And There Goes Another Year

I just finished editing my profile to say I am a THIRTY THREE year old Mama. Yep. Another year older today. This is what Mama D at 33 looks like.



I don't believe I've ever done it previously but I took holidays this week. So we are all having a lazy dazy day. My sister is babysitting for us so we can go out for an early supper (LOBSTER!!!) and then I will be heading to the Y to attend a Zumba class followed by a class to learn to teach it.



Miss A is having a sleep over at her Grandma's tonight so we just have the night owl with us tonight. I think it's going to be a really nice day.

I Walked for Water

Yesterday I walked 5K with coworkers, friends and strangers. I raised $435 for WaterCan. That amount will provide roughly 18 people with clean water for the rest of their lives. My fund raising goal was only $250 so I was thrilled to have surpassed it by so much. It was a great way to spend Earth Day and a rewarding event to be a part of.

I Want to Believe

The responses I received on my previous post were very positive. I also couldn't help but feel that everyone was relieved that I'd finally written about something deep for a change rather than just TWILIGHT WEEEEEE! (Although having said that you should click the link because it might be my favorite teaser yet.) I think my only excuse for lack of substance could be sleep deprivation, oh wait, and the fact that I now share the computer with Miss A - aka "I wanna play my Dora game!!!" girl. But if you want deep, I can be deep. Check it.

So we've had our first skiff of snow. Right now we should actually be at Peter's mom's for a visit but due to poor weather she's actually stranded at Peter's brother's house and not at home and even if she wasn't the weather might have prevented us from going anyway.

From the first minute that I was out in the awful sleety stuff I felt a wave of sadness come over me. I was a bit confused because although the winters in my part of Canada are excruciatingly long, I am sort of used to them by now. It may have something to do with the fact that winter means December is on it's way and December is when I head back to work. It could also be the fact that Miss A not only loves but requires time outside each day to burn off excess energy. We still take her out but the frigid temperatures provide extra challenges to that task. Not to mention taking a small baby out in 35 below weather is not ideal. It won't be as nice as our summer walks to the playground that's for sure.

But it wasn't until today when I was walking like a 90 year old to the car with the kids that it hit me. I'm afraid. Afraid of falling. Afraid of breaking something again. I feel fragile.

I was thinking it is similar to the feeling of emotional fragility. When you've taken so much verbal abuse from people that you just can't even handle the thought of hearing another negative comment. I've experienced this as well.

But my ankle fracture wasn't the first time I felt my body had let me down. The first notable time was when I was twenty one and tore my ACL. It was a long and seemingly endless adventure of scoping then recovering, scoping, reconstructing then recovering, and then one year later tearing more cartilage and having to get it scoped again. I remember going back to Taekwon Do after my reconstruction and feeling so inhibited, so nervous that I would injure myself again. I hated holding back. Not being able to commit to my movements. It made me want to quit, to walk away and never look back. If I couldn't do it all the way I didn't want to do it at all. But I stayed. I stuck it out. And eventually I learned to trust my body again. To believe in it's ability to heal.

It seems this is a lesson I have continually been taught. Since that experience I put my back out seriously, had two pregnancies during which I was horrifically ill and the last of which I, of course, dislocated and fractured my ankle. Afterwards I lay on the ice, silent, unmoving. Everyone remarked at my bravery, my incredible pain tolerance. But on the inside I was breaking apart. Not again. I can't do this again. This can't be happening. I. can't. do. it.

But somehow I did. I survived two months of hobbling around on crutches while simultaneously being incredibly ill. I sometimes think it was a good thing I didn't have to work during that period as I'm not sure how I would have done it. I hate to even imagine trying to make it to the bathroom at work before losing my lunch all over the laminate flooring.

Not only did I survive, I triumphed. In less than one year after the accident I am walking normally. (something I seriously doubted I'd ever do again when I was freshly off my crutches) I am teaching fitness classes. I am training for an indoor triathlon. And yet, I'm finding as the anniversary of the incident creeps up on me as does the winter season, that familiar unsettling feeling is creeping up on me as well. The fear. The mistrust of my body. The feeling of being breakable.

I don't want to feel like a 90 year old who is afraid to leave her home for fear of breaking a hip. Not at 32 years of age. But it seems it is an inevitable stage I need to go through after enduring an injury. I need time to adjust to the weather and its sometimes treacherous conditions. I need time to gain faith in my body once more.

Stretched

Lately, I've really been experiencing that feeling that I'm certain is familiar to moms everywhere. You know the one. The one where you are literally being pulled in every direction. You know those medieval stretching machines? Where they attach all your limbs to different pulleys and then basically wind it until you come apart? Yeah, that's how I'm feeling. Except it's my mind that's pulling in every direction. There are always too many things to do and not enough time to do them.

My mind is always spinning and trying to think of how I can try to fit it all in. Or wondering which is the most important. My internal dialogue usually sounds something like this. "I really want to go to the gym, I'll feel so much better if I do and then I can get everything else done. But it takes up so much time and then I won't have time to go through that HUGE PILE OF CLOTHES in my bedroom and decide what stays and what I'm giving away. And I should do laundry, if we go out I won't get it all finished. If we stay home I can just spend quality time with the kids. But then Miss A starts bugging me 'where we are going? what are we doing? LET'S GET OUT OF HERE it's boring!' and then when we're home I'm compelled to putter around and get SOMETHING, ANYTHING done. And what are we having for supper? There are no left overs. Be creative! Man, I suck at cooking. I'm going to do the dishes while I think about this. Why is it that I can only ever accomplish the bare minimum but never get to the larger tasks? Sigh."

It's ridiculous. I know that. I know I need to give myself a break blah, blah, blah. But I just can't stop my brain from spinning. I happen to know how good it feels to have everything (or almost everything) that you want accomplish in a day completed. (On the very rare occasions when that happens) And it's an additively good feeling.

For a while now, going to the gym has been winning out over all else. Miss A is happy because she gets to play with kids and possibly GO TO THE PLAY STRUCTURE! and run off steam.(which also has perks for me!) Baby B sleeps. I am currently training for an indoor triathlon. (Not as impressive as it sounds. It is simply a 15 minute swim, 15 minute cycle and 15 minute run. Whomever goes the farthest in that time 'wins'.) It's the only kind of triathlon I could complete. The hardest part for me is the running. I HATE to run. I've tried everything to make myself like it but nothing has worked thus far. Any tips AM, Bon? I can however, FORCE myself to run for 15 minutes. I did it yesterday. Pathetically slow, but I ran the entire 15 minutes. My ankle didn't hurt too much either. I just felt it a little. Every. time. it struck the treadmill.

I always tell myself I just need one good day to get everything done. I just need a little help. Someone to distract Miss A. Someone to cuddle the baby. And then I'd feel caught up. But I suppose the sad reality is even if I do catch up, I'll only get behind again. But the peace of mind I'd have for that brief period would be worth it.

Misconceptions

So, my cycling class on Saturday went well. I only had two students, one of whom was a friend of mine I'd invited to try to ensure someone was there. The girl I didn't know arrived first. I introduced myself and we started chatting a bit. I asked her if she normally attended classes to which she told me she did. I confessed that it was my first class and told her what I had planned for the hour. She nodded politely.

This next paragraph is going to sound either insane or conceited but bear with me. I am a perceptive person. I notice things that a lot of other people tend not to notice. I sometimes question whether I really have the right idea about someone or something but then I've often found out I was correct after all. So when I say that I could almost hear this girls thoughts, you need to try and give me the benefit of the doubt instead of assuming that I was just being paranoid.

She was thinking "This girl seems nice but she doesn't look like she's as fit as I am. This is going to be a weak class. Oh well."

This made me a tad nervous but I had practiced my class twice during the week to make sure that it would go smoothly and also to be sure it was adequately difficult. I was also a bit nervous (although very happy) that my friend was able to make it because she's been training really hard and ran a couple of half marathons this summer. She was excited to come to the class but I was hoping she wouldn't find it too easy and boring. And I had no idea what the fitness level of any other participants would be. I took a few deep breaths and started the class.

About 20 minutes into the class I wasn't worrying anymore. We were all sweating and working hard. It wasn't easy for anyone. But it was fun. (At least I thought so.) The girl I didn't know kept checking me out periodically during the entire class and I could almost see the surprise on her face. She couldn't believe that I was not only keeping up with her but that I was actually going a bit harder. At the end of the class she said in a round about way that it had been the most difficult class she'd been to (score!) and my friend said she'd had to take it easy a few times because she knew if she didn't she might barf. (sorry)

Now, I am a competitive person but I wasn't trying to be competitive that morning. I was just trying to lead a workout which would be challenging for my participants. I was glad to have achieved my goal. I knew that no one was pushing themselves beyond their limits and that everyone was safe. I will save my competitive nature for when I am the student, not the teacher. It was rewarding though, to know that I'd planned a difficult and enjoyable class and also to know that I'd surprised someone with my fitness level.

I am cool with being that instructor who isn't a stick but damn, can she give you a good workout!

I'm Okay!

I'm glad that people care when I'm not around. Just letting everyone know I'm fine, I'm here. I had an old friend visiting from out of town. I haven't seen her in about ten years at least. We spent a lot of time talking, laughing and catching up. We also had to look after A in the process which sometimes put a damper on the visiting but hey, that's life with kids!

And I have rearranged my work schedule so that I can take this course. Last night was my second class. It was my first day back at work after holidays and then a three hour class on anatomy and physiology... Blah.

Anyway, there will be a Say WHAT? tomorrow as per usual and all should be back to 'normal' next week.

Y-O-G-A, Yoga!

I've been taking a Yoga class. I've done quite a lot of Pilates classes before but very little Yoga. This class I'm taking is being taught by a wonderful woman whom I've had the pleasure of getting to know over the past several years. She is a client of mine and she and I have had many fabulous conversations about fitness. She is a fitness expert and has tons of Yoga training and experience.

Deciding to take this class was tough for me because it meant that I would have to choose it over TaeKwon Do. I only have two free nights. I had already committed myself to play volleyball on Tuesday nights. Monday was the only night I had for either TKD or Yoga. I chose Yoga because I was feeling frustrated about only being able to go to TKD once a week. And I had always wanted the opportunity to work out with this client of mine.

I've been taking the class since the end of September. It is specifically a Power Yoga class. Power Yoga is basically not as slow as other forms, you move quickly from pose to pose and all of the poses are physically demanding. Since beginning the class the difficulty level has increased quite a bit. I'm finding that I am keeping up quite well but I definitely find certain poses to be easier than others. This one doesn't look that bad. But it is. At least for me. I can do it but I can't clasp my hands. Turns out I'm not flexible in the parts that make this pose easy.



What surprised me about Yoga is how much it reminds me of TKD. You see in TaeKwon Do while we are working on our patterns we have to hold certain stances. For instance a walking stance with a punch. Not unlike the Warrior pose really.





I'm not supposed to be paying attention to or comparing myself to anyone else... but... I can't help but notice a lot of students seem to struggle with holding the poses. They can do them initially but not for very long. With most poses I feel like I could hold them all day. Except maybe the Crow pose.



Which I really can't do. Lift my feet off the ground? Not happening. But here I am doing the Triangle pose.



Anyway, it's different. It makes me feel strong. And most importantly it relaxes me. Especially at the end when we do Corpse pose. But I'm weird like that. After all, I was a vampire for Halloween.

(I embedded a cool Yoga video. Doing Yoga in these locations would definitely relax a person.)