|Now, call me biased, but don't you think that belongs on a brochure somewhere?|
That's my beautiful girl!
|The whole family with one of the two dolphins we swam with, including my son who is apparently an international spy and mustn't be recognized in any pictures, so he keeps his hat and glasses on at all times.|
Video is still coming, and soon I'll be able to show you all how I got propelled across the water by two dolphins pushing my feet. Which sounds bizarre, but it was totally amazing.
Now... Murder, you say?
Well, maybe not murder. Maybe just potential for murder. Or attempted murder. Or just serious physical injury...
As we're nearing 2014, I've been thinking a lot about what I want to do with my physical program. Meaning, I'd like to have one. As someone who has struggled with my weight for most of my life, I have an extensive background in leg warmers, spandex, artificial sweeteners, and things from the 80's, 90's and beyond that we'd all really like to forget but would probably need therapy to do so. (ThighMaster, anyone? That's the world's most dangerous boomerang, right there folks. Also, if you attach a sturdy bra's straps to each side, it makes an excellent slingshot for water-balloons. Not that I would know that personally, or anything. *cough* Right, moving on...)
More than all of that, I have done the diets, the books, the programs. I even got certified as a personal trainer (NASM) so I could make my own programs and those for other people as well for a little while (I decided that fitness is my hobby rather than my occupation, so my certification became something just for me. Knowledge is power!) I've flown to NYC to train and certify on a fitness program with wooden swords (boken) and flown back unable to lift my arms. I learned to run and I've run a marathon. I've come in dead LAST in a 15K race (yes, really.) I've learned that being a bad runner is actually a good thing. I've shown myself that I can lose the weight, I can be fit, and I can be strong.
I've also learned that I can get bored, lose focus, and fall down. It's the whole being human thing, and it turns out I'm human. Mostly.
Oh, and I learned I can fall down AND GET BACK UP AGAIN! (That was the important bit.)
Here is where I am at: I need to get back up again. Well, really, I just need to get a grip. I have had a bad 2013 in life-terms. I just have. I have a list of reasons, and some would make you nod in sympathy while others would make you snort and think "Lady, get over it." Along with that were my weight struggles, which really get put into interesting perspective when things are serious. When you're worried about a vacation, you're weight is super important. We have to look acceptable in our shorts! When you are worried about someone dear to you, you could care less if you wake up one morning to find an extra nose had sprouted on your forehead (interesting piercing options, but probably rather inconvenient regardless), you had gained 1800 lbs, and now sported wings.
So, I'm looking forward. I'm picking myself up, getting a grip, knocking myself upside the head and saying "It just doesn't matter. What matters is making the right choices when the choice is before me. I cannot control the bad, but I can do something for myself." I know that getting my health and fitness back under my thumb will give me something I can hoard to my chest and purr "my precious" over and over even during the bad times. I also know that if the bad times come again and I don't have my stuff together on that front, that getting a grip during turmoil is almost impossible. So not only is my health important, I am also looking to fortify the fortress before the next attack! Huzzah! ...or something. (Yeehaw?)
So back to murder. As I mentioned, I have done a lot of plans. One of those plans was P90X. In another blog-life, I had a very popular blog where I did a major review of P90X that people seemed to really like. For the record: I have NOTHING to do with Beachbody (the company) or P90X, I simply liked the program. It was the first exercise program for at home that felt real. It was hard, it kicked my butt, and most importantly it made me better.
It also made me consider dropping a dumbbell on my husband's head on several occasions.
It turns out that I am an aggressive fitness person. I don't hog the weights or the space, but I expect you to show up if you're my partner. MORE, if you're my partner then it is NOT my job to get you there. If you complain and I've already spent extra energy to get you to show up in the first place - well, you're just suicidal now, aren't you? Because at 5:30AM, if I got myself up and into spandex to go workout, I do not want to hear it. Show up, shut up, and yay you. I have enough trouble getting my night owl self to the starting line, I don't need to drag anyone else with me. Be responsible for yourself and I will cheer you all the way. Drag your feet like a three-year-old who didn't get his way and I'll dump you on your head.
I love my husband. Adore him. He's fabulous. Really. But if we had done more P90X together, I might have strung him up from our satellite dish. I was so frustrated. I warned him multiple times, nicely (to start), that he needed to get there himself and not rely on me pushing him out of bed and basically hounding him to the workout. I got so frustrated I stopped hounding, and guess what happened?
He magically started showing up on his own and worked out with a smile! I was so proud!
The man started sleeping in, and I got up by myself. (I'll give you a moment for a small song interlude of "All By Myself" right here.)
I found that while I was disappointed in my husband for not showing up, the lack of resentment for being forced to carry two people's willpower made up for being on my own. I've always been someone who could exercise on my own. A partner would have been nice, but not at the expense of my sanity.
So I did P90X. I liked it. I've done it multiple times since and have hybrid it into other programs along the way. I have weights, a treadmill, a spin-bike, and more. I have books and tons of different programs even beyond P90X.
...and I'm bored now. I don't want to think anymore. I want a little mental break where someone else tells me what to do, and I can't face repeating a program I have done before. Also, I've been slacking off for a while now *ahem*. It's true. I can't deny it. My sized up jeans cry when I yank them on, and it's not pretty. More, I have a full on physical with my new doctor coming up, and I'm wondering if you can call in sick to that (as they're doctors, do they make you come in anyway? Can I call in dead instead?) Thus, I've been perusing new fitness programs.
I'm in a sort of different position now, though. My husband is facing some major hard things at work and it's been going on for a while now. His health has suffered and he looks like he has aged 10 years in just the past three months, I'm not kidding. I'm scared, people. Seriously. I talked with him about it, showed him pictures, and he sees it too. I talked to him, and while things are going to be insane at work for the next six months, he would be in a better position to face that if he was physically taking care of his health. A better body means one that can weather the storm, verses one that just makes it through broken down and washed up. I don't want him broken. He's my soul mate, and I don't know what I'd do without him.
The good news is that he agrees that his health needs help. He's been so tired, and run down, and feeling poorly. He can feel that he needs to do something, but time is an issue. We perused programs and actually looked at P90X3, simply because I've done the others. I was sure I was going to click on by, but then we saw it was only 30 minutes a day. He said he can do that, and we're familiar with the other programs, so we've decided to do it.
I'll be adding in a few runs if I'm up to it (which I would imagine I would be - but we'll see. My weird exhaustion may or may not be triggered by these workouts. Plus I have slowly morphed into a single parent here, taking on all sorts of tasks that used to be shared.) I now know upfront that I will be responsible for dragging him down to workout. And I'm not allowed to drop a dumbbell on his head. I'm signing up for this. *head*desk* Because I love him. I love him and I want him to be OK. I want us to be OK. This will be my mantra when he's whining to me in the cold dark before dawn when we're stumbling down the stairs to go exercise. Fitness for survival.
More, I'll also be responsible for the food in the house for everyone. This is a big change, because we've always split the food shift 50/50. He simply cannot do anything right now but work. So, I have to make ends meet for him like a caretaker to see him through this period safely. I have to come up with portable meals that are healthy and can sit for extended periods of time (I'm not sure how that's going to shake out, but I'm going to give it my best shot!)
We've ordered the program and it should be here soon. We'll start it when it arrives, right away. It's 90 days, 16 workouts, all 30 minutes each. I imagine the food plan is similar to the first P90X, but we'll see when it gets here.
So that's the plan! For the first 90 days of 2014, anyway. We'll see how it goes, given that the task looks to be so much greater this time even though it's easier exercise-wise. I'm crossing my fingers!