(This was supposed to go up Monday! Apparently, all this training leaves me no time to write about training.)
I finished every work-out on my training plan last week except a 1-mile run and that's because I decided to sit on the couch one evening and drink hard cider instead. I'm sure you understand. I also made all my planned recipes except one and that's because Mike and I had an impromptu date night instead of making orzo pasta. I'm sure you understand that, too. Life is about balance or a similar but lesser-known saying: Life is about giving orzo the finger for fried pickles and cold beer with your husband on occasion.
I feel really good about my commitment to training (so far). I pack in multiple work-outs and eat so much better than I have eaten in the last few months. (Fried pickles only on occasion!) I feel like I'm sloooooowly learning balance, which is what I really wanted from this round of training.
(I will admit to being a little worried now that I don't have the Olympics as background to my running. Nothing says motivation like watching a montage of athletes winning the gold medal while you're just trying to finish two miles. Also, nothing says motivation like Ryan Lochte's abs.)
One new thing last week was a lot more yoga at a local studio, and they thankfully offer plenty of early morning and late evening classes, so I can squeeze in work-outs without disrupting my home life too much.
Hey, funny yoga story before I move on: last Thursday I decided to spice things up by trying a new (to me) class. The class is called "metal," which is what your abs will resemble if you do this class regularly, I suspect. I should have known something was more challenging about metal (well, something other than the name, that is) when I walked in the room to see only three people there. Huh? I thought. Must be a light night. HAHAHA NO. It was one of the most intense work-outs I've ever done. Afterward, in fact, I had to sit in my car to catch my breath, sure that I'd run into a tree if I attempted to drive home immediately. "Sorry officer! I ran into this tree because of yoga." That probably wouldn't have worked.
Anyway, work-outs are (mostly) good, eating is (mostly) healthy, and I'm a-okay with mostly being enough.
One thing that training has reminded me of this time around--even just two short weeks in--is how time-consuming it can be. I try my best to work out early in the morning or late at night so I'm not missing much of my normal life but that isn't 100% possible and that still means I'm exhausted so things like laundry and the dishes and responding to semi-important emails all fall to the back-burner. Basically, it's hard to focus on a new thing without unfocusing on other things, including things I really love and enjoy. Like clean clothes! I like clean clothes a lot.
It's easy to let guilt kill my motivation--"I shouldn't go to the gym this morning when I could stay home with my family or clean the house or run errands instead."--and it's hard not to let that guilt plague me while I'm knocking out a mile here and there, but it's so important not to let it stop me. I don't want to be an overweight, unhealthy mom and wife, which is what I become when I'm eating a lot more and working out a lot less. (Shocking news, right? Eating more + working out less = rounder waist!) Just like Kyle can only benefit from Mike and me enjoying each other, my family can only benefit if I feel good about myself. While I may need to re-figure out how to juggle some of my at-home responsibilities (LAUNDRY!) with my training schedule, I always feel so much better when I'm working out. I'm nicer and more inspired and more at ease with myself and with life in general.
I'm not sure if I typed the above two paragraphs as a reminder to myself that these are healthy and positive changes I'm re-incorporating into my life or for anyone out there who might also be struggling with the guilt of taking time for yourself and your health, but I hope we can collectively remember to tell guilt to shove it.
To sum up, my deep thoughts for today: yes to the occassional fried pickle, metal yoga is not all zen and stretching, and guilt is stupid. The end!