Have You Ever Been a Professional Derby Girl?

I have no idea how, but I got this idea to get my staff together to go roller skating. It's been a fun week hearing all their skating stories and looking forward to who is going to break their ankle on our night out. It's also taken me back to the trailer park days.

I had my very own pair of roller skates growing up. I remember they were too big for me for a really long time and that they had red wheels. I also dropped my hamster in one of them when he bite me for no reason. Anyway...

I am pretty sure they were a hand-me-down gift from someone. Again I have no idea who because I didn't have time for those details. But I do remember the days when the skates finally fit. 

Rollering skating came pretty naturally to me. (I've always had really good body awareness and control with sports but not with walking. I pretty much have zero depth perception when I'm just existing.) I would skate around the block for so long that my feet would go numb from all the rumbling from the crappy road. I would pretend I was a figure skater, a hockey player, and then a roller derby champion.

I don't know if you remember watching roller derby on TV but I sure do. I wanted to be a derby girl more than life itself. I would watch how gracefully the girls would glide across the floor and then laugh when someone got checked against the floor. I soon began to practice for my roller derby debut...in the trailer.

If you have never been in a trailer, they are not very big. I'm talking a regular trailer here. Not a double-wide. A trailer is a long rectangle broken up into cubes. Cube One: Kitchen. Cube Two: Living Room. Cube Three: My Room. Cube Four: The Smelly Mushroom Room. Cube Five: The Famous Raccoon Bathroom. Cube Six: Mom's Bedroom. The Kitchen/Living Room and Mom's Bedroom where the anchors and all of the rest of the rooms were off the hallway to the left. Linoleum kitchen and hallway with a brief interrupt of linoleum carpet. 

I would skate as fast as I could from the kitchen all the way to where the hallway ended at Mom's bedroom and back. Again, and again, and again. I would try to do tricks in the kitchen since it had the most open space. Then I would skate as fast as I could and slam into my Mom's bedroom door; CHECK!

I've always had good endurance as well. I would keep that up for hours. Mom would be yelling for me to stop but if you have ever known a redhead, we do what we want.

I loved those damn skates with the red wheels. I remember when I finally outgrew them. My mom wanted me to throw them away (trust me, they had a full life) but I couldn't. I horded them for as long as a could. When we finally moved out of our trailer my beloved skates "went missing." 

And that is the story of my roller derby career. It was awesome.

Mind Matters Most

Mind Matters Most. Yes, yes it does.

It is no secret that the past two years have not been terribly kind to me. Yes, I got a great new job, for a steep price. First a big move from Dayton to Columbus. House on the market for a year and a half; finally paying $14,000 just to get rid of the headache of dual bills. My mom, not working, constantly needing support. My dad, fighting cancer yet again. Death. Stress. Panic Attacks. Depression.

I’ve been dealing with some heavy shit. I’m not ashamed to say the past three or four months have been the worst. There comes a point in time when the mind has had enough. Especially when you are a highly sensitive person with a tremendous amount of empathy and caring (plus throw in a Type A personality) and sometimes you are going to get a shit storm.

Yes. Mind does Matter Most and I think it’s a tragedy that time for taking care of and healing the mind is basically non-existence and worse, a stigma.

I’m not afraid to admit that earlier this month I had a bit of a nervous breakdown. I was scared. Hell, my husband was scared. I just felt like the world was caving in on me and I was suffocated and really  felt like nobody gave two shits. I felt tremendous pressure to keep steaming ahead and was seriously hurt by comments from people in my world that I just needed to make a decision and get on with it.

It’s not that damn easy.

When I began this Yoga Teacher Training journey I will never forget as I emailed Jen panicked she said the greatest thing about this process is that you are going to learn you are perfect exactly the way you are. I’m beginning to believe she is right.

My mind has been through a lot. Thinking, processing, learning, introspecting; without rest. My mind never rests. How is that ok? Why is it that the state of our bodies get all the attention? Why is that that where we are in space in time, what we look like, where we go, and what we do matters most? My mind is tired. It wants a break, it wants to be understood, it wants to be loved, and it WANTS to matter most.

I know this and I am going this to make my mind matter the most to me. Meditation, yoga, accepting that I need to explore different medication; I’m on the right path. But still what is the best part of me or you does not matter. Trying to take care of yourself, especially with any type of mental illness, is just not acceptable. That is bullshit. Though all of this when I reached out to professionals and when I reach out for help and was put on the backburner or told it’s going to be a week. I thought, damn. Good thing I’m not about to off myself. Our mental state is not given enough attention and I believe that our mental state is the key to living a long, happy, healthy life.

When we are happy, relaxed, healthy and laughing all of sudden problems that arise do not seem like such a big deal. Taking things personally just stops. Kindness is a byproduct. Productivity rises. We act out of love instead of fear. All of these things come directly from the mind. If the mind is not rested or decompressed we let fear take over. Fear turns into anger, hate, depression, anxiety and so much more.

From now on not only does my mind matter most, but I matter most. I’m a person just like you with real thoughts and feelings and aspirations. I want to be accepted for who I am on the outside AND the inside. I want to find my way home. 

Why I Want to Teach Yoga and What My Strengths Are as a Yoga Teacher

I took my first yoga class with a woman named Lori. It was 1999 and I was a freshman at Bowling Green State University. I remember I had to sign up and pay for the session. I wanted to take the class since I had been a cheerleader in high school and identified myself as a fairly flexible person; I also secretly wanted to be a ballerina.

It was held in what used to be called the Dance Room at the BGSU Student Rec Center. Little did I know how much impact that room would have on my life. It was a full class, probably 40-50 students. I am pretty sure I had zero concept of what has going to happen; then Lori walked into the room.

There are just some people in this world you immediately know you like. Lori was this shorter, curvy woman with wild curly hair. As someone who has always struggled with my weight, I cannot tell you how happy I was to see this absolutely normal-looking person. And then class began and I was hooked.

I still use her opening flow during some of my practices and I’ll never forget making the “mushroom” yoga shape with a partner in one of the classes. With each word she spoke in class, she touched my heart and gave me strength. I finally worked up the courage to talk with her after class and I told her I wanted to be a yoga teacher. “One day, you will be,” she told me with a smile. The thing I loved most about Lori? Her quiet confidence that filled a room.

I kept taking classes with Lori when I could, but I was also busy becoming a group fitness instructor. The Dance Room and I became very good friends between the hours of practicing and teaching low impact, my very first teaching job. Whenever I was in the Dance Room, Lori was with me.

Toward the end of my sophomore year at BGSU, we had a group fitness staff meeting, and during that meeting we were told that we would have the opportunity to begin in-house yoga training. I cannot tell you how excited I was! After the meeting, I went up to our director and told her I would do anything to be a part of that group. Then I asked if Lori would be teaching the class. No, she wouldn’t be teaching the class. She had passed away from cancer just six months earlier.

I had no idea Lori was sick. She was sick when I first met her. She never showed it. Not once. I just could not believe this beautiful person was gone. I was devastated. I cried. But I knew that Lori would always be in my heart and that yoga would always be in my life because of her. Lori was my first yoga mentor and she will always be in my heart.

I still completed the in-house yoga teacher training program, and during my junior year at BGSU I co-wrote our in-house manual for teaching yoga classes. I wonder if they still use any of that material.

After undergrad, away I went into the world of fitness. I collected fitness certifications like baseball cards: Pilates, Aquatic Exercise, Spinning, TurboKick, PiYo. For a time, my yoga practice drifted away. I was busy trying to climb the career ladder, but then grad school happened. My graduate assistantship was at the Student Recreation Center and I could use 5 hours (out of my 20) to take classes. Insert Brandi’s return to yoga.

The class I became infatuated with was Iyengar. Our teacher didn’t make us do the crazy mat alignment stuff, but this is where I learned my foundations of form and alignment. I loved the sense of accomplishment I received from yoga. The teacher knew I was the grad assistant, and began to let me sub his classes. I could feel Lori’s smile from above.

After graduate school, we moved to the Dayton area and I attended class at my first yoga studio. This studio practiced the style of Jivamukti. I really connected to the teacher and the smell of nag champa incense. I loved learning Sanskrit and deepening my practice. I even enrolled in Yoga Teacher Training but had to drop out due to my demanding full-time job. From that time on, I knew that one day I would complete a RYT-200 program.

I remember that one of the girls that I started the YTT program with eventually opened her own studio. I tried to teach there, but she wouldn’t accept me because I didn’t have my RYT-200. So what did I do? I went to class, of course.

At this time I was still subbing yoga classes as needed and I have always been very confident about my yoga knowledge. It was just something that I “got.” So to her class I went to see what this whole RYT-200 thing has you become. After that class, I wasn’t quite sure. It wasn’t the worst yoga class I had ever taken, but it wasn’t the best either. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t just be given a chance to teach. I felt a little push from Lori, gently edging me on my yoga journey. That is when I began to practice with Yogis Anonymous Online.

This studio is in California and I feel like part of their community all the way here in Ohio. I have learned so much from Ally Hamilton and Mary Beth La Rue. I feel connected to their souls.

Two years ago my husband and I relocated to Worthington for my career. I decided and put myself on the schedule for a yoga class. I looked forward to that class each week. I would incorporate things I had learned from Ally and Mary Beth and my roots of Iyengar and Lori would shine through. I even started to train a couple of instructors in house to teach yoga. I loved sharing my knowledge with them and watching them grow as their own type of yoga teacher. I wanted more. More yoga. More knowledge. I knew there would always be one thing holding me back from a growing yoga career: obtaining the 200-hour certification.

I searched online for a credible and affordable home-study program. No such thing exists. I researched going to India. My husband put the kibosh on that idea. It was so expensive, I really just gave up on the whole idea. After all, yoga and I had been in a long-term relationship that only kept getting better with time. I know Lori would make sure that I would be a life-long student.

I honestly can’t remember how the conversation came up with Kevin, about how his wife got to go to YTT at basically zero cost through a scholarship. So I found out what I could do to see if I could get a scholarship as well. I wanted this to be it so badly. What I’ve been waiting for…to finally complete my RYT-200. Sometimes, wishes do come true.

And now here I sit writing an essay about why I want to be a yoga teacher for Yoga Teacher Training. Really, I think yoga chose me a long time ago. So why all the back story? Because I think the day I met Lori my fate was sealed. Someday I want be that yoga teacher for someone as she was for me. I want to be a yoga teacher to keep Lori’s spirit alive forever.

It’s this journey that has lasted over 15 years that I feel will be one of my biggest strengths as a teacher. I have come to my mat time and time again to find myself. I’ve cried on my mat, I’ve laughed, I’ve danced, I’ve chanted, I’ve fallen, I’ve gotten back up, I’ve quit, and I always return. My strength as a yoga teacher will come from the years I have dedicated to this practice. I have so many memories from yoga classes that I will always carry with me into the classroom. I remember three breaths in Warrior II feeling like fire. I remember learning ujjayi breath and feeling like I was going to suffocate. I remember sticking my first headstand in the middle of the room. I remember completing my first 90-minute class. I remember a really horrible hot yoga experience. I remember those little cues that have changed poses for the better. I remember what horrible classes felt like. I will never forget amazing practices. I remember what it feels like to melt into savasana after a practice. I remember the smell of nag champa and chanting Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu. I feel that yoga chant to my very core and I love it.

My strength will be Satya as I believe in feelings and acceptance. I will create a non-judgmental atmosphere in my classes so that I can help many of those that feel unworthy of love or acceptance find those things through yoga.

I will always be a student and yoga will always be my teacher. I don’t think you can have one without the other. I’ve never believed myself to be better than anyone at anything. Even in my current career, I tell my employees all the time that we are all on the same playing field as instructors. I’m not better than they are just because of a title. I don’t believe in titles. I believe in compassion and teamwork. I believe in raising others up. True leaders watch their flock fly away bigger and stronger and are not afraid of giving their knowledge to make it so.

Fact: As geese fly together, as each goose flaps its wings it creates uplift for the birds that follow. By flying in a V-formation the flock adds 72% greater flying range than if each bird flew alone.

Lesson: People who share a common purpose and sense of community can get where they are going quicker and easier because they are traveling on the thrust of the others.

Fly the V.

Day Three & Four

This weekend we focused on cueing Sun Salutations A&B. I am very comfortable with doing and teaching both series...my way. Learning a new way to cue is a good thing. It's pushing my teaching abilities and allowing me to grow as instructor. The thing I struggle with the most is cueing drishti's with every pose. Sometimes it seems like there are so many words and not enough time.

Friday I contributed a lot to our discussion about the five obstacles and three doubts of yoga. I did feel like many of my issues I experience in obstacles and doubts I am not alone in our group. It's nice to know that all of us are making a huge commitment and several sacrifices to complete this training. I think it makes it easier to fathom that I will make it to graduation day.

I know there are several people in my life that do not understand why I am doing this...I'm pretty sure there are people at work that are concerned about me doing this training. Yoga is very special to me...it's almost like a part of my religion. It makes me whole. It makes be happy. As I sit here on our couch writing this I'm tired but I am so fulfilled. Speaking of tired....

Today was absolutely exhausting.

We did a slowburn class all together in the morning and we took turns leading Sun Sal A's for a 108 Equinox event for a second afternoon practice. I did 100 freaking Sun Sal As this afternoon and it felt like all my chataranga's were strong. I felt very accomplished at the end of the practice and proud of myself for overcoming obstacles and doubt to make it to the end of all 100. I only did 100 because I taught some of the Sun Sals and we do not model during teaching...which is another big change for me but one I really, really like.

I learned a lot this weekend and gained some confidence. I am so thankful for this opportunity. 

I will say...I'm not looking forward to waking up to how sore I will be...I know there will be quite a bit of soreness throughout my body.

This week I'm challenged with studying the standing postures and to become comfortable cueing the poses without notes. There are also some readings along with our daily meditation, yoga meal, practice, and act of kindness/gratefulness. I love the changes these things are bringing to my life. After two weekends I already feel a huge shift. I know after eleven more weekends I am going to be the best version of myself that I have been in a long, long time.

Lululemon

I seriously don't get it.

Whenever I see a yoga teacher in lululemon I cringe. To me that brand is so anti-yoga. Sure spend $120 on a pair of leggings. Why? I can get a similar product at Old Navy or Target for 1/4 of the price. More than that, then I do not feel that I would be selling out to the brand.

Only the "best" yogis wear lululemon. What?

I think the best yogis wear Goodwill.

Day Two

#1 lesson: Be careful of how much fun you have on Saturday!

Our first module is Ashtanga. I have never done a dedicated Ashtanga class. I am familiar with all the poses in the series. Many I practice regularly, others...not so much.

When we practiced together on Sunday, I was able to feel what all these years of yoga practice has given to me. Humility. When I struggled in our balancing postures, I let a smile come to my face. Not having perfection in the pose was welcoming. I accepted it and moved forward.

I have experienced this many, many times on my mat. Attempting a pose and it not happening. Struggling and having to back away. Allowing myself to rest when needed.

Trust me...those things in my practice did not come easily.

The thing I am most looking to gain out of teacher training is to more consciously put forth the lessons and energy I learn on my mat to my every day life. I'm not that great at resting when I need. I'm not that great at accepting struggles or not being a naturally good at something. I have a Type-A Monkey Mind. I'm looking forward to letting quite a few of those monkey's free.

I was surprised at how rested my body felt this morning. My morning meditation quieted my mind...letting go of thoughts of what I may have said or did wrong over the weekend. Today I feel clear and calm. I'm looking forward to my practice this evening. I'm looking forward to my daily yoga meal. I'm looking forward to my evening meditation.

It's true. This is exactly the place I needed to be at exactly the right time.

Day One

One day down...24 sessions to go!

I feel very positive after the first session. At times during the discussion of homework, practice, meditation, and weekly readings I found myself becoming extremely anxious and worried. How am I going to do all this? How am I going to practice every day? How am I going to find the time? Most importantly...how am I going to find the energy.

Then I remembered...

If I was able to make it through grad school, fighting two of my worst undiagnosed years with Hashimoto's...three months of yoga school? I got this.

When I finished graduate school I bought myself a right hand ring. I wear it every day to remind myself of perseverance and strength.

I had a dream last night that I got a wrist tattoo for my yoga journey.

I like that idea...because it's something I can take everywhere with me...just like my grad school ring. I am not a huge jewelry person so right now I do not find myself wanting to do something like that again. I don't know. This thought just came to me as I sat down to write this reflection. I am sure whatever I should do with present itself to me when I'm ready.

New Adventure

Tonight I will begin my 200 hour Yoga Teacher Certification.

I'm Excited.
I'm Nervous.
I'm Overjoyed.
I'm Terrified.
I'm Anxious.

I have an intention to document my journey through this blog. So stay tuned.

I can't wait to write and read my day one post compared to graduation day on December 13th.

A Horrible Hospital

Yesterday I went to a long awaited appointment to see a highly sought endocrinologist. The long struggle with getting an accurate diagnosis of Hashimotos Thyroditis took a painful five years. Since finally getting an answer in 2009 I have continuously struggled with several extreme issues with no resolve: chronic fatigue, unexplainable weight gain, hair loss, easy bruising, depression and anxiety, dry skin, balance issues...the list goes on.

Imagine my excitement to be finally going to a very large and notable hospital to see one of the top endocringologist docs in our Nation. This doctor sees my father and he and my stepmom dote on the greatness and wonderfulness of this doctor. Finally I thought...someone is going to believe me...finally more answers.

Yesterday was not the transcendent experience I so desperately have been seeking. Instead I left feeling defeated and heartbroken.

Another doctor that does not believe a word I say about my diet and exercise. This doctor took his advice to a whole new level and asked me if I had considered bariatric surgery.

Now all I can think and feel is my god I must be so freaking huge and I don't even know it? I can't workout any harder; well I could but I've been there done that and it's not healthy. I'm not going to eat, as this doctor suggested, 800 calories per day as I know that is extremely unhealthy. I have done all the calculations, I know my caloric range and I record it daily. I can squat 200lbs, I can bench 110lbs, I can deadlift 175lbs, I can run half marathons, I can do yoga poses that defy gravity, I have an active job, my husband can attest that I barely sit still at home unless I'm sleeping...which is what I have to do when I'm not working because I'M EXHAUSTED ALL THE TIME.

I am ready to give up. What does it matter? Why not just become the fat lazy slob every doctor thinks that I am. I'd certainly have more fun eating donuts everyday than counting calories and making sure I get the right percentages of carbs, protein, and fat.

I should have stood up for myself, but I didn't. I have tried to call and leave this doctor a voicemail to tell him how inappropriate his comment was to me and how much damage he has caused...but apparently the line is "busy."

Now I have to figure out how to get over such a hurtful experience. How do I pick my self-esteem and confidence up of the floor after this? No...I'm not throwing in the towel. I'm not made that way. I'm just tired of working so damn hard and no one believing me...no positive results for positive reinforcements. All I can remember to do is feel guilty for eating anything at all, or when eating being sure to vomit, and exercising till I drop. After all, that was the only way I was able to lose amount of weight, ever.

Please. Let's not focus on what I can do, doctor. You don't believe me. Fuck you.

A Head Start

The concept of young children (ages 2-3) going to preschool is very odd to me. The only preschool I had was Head Start the year before kindergarten. I LOVED Head Start.

If you do not know, Head Start is a preschool for poor people. All the kids in my class had similar family and financial situations as my mom and I did. I would like to say that leveled the playing field but it really didn't. It operated as normal preschools I suppose. There was a "rich," popular girl, a smelly kid, a weird kid, a dumb kid, bunch of nondescript kids, and me the redheaded kid. Sad to say there were even "cliques" in head start, but they existed. If that was happening in the 80s I shudder to think about preschools today.

I believe a day went like this:

Bus picked me up, first part of the day was learning and singing, then we had lunch, the recess, then more lessons, and bus ride home.

I have always been a big fan of recess. We always had recess indoors. I remember the wooden monkey bars that had to illegal because let me tell you it was not very sturdy. I remember it falling completely on top of a kid named Kenny. He had really curly hair and always had snot coming out of his nose. I didn't like him very much...but I digress. There were tricycles and blocks...the usual. We also had parties like normal preschools.

I can remember our Christmas party that happened 29 years ago. I am sure that the organization solicited donations to give all of us kids a good Christmas. Santa even came to give us our gifts. That was pretty exciting! That movie Elf has it right, everyone screams SANTA when you see the big guy. Our parents were there and we had a Christmas lunch. Seems totally normal right? Wrong. The thing that made this a disaster is that not all the gifts were created equal.

This was back in the rage of Cabbage Patch kids. I can't remember exactly how many girls there were in my class but all of us got this tiny Cabbage Patch that had Velcro on in and had a house thing... and there was one regular sized Cabbage Patch that went to....the "rich" girl.

It's so crazy that I remember this and remember how all of the rest of us girls cried. It wasn't fair and honestly it really wasn't. I firmly believe in the concept that in a large group setting kids must be treated equal. I also firmly believe that if one kid fucks everything up, that it ruins it for everyone. We have to teach kids how to function in a group, how to behave, how to share, how to treat their peers as equals.

So if you are having a little kid Christmas party...remember to make it equal. Some of them will remember this shit.

Yes You Can

Do you know what I hate about this time of year? All of the fitness magazines posting how many minutes you need to exercise to burn off thanksgiving fare.

Dudes. Your body does actually need calories to function. For most of us, we need at least 2,000 calories a day to stay alive. OMG your slice of pie has 250 calories, perspective please! Once again here we are making people feel guilty for EATING. Thanksgiving dinners do not have to be outrageous, and if you do splurge, it's one day. I think I have a better message for you to follow.

1. Keep your exercise schedule. I know this is a tough one with family and friends to visit but you will thank yourself if you can keep your schedule going. Try to find ways to make fitness family time too. Take a walk, take extra laps around the store while shopping, have a Wii Fitness Challenge, or my new favorite have a Planksgiving Contest! Who can hold a plank the longest?

2. Stay Hydrated. Be sure to keep drinking lots of water! Especially when it gets cold we tend to ignore our thirst and then our thirst often gets mistaken for hunger. Take a bottle of water with you everywhere and try to fill it up 8 times each day.

3. Snack Smart. Decide what you are looking most forward to indulging in on Thanksgiving Day. Then make a plan to snack smart the rest of the time. Stick to veggies and low-fat snacks so that you can enjoy Thanksgiving day without giving extra calories a second thought.

4. Find time to be Grateful. It’s what the season is all about! Just think…how awesome is it that you are able to have Thanksgiving dinner? That you have family and friends! What else can you write down? Make a list and find time to reflect each day.

5. Nice Matters. Here comes crazy traffic and crazy lines everywhere you go. It’s easy to get irritated at the wrong people. Try to do as many good deeds as you can when you are out and about. Let someone in that is trying to turn left, let someone with only a few items go ahead of you in line, say thank you to the cashier, give a stranger a compliment, and share lots of smiles.

It's time for fitness professionals to speak the language of what you CAN do, not what you CAN'T do. And yes my friends, you CAN enjoy Thanksgiving dinner.
 

d

I

The Number Game

I've been doing a lot of soul searching since I went to a fitness conference in Chicago in October. I am not your "typical" fitness person. Don't get me wrong, I am fit and healthy I just don't look like I spend four hours in the gym everyday. I struggle with this a lot.

I don't want to look like I workout four hours a day because that's not me and I think those types of fitness people are usually: a. crazy, b. egotistical, c. fitness stupid, d. rude. Fitness professionals that are "cut", I feel, are super intimidating to the general public. I think a lot of my success is related to the fact that people can connect to me because I look and act like an average person. This is where my struggle begins.

I am very fit but I don't think I look like it. When I tell people what I do I feel like a fraud since I do not look like a typical fitness professional.

When I was at the conference in Chicago it really hit me just how non-typical I am in this field. When I teach I'm not there for my own workout. I'm not trying to be super fitness lady up at the front of the room doing crazy air jacks. (I do not think that going all out while teaching motivates the people you are there to help; it is only going to make them intimidated.) I want people to have success during my class so they keep coming back. It's not about me; not even a little bit.

In my opinion most instructors these days are there to teach first and foremost for themselves. Some of the things instructors wear to class is ridiculous; not to mention the people that teach in full make-up. Why? Let your teaching skills and knowledge impress your students. If you only have the look, sorry, but you are not a fitness professional and you are doing so much harm to this field and your participants. Rant over.

I've been a avid yogi for about 15 years. At this fitness conference I felt a very strong pull towards taking my yoga practice deeper, which I have done since October. I love the way yoga makes me feel and I love the internal work it does for my mind. I'm a better person when I have time on my mat. Yet...here again... I'm not your typical yoga instructor.

And maybe that's ok.

I struggle with eating and exercise every day. Whenever I eat, I feel guilty and I'm tired of it. Whenever I take a day off exercise I feel guilty and I'm tired of it.

Maybe this weight and size is just who I am and I need to finally accept it. This is where my head is at currently. I just want to eat and exercise like a normal healthy person. I want to have energy to do things beside exercise. I want to stop wasting my energy worrying about what I look like and what I weigh. I want to stop wasting my energy trying to make people like me.

This is who I am. I'm a slightly overweight fitness professional. I can run a half-marathon. I can leg press 300lbs. I can do some crazy yoga postures. I can teach a Zumba class and not get winded. I love to eat and I love to drink. I work hard and I play hard.

Why is there anything wrong with any of that? There's nothing wrong with any of that. That's what I'm trying to tell myself. That's what I want the world to understand. There is so much more to health and fitness than numbers. I'm tired of playing the number game.

Warm Fuzzies

Whenever it begins to get colder, I often think of my very first pet. It was a hamster.

My friend Caren had hamsters and I was in love with them. I'm not really sure how to all went down but all of a sudden my mom had taken me to a house where they apparently bred hamsters. I can remember this gigantic cage filled with hamsters. Seriously there were at least a hundred of them. I picked one out of the bunch (luck had it they also sold starter cages) and away we went.

I loved that hamster. It did not love me. Hamsters really are not that awesome of a pet.

My hamster had an unfortunate short life. Why I think about my first pet when it gets cold is because the room his cage was in did not have very much heat. He either froze to death or had a heart attack (the jury is still out if my mom had something to do with his early death; she hated it). My little heart was broken. I cried and cried and even stayed home from school that day to have a funeral. I buried him in an old hot pink pencil box, bundled in old wash cloths.

A few days after his untimely death I was coming home from school and noticed a couple of feral cats trying to dig up his grave. I freaked out. I made sure he was still in his plastic coffin and buried him deeper to save him from being eaten.

I have no idea why I ever wanted a hamster. They are pretty stupid and do not do anything; plus they smell bad. Growing up is weird.

I do think letting your kids help raise a pet can provide valuable lessons. It teaches them about service and unconditional love; even death and grieving.

In February, it will be seven years since we brought our cat-child home. I am coo-coo over this thing. She is like my child and I am completely obsessed with her. She has this awesome little personality and most days I can't get over that a living animal lives in our home. I love it. She knows when I'm sick and when I'm sad. She can be the sweetest little creature on earth. Don't get me wrong she is still a cat and can be a total bitch. I think that makes me love her even more.

I am forgetting the book title, but I feel like this cat is my animal spirit and that we connect. She understands me and I understand her. When her day comes I am going to need time off work. Thank goodness that is hopefully a long, long time away.

But seriously, how weird is it that we let animals live with us? They have a heart, lungs, blood, and a digestive system. Can you imagine me every having a kid? I would be a hot mess.

The State of Our Union

During my professional career each place I have worked has run a solid birthday party business. Where I work, we have a pool, kids like to swim...easy money and a way to keep the building busy on the weekends.

I am working this Saturday and am already preparing myself for the birthday party madness. Yes, madness. I hate birthday parties and I'll tell you why.

First, I don't understand why anyone would have a birthday party at a location other than your house. Yes, I get clean-up as a valid argument but going to a location just means you need more eyes to make sure a child doesn't kill themselves or go missing.

Second, I don't understand why anyone would have a birthday party at a location for anyone under the age of eight. People, I have seen the biggest birthday parties for kids turning one and I just don't get it. That kid doesn't need all those presents and they are certainly not going to remember their first birthday. Do you? No you don't.

Third, I don't understand the amount of food that people bring to a location birthday party. You are going swimming. You don't need to eat like you are going to the electric chair before jumping in. Actually, we rather you didn't. The amount of food I have seen people bring is disgusting; or maybe it's the mess they made...actually scratch that, it's both things.

Fourth, I don't understand adults at a child birthday party. I have seen multiple parties where there are no more than 10 children but there are 50 adults. I'm sorry but I'm not chillin' at a kids birthday party. I have other things to do. Like drink.

Fifth, I've never had a birthday party.

Oh, you say! There it is, this is why you hate birthday parties. Not it at all. I guess I should rephrase that I never had a birthday party at a location. My birthdays were also just myself and my closest friends at home. My mom would make her famous veggie pizza and a cake and we would watch movies and play games. What happened to those types of birthday parties? Why does everything have to have so much glitz and glamour?

Not to offend anyone that reads my blog, but I hate large parties. I really did not want to have a bridal shower. If I ever have a baby, I will NOT have a baby shower. I don't do big parties. I don't want the fanfare and the expense. What I want is for people to come spend some quality time with me in a chill environment.

Now...I did like my wedding party. Although our wedding was very small compared to most weddings. Just how I like it.

Why does everything have to be so complicated and expensive? Dude, just come over. Invite yourself over if you want to spend time with us. We do not have children, we don't get having children. We have all the free time in the world (unless I'm working) so you have to come to us. Sorry about it. That's the way it is. I'm tired of driving across the State of Ohio. We live in a cool ass city. You now come to us.

Man. I'm snarky today.

Alright let me wrap this one up. Yes I miss people. Yes I want to see people. No I do not want it to be a big deal. I'm tired of being the one to reach out and drive all over creation. I've had a big year. New job, big move...I'm ready for people to come to us because you know what? We are really awesome and we live around awesome things.

So come visits. Or don't.

I Want You to Notice

As we approach the holiday of gratitude I find that my childhood revolved around simple pleasures. Many of these activities remain some of my fondest memories.

As we grow we stop being "noticers" of our surroundings. When we are young we are constantly being told to hurry up, come here, or stop doing that. Often times when little ones are moving slowly it's because they are noticing. Look at how green the grass is today. That cloud looks like a teddy bear. Did you see that purple flower? Do you ever wonder what life would be like if we could all slow down a bit to notice our world a bit more? I do.

I have always been a day dreamer. I love making stories up in my head. You can go anywhere and do anything without really moving at all. I often day dream to help myself fall asleep. When I had a commute to work I was always wrapped up in a alternate universe. Don't even get me started about running and day dreaming. It's a way to escape, it's a way to plan for the future, practice what to do in certain situations...I love it.

If anyone knows me, I'm made to go. Being idle drives me crazy. I always want to be thinking, creating, or doing. My mom has known this since I could walk. She was pretty awesome at taking my "noticing" ways and combing it with things to keep me on the go; while finding simple pleasures in our world.

Every Thanksgiving my mom and I would walk to Cherry Street park to collect items for our Cornucopia. I remember the brisk air. The smell of fallen leaves and walnuts. The squirrels chattering as they gathered for the winter. We would spend hours as she let me pick out the perfect leaves, pine cones, acorns, and the like for our centerpiece. We didn't have a traditional Cornucopia instead we used my Grimace Ronald McDonald plate; which was even better in my point of view.

I looked forward to our annual trip to Cherry Street park where I could hunt and forage for the things that I daydreamed would make the most beautiful Cornucopia in the world. This activity allowed my mom and I to spend time together, get fresh air and exercise, and it was free. Most importantly it drove my creativity and resourcefulness and it's a cherished memory that will last a lifetime.

Fast forward to today and everything is commercialized and it needs to stop. Do you know I went to the grocery store at 6am on the day OF Halloween and they already had up all their Christmas decorations? Don't you agree that everything was much more magical when the stores waited until after Thanksgiving to deck the halls. You know what's crazy? I bet we start seeing Valentine's Day candy the 1st of January. What kind of crazy is this?

I will be the first to tell you that I LOVE gifts. I especially love searching for and giving the perfect gift. If I ever give you gift, know that means a lot. But what about gifts that we can create? What about the homemade cards, notes, and Cornucopias? Why do we have to buy everything? What happened to walking and noticing a flower and picking it for the one you love? What happened to looking for the shapes in clouds? What happened to handwritten letters? Sometimes I think technology has gone to far. You know what? I miss the days of only have a home phone. I really hate being so connected to my phone.

So why do we stand for it? Why have we allowed ourselves to stop being noticers? I'd love to you to share what you stop to take time to notice today.

Don't Speak

In my last post I hinted to how cruel kids can be emotionally. I was never physically bullied but I still have healing wounds from words all those years ago.

When I was very young, I was small for my age; always a late bloomer. I think most kids go through a chubby stage before a growth spurt. The crazy thing is, when I look at those pictures of myself in my "chubby" stage...I really just looked like every other kid. I don't know why but I have been hyper-aware of my appearance from a young age.

I will admit, I did get overweight in 5th grade. I don't think it was anything outrageous. I was still very active. I played basketball in 5th and 6th grade and in 7th grade I tried out for Volleyball, Basketball, and Cheerleading. My very best friend, Rachel, made the squad in 7th grade. She and I would practice together for hours to get ready for my 8th grade audition.

My hard work paid off and I made the squad in 8th grade; even though there was a rumor "I was actually supposed to have made it." I guess that started to fuel my fire. I practiced all.the.time. Let me just say, for a stocky German girl, I can jump. I loved cheering and it helped me to begin to come out of my shell.

I made the Freshman squad and the Varsity Homecoming game in 1995 is today's destination. I was so excited that we got to cheer with the awesome Varsity girls that I worshiped. I remember the butterflies and the feeling of looking up into that big crowd with a huge smile on my face... GO FLIERS!

It seemed like a dream come true. And it was...until 3rd quarter.

The freshman squad was moved to cheer along the 20 yard line where all the kids sit. If I was a coach I would do the same thing. We were doing a cheer when all of a sudden I hear "your fat *clap clap* lose weight *clap clap.* Yes, it was directed at me. The confidence and joy I had up until that moment shattered. After we were done with our cheer, I put on my best smile and did the best damn toe touch you have ever seen. "Wow, the kids said, you're really good." But it was too late all I could hear was their claps like a never-ending drum and their words like the sharpest blade to my heart.

Two of my best qualities are determination and perseverance. Even though their chant damaged me to my core it also gave me great motivation. I practiced harder than before, determined to make the JV squad for Sophomore year. I did in fact make JV and that summer began my journey down the rabbit hole. I began running almost every night. I got a MTV Crunch Hip Hop video and would dance until I dropped. One night my mom made hamburger helper for dinner, one of my favorites. After dinner I decided to go running. I can't remember why I decided this, but I stopped at a park on my route and made myself vomit for the first time. With my stomach feeling flat and empty my heart soared with the thought of walking through the school room doors my Sophomore year and every gasping at how skinny I had become.

I did lose a lot of weight that summer. I remember how proud I was walking into the first day of Sophomore year with a new back-to-school outfit. Not a word was said. All I could think was...it didn't work, I'm still fat.

The running and purging and starving began to consume everything that I was.

I know those kids don't remember me or that cheer. Yet here I sit 18 years later and I can remember that moment like it happened yesterday. Too often we all speak words without thinking how they might affect another person. Our generation is not teaching the next how to embrace differences, only how to use words to break down those different from themselves even further. Why has it been ok for so long to treat people so badly due to their differences? It breaks my heart that so many people cannot live their lives they way the want because of what make them THEM. Everyone has the most basic wants, needs, and desires. We all want safety, a home, love, support, friendship, acceptance. When will our society understand that while being a human brings us all together, it's the unique characteristics that each of us brings to the world that keeps us together and allows us to grow.

Dominoes

Growing up I lived in a neighborhood with a bus stop. Every morning, I would walk to catch the bus; with all the other neighborhood kids; to go to school. If I had to guess, the walk was no more than a quarter mile and I am sure took no more than five-minutes.

The bus stop was it's own animal. I am actually sitting here shaking my head thinking about all the craziness that would happen in a mere 15-20 minutes. It really quite amazing that no one every was seriously hurt --at least not physically.

Today I am on a time machine going back to a very cold and snowy day walking to the bus stop. My mom had done her best trying to wrap me up like Randy from a Christmas Story. How cold was it? I really cannot remember but if I had to guess, 20 degrees and lots of snow everywhere.

My mom thought I needed extra time to walk to the bus stop in my 20lbs of clothing that morning, so off I set in the winter wonderland. (Snow fall is pretty magical if you take a moment to appreciate the beauty.)

I have no idea how much earlier I arrived but apparently all of our parents had a phone conference on bundling up and shipping us out that day because I was not the only kid to arrive earlier than normal.

Our bus stop was on a corner, just on a sidewalk, in a neighborhood, close to a white house. One of my schoolmates lived at that house. I'll never forget because on this morning his mom opened the door and had all of us kids at the bus stop come in their home to stay warm. She made us all a cup of hot cocoa and we sat there in their living room watching Scooby Doo.

I'll never forget that day and the kindness that was shown not only by the homeowners but all of the kids showed kindness and gratitude towards one and other. If there is one thing I know, is that I'm not sure this story could ever repeat itself in today's society.

First, it seems like this type of weather we went to school on this day, like any other winter day, would have school canceled today. Also I highly doubt anyone would just invite kids into their home for hot chocolate. Or, if they were invited in ,there would be one kid that would make up a crazy story about being mistreated; because that's why they see and hear on TV...kids are still kids, they all want attention.

There has been a very weird shift in society with the power that is often given to children. Want to know why all these kids have crazy allergies? They do not go outside and eat dirt anymore. I can't tell you how many mud pies I sampled as a young child. What to know what young kids are so whiny and complain? Because their every want is coddled to. They can go to school when it's cold (the school has heat). They don't need to have hand sanitizer every five seconds. Bad grades are deserved.

I really do not understand the mentality of most people today. They complain over things I would never think complaining about in a million years. They write comment cards and post on social media things they could never tell someone face-to-face. Passive-Aggressiveness rules our society and it's time for it to stop.

Our world would be a much better place if my snowy day at the bus stop could happen again in our society. But it won't. Because we are all too selfish to open our hearts and our homes. We are all to worried about making face. We are too preoccupied with what is in our walls. We are unable to have empathy to our fellow man. It's all about what's in it for me, not for us. I challenge you to stop today ,because I know you will find yourself doing this, and ask yourself why. Then ask yourself how can you be a better person? If you give a compliment to the fast food worker, they go home happy. If they go home happy, maybe they don't hit their child. If they do not hit their child tonight maybe they will not bully yours tomorrow. Everything has a domino effect. What kind of dominoes are you putting out into our world?

Maybe it's Yourself

As I have spent a lot of this week drifting in and out of old memories I have also begun translating how past me has become present me. I have been a regular exerciser since the age of 15, 18 years.

I started running the summer after my Freshman year in High School. The reason I started running is another post altogether. Where my story begins today is my Junior year in High School.

1997. Young. Beautiful. Smart. Talented. And 100lbs. I should never weigh 100lbs.

The journey to this weight was a twisted vortex of control. I wore a size 2. It's unfathomable to me how sick I was...and how I still wanted to be thinner. Except...it's not really off my radar. To be thin. It's always there, a faint voice that can still shout doubt and depression into my core.

I shall reveal to you much more of this story that sadly too many other men and women know all too well at another time. Where I'd like to take you today is what happens after you starve yourself and exercise to death for years...to where I am now.

Believe it or not, I sit here today as a Fitness Professional. I have a Bachelor's in Exercise Science and a Master's in Public Health. I have been teaching group fitness since 1999 and have been a personal trainer since 2002. My internal battle of eating and exercise has never stopped; I've just learned to be a better General.

In college, I began to notice that something was wrong. I was eating well and exercising correctly and kept gaining weight. I was exhausted, sluggish...I wasn't me. I kept making appointment after appointment to see the doctor's at the student health center. I knew in my heart something was wrong with my thyroid. Test after test said no. But why was this happening to me?

Finally after graduate school as I landed my first "big-girl" job, I found a new family physician. I actually went in due to a knee injury but ended up saying something about my troubles nonchalantly. He said he wanted to do some tests, to which I replied, I've already had all the tests. Not this one, he told me.

About a week later, after a long five years, I was diagnosed with Hashimoto's Thyroiditis. Basically I have antibodies in my thyroid that have decided my thyroid is a foreign object and has been slowly trying to kill my thyroid over the years. Hashi patients suffer because sometimes our thyroids spit out thyroid hormones and sometimes it does not. Many of us suffer severe hypothyroidism symptoms; such as myself. I now take a thyroid replacement every morning. I have my levels tested ever 4 months. And my roller coaster ride is never ending.

When I was at my lowest weight I felt powerful. Yes I was very sick. I was angry all the time. Hangry really. I was depressed. I thought everyone was out to get me. But I had control and it felt amazing. I've never forgotten how that feels. I crave it but my body works every second of every day against me.

The thing about Hashi's is you are on hell of a ride of the rest of your life. Even though I take thyroid hormone, my levels fluctuate most likely on a daily basis. Lots of the time, I feel great. I have energy, I'm happy, I'm healthy. Other times...not so great. Fatigue that I can't even begin to explain. Unmotivated. Depressed. The hardest part, for me, of having Hashi's is the weight fluctuation. It seriously does.not.matter. what I do, my body will gain and lose weight at it's will. I exercise most days of the week and my husband will tell you I'm a Ninja. I can eat like a rabbit or like a bear...it doesn't matter. I have no control.

I live in a world of getting ready to step on the scale, feeling good, and once I step on, my entire day shatters. I preach it's just a number...but after my complicated history...I can't stop. My happiness will often lie in if I am having a "fat day" or "skinny day." I am perpetually trying to lose weight. I want people to notice and comment if I look thinner and pray they do not notice if the scale has gone up. I feel that people judge me when I tell them my profession. Even though I have worked so hard to be where I am, I feel ashamed to tell them what I do; that I'm not good enough, that I don't look the part.

When will our society stop with the insanity that thinness is beauty? When can the insurance companies, drug companies, and doctors stop being money mongers and let diseases be cured. When will people stop being so cruel? I have a feeling the answer to the last question is never. How else can you feel good about yourself unless you are making someone else's day hell?

"Be Kind. For everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about."

-Cashier's do not make the rules at the store
-Fast Foot workers have feelings too
-The Bank Teller did not steal your money

Who can you be kinder to today to make our world a better place? Maybe it's yourself.

Throwback Thursday

It's been quite some time since I have written a post. I have been thinking about getting back to it...and just had not found my door until this week.

I have a heavy heart and mind. Early this week I found out my Dad has cancer. Again. This will be his fourth bout. His first cancer was bladder. Then came thyroid. Then came kidney. I think that's the order. My father has no thyroid and only one kidney. The doctors have pinpointed this cancer to either be bladder or kidney. If it's kidney...well, Dad will most likely get one of my kidneys. We are all hoping for bladder, if you can hope for a type of cancer.

Obviously this has me thinking quite a bit about lots of things. The one thing I know is that I am not ready for my Dad to be gone. While it might be scary to donate a kidney, if that is what it comes to, I will gladly do so. This is what families and loved-ones do for each other.

So why the title Throwback Thursday? Because I find myself swimming in old family memories. I remember changing my nephews' diapers. I remember liking the brownie batter off the beaters. I remember Crabs the dog. I remember my first bike.

Before I dissolve into a puddle of tears, this post is taking a left turn.

I remember my brothers Matt and Mark playing WWF with me as the stunt-woman.

I was young...maybe five? Matt, Mark, and I visited Dad every other weekend. (Not to detour, but Matt and Mark are my half-brothers and we only saw each other during Dad weekends.) It was a Dad weekend in the 80s. WWF was IT. I don't know if really knew what in the world WWF was but I wanted to play with Matt and Mark and I wanted them to love me. So...I volunteered as tribute.

Being a WWF tribute consisted of Matt placing me over his shoulders and spinning in a circle as fast as he could, for what seemed like forever. (For the record, super fun.) THEN I would get thrown on the floor or water bed and Mark would drop a 'bow on me. (That part? Not super fun.) I would always end up crying and then Matt and Mark would get in trouble. We would all get mad at each...and then in about 20-minutes I would ask for a helicopter ride...rinse and repeat...

While my family and upbringing is anything far from traditional I love all my memories and lessons learned. I would give my kidney to any one of them. I miss those younger days, I miss my family being closer. But just because we are far apart in distance doesn't mean they are not as close in my heart.

I've never been super close with any of my family, in the terms I think many families are. But I hope they all know they are held closer in my heart than they think. Even if there has been blood and tears in the past.

Why Are You Running Away

One thing i have always prided myself on is being extremely perseverant. Which doesn't mean I've never run away. In fact I really would like to do so tonight.

Here I am on my iPhone trying to cure insomnia when I decide to open up my Blogger App. I have several post ideas saved and have been meaning to get back to writing. My case of insomnia tonight is related to a work issue. I've been searching and reflecting and I may have found an answer and lesson from my past.

When I was four years old I decided to run away from home one afternoon. That wasn't a typo. I decided. I remember the thought process. I can't really give you the why other than it seemed like a good idea.

What started out as something I thought was going to be a great joke turned into something quite scary. I've never been good at directions. When I thought I had been gone long enough, which was probably like 20-minutes, I decided to turn around and come back home. I ended up being completely turned around and ended up out along Route 20, which is a highway. I didn't have any shoes on. I was dirty and scared. I was crying and so upset with myself that I had let myself get so far away. There were people honking and shouting at me which was even more traumatic. I didn't think I'd ever get back home.

Then a beige Oldsmobile pulled up about two blocks away from me. An old man got out of the car and started to walk in my direction. Being taught about stranger danger I started to run in the opposite direction and then stopped. Something told me that this guy was ok, that he could help me. So I turned around and went to him.

"Little girl, are you lost?" he asked me. "Yes." I answered. "Let's get you home." He replied.

When we got into his car I started to tell him my address. He stopped me and said "I know."

Now I lived in the white ghetto and not too many people knew of my street name. He pulled right up to our trailer. I got out of the car and ran to meet my mom who was half way out the door. We hugged, turned around, and the man and the car was gone. It was like it had vanished out of thin air.

I told my mom what happened as best as I could at four. Even then I knew, my Guardian Angel had rescued me.

We never saw that beige Oldsmobile or that old man again. Even here at thirty-one, I feel like he saved my life that day. A day in which I thought it would be fun to run away. Where I learned at four years old you can't run away. That is what I am reminded of tonight. Perseverance.

I can't say that I'm not waiting for my Guardian Angel to show up and point me in the right direction. I am desperately seeking direction for what to do in my professional life. Yet maybe clicking on the draft of this post and remembering about that day so long ago is once again My Angel pointing me in the right direction.

I life with a full heart. I feel. Everything. My heart is heavy tonight yet I feel it turning into hope. I know the value of persevering. I just hope I'm getting pointed in the right direction.