Change Is Good. (And Scary.) (But Mostly Good.)

At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself.

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A big change is coming to my little family. After 13 years in our “starter” home we are planning a move. Naturally, because we are us, we’ve actually been talking about this move for years. Seriously, years.

Last summer my parents sold my childhood home (how DARE they?) and took up permanent residence down in sunny Florida (yep, that’s how they dared). However, before doing so they mentioned that they’d really love to snowbird with us, will miss our kids (maybe us too, I suppose), ectera, on and on and so forth… and it lit the fire under our butts. We took months prepping our home for sale.

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Our sweet, cute, little home.

It’s where we came home to after our wedding. And had our first dog. And a few years later, brought our first baby home.

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It’s where we’ve had many first days of school.

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And an almost equal amount of last days of school.

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I’ve learned how to cook here, in a heinous kitchen. And become an even better cook in a way better kitchen.

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newkitchen

We learned about the trials and tribulations of home ownership in this home. We made questionable decorating choices (like painting our bedroom bright blue, for example) and then slightly better decorating choices along the way.

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Our older son became a big brother in this house with the addition of our youngest son.

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The boys became best friends here.

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brothers1

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In this home I ran my first ever mile on my treadmill. Like, EVER. And many subsequent miles since.

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I’ve been blessed by the amount of friends that have come to visit over the years and snuggle with me on my couch, whether it be for life celebrations, races they are running in the area, or just hanging out and going to the drive-in movies together.

We’ve had a lot of fun here. Some sad memories too, but mostly happy ones, filled with a lot of joy.

lemonadestandhouse

pumpkins

flowers

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It’s been good to us these past 13 years. And change is hard. But we accepted an offer on our home after it had been on the market for just 2 weeks; there are new people who will live here in a few months and I hope it’s just as wonderful and memory-making for them.

We’re on the search for our new home at the moment and while it’s daunting, I’m remaining fairly zen about the entire process. I know that wherever we land it will be good, because we will be together.

What big moves have you made recently? How do you tap into your moment of zen? 

I’m That Girl You Love to Hate

I want you all to know that this post is the hardest thing I’ve ever tried to write. Trust me, that’s saying a lot. As an aspiring fiction writer, I’ve written some things that are definitely NSFW or children. Stuff that makes seasoned writers squirm uncomfortably in their desk chairs. I want you to know that this post was way, way harder than any horror scene I’ve ever written.

Today, I’m writing about skinny shaming, and about the fact that skinny shaming is real,  and it’s hurtful. I first wanted to write about skinny shaming when I joined Scoot a Doot in November of 2014. I wussed out, and wrote “The Lies They Tell Us” instead.  Then I went to FitBloggin 2015 in June, and they had a discussion titled Finding the Medium Between XS & XL, Exploring the Controversy Between Fat & Skinny Shaming. In a room filled with people who had struggled with varying degrees of obesity, I stood up and said something that was received with mixed reactions. I asked them to please stop shaming the skinny people for being skinny. There was one other woman there that could identify with what I was saying, and after the lecture, several people came up to me to thank me for sharing because they hadn’t seen the body shaming issue from the other point of view. That fanned my courage to write this post, and I hope it helps folks understand what skinny shaming means and how hurtful it can be.

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As a “skinny” girl, you may feel as though I’m speaking from a place of privilege. I understand how it might be perceived that way. All this time I’ve been writing for Scoot, I’ve tried to play down my body image struggles because honestly, I don’t have any. I feel like a jerk for putting that out into the universe because I don’t want it to seem like I’m lording it over anyone, or worse, complaining about the genes I’m fortunate to have. But here is the thing that sucks; I’m that girl everyone one loves to hate.  I’m guilty of a cardinal genetic sin; I’m naturally thin, and it’s taboo for me to talk about it.

You might be thinking “rub it in our face, Jenn, thanks a lot.” I get that. I really, really do. Hence why I generally follow the taboo and try not to talk about my body on the blog. I try to be sensitive to the feelings and situations of folks who have the opposite experience that I do. My best friend of twenty years has struggled with obesity her whole life and I’ve seen the other side of the coin through her eyes. The thing is though, it’s about genes. And we encourage a double standard when we talk about weight.

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A double standard, you say? I know it’s hard to believe or understand immediately. The reason us thin folk don’t talk about it is because we’re terrified that we’ll be perceived as complaining about being skinny, or speaking from that place of privilege, and will therefore be labeled as conceited and shallow. Complaining about being skinny would be incredibly insensitive. I want to be very clear, I’m not complaining about my body, only the double standard that accompanies it. Allow me to elaborate on what I mean by double standard.

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We all acknowledge and understand that it’s not cool to shame people for being overweight. Of course that is the absolutely right way to behave, I’m definitely not suggesting anything to the contrary. But, and this is a BIG but, we shame skinny people all the time without a thought. How is that possible? I’ve listed a few examples taken from my own experiences.

I would never say to someone “Do you really think you should eat that? You have a lot of weight to lose.” Yet, people think it’s okay to tell me: “Don’t you think you should eat more? You’re soooo thin.”

It is in no way acceptable to say to someone, “You’re so fat! Do you have a gland/genetic/health problem?” Yet people have commented to me “You’re so thin! Are you anorexic/bulimic?”

I would never say to a stranger, “Oh my gosh, you’re so fat. You must eat all the time!” Yet I can’t count how many times a complete stranger has told me, “Wow! You’re so tiny! You must never eat!”

The last time someone said that to me, I was so hurt and tired of the same old snarky commentary disguised as a backhanded compliment that I did something  I still feel a tiny bit bad about. I was at a greasy spoon truck stop and I ordered the chicken fried steak, eggs, hash browns, and pancakes. And I. ATE. IT. ALL. Right in front of her, the snarkey commentator. And I mmmm-mmm’ed and yummm-yummed all over that shiz. I didn’t feel one bit sorry as she watched me stuff my face with gravy covered goodness, proving that I can eat like a lumberjack when I want to.

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For many years, I’ve scratched my head, trying to figure out what the impetus is for these feelings and comments.  I can’t help the way I look any more than any of us can. Sure, we could all be firmer here and there, but we’re born with our body type. It may sound ridiculous, but I’m convinced my body type has kept me for forming friendships because I’m judged before I even open my mouth. I base this conclusion on comments from newly formed acquaintances that never evolved into anything more. Here’s a sampling:

“You are SO SKINNY. OMG I hate you.”

“You can fit in to that? I hate you.”

“You wear a bikini? I hate you.”

“You don’t wear Spanx?! I hate you.”

“Your wrists are SO TINY. I hate you. ”

“Your wedding gown is a size zero?! I hate you,” said the woman who altered my gown. She must have been in her sixties, and she still found room in her heart to be jealous of my then 26 year-old figure. Really.

And my favorite; “OMG, you’re so skinny. I have to hate you and we can’t be friends.” I wish I were kidding. I am not. A woman actually said that to me when we were introduced.

“I hate you” is always tacked on with a fake smile and self-depreciating hand gesture, but I know what’s really being said. In that moment, they really do hate me for my genetics; something I have NO control over, and trust me, it does color their perception of me. They prove it by ignoring me and choosing not to interact with me or talk to me. So if we can’t be friends because of something I can’t control, then does that mean I’m supposed to end my friendship with my BFF because she struggles with something she can’t control, being over weight?

Methinks not.

The “I hate you” comment is especially mean because it basically translates to “you disgust me”. You disgust me because you have something I don’t. You disgust me because you have something I want. You disgust me because I feel shitty about myself. You disgust me because being seen with you makes me feel shittier about myself.

Do you see the huge, glaring double standard here? And speaking of double standards, bear in mind that if you magically attain a perfect figure a la Sofia Vergara, it still won’t be good enough. When it comes to weight, you’re damned either way. Sorry to dash your hopes of body acceptance. There will always be someone who will say something to tear you down.

Make this your mantra during these encounters.

This is my mantra during these encounters.

Case in point, I have another friend who is gorgeous and in-shape and she hears it too. Other women telling her they hate her, telling her to eat more, or that she is “so perfect.” The problem is she has to work her ASS OFF to stay thin and fit. She can’t eat whatever she wants. She hasn’t always fit into a size 4. The most infuriating thing she hears is “why do you work out, you’re so thin!” It never seems to dawn on anyone that she’s thin because she works out. Not to mention, can’t she just work out to be healthyWhy does it always have to be about vanity?

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The “real women have curves”, “no one wants to cuddle with a stick”, and “I’d rather be curvy than look like a little boy” memes floating around out there aren’t doing anything for anyone’s self esteem.  It’s another example of bashing one side to make the other feel better.  I feel horrible for young girls and women who are struggling to accept themselves and their own bodies. What kind of mixed messages are we CONSTANTLY sending? Don’t be fat, but don’t be thin!  We all know the answer is to love yourself, for yourself. That’s the message we need to see more of, but try telling that to an eleven year old young lady and convincing her to truly believe it.

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In a perfect world, we would all accept ourselves first, others second, and then focus on building each other up instead of tearing each other down. Being that this is a fitness blog and you are here because you have an interest in being fit and healthy, I’m willing to bet the farm you’ve been on the receiving end of similar body shaming comments and prejudices from every sector of the spectrum. I’d love to hear from you. I’d love to hear from you if you think what I’m saying is nonsense. Let’s have some dialogue to understand this behavior better. And then let’s be the change that’s needed!

 

Share your body shaming story with me in the comments. I really would love to hear your thoughts and experiences on all aspects of this issue!

What’s Old is New Again

Back in 2012 PS (Pre-Scoot), I found my magic combination for weight loss/better fitness/improved health.

Weight Watchers. Running. And Zumba.

This combo saw me down almost 60 pounds from my highest weight.

Me, at my lowest weight in years, hanging out with Mer in Jersey.

Me, at my lowest weight in years, hanging out with Mer in Jersey.

This combo saw me finishing my first race ever.

Beyond proud of myself post Atlantic City 7K

Beyond proud of myself post Atlantic City 7K

 

I was feeling better than I had in years.

And then, I decided to add jumping into the mix. As in jumping right off that wagon and fleeing into a field of cookies. (Poetic license there, but you catch my drift).

That’s the thing, though. The rational thought is, if something is working, why would you stop doing it?

Because, life.

#soreal

#soreal

And then, I convinced myself that this combo, that was working for me, must have been inherently flawed, otherwise it would have kept right on working. And then, I though maybe the combo wasn’t flawed, I was.

In the following four years, I tried a lot of other things. I went to experts who told me that ‘diets don’t work’ and ‘Weight Watchers doesn’t work’. I tried tracking on My Fitness Pal. On paper. In spreadsheets. Not tracking at all. I tried 30 day walking challenges, and squat challenges. I tried to start running again. A few times.

And then, about a month ago, I decided to try this combo.

Weight Watchers. Running. And Zumba.

And it’s working.

#BOOM

#BOOM

 

And I’m working it.

Me and my workout buddy, Pitbull.

Me and my workout buddy, Pitbull.

 

I don’t know if this perfect combo will stay perfect forever. But I do know that right now, it’s working. I feel accomplished, and proud of my efforts. I see the effects on the scale. I see myself finishing races (we’ll talk more about that later) with that beaming look on my face.

For now, I’m partying like it’s 2012, and I’m loving it.

 

Recipe Box: Pumped Up {Healthy} Cookie Dough

I don’t know about you, but I love to bake. And even more, I love to eat. While I’m baking. Don’t get me wrong, I love cookies and cakes and brownies – but even more, I love cookie dough and cake or brownie batter. Something about the pre-baked goodness just makes me feel some kind of way.

Now, I know there’s always the risk of the “raw egg” situation – but I’m a risk taker. Honestly, until the cookie dough betrays me, I’m going to keep eating it. I like to live dangerously.

However, worse than the raw eggs is all the sugar. My favorite cookie dough makes my favorite cookies: oatmeal chocolate chip. My great aunt’s recipe calls for both brown and white sugar. They’re delicious, but generally, not that good for you. And I gave up junk food for Lent. So while I may want to eat cookie dough, I can’t.

I’ve also set some higher fitness goals for myself with regards to the weight room and that means upping my protein intake – I typically get my protein from a protein bar in the morning, tuna or grilled chicken at lunch, a protein shake after the gym and either more chicken or ground turkey as part of dinner.

This all gets me pretty close to meeting my protein goals, but some days I just need a little more umph.

Enter one of my favorite snacks: Healthy Cookie Dough Dip from Chocolate Covered Katie

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photo source: www.chocolatecoveredkatie.com

Now, her recipe is pretty well on-point. I’ve made small tweaks to fit my needs.

 

  • 1 1/2 cups chickpeas or white beans (1 can, drained and rinsed very well) (250g after draining)
  • 1/8 tsp plus 1/16 tsp salt
  • just over 1/8 tsp baking soda
  • 2 tsp pure vanilla extract
  • 1/4 cup nut butter of choice (I prefer peanut butter, but any will do.)
  • up to 1/4 cup milk of choice (unsweetened almond milk is my go-to)
  • 1 scoop of protein powder of choice
  • Sweetener of choice  (No sweetener needed for me!)
  • 1/3 cup chocolate chips (Or none. Again, Lent)
  • 2 to 3 tbsp oats

Throw all of these things (except the chocolate chips) into a food processor. Let it spin for a minute or two, empty into a bowl (or a tupperware if you’re me and you like to snack on it over a couple of days), mix in your chocolate chips if you’re using them and enjoy! You can serve it with graham crackers or don’t even bother and just use a spoon. #guilty.

The biggest changes I made to Katie’s recipe are taking out the sweetener – Lent, duh – and adding the protein powder. Obviously, you can use whatever protein you prefer, but right now, I’m a little obsessed with this:
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Quest Peanut Butter Protein. This shizzzzz is so delicious. Easily the best-tasting protein with the best composition. Less than 1 gram of sugar, 23 grams of protein and only 110 calories per serving. It tastes mixed just with water or almond milk as a post-workout shake and it is incredible in any other kitchen concoctions. That’s one of my favorite things about Quest products – they bake so well! Granted, I’m not actually backing this cookie dough, but you totally could!

Needless to say, I’m obsessed. I think the last time I went to Wegman’s, I picked up four cans of chickpeas. Specifically so that I have them on hand to make this whenever I want.

The best part? It fulfills my cravings for something sweet without blowing up my entire diet, which is always a win. Maintaining a healthy relationship with food is a thing I am alllll about. Food is delicious and I enjoy eating it and I don’t like feeling guilty when I do. This absolutely keeps that from happening. Happy tummy, happy Kyle.

 

Races are Coming, And We are Looking CUTE

Race season is upon us. Depending on where you live, it closer for some of us than for others. It’s snowing where I am in Boulder today, so race season is still a little ways away for me. Still, I’m betting many of us are launching into race training and nutrition, and maybe, just maybe planning our race outfits. Or costumes. We know how it is.

The next big race on my calendar is the Skirt Sports 13er on June 12th, and I’d really love some company. You should totally consider running this race with me. I promise, I’m super fun to run with; I dance, I don’t take it too seriously, and it’s really, really pretty here. Plus, there is amazingly yummy gluten free CAKE at the finish. CAKE, PEOPLE. Oooh, ooh, AND I have a discount code! SkirtBrand15 gets you 15% off race registration for the 13er or the 5k. So really, you have no excuses. Gorgeous course + me dancing + cake = best race ever! You can register here.

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I’m three weeks in to my training program and 2 weeks into a YogaTone challenge at my yoga studio. Oh, my goodness what a butt kicker THAT is.  Think airplane pose with weights. And warrior II, with weights. And crescent lunge with, wait for it… Weights! It hurts SO GOOD the next day. I even learned this fantastic hip strengthening move using a 5 pound weight.

I’ve also been testing out some new running gear. I wore Skirt Sports’ new mesh backed Take Five Tank to hot yoga and it outlasted me. I’d forgotten just how hot hot yoga is. I’m going to have to work up to that again. Maybe not sitting in the room for 15 minutes before class would help too. I wonder…

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I’m super in love with this skirt in limited edition “psyched” print. I’ve worn it on the treadmill a few times, and to yoga once. My favorite thing about Skirt Sports skirts are the built in shorties with pockets on each thigh. The pockets hold my car key, phone, inhaler, ID and a little cash. They’re pretty perfect.

This print will go with EVERYTHING.

This print will go with EVERYTHING.

I’m ridiculously excited about my next order, a skirt that has race magnets BUILT IN. I cannot even wait to try that out! I think I have officially converted to skirt! If you want to try out some SS gear, this code gets you 20% off, even on sale items (of which there are many on the website right now).

 

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Let me know if you give them a try, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Also, PLEASE COME RUN WITH ME. Running alone is not too fun. I like fun. And if you can’t run with me, then tell me what you are running and who you’ll be running with this spring. Let the races commence!

 

The Discount Fine Print

20% discount can be applied to sale items and non-skirt gear, such as Flipbelt and Zensah

15% Race Discount Code expires when registration closes, Discounts NOT valid on race day, Codes not valid on virtual events.

The Unintentional Yogi

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I’m going to start right in the middle of my story.  I’m a 200 hour certified yoga teacher.  So, there’s that.  It wasn’t really a plan or a goal.  Not at first.  Actually, it was never even on the radar.

When I took that first yoga class, I was a disaster.  And, that is putting it mildly.  I had no clue what the poses were, regardless if they were being presented in English or in Sanskrit.  But, what I lacked in knowledge and skill, I made up for with total ignorance, a lack of pride, and sheer visceral-fortitude.  The fact that I DIDN’T know how to do anything only made me want to do it MORE!  Luckily I didn’t feel intimidated by the advanced students.  They actually had quite the opposite effect on me.  I saw them as inspiration!

I never knew that the body could be so strong and could be contorted in so many simple, beautiful, and unusual ways. So, I kept showing up to my mat because I liked seeing from practice to practice that I was making progress.  I eventually dove into beginner and fundamental workshops (which probably would have been a better place to start, but…hey, hindsight is 20-20).  I moved from practicing one day a week to two…and then to three.  I found changes happening in my body and in my overall mindset and well-being.  It took me an entire year of continuing to show up and put in the work to finally be able to hold crow pose (bakasana) for 5 breaths.  And, once that happened…I felt that anything was possible in my practice.

I was a regular at the studio.  I was “friends” with the teachers.  When a teacher-training was finally being offered at the studio location that I frequented, my favorite teacher suggested that I sign up.  I LOVED the idea.  I really wanted to expand my knowledge of yoga and to fine-tune my personal practice.  I didn’t have any desire to teach, but not everyone who goes through teacher-training actually wants to teach.  So, that wasn’t an issue.  When I presented the idea to my husband, he was fully supportive…in as long as I chose to MONETIZE my training.  He didn’t feel it was a great idea to spend a somewhat large sum of money to get certified if it was solely being used as a self-exploration and personal growth tool.  And, because I REALLY wanted to do this, I agreed to his terms, and I signed up (still not personally committed to the idea that I actually would teach).

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The five and a half months worth of teacher-training classes were set to start in September.  In July, I unfortunately was unexpectedly injured.  In a freak occurrence, I was bitten by my own dog.  I had to have a plastic surgeon brought in to perform emergency surgery on my mouth and face.  My upper-left-lip was mostly detached, and it took countless numbers of artistically placed stitches to put me back together.

Recovery was physically brutal.  I wasn’t able to eat for 10 days, and I was in constant pain.  Emotionally I was a wreck, too.  In an effort to make sure our young daughter (and everyone/anyone else) would be safe, we made the heart-breaking decision to say goodbye to our well-loved 12 year old fur baby.  Through the course of all of this, people began sympathetically talking to me about how sucky it was that I also now wouldn’t be able to go through with my yoga teacher-training.  That really struck me in an odd way.  That thought never even crossed my mind!  At that moment, more than any other, I knew that I HAD to go through with teacher-training…that I NEEDED it.  So, I stuck with that plan as I continued to move forward.

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I made my way back to my mat after a month of healing.  I slowly started to move through the practice and re-establish what yoga was to me right then and there.  Two weeks into it, I was feeling strong and motivated…so much so that I was engaging in a full-practice, including arm balances and inversions.  That is when another blow was delivered.

meganyoga3I was in side-crow, and I felt something “tweak” in my wrist.  That tweak turned into a whole bunch of pain.  Pain that didn’t get better.  Off to the wrist specialist I went where it was determined that I had torn my TFCC (triangular-fibrocartilage complex) and had perforated a ligament.  I was given a cortisone injection and was put in a fiberglass cast for 4 weeks, with the talk of surgery after that.  Again, everyone assumed that my opportunity to go through with the yoga teacher-training process was going to be inevitably delayed.  The way I looked at it, though, was that the universe was simply testing me.  It wanted to find out HOW MUCH I really wanted to do this….how much it really meant to me.  So, my game plan?  Show up.  Just as I had been doing, cast and all.  I determined that the only way that I wasn’t going through with the program was if one of the studio owners told me that I couldnt.  I wasn’t going to give them any reasons to think that I shouldn’t be there.  And, luckily, no one ever openly questioned my showing up .

So, TAKE THAT, UNIVERSE!  I plopped down on that mat cast and all, full of excitement and naive anticipation.  I’ll mention that there is no preparing for the mental and physical exhaustion that comes with yoga-teacher training, injury or no injury.  There are days that we practiced for the better part of 4 hours straight with little or no breaks.  I gritted my way through it all.   I modified my practice and did everything on my fists.  My knuckles were bruised and calloused.  But, I wasn’t going to give anyone any reason to say that I wasn’t putting in the work.  I wasn’t going to use anything as an excuse nor was I going to jeopardize my certification.  So, on it went.  10 hours a weekend for most weekends.  Time away from family.  Time filled with mom-guilt.  And wife-guilt.  Time spent not knowing if I would get through, because, shit, y’all…yoga teacher training is H-A-R-D!  But, it is when you push yourself through in the toughest of moments that you tend to reap the biggest rewards, and that is what I wanted.  I wanted the reward.

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When the cast came off, I again had to rebuild my practice.  I spent the entire teacher-training working to lift back into crow pose and fumble my way back into hand-standing.  Hell, down dog wasn’t even “easy.”  But, that is one of the beauties in yoga.  It is humbling.  You never know where your body might be from one day to the next…but there is still a place for you on that mat.  There is an opportunity to practice and progress, regardless of where you are at any given moment.  Drop the ego, pull yourself inward, focus, let go…and just see what happens.  That right there…that is what KEEPS me coming back.  And, that is what kept me going through the grueling and soul-searching process that is yoga teacher-training.  And, that is what eventually earned me my certification to teach yoga.

https://youtu.be/g_K4tYTzCvQ

I just graduated in February 2016.  About 6 weeks prior to my final, I started teaching donation-based classes to get in additional teaching practice.  I taught my first “real class” the week right after I graduated…at the studio that has been my “home” for three years, the studio where I also took my teacher-training.  I’m not only teaching vinyasa, but I’m also combining my loves and am teaching running yoga classes!  And, I feel I am exactly where I should be, unintentionally or not.  Some things in life may not be planned, but they might turn out to be exactly what you need.  I discovered that I DO want to teach yoga.  I want to share my love of yoga with others.  I want people to discover that they have an inner-strength that maybe they have not yet explored or found.  I want people to know that yoga is accessible to EVERYONE, and that even if you can’t or don’t care to ever emulate all of the crazy poses that you see plastered all over Instagram…that you can still progress in your own practice.  That even in the most basic of poses, you are still “doing” yoga.  That it is ok to fall and to laugh at yourself, and then get right back up and try again.  I want people to know that yoga takes place on the mat, yes…but that most of the work of yoga takes place off the mat, and that is where the real magic happens.  I am a living example of that.  I am a healthier, stronger, more calm and patient, life-loving person than I ever thought possible.  My yoga practice makes that a reality.  I never thought at the age of 42 that I would be a head-standing, balancing on my arms, hand-standing, mantra-singing, peace-loving, breath-focused yogi…but I am, and I wouldn’t change that for the world.

https://youtu.be/hYwbZncvvWY

I encourage you to:  Throw down a mat.  Get on.  See where it might take you.  You might be surprised.  Om, shanti, shanti, shanti!  Namaste!

Megan currently teaches at Dhyana Yoga in Haddonfield, NJ. If you’re not close by (and even if you are) you can follow her on Instagram

New Orleans Rock ‘n Roll Half Marathon

Guest post from Rachel.

When Meridith contacted me last week and asked me to write a guest post for Scoot a Doot about the New Orleans Rock N Roll Half Marathon, I was super excited! I had this natural high after finishing my first half marathon this year (and fourth half marathon since last June) and getting a PR! I love reading all the posts on this blog written by real women all over and the idea that someone would be interested in what I have to say is beyond me!

Then suddenly I found myself getting nervous and wanting to back out. You see, I have this terrible habit that I know no one else has: comparing myself to other people. Although I totally PR’ed in this race, I started thinking, “But for most people, it’s not a PR… for most people, my time is practically walking a half marathon!” Then I remembered that I’m not most people… I’m me, you are you and my fitness journey may not be exactly like anyone else’s and that’s okay! But let’s get back to the topic at hand, lest I ramble on.

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There are several reasons why I signed up for the New Orleans Rock N Roll half marathon.

  • It’s an amazing city filled with so much history and culture
  • It’s got all kinds of delicious food
  • this race is completely flat (none of those sly ‘rolling hills’ tossed in there)
  • One word: beignets
  • It’s the birthplace of jazz – where else are you gonna hear fantastic live jazz?
  • Have I mentioned the food yet?

On Saturday, February 27, I picked up my friend Chonda in Mississippi and we drove to New Orleans for the Rock N Roll Half. I flew from chilly Philadelphia, so stepping outside in the warm, southern sunshine was a welcomed change!

We headed to the Convention Center to pick up our race packets. Driving around downtown really wasn’t the nightmare I thought it would be (nothing compared to driving around Philly!) and there was plenty of parking around the Convention Center. The expo was not as big as other expos I’d gone to before.  I wish there had been more vendors, but packet pick up was well organized and we enjoyed walking around the expo. The rest of the afternoon we strolled around the French Quarter.

We got back to our hotel and realized we’d walked nearly 8 miles and our feet were tired. Probably shouldn’t have done quite so much walking before running a half marathon the next day!  Whoops! We stayed in the Holiday Inn – Downtown Superdome. It was a bit pricey, but we picked this hotel because it was only a few blocks walk from the starting line. We knew there would be a ton of road closures early in the morning and didn’t want to worry about transportation.

On Sunday, February 28, I woke up excited and ready to run. The 10k started at 7am and the half and full marathon started at 7:30am. We left the hotel around 7am in search of our corral, among the estimated 22,000 other runners. My biggest concern going into this was the weather. I’m not a summer runner – any kind of heat turns me into a complete baby. Thankfully the weather was perfect: a little cool before the run, but that chill quickly left a few miles into the race. I didn’t need any extra throwaway layers before the race; I was comfortable in just my tank and capris.

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Being the back of the packer that I am, I made my way to corral #20 where my friends were waiting. The corrals were divided by the 1000s and there were 22 corrals. They let a corral of people go every 2 minutes, so it took us a good 40 minutes just to get up to the starting line. I was excited to be at the front of my corral. In previous races, it was hard to get maneuver around walkers because I’d gone too far back. The race volunteers were fantastic and got us all pumped up and ready to run. The buzzer went off and I took off, but had to remind myself to take it easy. Since I typically go out too fast and end up walking several miles, my only goal was to keep a consistent pace and most of all, I just wanted to enjoy the race!

The first few miles ran through downtown New Orleans and were pretty quiet with not much to see. The next few miles ran through the Garden District. Studying all of the colorful, decorative buildings and houses as I ran, combined with the tree-shaded streets really made the miles continue to go by quickly.

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There was live music every few miles and I stopped to dance, twirl and strut at every single one! I mean, it’s New Orleans, how can you not be moved by the music?!

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I loved seeing the Disco Amigos along the way cheering us on!

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Another favorite was the bagpipers. I slowed down to a walk and listened for a few seconds and then remembered I was running in a race…get moving!

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From the Garden District, the race continued into the French Quarter.  I snapped plenty of pictures of the trees dripping with colorful Mardi Gras beads during miles 6-7 and around mile 8, there were more spectators which means plenty of amusing signs to keep you laughing and running.

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It was in the French Quarter around mile 9 that I looked down at my watch and realized if I kept up my pace, I was going to PR, even after all of my dancing and twirling and selfie snapping! I immediately started the pep talks to keep myself going.

I got myself through miles 10 and 11 by composing my “I just landed a new PR” speech…you think I’m kidding, but I had composed an Oscar-worthy speech in my head! The last 2 miles were the toughest for me as we continued into New Orleans City Park. The sun was blazing and there was not the slightest bit of shade to be found! But the all of the supporters and cheerleaders in the last 2 miles of the race were awesome!

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I crossed the finish line and happily accepted my beaded medal… then looked down to see my PR. I finished in 2:58:01. That’s over a half hour faster than my first half marathon last June. Am I happy I PR’ed? Absolutely. But more importantly, I had FUN! This race was an absolute blast and I’ve already signed up to do it again next year. Wanna join me?

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P.S. We rewarded ourselves with some post-race beignets

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Mer here again! Thanks so much to Rachel for sharing her experience with us and CONGRATS on such an awesome PR! Have you run a Rock ‘n Roll race? How do you reward yourself after a great race? 

Blogaversary Giveaway Winner

We have a winner, Folks! Congratulations to @teachermommy1! We hope you love all your goodies, Megan! May they help you reach your goals in style and comfort.

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Thanks to all of you who participated. We had a record number of entries, which was quite exciting for us! We love you for tweeting, visiting us on Facebook, and commenting on our Blogaversary post. Your comments touched us. <3

We’re really quite grateful for you. Thank you for choosing to spend some of your time with us. We’re gonna keep working hard to make sure that time is well spent.

 

Have a topic suggestion? Want to see a sewing tutorial on costume making? Have a silly question for us? WE ARE ALL EARS. Tell us about it in the comments!

 

We Are Never Getting Back Together: The BMI Scale

Weh-heh-heh-hehlllll…. this post has been a long time coming. This particular issue has loooong been one that I’ve had strong feelings about, but recent developments have really begun to grind my gears. Maybe it’s because I’ve changed my fitness routine that I’m facing it more head-on, but damn if I’m not righteously pissed at what that crappy height-weight ratio has done to my brain.

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Some background:

The body mass index scale (BMI) was established in the early nineteenth century – so, you know, it’s vintage – by a guy named Adolphe Quetelet who was working on what he called “social physics” and the BMI was meant to measure obesity rates in populations. Seems simple enough, but therein lies the problem.

This crude scale, which calculates your BMI indicator by diving your weight (in kg) by your height (in m), really only measures tissue mass as a whole and doesn’t take into consideration your body composition at all. So, when calculating your BMI, it doesn’t matter if you carry more belly fat or are a body builder – the numbers on the scale are the only ones that matter.

Though science has advanced significantly since 1830, this calculation, unfortunately, has not. In 1973, scientist Ancel Keys said of the BMI calculation: “…if not fully satisfactory, [it is] at least as good as any other relative weight index as an indicator of relative obesity.”

Um. WAT.

That’s basically saying “this calculation we’ve been using for more than 100 years is pretty bad, and even though we have new math and new science things that would probably be more accurate, it’s fine.”

And thus we see how society has adopted BMI as the accepted, “easy” indicator for who is overweight and what a “normal” body type looks like.

Numbers. We’ve been conditioned to respond to numbers with a positive or negative reaction regardless of the type of work we’re putting in at the gym or how our body is built. Screen Shot 2016-03-06 at 7.13.06 PM

That’s total crap if you ask me. And I say that as someone who is just as susceptible to those reactions as anyone else: according to that scale, I’m overweight.

Fortunately, I’m not the only one who thinks the scale is a loser. Recently, Hellogiggles published an article discussing a recent study that debunks the BMI scale as a measure of health. It’s a good read and definitely preaches to the choir – as an athlete, I’ve long felt misrepresented by the scale.

From the time I was 3, I’ve been involved in some sort of athletic activity. I played basketball from the time I was 6 through college. I was a double varsity athlete in high school and was voted “Most Likely to be on the Cover of Sports Illustrated” my senior year. I skied, snowboarded, ran, and hiked every year of my childhood. As an adult, I’ve continued playing the sports I love and began running and lifting weights. I love being active and I know I’m a pretty healthy individual.

For equally as long, I’ve been able to find things about my body I didn’t like. Or a thing, rather. No matter how active I’ve been, I’ve always – always – had a little belly. My teammates all had nice flat tummies and I was over here with my belly pudge. I also always weighed just a little bit more than my friends. Not a lot. But enough that I never really liked to bring it up. But I actually didn’t think too much about it because I was so athletic, and I would say that growing up, I had a very healthy relationship with food and body image.

As an adult, however, I’ve encountered instances where the numbers on the scale have predetermined something about me to someone else, and that’s really not a good feeling.

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If you’ve read any of my previous posts, you know that in the last 6 months or so, I’ve really taken to lifting weights in favor of running or cycling. I’ve built a ton of muscle and I’m so proud of the strides I’ve made. The gainz have been in my favor.

But, gainz in the gym also mean gains on the scale. Muscle is more dense that fat – a fact many of us are familiar with. More muscle therefore equals more weight. Not a bad thing, right? If one’s goal is to build muscle and strength, you want this result. I want this result.

Unfortunately, because society has warped my brain, I still have a hard time with this paradox. Stepping on the scale at my doctor’s appointment last week and seeing “158” blink at me from the display, I felt… disappointed. Like all the work I’ve been doing in the gym wasn’t helping. Like all of that 158 pounds was sitting right around my tummy and everyone could see my gross muffin top.

I texted my lifting partner (who is also my boyfriend) and whined. His response was perfect: “Muscle mass. You squat 185 pounds for reps. That happens. Ignore the number.”

After some more whining from me and some more rational words from him, I felt better. He was right. That number is just a number. It doesn’t say anything except how much gravity is affecting my body mass, and that’s a pretty empty statistic.

I still have my hang ups, but I’m working really hard to focus on making progress in the gym and reaching my fitness goals – which have nothing to do with the number on the scale or what the BMI says that I am and everything to do with feeling good about what my body is capable of accomplishing.

Balance, Act 1

Isn’t it funny how you think you’re the only one that struggles with something and then you mention it and a bunch of people are like “ME, TOO!” So, when I recently said I was having some serious issues with balance, it wasn’t really a surprise that there were others in the same boat.

So, we decided to write a series of posts about our lives, and their current level of unbalance, and how we’re going to work toward better balance. And if you too are find yourself saying “ME, TOO!” to any of our tales, you should join us in the comments, tell us why you’re feeling off balance, and together, we’ll all try to achieve a bit more of this.

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Bec

Does anyone know where I can acquire some balance in my life? I swear, I’ve looked high and low, but I just can’t seem to find any.
balance

Ohhhhhh. I see.

Balance is something I always seem to be struggling with. I am a VERY black or white individual, something I learned last year is a common characteristic for adult children of alcoholics. It is ALL. Or NOTHING. EVERYTHING, all at once, or complete shutdown. Go big or go the hell home. Like, every few months, I literally become this insane self drill sergeant.

“Alright, you maggot, get to work. Clean up your diet, cook a healthy and delicious meal every night, get up at 4:00AM every day and work out, drink 100 ounces of water, MINIMUM, put on a full face of makeup every day, and perfect hair, and pearls, clean out the closets, and the garage while you’re at it, organize your bills, get that planner filled up with color coded notes, make time for family and friends, be the perfect employee and DROP AND GIVE ME TWENTY.”

Since doing EVERYTHING, all at once, isn’t sustainable, I just wind up a quivering ball of failure-type feelings on my couch, feeding my kids chicken nuggets and using my planner as a Ben & Jerry’s coaster so that I don’t drip on my sweaterpants. Hindsight being 20/20, this is about the time I look back and realize that I totally set myself up for failure but making a plan that lacked a key element.

Balance.

And had I tried a more balanced approach, there’s a good chance I would have accomplished significantly more. And been less crazy.

So, really, that’s what I’m working on. I have my shiny, pretty planner, which is a good guide. I’m working on making reasonable plans, and doing my best to stick with them. I need to learn to let myself off the hook when I am not perfect, and allow good to be good enough.

Less crazy.

 

 

Kyle

Finding balance? Nah. Creating balance. That’s what I’ve got to work on. Like, a work life balance. Which is not to say I work too much, but rather that I am really struggling right now to keep my work and my volunteering and my personal life in harmony.

Too often, I feel like I’m giving more of myself to one of these areas than the others and while sometimes that’s required, it’s not usually proportionate.

And even worse, when I realize I have too many things juggling in the air, I get that feeling that says “I don’t want to do ANY of this stuff. I want to be an ostrich instead.” Usually that results in procrastination and ultimately more stress because I didn’t get my ish together.

I don’t really know. Sometimes it feels like I have work/life vertigo. Not so much with the balancing.

Maybe it means scaling back the things that I’m involved in (I don’t wanna.) Maybe it means using better time management and organization tools (I know this works for me.) Ultimately, I know that as much as I would like to rope my boyfriend into helping keep me accountable, it’s really just up to me to figure it out. He’ll help, I’m sure, but really, I gotta figure it out myself.

So, I’ve got myself a planner and the month of March promises to be one that gives me a chance to get a few things in order. I’ve got a couple of concrete goals for the month, some financial, some related to volunteering, others related to work. If I can’t create balance right away, I can at least create some organization, and that’s a start. From there, I can asses and regroup. And in all of this, I’ll remember to breathe.

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Cam

I’m not good at balance.  As a member of the ADHD community, I’ve always operated on a need to do now basis.  That is, I procrastinate until the absolute very last minute and then spend all my energy completing that necessary task, sometimes to the point of physical exhaustion (staying up all night to finish a running costume, anyone?).  To make matters extremely more time consuming, I’m a perfectionist and will spend way too much time on said task until I am absolutely satisfied.  I can say with all confidence that I have the absolute worst time management skills. I’d be totally fine with this non-strength because as a perfectionist, I always (well, mostly always) fulfill my obligations.  As I get older, however, my body can’t keep up with my last minute lifestyle.  I’m in my last quarter of graduate school, I teach full time, my kids play soccer and take karate, I have animals and laundry and dishes, I make fancy cakes on the weekends, and I’m supposed to be preparing for the many races I’ve already invested literally thousands of dollars in.

 

I haven’t ran in months (excluding a very painful Star Wars weekend).  I haven’t actually worked out once this year.  My body is soft and achy and I’m tired.  Logically, I know I need it.  Right now I’m in survival mode and exercise isn’t on my list of obligations to others.  But it should be on my list of obligations to myself.  There’s probably a very extensive explanation for why I spread myself so thin. I’m sure my therapist has some theories.  Whatever the reason, I need it to be different.  I need me to be different.  Because this frantic way of living in the extremes is so damn tiring.  I’m seeking ways to meet myself in the middle.  I want to get organized.  I want to start running again.  I want to start writing again.  I need to find a balance between what others need from me and what I need from myself.  I don’t have a plan yet (big surprise) because I feel like everything in my life is important.  There isn’t any time to trim, but there is space for rearranging.  I’m going to Tetris the shit out of this.

Mer

Do you ever feel like you’re balancing twenty plates on your hands, feet, and head? That’s basically what I’ve got going on at the moment.

I don’t share every portion of my life on Scoot a Doot because that’s not the platform for which we created a blog. However, suffice to say, there’s a lot going on right now and my main issue is that I’m not in total control of it all.

And honestly, there’s not way I COULD be in control of it all. There are many factors that are totally out of my control. My child getting sick and not being able to go to school for 3 days, putting the kibosh on anything and everything that I needed/wanted to get done?

That is not something even my superpowers can change.

My son needs me to rub his back, kiss his head, and tell him that everything is going to be all right. Which is exactly what I’ve been doing for him. He’s the number one priority and all other things fall by the wayside.

So what happens when there are three or four things that are all volleying for that number one position in the priority line? What then?

Well, I don’t know. I’m trying to figure that out. I know that eventually everything will get done; but being the perfectionist that I am, I want everything to be done the right way, not just the easiest way.

Going forward, my main focus in regards to the priorities will be to first think rationally, then emotionally. I’m a fairly rational thinker but when it comes to stressful situations, the emotions like to be front and center and I’m not talking about the loving, sweet kind.

I cannot control every situation, but I can control my reactions and how I handle things.

I know what to focus on and what to let go. 

So, do you feel us? Tell us! We want to know how you create your balance, or how you’d like to try!