Why not choose kindness?

My dear readers, I hope that you are feeling the same way that I do.  Do you remember when you were a kid how all the neighbors in the hood would talk to each other?  Remember when you would know everyone’s name?  My mom used to send me over to the neighbor to borrow an egg, or a cup of sugar when she was short.  What happened?  I remember being 8 years old when something seemed different.  We heard some rustling out in our garage, and went to go check it out.  A neighbor had just decided to help himself to tools without asking first.  This was more than 30 years ago, but still comes up in conversation sometimes.  Should this have been such a betrayal?  Had he just knocked on the door and asked permission, this trespass would have never been remembered.  But he didn’t.

Is this why we, as a culture, have learned to isolate ourselves from our neighbors?  Was there a point in everyone’s life when a neighbor crossed the invisible line and caused us to assume the worst instead of giving the benefit of the doubt?  Or was it always this way, and as a child, I just failed to notice that it wasn’t one giant family?  Shortly after the neighbor in the garage incident, we moved to a new town.  I didn’t notice at the time, but my parents didn’t go out of their way to meet any neighbors, unless they belonged to their church.  I still went out and met them.  I babysat for a lot of them.  It wasn’t until I got older that I started to isolate myself from them.  The kids grew up, they didn’t need a sitter anymore, and I was old enough to get a real job.  Still, my parents didn’t talk to their neighbors.  I mean, they did occasionally, as we do, to avoid the awkward moment of being outside at the same time time.  It’s that fleeting moment when you have to decide, “Do I pretend I don’t see them?  Do I run inside?  Do I just say hello?  What If they want something?”


So, what has this isolationism brought us?  It’s very easy to see.  Just look at the world’s political climate.  This is not just strictly the United States either.  I’m looking at you, ‘Brexit’!  The phrase ‘Think Globally, Act Locally’ is not strictly for good works.  When we act locally as isolationists, we translate that globally.  How else can we explain the idea that any person on this earth doesn’t belong in certain areas?  We are all on this planet together.  I didn’t choose to be here.  I was born here.  I didn’t have any say in it.  Just like people in Germany didn’t choose to be there, or Iran, or Namibia.  We all just got to where we are by chance.  I am not lobbying for breaking laws and disrespecting boundaries.  But what I am asking for is a little compassion.  Possibly, a little empathy.  


Maybe you are feeling helpless right now.  Maybe you are watching the news and you are outraged, but don’t know how you can do anything to stop what is happening.  I know for myself, I have a lot of fear.  I see shows like ‘The Handmaiden’s Tale’, or ‘Diverent’, and I am terrified of what all of this could devolve into.  Maybe you think that honesty, integrity and inclusion are dead. My process in dealing with this new and illogical reality has been slow.  I go through rage, and then I struggle with defeat.  I have decided that real change can only come through kindness.  Yes, we have to fight. Yes, we have to march.  Now more than ever it is imperative that we stand up for others.  That we make our beliefs clear.  That we understand denying ANYONE basic liberties and freedom is NOT AN OPINION!  It is morally incorrect.  If we are ever going to get through this very troubling time, we are all going to have to learn to find a common ground with each other first.  Yelling, screaming, pointing fingers has never changed a single mind in history.  


What we can do is say hello to strangers.  Meet your neighbors.   Lend out eggs again.  Offer a smile once in a while.  Talk to your kids.  Ask their opinions.  Discuss current issues and understand their thoughts.  I still kindness in those around you.  I was walking to pick up my mail the other day, and two lady missionaries were riding by on bicycles.  One of them dropped her bag on the street.  I stopped and helped he to pick up her things.  She said to me, very gratefully, “You are a kind soul!”  All I could think to myself was, “Isn’t this tragic?”  The missionaries happened to be part of the church I was raised in, but am no longer a part of.  I didn’t leave on good terms.  Quite frankly, I’m not a fan of what I witnessed in my personal experience there.  I could have kept walking and ignored them, but if I did, how would that have changed the world? How have we become a society of people who do not help ladies who drop their bags?  Does it matter how we got here?  I think that what matters is that we have a clear population within our throes that live and breathe hate.  The moment we stop fighting is the moment we die culturally.  Why not try to assume the best instead of the worst?  What will it hurt to offer a helping hand to a stranger?  You might feel better if you did.  Not only that, but it may help you to finally accept that you’re probably NOT crazy!

Take care of each other.

When will the darkness leave?  My lifelong battle with depression

I was totally devastated this week.  Chester Bennington, singer for Linkin Park, ended his life.  He was my age.  His Arizona home is a few miles from mine.  His son attends my daughter’s high school.  In fact, our next concert was next month, Linkin Park.  Tickets purchased months ago.  Before the news broke, we were talking about how excited we were that the concert was just a mere month away.  He, like me, and so many other people, struggled with depression and addiction.  Before Chester, Chris Cornell.   Are their lives more valuable than any of ours? Of course not.  But the tragic loss of their lives brings back to the forefront the often silent and ignored battle many of us fight alone.  Chester’s lyrics always reflected what he was going through, which made him such a relatable figure.  I have read so many tributes.  “A part of me dies with him.”  “I feel like I just lost my childhood.”  “You always spoke to me.”  “Please come back.” And then, then inevitable, “Only a coward commits suicide”, which truly, maybe shut up if you are saying that.  Just don’t.  Same goes for the “Suicide is the most selfish thing you can do” people.  Stop talking. 

We don’t shame people for having cancer, or heart disease.  We do like to judge people who are in depression, or have a form of mental illness.  I distinctly remember being a young mother, sitting at a table at work, when a man who was in his forties came and sat at the table with me.  He started talking badly about a more difficult customer, calling them ‘bi-polar’ as an insult.  I pulled out my courage and  said to him, “I’m bi-poplar, but you are still talking to me, so he must not be that bad then I guess.”  The simple truth is this.  If you have not experienced the sucking black hole of depression, or a depressive disorder, perhaps you should sit down and stop talking.  I’m not meaning to come across as harsh here.  Or maybe I am.  


A few years back, I sat in a meeting with the owner of the company I work at.  It seemed obvious that something rather earth shattering had happened to either him, or someone close to him.  He started to talk to us about signs.  We all wear signs.  Most of our signs are invisible.  The person who smiles at you in the hall everyday may have a sign that says, “My son is being bullied and I don’t know how to make it stop.”  The person you work next to you may have a sign that says, “I don’t fit in here or anywhere.  Please help me.”  But because our signs are invisible, we can’t know what anyone else is feeling or going through unless they tell us.  He asked us to please remember that every one of us has something, and kindness is always warranted.  

I remember the first time I felt depressed.  I was 10 years old.  I went into my bedroom, shut the door, sat in the dark and cried.  My sister came into my room and asked why I was crying.  I told her I didn’t know.  I just can’t not cry.  She sat with me and hugged me, and then left.  As much as I wanted her embrace to make me feel better, it didn’t.  I just felt dark.  Like all of the light in the room and in my body was being sucked away from me, like a black hole swallows everything around it with no remorse.  It is not sadness.  It is empty.  It is feeling that no one cares, and you are a burden.  You want people to stay, but you want them to leave you alone.  It’s confusing.  You can’t articulate what you want or what you need.  Others may marginalized your feelings..  Everythign cuts.  Everything hurts.


In my early twenties, I was diagnosed as a rapid cycling manic depressive.  What the heck is that, right?  Basically, I can go from the depths of depression, to an all out mania, back down to depression several times a day.  For someone who craves stability, you can only imagine how frustrating and exhausting this can be.  The mania helped to get me into steep credit card debt, but also helped me to have a very clean house and organized files.  I remember being up at 2am on a week night feeling like I needed to reorganize and purge all of my files.  To the point where I felt jolted out of bed because the need was overwhelming.  I know now that my drinking was self-medicating to just make it stop.  If I got drunk enough, I wouldn’t wake up.  There were times that I hoped that I would just go to sleep and never wake up again.  Thankfully, that didn’t happen.


There was one point in my life that I was on 4 or 5 different medications, drinking heavily, and taking sleeping pills.  How did I live through this?  Friends, this is why I forever admire the resilience of the human body.  It seems impossible that I didn’t accidentally die from overdose.  To this day, I can’t bring myself to even take Advil unless there is just no other way.  I maybe take 10 a year, if that.  I don’t impose this strict regimen on anyone else.  I know, for me, I am lucky to be alive.  I need to respect my liver and kidneys and give them every opportunity to recover and heal from the years of abuse.  

There is help available.  It is hard as hell to ask for help.  And you need to use the help in a way that if helpful to you.  That sounds dumb, let me explain what I mean.  I took every pill the doctor gave me.  I told him that they don’t work, give me more and more and more.  I didn’t tell him I was drinking at a very dangerous level.  If my older self could kick my younger self’s ass, you bet I would!  Medications help to stop the cycle.  They can help you put on the brakes so you have an opportunity to work on yourself.  For me, I have found what helps is for me to have an honest dialogue constantly with myself.  I have to recognize negative self talk when it creeps in, and I have to vigilantly keep it from taking hold.  I have to deal with every painful thing that comes into my life immediately, and I have to let shit go.  What I did with medication was not what it was intended to be used for.  I used it as a crutch instead of a tool.  Talking helps.  I talked, but I was never honest.  To be able to keep my mental health in check, I have to be 100% honest with myself, and with everyone around me.  Now, there is a difference between honesty and over-sharing.  It’s important to be appropriate, and not over share with people who don’t need to know EVERYTHING about you.  Still…talk to people..  There are times that I feel depression creeping back.  I talk about it.  I call out the boogeyman.  I will not suffer silently anymore.  I will not let the emotional pain become so debilitating that I wish for the end.


As we have seen from these very high profile suicides lately, this disease doesn’t discriminate.  I encourage you to take courage.  Take people to task who believe that calling someone ‘mental’ or ‘crazy’ or ‘bipolar’ is acceptable. Let’s stand up and stop stigmatizing mental illness.  I am no longer hiding in the shadows.  I have problems.  People who know me now have no idea what I used to be.  “No way are you bipolar!  Impossible!  You’re such a positive person!”  I think that maybe we should recognize those invisible signs.  Maybe compassion, empathy, and understanding don’t have to be lost on us anymore.  Maybe just listening for once, instead of just making our own points, is more important.  Maybe that person next to you needs to hear that you are glad to see them today.  Maybe a passing smile and nod is all the person on the street needs today.  Today, I pledge to you that I will smile more, I will acknowledge strangers, I will speak up and say, “I hope you have a good day today.”  We can change the world.  Kindness is all it takes.  I challenge you to join me.  Let’s help carry the load of others.  

I am sitting and watching a July 2017 Linkin Park concert, and I am fighting back tears.  To be surrounded by thousands of people who love and admire you, and still feel empty.  Please, don’t choose a permanent solution to temporary problems.  The world can’t stand to lose any more of us to this affliction.  Keep fighting.  You are not alone.

…and you are probably not crazy either!

SURPRISE!  The unexpected consequences of losing weight and making positive changes in your life.

At the point that you commit to making healthy choices for yourself, and start losing weight, some interesting things start to happen.  I very clearly remember fantasizing about the 6 pack abs that would magically appear once I dropped the weight.  I envisioned that I would have the self confidence of a super model.  I would wear bikinis with reckless abandon.  People would cheer me on as I walked the halls, much like the slow clap that turns into a roaring applause featured in all teen movies from the ’80’s on.  Much to my chagrin, none of these things materialized.  In fact, the things that did happen were quite the opposite.  

I have a pretty healthy case of self diagnosed body dysmorphia.  I don’t talk about it, which I really feel is a mistake.  The embarrassment has always outweighed the good that can come from talking openly about it.  Until now.  The very interesting thing about body dysmorphia is that it isn’t a new thing for me.  When I started to gain weight rapidly, I didn’t see the change in the mirror.  At my heaviest of 265 pounds, size 24W+, when I looked in the mirror, I believed I looked more like a size 8.  However, now that I am down to a healthier size and average weight, I see in the mirror the 24W person that I never saw before.       I have tried to talk about it with close confidants, but it is often met with “Oh, but that is silly!  People would kill for your body!”  Ok, maybe not THAT extreme, but it is just not something that is taken seriously.  I don’t know for sure that it happens in every case, but I do know it happened to me.  I don’t know how it happens or why it happens, but it’s pretty tough to deal with.  I have found that it is important for me to acknowledge that it is there, and speak out loud about the ridiculousness of it.  In the times I spent trying to keep it secret, it led to what I now know is an eating disorder.

I had a lot of great success with losing weight once I committed and accepted that this is now how I live.  There was no Plan B.  There was no option to fail.  However, when I hit my goal weight, I wasn’t able to stop.  I weighed myself multiple times per day, I obsessed about every food and beverage I put into my mouth, and I started to use exercise to justify having a small cup of frozen yogurt.  I beat myself up over any failure.  I demonized certain foods.  I would make myself sick if I strayed from my food plan for the day.  In essence, I went from total indulgence to total restrictions.  When I got to size 4, I needed to get to size 2.  When I got to size 2, I obsessed over eating to size 0, which I never was able to do.  I recognized that this was not normal behavior.  I backed off weighing myself before and after going to the bathroom, before and after work, when I got up and when I went to bed, to just one time a day.  Although this was definitely a step in the right direction, it was still driving my restrictive behavior.  I have recently been able to weight myself just one time a week, which I never thought possible.  I have also accepted that the scale is just one small piece of the picture.

The obsession with the scale was a bit of a surprise.  For those of you who may not be at your ideal weight, maybe you relate to total scale avoidance.  I don’t really know that 265 was my highest weight.  I refused to get on the scale for years because I just didn’t want to know.  When I would go to the doctor, I would just ask them to not tell me what the scale said.  I would joke about it.  “I bet your scale doesn’t go that high!”  I believe that the obsession started as soon as I lost my first 10 pounds.  Seeing the scale drop, even just a little, was success.  Finally…I was winning!  And I had control!  Every day, I had one opportunity to be a success, so I became addicted to it.  Seeing that scale drop then began to control the food choices, which initiated the eating disorder.  When we think of eating disorders, we think of Anorexia or Bulimia.  When you become scale obsessed and extremely restrictive on food choices to control, you may have an issue.  Committing to lifestyle changes can really force you to walk a fine line between healthy and disordered eating.  Be mindful.  If you think you have a problem, talk about it, and seek professional help.

Losing a lot of weight takes a toll on your body.  It really doesn’t matter how slow or how fast you lose the weight.  If you lose mass amounts of weight, you will likely have loose skin.  THANK GOD FOR SOCIAL MEDIA!  Losing weight today has a much different level of reaity than it did even 10 years ago.  People now have the courage to post honest images of their ravaged bodies after weight loss to show you what to expect.  As I mentioned, I was ready for my honorary washboard stomach to be awarded to me when I hit my goal weight.  What I did get was a saggy sack of skin at my stomach, a completely deflated chest, saggy underarms, and loose inner thighs.  I look at photos like this and laugh:

Nope, doesn’t happen.  This helps to perpetuate the myth that your body is just going to magically deal with the fallout of your bad choices and somehow get rid of all that extra skin it needed to grow to compensate for those choices.  It can’t just un-grow it.  You should expect this instead: 

A million crunches aren’t going to get rid of it either.  I wore my saggy stomach as a badge of honor and a reminder to myself for about 5 years.  I asked doctor upon doctor what I could do to make it go away.  Unfortunately, the only option they could give me was surgery, which was the option that I ultimately chose.  Also, it’s not just a matter of loose skin in many cases.  You may have torn your abdominal muscles to the point where they also need to be surgically repaired.  It’s not cheap, and it’s not covered by insurance.  I do not regret the decision I made to have the skin removed.  I was using it as way to punish myself for the bad choices I had made.  When I decided to get rid of it, I finally accepted that I had made mistakes, and I was convinced that I was not going to go backwards.  The financial commitment helped me to stay motivated to continue on my path to recovery.  There are some people who jump the gun a bit and get the surgery after losing just a fraction of the weight they need to, and end up doing it again.  Make no mistake, this is a major surgery, and costs between $10,000 – $12,000.    Please understand that this will not magically award you the abs you are dreaming of.  You do actually have to work for those.

Speaking of those abs, did you know that every magazine, movie, and publication uses make up and photoshop to give you the most perfect image possible?  I am sure that you do know that, but I didn’t.  So, the scale obsession and restricted eating, combined with the naivety of not knowing about photoshop really sent me into a deep depression.  Why, even after losing weight, eating a perfect diet, and working out for hours a day, most days a week, is my body not looking like what I see?  

The best thing that you can do for yourself is accept that your body is unique.  You may NEVER see visible abs, and that has to be ok.  You may always have a flat bottom, and that has to be ok.  I have previously discussed accepting yourself for who you are and what you look like but always striving to be the best you that you can be.  I had to eventually understand that it was necessary to shift my goals from a number on the scale to accomplishment.  For instance, I wanted to see 135 on the scale.  When I couldn’t break 137, I started to punish myself and give up.  Negative self talk took over.  This was not a healthy mindset to be in.  However, when I decided that if I eat more good than bad, and I exercise more days than I don’t, I started to think about things I could never imagine that I could do. Run Pat’s Run.  Complete a half marathon.  Be in Oxygen Magazine.  Become a Certified Personal Trainer and help others.  When my focus shifted to achievements from scale numbers, things started to be easy and enjoyable.

Finally, the absolute hardest thing to deal with was other people.  When I had lost about 80 pounds, it started.  “Don’t you think you are losing weight too fast?”  At 100 lbs, “Wow, how much more do you plan on losing?” At 110 Lbs, “Do you really think you can keep the weight off?”  At 120 lbs, “You are really getting too skinny.  Are you anorexic?”  At 125 pounds, “I am so glad you’re done.  I am so worried about you, I think you need help.”  Funny thing is, it was similar to quitting drinking (“You don’t really think you have a problem, do you?  You’re FINE!”) and quitting smoking (“You’ve quit for two weeks, you’ve proved you can do it, why not just have one with us?  You’re FINE!”)  I tried to remind myself that people were just trying to show concern.  I found that people who I thought were friends became very jealous and couldn’t be friends with me anymore.  It became a competition to them.  If we were together, and people said hello to me first, it would be an issue.  To them, I suppose I was just the fat friend, not an actual human being.  I was there to make them feel better about themselves, not for an actual friendship.  People started talking about me behind my back under the guise of concern.  They started to watch everything that I ate and chime in if they thought it was too healthy or a bad choice.  (This actually happened this week, 9 years after I lost all of my weight.)  I also noticed that people who would never even look me in the eye before were now talking to me and seeing me as a human being.  You can’t imagine the rage that I felt.  I vowed to NEVER treat people differently based on their looks.  I know that we all tend to see ourselves as benevolent acceptors of others, but are we really?  Do we see someone and immediately judge before we even speak to the person?  It’s definitely something we can all examine and improved in ourselves.


I know  I have given you a lot to consider, and I do NOT want to discourage you from losing weight or making changes in your life.  When it comes down to the nuts and bolts of things, you can learn and grow from ALL of these things.  I can’t tell you how invaluable my experiences have been for me.  I am able to help people around me.  I thirst for knowledge on nutrition and health, and just basically making good and healthy choices.  I was recently asked, “If you had two years to live, what would you do?”  I would travel the world, meet as many people as possible, and do all of the things that I was always too afraid to try.  I would not go back to drinking, smoking, or eating myself to death.  In answering that question, I am reaffirmed in my commitment to my way of life.  All of it is worth it.  You will succeed if you stay committed to yourself.  Through all of this, you may not believe me, but I know it’s true…

You’re probably NOT crazy!!

Finding Motivation:  How to light your fire and keep it burning, even when it gets tough

Close your eyes.   Wait, don’t. How can you read this if your eyes are closed?  Instead, imagine with me Friday afternoon.  It’s probably been a really long week at work.  That guy you work with has been dancing on your last nerve.  Your neighbor has been working on keeping you up all night with left over Fourth of July fire crackers.  The kids are crabby.  Your spouse is feeling run down.  You?  You feel totally overwhelmed.   All you can think about is crashing and binge watching Netflix until it’s time to get up Monday morning, and start all over again.  This, my friends, is the rat race.  Is this the life you really want?  You see Facebook posts from perfect moms who go on perfect runs every perfect day and have perfect kids, and wonder, “How in the world is that possible, when I am struggling to just make it every day??”

If I said I didn’t have days like this, you would know I am lying.  Or maybe you wouldn’t.  The social media perfection machine makes me feel like such a failure some days.  Don’t get me wrong, I use social media.  It has one of two effects on me.  I either feel like such a complete loser by comparing myself to posts that may or may not be embellished, or I feel totally inspired to get off my tired bum and make myself better.  For me, Facebook is a total lost cause.  I gave up around the time that everyone I knew was farming fake crops and wanting me to contribute to their imaginary farms.  In my opinion, it was too much a time wasting, passive-aggressive bragging fest for my tastes.  Thankfully, I simply deleted my account and moved on with life.  Today, I use Instagram to look at positive and uplifting accounts to keep me moving towards my goals and grant me a bit of motivation.


 On many occasions, we go into changes and view them as a temporary existence.  Think: Diet.  We commit to ourselves that we will stick with the change until we reach a specific goal or number, then every thing can go back to the way it was, and we can ride our unicorn to the end of the rainbow where we will be granted the perfect body and everyone will love and accept us.  In the beginning of my journey, I thought that is what would happen for me.  In fact, I went cold turkey Vegan one time, and expected pounds to just fall off of me.  They didn’t, and I quit.  What was my motivation?  I wanted all of the glory with none of the work.  I thought that if I just give up meat, I would have a model’s body.  When that didn’t happen in two weeks, I quit.  Does this sound familiar?

At some point, we need to examine our motivations.  Not just what’s on the surface, but the deeper motivations for choices.  I used to be very afraid to know what my true motivations were.  Now, I jump at the chance to look deeper.  The more I know about myself, the better I am about making good choices for myself.  Case in point:  I have a sensitivity to yeasts and casein.  This means that breads and cheeses are really bad for me.  However, sometimes, the idea of pizza gets in my head, and I let go of all logic and do everything I can to convince my family that pizza is a good idea.  Every time I start to get under the spell of a piping hot pie, I need to think about my motivation.  I know it’s not good for me.  I know I am going to have stomach aches for 2 weeeks.  I know it’s going to make me irritable.  I know that once I have it, I will crave it more.  So what is my motivation?  Well, much like everyone else, I can fall prey to eating my feelings.  Sometimes I feel sorry for myself, sometimes I feel like work is overwhelming, sometimes I just don’t feel good about myself, and sometimes, I just feel like I deserve a treat.  You know, like a cheat day!  But my cheat days end in weeks of pain and discomfort.  Just like everyone else, I also at times just feel entitled.  I eat well, I work out…I deserve it!


So, how can we find positive motivation, and keep it long enough to accomplish anything?  I feel like I’ve painted a grim picture for you.  My intention is to show you that you are totally capable of doing the impossible.  You can use motivation for good or for bad, just like social media!  Many moons ago, I was challenged to do Pat’s Run.  I had never really run anything but my mouth before, but something in my head just changed.  I wanted to run this.  I wanted to run the entire 4.2 miles.  So I started to train.  And I kept going.  I had a week long vacation scheduled to Washington DC.  I walked for miles all day long, and then would go to my hotel and run on a treadmill.  What was my motivation?  I wanted to prove to myself that I was not ‘that girl’.  In high school, I would wear my resistance to running as a badge of honor, when truthfully, I was totally embarrassed.  I didn’t want to try because I didn’t want people to know that, though I was a really good sprinter, I had no endurance.  This was a chance to prove to myself that I could do it.  That I could gain endurance.  That I was capable of change.

Possibly the best way to change your mindset is to start with a small goal.  What is it that you want?  What is on your mind?  Do you want to prove something to yourself, like I did?  Do you just want to know if you have what it takes to just see something through?  I was once told, “People who can start things are great.  People who can finish things are great.  The person who is able to both start and finish is exceptional.”  Doesn’t that seem strange?  I always felt like everyone around me had their act together.  That everything came easy to them, and everything was a struggle for me.  When I hear and understand that people who are able to both start and finish are exceptional, I begin to understand that everyone puts up a facade, just like I do.  If I know that, it’s easier for me to believe that I can do anything that I want to.  


Since I don’t know what you want to do as a challenge, let’s talk about a recent goal that I took on.  Oxygen Magazine hosts a challenge annually, which is a 3 month body and diet boot camp of sorts.  At the sign up, you can choose one of two coaches (some people choose both), and you start your 90 days of eating and working out according to your fitness pro coach’s plan.  I have been telling myself every year that I could never do that.  90 days is a long time.  That’s a big commitment.  This year was different.  Last year, I had a bone tumor on my tibia removed in August, and ran a half marathon in November.  That experience alone was enough to tell me that I can commit to 90 days, and I have no excuses.  Through training for the half, I learned how to not be so rigid in my schedule, and to start to look at time before and after work as opportunities, and not just tv time.  In fact, when I started to utilize those hours, I became less run-down at the end of the week.  I stopped telling myself that I don’t have time to run during the week, and started getting up earlier.  After work, I started cross training for 30-45 minutes.  I wasn’t missing out on anything.  I was cutting out dead time that I was spending on the couch.  Sometimes, you just need a goal that is so exciting to you that you area willing to look at possibilities instead of probably nots.

So, I signed up!  I am on #Team Jamie, under coach Jamie Eason Middleton.  I just finished week one.  Some days were pretty easy.  Some have been pretty tough.  But every day has been an inspiration.  Every day is a choice.  Am I going to stick it out and complete the goal, or am I giving up?  So far, I choose success.  That choice has inspired my husband to do it with me.  I don’t know what the next 11 weeks will hold. I am sure that there will be days when I am tired, or discouraged.  On those days, I need to examine my motivation.  If I am not motivated to be my best and have the healthiest body possible, then I need to change things.

Ok, I outed myself.  Now it’s your turn!  What are your goals?  What do you want to achieve?  Maybe it’s a one mile walk.  Maybe it is a marathon.  Maybe you just want to run around the block.  What ever it is, what is stopping you?  What are your motivations?  What are you fears?  The more you know your self, the more you understand your own patterns and cycles, the more you can harness your energies and become the best you possible.  Every.  Damn.  Day.  You CAN be exceptional.  You CAN be a starter AND a finisher.  Take it from a former great finisher, who is currently exceptional.  Don’t give yourself options.  Don’t give yourself a way out.  I believe in you.  Set those goals.  Take steps to achieve them.  I’m always here for you.  You can reach me in the ‘contact’ form, or through Instagram @healthierversionofchris. No matter what happened in your past, you don’t have to let it determine your future.  No matter what, I only know this….

You’re probably not crazy!!!