bravery – Page 2 – Lori's Life and Other Stuff

Just Imagine

There are some days when I just don’t feel like working out.

When the warmth of my comforter feels much more inviting than wrestling a sports bra, slipping on workout clothes, consuming fuel and heading out into what still feels like the middle of the night.

But imagine what I miss when I don’t get up. Just imagine missing out on this sunrise, and the way the colors change right before my eyes.

Imagine missing out on some time alone, so I can be a better mom, wife, and friend.

Missing out on the chance to work this body that has given me so much. Working out is a privilege, an honor, and a way to tell it thank you. Thank you.

Just imagine missing out on the endorphins that keep seasonal depression at bay. My body needs this. Even if sometimes my mind has to be convinced.

Imagine missing out on the gift of meeting new people, growing and learning, even if it’s against my natural hermit tendency.

Just imagine…

I can’t imagine missing this.

So I won’t.

Music…and a New Adventure

For the past month or so, I’ve been slightly freaking out. Going about the daily routines; taking care of minions, grocery shopping, laundry, etc., but just underneath the surface: freak out central.

Not life or death freak out, but first-job-in-six-years kind of freak out. I accepted the spin instructor position at a local gym and my first class is tomorrow.

Gulp.

I’ve seriously changed my playlist of 14 songs 87 times. I hear music differently now. I mentally decide if the song I hear on the radio would make a good spin song. While in the car driving, I cue pretend spinners in my imagination. Out loud. My kids have decided that I’m nuts. I’m sure that opinion will stick when they hit 12. Whatever.

A recent WordPress weekly prompt was to write about music. A favorite song, why certain lyrics speak to us, what our life’s theme song would be – all viable topics. My question is how the heck could you narrow any of those down to one song? Like most people, music is more than just noise in the background in my world. Our iTunes library is filled with “please don’t judge me” songs as well as Top 40. Every genre, multiple decades, with both the hubs’ and my tastes thrown in for good musical fun. He’s more of a beat and instrument guy. He loves the intros and the guitar solos. As a writer, it’s not surprising that the lyrics are what speak to me.

Now for the first time, I’m really hearing beats per minute, phrasing, and how that translates to a good spin class. As I crafted (and re-crafted, and crafted again) this playlist for my first class I listened to my favorites, had help from friends, and had to weed them down. As I look over this list now, it’s not surprising how this list speaks to me.

1. It’s Time – Imagine Dragons

Not only a great song for a warm up, great lyrics. I love that it’s (finally) time for me to put this certification and the studying to good use! And to quote another instructor friend who told me “it’s about damn time!”

2. Ali in The Jungle – The Hours

The lyrics in this track are superb for working out. Introduced to me by my neighbor on Oahu, this song reminds me of her and her determination to get healthy despite being in the middle of a long deployment with 4 kiddos. It isn’t easy, but as the lyrics say, “Everybody gets knocked down, but how quick are you gonna get up?” Love.

3. Sail – Awolnation

This one reminds me of my favorite trainer. Not only did she help me in so many ways, but she introduced me to all kinds of music that I never would have considered otherwise. And every time I hear this song, I can almost feel the Hawaiian breeze blow across my sweat soaked-skin as I panted in relief that I had survived another one of her killer workouts.

4. Crabbuckit – K-Os

When I first heard this peppy little tune, Eric was deployed and I heard it come on the radio. Done with sappy sad songs, I was ready for this one and immediately thought it would be good for some jumps on a spin bike!

5. Dynamite – Taio Cruz

The perfect party song, but also a great running song. This one is always on my running playlist, and I had to include it in my first class. Perfect for a 5:30 a.m. class to get us all up and at ’em!

6. Everybody Talks – Neon Trees

Not a great thinker in terms of lyrics, but I like it and it works good for spin. It just sounds “happy”.

7. Money Make Her Smile – Bruno Mars

I love Bruno. Every single song. LOVE. That is all.

8. Let Me Love You (Until You Learn to Love Yourself) – Ne-Yo

When you’ve been believed in by someone who sees your potential before you do – that’s magic. That’s what I take from this song.

9. Give In To Me – Michael Jackson

For all of us growing up 80’s, Michael Jackson typifies the decade, among other things. Not only was this my favorite song when I first started going to spin, but I remember much of my struggling in that first spin class. Pushing beyond what I thought I was capable of. It was time to “give in” to the process and trust that I was going in exactly the right direction!

10. China Grove – Doobie Brothers

The first time I heard this song in a spin class, you could just feel everyone smile with recognition. I love a song that EVERYONE knows.

11. Livin’ On A Prayer – Bon Jovi

Oh Bon Jovi. I remember watching him on MTV, rockin’ out with my hairbrush microphone and my mile-high bangs. Good times. And it works for spin – bonus!

12. Shake it Out – Florence and the Machine

This song made me cry when my friend Katy sent me her spin playlist. At the time she had just started teaching, Eric was deployed and I remember it was a rough week. I had put the kids to bed, plugged in her playlist and imagined myself halfway around the world in her spin class. When this song came on it was a sort of release of knowing the end of the deployment was in sight, I was shaking it all off, all the tired, all the stress, and just trying to get back to myself. Tomorrow I will imagine her smiling at me in the back of my first class.

13. Red Hands – Walk Off the Earth

This song reminds me of endings. Ends of relationships. Ends of struggles and sad goodbyes. Goodbyes are hard, but out of them can come tremendous growth. A tad melancholy, but makes for a great cool-down!

14. Home – Phillip Phillips

I love the beat of this song. I love the lyrics about making this place your home. As a military family – wherever we go is home. “Pay no mind to those demons they fill you with fear” speaks right to the whole Brene Brown and Daring Greatly thing. I have a feeling that spin may be my home away from home.

So there it is. Tomorrow morning me and a few friends will be spinning our hearts out. May I not puke, faint, or fall off a stationary bike as I did so gracefully in my ~~dream~~ nightmare last night.

Daring Greatly

I’ve mentioned before how much I admire, and have learned from, the author of Daring Greatly, Brene Brown. I am watching her on an episode of Lifeclass and am reminded again about the power of vulnerability.

After receiving a call to interview for a Spin Instructor position at a local gym, I did my requisite freak out-happy-dance-squeal-high-five-my-friend-who-happened-to-be-here-when-the-call-came thing. But shortly after that, I began having the same doubts and negative thoughts, “Can I do this?”

In her book, Brene calls them shame gremlins. And oh boy, do they rear their heads at me when I’m scared, trying something new, or putting myself out there – as in getting up in front of people to lead them in a class.

Always, always I have to remind myself that every single time I’ve been vulnerable it has never returned void. Whether it is the creativity in my writing, opening up to new people, or teaching – it never returns void when I remember the following:

1. I have to be authentic. When I stop emulating others or putting on the “armor” of what I think people want – it works. And contrary to the gremlins, the world does not, in fact, end.

2. When people continually encourage you, it’s really good to start believing them. I’m not talking about flattery and “rah, rah you got this”-type cheerleading. It’s in the trenches, empathy, gut-wrenching, hand-gripping, awe-inspiring moments when people take the time to tell you how they really feel and what they really think about you. It’s thoughtful, true constructive criticism with a whole lotta love.

3. I can’t be comfortable and courageous at the same time. Brene spoke about the moment when our hand is on the arena door, we are about to step into some hard-core vulnerability by putting ourselves out there and being seen, and all the self doubt comes rolling. It’s uncomfortable, it’s gut-churning, I call it the “transitions”. I’m the type of person that just likes to know things before I know them. A to Z without the yucky uncomfortable process of the other letters.

The thing of it is, if I skip the transitions, shy away from the door, and decide to stay where I’m at, I never get to feel the joy, the exhilaration, and the victory of the arena. I’ll stay comfortable. It would be easier. It wouldn’t be so terrifying. (Read: vomit-inducing).

My hand is on the door. I’m walking through it. It’s scary to be sure. I will likely get my butt kicked in the transition-yucky-learning curve arena. But I’m going to get up and keep walking through that door.

It’s never returned void.

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.” – Theodore Roosevelt

“Vulnerability is our most accurate measurement of courage.”
― Brené Brown

“I can’t be paralyzed anymore by the critics. My new mantra is, if you’re not in the arena getting your ass kicked on occasion, then I’m not interested in your feedback. You don’t get to sit in the cheat seat and criticize my appearance or my work with mean-spiritedness if you’re also not in the arena. Now, if you’re also in the arena and you’re putting your ideas out and you’re owning them and you’re saying “I disagree with you about this and that, I think you’ve got this wrong” — then not only do I invite that, I freaking love that. I love that. I’m an academic. I’m hardwired for a good debate.”― Brené Brown

Tough Mudder and My Glass Case of Emotion

We have this thing in our house: we love Will Ferrell. This scene above from the movie Anchorman has become a reminder to laugh when things get overwhelming. As I sat lost in thought about my new swim-bike-run sticker getting ready for Tough Mudder this weekend, my husband looked over at me and asked, “Are you in a glass case of emotion?!” (This is of course belted out in his best Ron Burgundy voice.) Yes, I was. And I still am.

Tough Mudder is like nothing else. It really is no joke. Last year I signed up for this race event when it came through Seattle, but due to illness and hubby being deployed, I just couldn’t do it. I am certain I made the right decision to delay. I never would have survived. I had no team, and a team is indeed what you need. I have mixed feelings about this race. There are so many things I loved about it! I reconnected with a childhood friend for this one!

Tough Mudder with CP — We were in elementary school together!

11+ miles of obstacles and muddy fun. Tough Mudder comes complete with electro shock therapy, mud, muddy water, ice baths, and heights. Ah, the heights. (No, sadly I’m not referring to the ill-fated early 90’s sitcom spin-off.) Heights as in serious alto phobia – the irrational fear of heights. I can get on a plane. I can climb up a few steps on a ladder. I have a visceral reaction to carnival rides. I literally wanted to vomit, cry, and poop my pants when faced with this:

The “Walk the Plank” obstacle is a 20 ft plunge into a mud pond. I can swim. I have no problem with water. I can even dive. It’s the free fall drop that I can’t make myself do. Not that I didn’t try. Oh, my did I try. I felt like hot acid was being poured into my gut.

Fear is not a good look. I was wrestling with myself trying to force myself to just do the damn thing. I really wanted to be the one to face this fear and come up through the other side.

The first aid dude even came up to jump it with me. He was rooting for me. They all were. Sadly, I just couldn’t do it. (I’m literally trying not to puke on this guy.) I shame-walked back down and met up with the rest of the team and on we went. Black wetsuit dude stopped me and gave me the biggest muddy bear hug and whispered in my ear, “Girl, you got up there and tried. It ain’t no joke facing fear. It’s tough. You did good. There is no shame in that.”

And as I sit here in the coffee shop relieving it, I’m wiping away the tears of frustration that I just couldn’t do it. And yes, I’m in my glass case of emotion thinking about the graciousness of that guy and how he really didn’t have to say anything to me at all. He could have said nothing. I’m so glad he spoke up. As I ran the next leg wiping away wet anger spewing from my eyes, I knew I had two choices. I could either cry and bitch in my head for the remaining 10 or so miles and mentally beat myself up and have a miserable time, or I could wipe away the hot sting and do my damnedest to get through every other obstacle to the best of my ability.

I chose the latter.

That’s me climbing over walls! With the assistance of a kick ass team – I climbed over walls, rocks, slid down a 60ft mud hill, and experienced Arctic Enema. That was a thrill like no other!

Obviously, this is not me, but you get the idea. It’s a double-length dumpster that you jump into on one side, have to submerge completely to get to the other side, and when you come up, you realize that it’s SOLID ICE. Before your body is completely numb, you have to heave your body out. It’s insane. I loved it. I kind of wanted to do it again. There were other obstacles – climbing through drains filled with muddy water, icy floats on your back clinging to chain link fence where only your face peeks out to breath.

Even Mt. Everest:

Mt. Everest 2 — Taking a run up a wall! (a few times!)

I finally did it on the 4th or 5th attempt. It was crazy hard.

And it was crazy fun.

I actually didn’t get shocked. I strategized my movements and slithered through! Kind of feel like I cheated. But apparently, the Tough Mudder people didn’t think so:

Cause I got my orange headband!

Band in hand, I went off to retrieve my bag and catch up with my family. Stopped twice by different volunteers, they each came up to ask if I was the one that couldn’t Walk the Plank. I affirmed that it was me. Steeling myself for the pity, I looked up to discover myself in another hug, and a hearty clap on the back. I was told I was awesome despite the lack of a jump. “Even people who do jump can’t finish this race. You done good, kid.”

And you know what? There’s always next year…

A little advice for the one seeking the orange headband. . .

Love this ❤

Hangin' by a Thread

To my Aunt Lori who will be earning her very own orange headband this weekend. . .

Think of all the amazing athletic accomplishments of the last few years of your life– the dashes, the tri, the half’s, the marathon (and not to mention the fact that you are now a certified instructor) and you will realize before you even cross the starting line that you’ve got this little Mudder thing down no problem. F-E-A-R no longer exists in your vocabulary.

But in case you are still a little anxious after my brief pep-talk above, keep the following in mind when tackling the Mudder:

The ice water compares only to jumping into a frozen Minnesota lake in January. It hurts and it will LITERALLY take your breath away. Wait a few seconds for your breath to return, and then go for it. Don’t panic, just breathe.
Being shocked also hurts…

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Fear. Again.

Apparently I am not getting the message.

I am of the opinion that we learn lessons in life. Situations will recur in life until the lesson is absorbed. Sometimes I think it’s my job to learn things the hard way. Or at least the delayed way.

I recently took my group exercise certification tests and passed. My first thought after I’d completed the exams: “Oh my gosh. I so should have done this sooner.” I had built up the test as something so scary and so huge that I just sort of became paralyzed. I wasn’t ready, I hadn’t studied enough, could I really do this? Put bluntly: fear of failure.

I literally wanted to shake myself, “WHY?!” I know this in my head. Not that failure never happens, but when I do my best, put myself out there, and take a risk – it rarely comes back without reward of some kind. So why do we still fear when we know the worst-case scenario isn’t all that Earth-shattering? I would like the lesson to be learned. Worst case scenarios and the possibility of failure are still present, sure. But isn’t that the definition of courage – to press on even in the presence of fear?

Tough Mudder is this weekend, and yeah, I’m skerred. But this is a legitimate fear. C’mon – they are going to electrocute me, dunk me in an ice bath, slog me through mud and barbed wire, make me jump over fire and throw me into mud ponds from 20 feet in the air. Perhaps I should be more frightened of my lack of sanity than of the race itself….seriously. I’m doing this for an orange headband.

Joking aside, I will finish. There will be amazing endorphin highs, camaraderie, and all kinds of goodies just waiting for me to experience. And I’ll have some great muddy, falling, scratched up, scared stories to share.

And I can’t wait. Nothing like a little fear to know you’re alive, right?!

(Thanks, for the reminder, Kai!)

Dear Military Mom Facing Your First Deployment With Kids

Dear Military Mom on your first deployment:

Oh mama, there really isn’t anything I can tell you to prepare for this adventure. It is hard. Simple as that.

There are days (hours, minutes) that are going to feel like forever. Dragging so slow you swear it’s been an hour and it’s only been 4 minutes. Groundhog days where you lose yourself in the day-to-day-ness of dishes, diapers, and duty.

You’ll miss your spouse so much you’ll feel it physically. You’ll begrudge any happy couple you see, only because it reminds you of what is missing right now.

There will be days that nothing goes right and you’ll wonder if it’s even worth it. Then you’ll get that call, hear their voice, and get the recharge you need to get through another few days or weeks until you get to hear that voice again.

Believe it or not, there may even be times when you don’t want them to call. It’s normal to feel that way. They are so starved for details of our days, yet can tell us very little, it’s a very one-sided conversation. After a really challenging day, the idea of relaying and reliving it again can be just too exhausting.

There will be the days that you are okay, but the kids are hot messes asking for daddy. Those are the days that rip your guts out. But you’ll get through those, too. Those are the moments that will toughen you up so you can set your pain aside to be the soft spot for your kids to land. You’ll be able to hold it together so they can fall apart.

There will be days when your non-military friends will remark on how fast the deployment is going and you’ll muster up the restraint to keep from punching them.

Then you’ll realize you’re halfway through. Maybe it isn’t so bad. As the calendar ticks down the days, the ache begins to lessen.

There will be really good days that will have only just a tinge of sadness because you couldn’t share it with your spouse.

There will be kick-butt days when you fix that bike, fix the car, or do whatever it is that you thought you couldn’t do. And you will feel that pride.

Those pride moments are powerful. As much as the recharging phone calls, these are the ones that carry you through when you want to just give up.

You’ll wipe the tears, you’ll chat with a dear friend, you’ll laugh, you’ll go to dinner, you’ll pull up your bootstraps, and you’ll keep moving. You’ll put one foot in front of the other. You’ll take one day at a time, one moment, one glass of spilled milk, one diaper change at a time. You’ll reach out if you need help. You’ll link arms with your fellow spouses and friends. You’ll make plans. You’ll workout. You’ll make goals. Even small ones like “keep the kids alive today”, and celebrate your achievements.

You may not realize it now, but the you that starts this deployment will not be the same person finishing it.

You will be better.

Trust me.

Being a Mom

Looking, watching, observing moms about

Many types that really leave no doubt

The one who never learned to swim, never jumped in the pool,

Couldn’t play with her kids in the water, never lost her cool

But in the end missed out on all the fun

the way that water feels under warm summer sun

So afraid, afraid of anything new

Living on the sidelines of life, experiencing too few

The one who is a vision, hair and makeup all done perfectly

but one breath from those pretty lips come words that spew ugly

I would love to see beneath your cool, wonder what you’re thinking

Because I’m in comfy clothes with no make up on

I’ve peeled back my mask, the doubt is almost gone

I’m the mom that’s not at all put together

but rather

playing with her kids,

comfortable in my skin

having a ball, participating,

no longer afraid of life

or of living.

Pride (aka Tooting One’s Own Horn)

A collective conversation happening with some of my health and fitness peeps has sparked my thoughts in the arena of pride. It’s interesting as we become healthy, lose weight, gain strength and do all the things that were once thought impossible, people around us start out supportive, and then either join in the movement with us, or make subtle jabs saying that we may have become”obsessed”, “fanatics”, or attack our parenting in that “we are so consumed with our own goals that we must be neglecting our families”.

I call BS.

Granted, as the saying goes, it IS in fact possible to workout without posting it on Facebook (I’ve been guilty of that and more!) but so what?! If it provides accountability and gets a person off the couch, better something positive than the alternative.

In our culture, probably more so for women, it seems that the polite thing to do is be modest. Don’t brag about yourself. Don’t put yourself out there. Don’t stand out. Who are you to think you are special? On and on it goes.

My question is this: Why not? Why not stand out, get healthy, run a marathon (or whatever your deal is) and then, yes – blow the heck out of that damn horn! Can we not just be happy for someone that is making positive changes in a healthy direction, even if we aren’t there yet ourselves? While being prideful in a way that is hurtful or puts someone else down is never good, healthy pride in our accomplishments is a good thing. Reverence and respect for our strengths is healthy. Don’t we praise our kids and cheer them on when they succeed?! Why can’t we do the same thing for ourselves?

Athlete

It’s funny what wakes her up. A hint of warm weather, seeing other runners, looking at events online to plan out the race calendar all start to stoke those sleepy embers.

Today it happened to be a bottle cage for her bike.

water bottle cage side (Photo credit: billjank)

My inner athlete has been simmering and quiet for a while. Having to be content with garage workouts, dreadmills, and repetitive videos – she’s itching for the adrenaline of race day. That palpable energy of competition, encouragement and wondering if her preparation was sufficient. (And if it wasn’t, no problem – she’ll just fake it ’till she makes it! And have the t-shirt/bragging rights!)

It’s been a long deployment cycle. Winter has been long for her; too long. It’s time to get up and get moving. She’s getting antsy. The light at the end of the separation tunnel is now visible.

So she signed us up for the Warrior Dash and (drum roll please…) Tough Mudder. This inner athlete and I argue. Frequently.

Her: “C’mon! You know you want to!!”

Me: “I dunno, do you think we can?”

Her: “DUH!”

Me: “Okay….but-“

Her: “No buts! Just sign up for the damn thing and figure out how to get through it!”

Me: Sigh. “Okay – here goes nothing!”

And she’s right. (Don’t tell her I said that!) Every time I sign up for something I’m unsure of, I do it, have a great time, and have never once had regrets.

And even though we’ve done marathons and mud runs together, there is one other thing she is dying to become:

A triathlete.

The seed was planted when she spotted the sticker on the back of a fellow bootcamper’s car. She even stuck a toe in the water with a couple of biathlons shortly before leaving Hawaii.

She went and did it today – we are signed up for the Whidbey Triathlon! (I think she may have forgotten just how much she will have to practice swimming! Hello, biathlon trauma!) Yeah, and a wetsuit will definitely be needed. Even in August!

My inner athlete is awake and ready for swimming, biking, running, icy waters, and a little electro shock therapy.

Let’s do this!

Watch me!

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