year.  Next year is our golden anniversary, because it's 18 years on the 18th.  Given my obsession with 8's, this is significant.  What I could not have predicted was my own mid-life crisis, leaving me questioning everything.

So, I need to let go of hating exercise, since I need the stress relief.

I need to let go of my tiara, and take pride in my home and family.

I need to let go of my doubts and insecurity, and work through the unknown in my new career.

It's a big day tomorrow.

Hoping I'm up for it.

Can I be one again?