Group Classes

Group classes are so great when I'm not in the mood to train myself. All I have to do is show up and follow the leader. I don't have think at all, but I still get a great workout. Usually.

Personally, I think that the instructor can make or break the class. I've considered becoming certified to be an instructor myself sometimes. After all, I did study personal training and class instruction in college. In my almost decade of experience, I've come up with criteria to judge whether or not I like a group class.

Today I planned to attend a yoga class after work specifically because the teacher is my favorite yoga teacher I've ever had. I looked forward to it all day. When I got there I discovered that there was a substitute, and I already knew I didn't like the way she taught.

I was so disappointed!! But I was determined to do some yoga anyway so that all my anticipation wouldn't feel wasted. I stayed for 30 minutes. I couldn't force myself to stay any longer.

While I nursed my disappointment on the drive home, I had the idea to write a post about the dos and don'ts of teaching group classes, or what I personally look for in an instructor, from the student's point if view.

So here they are.

Yoga Dos:
1. Do maintain a calming atmosphere and demeanor, including the tone and volume of your voice.
2. Do choose natural feeling, serene music that blends easily between songs.
3. Do progress slowly and patiently through each pose.
4. Do offer gentle guidance and form corrections.
5. Do call the poses by their real names, and teach us what they mean and what they do for your body.
6. Do the poses with the class. It's easier to follow you if we can see how it should look rather than try to decipher a spoken description.

Yoga Don'ts:
1. Don't move through poses so fast! Some of us are new to yoga and/ or not very good at following. Give us some time to catch up.
2. Don't wing it unless you know that you know exactly what you're doing, and have been teaching yoga so long you could teach it in your sleep.
3. Don't act like a drill sergeant. This is not kickboxing.
5. Don't be late for class, or cut it short.

And since I'm at it:

Spinning Dos:
1. Do get excited and have fun. Spinning is tough and I need all the motivation I can get.
2. Do plan the workout sequence to match each song. I find I can perform better if I know what's coming next and can mentally prepare.
3. Do add variety. I go to spinning for a whole body workout plus cardio in one.
4. Do choose high energy music with solid beats. Nothing is more motivating than pounding the pedals to a kickin' beat.

Spinning Don'ts (a lot are repeats):
1. Don't be late or end early.
2. Don't wing it. If you're lost, I'm lost. If I'm lost, I'm frustrated. If I'm frustrated, I'm angry, and if I'm angry, I'll leave and NEVER come back to your class.
3. Don't stop riding with us! We want to see that the workout is possible. If you can't even handle it, what makes us believe we can?

Until next time.

Decisions, Decisions…

Lately I’ve felt caught between a rock and hard place. Obviously the quote above can be applied to any aspect of life and rings true no matter what. But it seems I’m destined to learn this particular lesson the hard way.

You see, I grew up in a predominantly LDS family and society. As a child of such surroundings, we are taught from a young age (either purposely, or inadvertently) that this is the way our lives ought to go:

1.    Graduate High School
2.    Graduate College/ Go on a mission
3.    Get married
4.    Have kids

Lots of people tend to follow this plan without really meaning to, that’s just the way it happens. And that’s okay. But if things don’t fall properly into place this way, there is a lot of pressure that you must be doing something wrong, or maybe, perhaps, *gasp* you are the problem. You suddenly find yourself with some decisions to make, and realizations to come to.

We already know that my life hasn’t followed the pattern outlined above like I actually believed it would as a child. I have been left in the dust by 90% of my peers and that took some getting used to. I’ve come to accept my lot, which is half the battle. The other half is deciding what to do instead.

Originally, I had planned to train for a bodybuilding contest and compete on the amateur stage, thus achieving a dream I’ve been nursing for many, many years. I’d do this in the meantime while I waited to get pregnant, whatever that might entail. I figured it would be an excellent distraction from the stress involved with fertility treatment and give me something positive to focus on, all the while infertility would be “going on” in the background. I thought I had it all figured out. I need to learn that when this thought goes through your head, that is the very moment that you couldn’t be more wrong.

Now here’s where the rock and the hard place comes in: If you’re not aware, in order to compete in a bodybuilding comp, you’ve got to get your bodyfat percentage down into the teens, think between 16 – 18% for female competitors and in the single digits for male competitors. Conversely, you may or may not be aware that an ideal bodyfat percentage for getting pregnant is between 20 – 24%, roughly. And that’s for a normal, fertile woman. Being infertile, it’s even more critical for me to maintain that delicate balance, thus rendering the above-outlined plan completely ineffective.

So lately I’ve found myself at a crossroads. Do I put off or give up altogether my bodybuilding dream, or do I put off fertility treatments, knowing that risks only increase with age? I am rounding the corner on 30, after all. I know there are a lot of people who would say, “Why is this even a debate, are you crazy?? Obviously the right choice is starting your family! Give up on that stupid idea!”

Not so fast. To these people I say, you must not understand just how important achieving that dream is to me. It’s not something that randomly occurred to me one day out of the blue and I thought “Maybe that’d be cool if I did that one day.” No. It’s all I think about. Well, not all I think about, obviously, but truthfully it is on my mind just as much as infertility. And it has been at the forefront for almost a decade.

So this has been my struggle for the past few months. But I’m glad to report that I think I’ve finally made a decision and I think it’s the right one for me, at this time. I feel at peace with the decision and the pressure is officially gone.

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.” Ecclesiastes 3:1

Until next time.

Spring Fever

Just checking in to say that I have actually been doing the things I made goals to do at the beginning of this year. I'm so proud of myself for following through... even though it has been pretty slow-going.

1. I cleaned up my tulip beds and my tulips are poking through the dirt by about 3 inches. Grow, my pretties! Grow! Also, Nate and I have major plans this weekend to clean up the rest of our yard and start fertilizing the grass and planting our garden. Sadly, it's looking like our colorado blue spruce shrub did not survive this horrid winter so we may have to yank it out. But the snowball and the japanese maple have a few buds I think... I hope.

2. So far this week I have met my goal of not pausing my workout DVD to rest. I've done the whole workout start to finish without hitting pause once, AND I honestly feel like I gave it my best effort the whole time. I feel confident in saying that I did not wuss out once. Yesterday I did the HIIT 15 Turbo Fire class 4 times, for a total of an hour of HIIT kickboxing and it killed me, but I felt great when I was done.

3. I bought some paint to do some projects around my house. I've already started one: painting my interior doors black. The first coat looked AWFUL of course, since I was painting black over white. As an experienced painter I fully expected that. (Nate had a deer-in-headlights expression the whole time; he questions my sanity whenever I start crazy things like this... haha) But last night I put on the second coat and they already look tremendously better. One more coat ought to do it... I hope I have enough paint because I only bought 1 quart and I have 6 doors. Once the doors are done, then I start on my bathroom re-do!

4. I've found some artistic inspiration in addition to my door painting, which is exciting because I haven't sat down to draw in months. It's very sad. While I haven't actually started on anything yet, I plan to this week. Also, Nate bought a new computer because our poor laptop is in its last life, and he plans on buying me a scanner/printer to go with it so that I can start uploading my art again, which I think will motivate me to draw more. If you'd like to see my old stuff... and I mean old... some of it is from high school I think... check out my art page at deviantART: ( MerryJayne ) I have not updated it in a few years because of my lack of equipment.

Until next time.

Work hard, Play hard, Sleep in, Repeat.

They say you should keep your sleep schedule consistent all week, regardless of your days off.

I beg to differ.

We work hard all week long. We go to our jobs for 40 hours, work out, cook dinner, fix the cars and clean the house.

We play hard on Saturdays. There's nothing like getting up early on a Saturday morning because you WANT to and not because you HAVE to! I go to spinning class and Nate goes to basketball. We each spend a couple of hours being awesome, then we come home, shower, and go back out and play all day. We eat out and stay up late watching movies and eating buttery popcorn.

Sundays are for being lazy! 6 days a week we are go, go, going, without a break or a rest. But on Sundays, we finally slow down and relax. We sleep in ridiculously late, then take our time getting ready to go to church. And afternoons are spent just enjoying one another's company and possibly even cooking a nice dinner together.

Bliss.

Slow down once in a while to rest. Go too long without re-charging your batteries, and you'll get burned out. It's ok to have some dessert and lie on the couch once in while.

Until next time.

Musings

Yesterday I had an amazing workout. I haven't felt that excited to work out in months. The sun was shining and even though it was still pretty cold, the sky was blue, and I opened all my curtains to let the sunshine in. Bliss. My gumption to go to the gym and lift is still MIA (although it's been about a month since I missed a Saturday AM spin class) but I can feel myself getting back to the mindset I used to have before this depression bulldozed me into oblivion. Here's what I did:

Turbo Fire HIIT 15 class (twice!)
Turbo Fire 30 class

For a grand total of 1 hour of High Intensity Interval Training (HIIT)/ kickboxing. Woohoo! "Lose-it!" told me I'd burned 609 calories. I question the accuracy of that, but even give or take a few kcals, seeing that number paired with my drenched self in the mirror made for a happy combo.

Every time I do Turbo Fire, I get better at the moves and I can make it farther and farther into the workout without having to hit pause so often. I've set these goals for myself for the next 3 weeks:

1. Next week: Do not pause the DVD at all during the workout.
2. The week after: Begin wearing my weighted gloves.
3. The week after that: Begin wearing my weighted gloves AND ankle wraps.

I've also been wanting to get outside and start cleaning up my yard since the snow is finally melting. My tulips are starting to try and poke through and they need a clean bed in which to bloom. That sounds like a nice Sunday activity...

Until next time.

A Letter to Everyone Else (A Rant)

(Disclaimer: Please do not read on if you find yourself sensitive to a bit of profanity, and general bitchiness, because I am not holding back in this post. To borrow a phrase: "This is the truth that hurts feelings." You’ve been warned.)

In recent weeks I’ve experienced a shift in my attitude toward my pregnant or recent new-mother friends and family. When I previously wrote in this blog that I sincerely felt happy for you all, that was true. I was not being phony in that, in any way. I assure you that sentiment was genuine... at the time.

But now… I’m not so sure I can say that honestly anymore. I’d really like to tell you that there’s some piece of me that still feels that way. I hope there is. And I’d like to tell you that these emotions are simply the product of hormones that are running amok, but I’m really not sure if that’s the case. All I know is that I now resent you. Every last one of you. I resent every cutesy pregnancy announcement. I resent your happiness. I resent your whining about nausea. I resent your whining about “being ready to get this kid outta me!” when you’re 9 months along. I resent your precious “bump” progress photos. I resent all your bitching about how the new baby had a poop explosion at the grocery store. I resent your bitching about all the sleep you’re missing. I resent your gushing about how grateful you are for your tender little family. I resent the lot of it. F*ck you.

I can pinpoint the exact moment this attitude shift took place. I suppose it was inevitable. There is a certain limit to what any given person can withstand. I suppose this was my straw that broke the camel’s back. This was the turning point that sent me falling over the edge. Perhaps I ought to have been feeling this way all along… you know, defenses and all that. I’ll admit that a lot of it was my own fault for dwelling on facebook so much… but that is over now.

The precise moment I broke down was a bright, sunny morning in March. The sun had finally come back and I could literally feel my seasonal depression, coupled with the depression and anxiety I’d been battling since I started going the ovulation predictor route (aka “Plan A”), ever so slightly begin to ebb and melt away, finally. I woke up, rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom. My period was 2 days late and I had become hopeful, despite my own better judgment. I sat down to pee and when I stood up and glanced into the bowl before quickly flushing, all I saw was a bright red, swirling pool that was unmistakable. Crestfallen, but not surprised whatsoever, I went about the business of “taking care of it”, and pushed the sobs that I could feel building in my throat back down. Do not cry. You expected this.

I continued in my morning routine and went to work. Fortunately, my email inbox was overfull with lots of work to do and I successfully distracted myself for several hours. Then… I got a text. Someone was pregnant. I made the idiotic mistake of getting on facebook on my phone. The announcement was there too, right alongside all the other pregnancy/baby-related posts that I had, until now, been easily scrolling over and ignoring for months. Years. Eons it seemed. I closed the app very calmly. I stood up from my desk and locked my computer screen as was my habit to do whenever I left it. I walked to the bathroom and sat down on the toilet lid. And then they came.

Tears poured uncontrollably out of my eyes as I dabbed and dabbed, trying to push them back in. I could not show any signs that I had been crying.  I couldn’t have red eyes and marred makeup when I went back to my desk. I simply couldn’t. This had never happened before. I had never cried about this before. I chocked it up to out of balance hormones caused by my period and forced composure over myself. It was just bad timing to receive the news. I ought to be happy for these people.

Yet I felt nothing but despair, anger, jealousy and resentment. I asked myself if there was any small bit of joy mixed in somewhere, some little bit of joy that would mean I was still a good, empathetic human being… there wasn’t. Not a shred. I felt absolutely no joy whatsoever for these people that are very close to me, and dear to my heart. I felt nothing but pure, unbridaled rage. It was irrational. It was selfish. It was inhumane. And yet there is was, so strong in my heart that I could not deny it. I hated them. I hated all of them. The whole lot. Every mother that existed, I hated.

The worst part of it all was that I could not allow it to consume me. It would have been so much easier to lash out. But I couldn’t. No self-respecting, decent person would. I felt as though I was fighting an inner battle between the good Mandee and the bad Mandee. The bad Mandee wanted out, desperately. I was very conflicted. I was at war with myself: One side craved the freedom to feel what I felt and the other demanded that I ought not to feel so, that it was wrong to feel so.

And so this letter is my compromise. Both sides get to have a little win. The good, decent side kept quiet all day and went home and kicked ass to a workout DVD until my legs were jelly and I was on the verge of an asthma attack.

The other side was allowed to write this letter.

Until next time.

P.S. Don’t you dare comment on this, message me on facebook, or text me and say, “I am so sorry if I’ve ever done or said anything to hurt your feelings…” , or any possible variation on that line. I don’t want to hear it. I’ll just delete it.

Live on Purpose

I follow a blog called “No Meat Athlete”, which is written by a vegetarian marathon runner named Matt Frazier. The reason I follow him is not because I wish to become a marathon runner or a vegetarian (both of which are noble ways of life, it’s just that neither are right for me), but because I find his philosophies on living a healthy lifestyle fascinating. I am in awe of this person who literally runs his body to heck fueled only by a plant-based diet. And he doesn’t just write about fitness and nutrition. He writes about overall wellness and how fitness and nutrition truly impact all other aspects of a person’s life, including mental and emotional wellness.

Recently, he wrote this post (No Meat Athlete/Live on Purpose ) and it really struck a chord with me. If you’ve been following meathead girly-girl for a while, you already know that I’ve been struggling lately. There are some chaotic things in my life that are beyond my control and you’ve been there with me as I’ve written about my struggle to overcome them. With some I’ve been pretty vague (for now), and others I’ve gone into more detail. But the post (linked above) hit home for me because he talks about ways of “Living on Purpose” and attempting to gain control of your own happiness, something that is well within anyone’s reach, you just have to try. This concept is easy to forget.
 

I felt inspired to do my own version of this. He talks about the 5 most important things he learned about “Living on Purpose” and I feel like at this stagnant point in my life, something needs to change and I’ve realized that rather than waiting for change to happen to me, I need to proactively change myself. So, here are my own 5 goals that I plan to work toward in the next few months and I hope I can inspire someone out there who may be struggling with a personal trial that seems insurmountable.

1.       Keep a journal.

I will be attempting to blog about my journey more often. Even if I’m the only one who ever reads any of these words, what matters is that they’ll be there for me to fall back on when I have a hard day, to remind myself that attitude is everything.

2.       Cultivate the art of letting bad things happen.

I won’t wallow in self-pity for one more day. I will remember that I do truly like my life the way it is, even though there are some things currently missing from it. There will be trials that will be hard on me, but I have total freedom to react however I wish. I choose to react positively, no matter what.

3.       Recognize the distractions that are ruining your life.

I am eliminating my facebook use for one entire month beginning today. I’ve already posted a temporary farewell and deleted the app on my phone.  Not only has facebook been a waste of my time lately, but more importantly, it has been a highway to steadily bring heartbreak right to my front door, as it were. I’ve finally had enough and I’ve realized that I’m doing it to myself. No one is doing it to me on purpose. It’s my own fault for checking in on my news feed so often. I think I will be happier and better off not knowing about every random person’s thoughts and announcements. Of course, I’m speaking of one bit of information in particular but I’m currently not ready to disclose that quite yet. The point is that I need to stop welcoming into my home things that will inevitably hurt me.

I already feel like I’ve thrown a giant burden off my back by taking this first step. Facebook has a way of making you feel like you have to care about things that shouldn’t really matter to you. Now that I’ve finally told myself that it’s ok not to give a shit, it’s sort of freeing.

4.       Read Seneca’s “Letters from a Stoic”.

I have not heard of this book before I read this blog post, but I’m intrigued as Matt mentions that it has been a more effective treatment for anxiety than any therapy or medication he’s ever tried. Couldn’t hurt to check it out.

5.       Eliminate fear by facing it head-on.

In order to do this, I’m going to have to talk to strangers. And as if that weren’t scary enough on its own, I’m going to be talking to them about something so personal, I’ve barely shared it with my own mother. More details to come later.

Stay tuned for updates.

Until next time.