This morning I took a (too) early PiYo class at the gym – a horrible reminder that my hip flexors are made of steel, and not the tensile tissue they should be.  #crosstrainingfail

As the class wrapped up, the instructor encouraged the class….”What sport are we majoring in?”  And everyone chanted back – “LOOKING GOOD!”

[insert record screeching]  WHHHHHAAAAAAAATTTTTTTT??!?!?!


The sport of looking good?  The sport of freaking looking good?

I waited to hear if it was an April Fool’s Joke, but sadly, this clearly wasn’t.

While the media would like you to think that I live in the land of blonde extensions, Botox, and bitty clothes, the truth is that most of where I live is a little less Real Housewives of Orange County and more Real Moms of the School Drop Off donned in paint-laden sweatpants and baseball cap covered ponytails.

And this morning, dear PiYo instructor, you made me hit my wall.  Since I have to add another digit to my age this month maybe I’m a little more sensitive to your comments, but really – taking care of my body only to look good?  Psssh…please.

Let’s face it, my body is most definitely ..errr…welll…ahhhh….changing.

The ongoing conversation between my belly button and boobs centers around the fact that the distance between them continues to grow smaller.  It would be a lot easier to be better neighbors if it wasn’t for the canned biscuit looking skin that a few pregnancies have left coming between the two.

My face has a few life lines.  The kiddo face plants into the asphalt, sleepless nights with babies, and tantruming toddlers have all started to make their appearance.  Let’s face it, some years have given my face a little more wear than the others.

The magazines, the TV and internet (and apparently the PiYo instructor) all tell me that my value is going down.  Like a brand spankin’ new car driven off the lot, each passing day chips away at my worth.  My miles splits will grow longer, my laugh lines deeper, my thighs bigger, and oh the places my boobs will go, but all of these things are happening only because I have lived.

And I have a hell of a lot more living to do which is the exact reason I am working out – not because life is a giant beauty pageant, but because I want to be the best me I can.  I want my body to feel and work well for a very long time (even if my parts aren’t in the same places they started out).

As an athlete I value my body and the things it can (and can’t) do, but more than that, my body is the mechanism to me being ME – not the definition of my worth.  I am mom, sister, daughter, friend, employee, teacher, Food Network star wannabe.  I am aunt, bandaid giver, math tutor, computer instructor, rescuer to the bathroom floor which magnetically attracts pee.

So no dear instructor, I am not playing the sport of looking good, I am playing the sport of living well.

What “sport” do you play?

Have you ever heard a fitness instructor say something that’s pushed you over your limit?


Shards of Glass, Pastrami & Rainbows

4 Miles
Super Speedy Strides (7:30 splits, what what?!)

45 minutes elliptical
1 hour Strength Training Class
Sweatfest Strides

Yesterday fall finally showed up to SoCal meaning it rained and was in the 60’s.  Actually, around these woods, we call that winter.  It rocked my crazy little moderately temperature loving body.  Yes, I pretty much have a temperature comfort threshold ranging from 65-75.  I was made for SoCal.

Thursday’s book ends.

On Thursday, it looked like it was going to rain when I was running so I ran really fast for 4 miles to ensure I didn’t melt like the Wicked Witch of the West.  It only drizzled, so don’t worry, I only lost half a leg.

Speaking of Thursday nights, I teach at a local university until 10pm so getting up early on Fridays to work out is super fun.  But I do it because I am a masochist it’s the only time it works out to get in a decent workout.

This morning I met Skinny Runner at the gym for a class after I did a 45 minute power-elliptical maneuver.  Don’t worry, I only smirked at the poor sap on the squeaky one twice.

Don’t let her name deceive you, SR’s a total beast.  Her idea of a post-marathon “recovery” day is running 7 miles and she sandwiched our muscle busting, pain-inducing strength training class between two marathons in 7 days.

She was taking down a gel pack when I got into class.  But I’m pretty sure it was full of shards of glass to wash down her bowl of gravel for breakfast because this girl is so tough, tough, tough…

Stolen from SR’s website. I not only respect her running, but wholly solicit her fashion advice.

When I running grow up I want to run like SR.

During the class, the instructor kept reminding us that we continue to burn calories throughout the day because of the type of interval training we were doing.

This is good because I’m going to be going to The Hat tonight with some friends.

Pastrami.  Yum.  Don’t judge.  Heaven’s to betsy it’s so good to eat bad once in a while.  Besides we’re going bowling too so if I’m going to embrace my inner midwesterner, I may as well eat like one.

What’s your favorite day to get in a good workout?

What’s your favorite naughty food?

What size bowling ball do you use?

After this morning’s weight training class, I think I want to find the 4 pound ball because my arms hurt.