Putting the “Hyp” in Hypocrite

20 Mar

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I’m going to let you in on a secret.  I’m a total hypocrite.  I realized this during my seven mile run today.  My run time is the time where my wheels turn.  My thinking time. Time to think of the dumb things I’ve said and done. Time to think about whatever has been bugging me.  Time to think about my insecurities and my not so insecurities.  I have a race in one month and it’s my first long distance race since November’s full marathon.  So what have I been a hypocrite about?  I feel like sometimes I talk about strength and body confidence and overcoming obstacles but there are times I’m saying this stuff, and I don’t believe it when it comes to myself. I know my insecurities show in my blog, but hopefully there’s some bad ass to counteract that too.  Three steps back to go ten steps forward, right?

Exactly one month ago, I completely changed up my routine.   You know how I preach patience?  Well, I double suck at it.  I thought a month later I would be seeing some amazing things.   Little did I know that maybe “seeing” them won’t happen first.  “Keep holding on”, I keep saying.  “No giving up” I encourage.  But although I’m not ready to throw in the towel, I thought I would see a difference in the mirror.  Maybe there is and I don’t see it.  Then today as I finished my seventh mile stronger than my first, dummy me realized something.  Maybe…just maybe  I would feel the difference before I see the difference.  Maybe it was the consistency of my splits or the slightly improved pace.  Maybe it was the fact that I felt no foot or knee pain today.  Maybe I missed the forest for the trees on this one.  The fact is, I ran my longest run since November, and did I die?  Hells to the no.  In fact I’m feeling amazing…like I wanted to keep going.

So I’ve made changes to my diet again and I trudge along further.  This isn’t just a me lesson…it’s a life lesson.

The truth is that we can’t be confident all the time. The person who is appearing the most confident.  The one toting their  Instagram perfect asses around (I’m not gonna lie, I check out that stuff. I like to look at nice asses, don’t judge me!)  The one dissing the “fat person”…those people clearly have more insecurities than I do.  We all have insecurities. Admitting anything less than that is false advertising.   I’m not going to list all my “ass”ets here.  I have nothing  to prove to anyone who is reading this.  I have to be cool enough for me, even though sometimes I know I’m not. If you think I’m a cool, fun chickaroo, why thank you, my dear!  The thing is that those who only see that probably don’t get to see the messy me.  The messy me isn’t so fun.  She’s insecure and gets easily offended at times, emotional, an overthinker.  The people who are closer to me know that.  They have felt the wrath and trust me when I tell you I’m not so proud of it.  I’m impatient, sometimes needy, and I pop off at the mouth without thinking.  I don’t  always think of others.  Sounds like an asshole, right?  Guess what…we all are assholes sometimes.  Yep, even you, hot shot.  You know the trick here is simple, don’t you?  It’s  being real enough to know that you are being messy and admitting it.  I hate having to admit that I’m a total jerk right now and I’m being that way because I’m feeling insecure.  I’m a pusher.  I push away not because I am full of myself, but because I think you as a husband, friend, family member…deserve more than my messy.  It’s kind of dumb when I say that out loud. If you look at it, that’s truly not who I really am,  but insecurity and lack of confidence will do some ridiculous stuff to your mojo. I hope the people in life who have to experience my messy remember the fun chick.  I don’t need a lecture about how I act. I beat myself up more than any friend or family member can.  I promise you that.

But in reality aren’t we all a little insecure. Even the hottest of dudes who have the ladies falling all over them, aren’t they even a little insecure? (I don’ know shit about hot dudes nowadays so I’m grasping.)  The ladies who can walk around in their bikinis without a towel wrapped around them…aren’t they all insecure sometimes, or is it just me.

Let me tell you I don’t feel like a weeping hot mess afraid of her own shadow most of the time.  There are definitely sometimes when I feel like I could pass for a total hot piece of ass. Ha! Or at least whatever that equates to for a 39 year old mother of two with this ass of mine. I love that girl in me.  She’s the person I am.  She’s the fun girl without a give a damn in what people think.

But then the hypocrite in me shows up.  How do I sit here and preach what I do to all of you and “pretend” to be positive.  The answer is simple.  Because I want to believe it too. And I know that everything I’m saying is true, I just don’t feel it sometimes and maybe if I say it to you, it may click.  Do you feel it clicking?  The truth is that if I look back to where I started.  I believe every ounce of this shit I shovel out.  And it’s proven that I have felt it enough to turn my beliefs into reality. I’m good at succeeding when I believe.  You can be too!!!

So let’s all agree that sometimes we have to shovel out positivity even if we aren’t feeling it. You absolutely hear everything you say to yourself and what you say matters.  When you tell yourself you’re nobody…you exude that.  People feel your vibes.  So turn it around. Be kind to yourself.  Say nice things to yourself.  And so maybe you don’t believe them right away…I promise you will.   Look for the good in yourself, and in others.  Match their effort and do kind deeds.  You won’t be sorry.

On the other hand though, remember that it’s impossible to be perfect.  Sometimes the hypocrite comes out.  The one that tries to be everyone’s cheerleader but may not believe it so much for herself (or himself).  The messy creeps in and lashes out.  And life doesn’t feel so great. That’s why it’s life. We can’t always be neat, sometimes messy is just ok.  Bring me your messy…bring me your  worst and know that I’ll sit through it.  Let me be your hand when you need one.  Because quite honestly…I am blessed to have that person who sometimes can’t take much more from me…but somehow does and shows me there is a way to the surface.  God Bless him….seriously. I also have the most amazing friends.  Some ignore my moments and silently forgive and move on.  I have listeners and rainbow throwers (those are the ones that always see the pot of gold even when I can’t).  And I’ve got friends  who call me on my shit.  I need and appreciate all those people in my life.  You have them if you look…I betcha!

I’m mostly pleasant and positive…mostly.  But damn that insecure gal, I truly hope to be seeing less of that as I keep groovin’ forward, but she will always be inside. Damn her !!!!! lol

If you are feeling less than perfect, a little messy today, give yourself a break.  But put those fancy pants on tomorrow and climb up to the top.   There is so much waiting for you just beyond the surface.

No regrets…

Until Next Time,

DP Babbles

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Irish for a Day

15 Mar

 

A couple of years ago, the hubs started learning how to play the bag pipes. At the time he started, the vision of kilts, kilt checks and my son running around in his underwear attempting to play on his dad’s precious practice chanter were not at all a reality or something I thought could be a reality. Nor did I realize what being a “member of the band” would be around St. Patrick’s Day. It’s been a parade kind of couple of weeks and I’m excited to see him blowing like a champ!  (Yep, I went there!)

So my experience at this weekend’s local St. Patrick’s Day parade was my first ever.  I’m Italian (Nutalian as my son puts it) and I’m not a big parade person. I had no idea what was in store for me while trying to support the man of the house.

The kids were so excited to see their Dad in action. Little did I know that “in action” meant chicks stopping him left and right for picture within the first 10 minutes. And you know what else it meant. Lots of drunk people.

We finally left our celebrity to line up and wait for his big entrance. The parade was all sorts of amazing. Beaded necklaces, “gold” coins and candy flying everywhere.  We got to see him up first which was fun. In the spirit of how reserved he is the following text convo ensued between me and a friend:

Me: I should totally follow up his fanfare by flicking some panties on his bag pipes. He’d die, I’m sure. Lol

Her: I dare you!

Me: I so wish I had some handy. Damn it!!!!

So now I’m regretting not thinking of this idea earlier at home when I could have stuffed a pair in my pocket. But I’m also surrounded by a bunch of adults who act like they’ve never seen beaded necklaces or candy.  I’m telling you these people were diving for necklaces. This shit was cut throat. They didn’t even seem that drunk.  Some dude actually tried to fight my son for a necklace. And there were plenty to go around so….he needed a beating. I was sure that if there weren’t children around people were going to start showing their goods for it. Next text:

Hubs: Ok I’m done and we’ll be in front of the bar.

Me: I really want to be in front of the bar. The bead diving here is getting ridiculous. I’m sure Jax is going to get to see some boob shots soon. Not too shabby for 6?

So we did catch the mother load in terms of beads. The kids were happy. I looked like I worked really hard to get those beads, and I didn’t even have to put “the girls” to work. Although I may have “slightly” elbowed the dick who fought my son for a beaded necklace. It was the same dude who caught 6 beer coozies at once and stuffed them all into his back pocket like a crazy person. I had no idea it was about to get crazier!

The plan afterward was that the band was to play at this bar. My daughter was already showing signs of her hangry and my son…he’s just ready to be social. All of a sudden the crowd around the bar didn’t feel so breathable.  I started talking to one of the band mates. We were talking (or yelling loudly in each other’s ears) about kilt checks and whether my husband wore drawers underneath. So I just looked at him wide eyed…

Me: It can’t be true that you are all walking around here free ballin’ it.

Him: really?  Check it out…(lifts kilt and bares it all…)

Me: Well then. I feel fully initiated into the club. 😳

By now my daughter is done with the drunk people. The boy wants to dance a jig of some sort but there’s no room. As the hubs line up to play, I run to get pizza to stuff into my hungry 10 year old’s mouth…but she starts to cry. Cause there’s no where to eat and she’s tired and hot and hungry and there’s sweaty drunk people around her. So one hysterical kid, a crazed dancing son and a tired mom holding a pizza box in the middle of the a drunk crowd. Before you know it one drunk chick is trying to comfort her and the other one lifts Jax up and starts dancing and pointing screaming “look at yer daddy! He’s over there!” And of course she’s pointing to the wrong guy. Didn’t matter because Jax was having the time of his life with this brand new cleavage he had acquired. My daughter’s now sobbing in the middle of a bazillion bagpipe  players and I stand there like an asshole holding up a pizza box praying for Calgon to take me away.  And let me just tell you being an Italian holding up a f*cking pizza box in the middle of an Irish festival…not popular. It was quite the scene.  I felt bad. I totally didn’t see my husband even play…but he knew we were there somewhere.

We were officially done. At least I was. My daughter was. Jax was ready to party all night long.  I didn’t know I’d have to pack a shank in my panties in order to go to a parade for crying out loud! But after all was said and done, the kids did admit they had a good time, I was proud, and he was happy.  And no one died!

Funny thing is, I loathed the bagpipes before. They were a symbol of sadness and only had I heard them at Police Officers’ funerals. But today, holding a crying ten year old, and a pizza box…I changed my mind. (Shhhhh… Don’t tell him I said that!)

Until next time…

DP Babbles

 

8 Weeks to a better ass…or something like that

8 Mar

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So, every January  for the past three years, I have embarked on an 8 week fitness challenge with my bootcamp.  Every year I had learned something different.  The first year I learned (after placing second) that I actually could work some magic when I put it all together.  I was very into running and my body wasn’t saying screw you to running just yet so my results were pretty amazing.  Year two, I learned I was really good at wasting my money.  Because I was a lazy shit who ran  but didn’t do much else.  This year though, I learned a little more.  I figured I’d share.

The goal was to eat 80 percent clean, work out 5x per week and make weekly goals, We of course needed to log our food and our instructor looked at what we were doing.   Our weekly goals didn’t need to be weight loss oriented. As a matter of fact she encouraged other goals.  A few weeks into it I lost my running coach so I was faced with having to change it up.   This is what I learned…

  1.  I learned I’m one unorganized shit! I mean my weekly goals consisted of cleaning out my closet, pantry, bathroom etc.  My husband still can’t find where I put my panties when he folds the laundry but they are organized!!! “Where’d you put your underwear? You organize things and I’m so lost. ”  “In the little drawers in my closet!” UGH! So, I learned that the more organized I am, the more successful I am.  I also learned that I have a “Bra-blem” At least that’s what my kids call one drawer devoted to bras.  I digress.  I’m a little more organized than when I started and it has made a big difference.
  2. I learned that although I want to be a better runner, I really want to be more fit first.  My personal observation and those close around me is that my body is used to running, and running slower than a herd of turtles stampeding through peanut butter.  That’s what my body knows. In that I also learned that maybe in order to be more successful at one thing, I have to get better at others. So  I’m working on building muscles. Lifting weights, resistance bands, squatting like its nobody’s business.  I guess if we all want to monitor my progress, just keep an eye on my “ass”ets.  I miss my running coach, but Im still going to make her proud.  I just have to make me proud first.  I haven’t felt proud in a while.  But holy shit, the next few weeks are shaping up in my favor.  I also learned that I can work around my injury and that I’ve been babying it a little.  That could be total bullshit of course.  Maybe my foot is just healing.
  3. This is the biggest thing I learned.  I learned that emotional eating gets me no where except disappointed.   Before this eight weeks, if anything bothered me, I could totally eat my way through a bag of Doritos and a Snickers bar.  This eight weeks, I was placed in stressful situations and holy sweet baby Jesus,  I didn’t turn to food.  Shit, I didn’t even think about it.  I actually used working out as an outlet.  I kicked ass at kickboxing or dropped and did push ups.  I know this all sounds like bulls*t, but its true.  I thought it was weird too.  I’ve lived my whole life as an emotional eater.  I used to sit through Weight Watcher meetings where the Lecturer actually had conversation with her food.  I don’t really want to spend time being emotionally attached to chicken nuggets or ice cream.  I don’t want to talk to them either.  I’d rather make a healthier choice and sit here and talk to people that matter to me, not my food.
  4. I learned I’m never going to be an itty bitty teeny weeny in that little polka dot bikini.  I learned that it’s ok.  I learned that the real people in life actually think I’m a hip and happening chick no matter what.  I’ve learned what a real definition of sexy is to me.  Sexy is being beautiful with all of your imperfections.  Sexy is putting real effort into being strong.  Sexy is loving yourself and being confident.  Guys and Girls, I tell you.  Not loving yourself and not being confident is actually not very attractive.  So own your thighs,  your big or small boobs. Own all of it.  Yep, you’re allowed to have moments, but don’t dwell on them.  Just keep groovin’! Changes happen when we believe and think positively.
  5.   I learned that I was starving myself.  I got sick halfway through and could barely eat, but when life resumed, I still couldn’t get all my calories in.  The numbers on the scale didn’t budge and they haven’t since. Working out 4-5 days a week with some of them being double workout days is tiring…especially if you aren’t eating.  It’s mind boggling thinking you can’t actually starve your way to weight loss. You really do have to eat.  I severely underestimated the calories I was supposed to be eating and the scale suffered.  But I’ve got the idea now.  I want to know how eating 1900 calories a day is going to help a sista out. But I’m going to trust the process.  I actually believe it’s true, but I’ve been sabotaging myself for months now.  So, now I sit and wait. Really I’m not sitting, that hurts too much right now.  I know I’m done starving myself.  Amazing how easy it is to put away 2000 calories of wine but yet I’m over here dying cause I’m stuffed full of grilled chicken and brussel sprouts.

These things I learned are not a one size fits all lesson.  Things are different for everyone unless they are the facts.

The facts are that you can’t eat shit tons of crap food and be healthy.  There are people who can eat shit tons of food and still maintain their figure but that doesn’t mean they are healthy.  The fact is that muscle burns fat, and I don’t have enough.  The fact is broccoli is always healthier than french fries and cheesecake…but we all know what tastes better!

The fact is that being fit and healthy is never going to be an easy endeavor for me.  And it may not be for some of you either, but I promise  that if we keep working and we don’t give up, good things are going to happen.  Change it up.  Do something that scares you, but that   makes you realize how badass you are.  I mean, for reals…as I was heaving over the Orange Theory potty this morning after 6 out of 10 all outs.  I was scared…but I was feeling pretty damn bad ass when I went back in for more.  There’s no giving up bitches, just puke and keep moving.  (At least that’s what I’m telling myself!)

Until next time…

DP Babbles (and squats like a badass too!)

 

Orange Theory, and All That Other Magic

26 Feb

img_6560Although, life the last three years has been a whole lot of running, I have been realizing through multiple talks with lots of peeps that trying something new may help me in my running quest.  So although I’ve been hanging in bootcamp once a week, I’ve also taken on kickboxing and my newest endeavor…Orange Theory.

I am a chronic over thinker. I over think about everything and I beat it to death with a stick or probably in my case a vibrator (When you sell them..you’ve got better things than sticks!)  So in one more stuck in a rut convo with my husband, he looks at me and the following popped out…

“You’re a runner. I get it. But you’re not improving any. I know you identify with being a runner, but it’s just as great to identify with being an athlete.  You are an athlete after all.  Maybe you can try things that will make you be a better runner. No one said you can’t run, I’m just suggesting you try other things to get you out of this rut.  So you can feel successful. You need to feel successful again…..and then it was like blah blah blah….blah blah blah (I’m sure I repeated things a gazillion times, cried at least twice and he rubbed his forehead from having to deal with me a couple more times.  I won’t bore you with the details.) “So you have bootcamp, you have kickboxing,  and running. Wanna try Orange Theory. ”  Um, really?  (That’s like  really expensive gift…you don’t say no to those if you’re a lady!!!) So off to Orange Theory I go…I didn’t think about it.  Thinking meant talking myself out of it.  I’m no stranger to doing things alone but every OTF chick I see is fit as hell…so I was feeling out of my element.  I’m fit enough to run, but I still jiggle.  (Yes, I said it…it’s ok to laugh for crying out loud!!!) I actually walked in to sign up with my kids, scared shitless to sign up, but I did it.  And as for not thinking, I told them to schedule me for the next day, cause there is no time like the present.  The head trainer told me not to worry, he said I’d be just fine. (I’m sure there was an evil laugh after that.)

So I went in early the next day to be fitted with a HR monitor and get an orientation from Jeremy, the head trainer.  I spent 20 minutes trying not to puke in the car because I was so nervous.  I felt like I knew going in there that I may just be the “bigger” chick of the crew and I didn’t want to feel out of place. I mean…  I just want to have a bangin’ body and run better.  I don’t want to be judged.  And talk about prejudging…it was nothing like I thought.  Jeremy set me up on the treadmill to warm up and talked to me.  “So this is a tornado class, way to start out on that one.” And then my mouth…in all of its classiness… “Tornado???? What the f*ck is that?”  Without batting an eye he quickly quips back, “It’s f*ckin’ hard, that’s what it is!”  And that’s when at last I knew I can breathe.  I’ll give these Orange Theory peeps a try with that mouth.  And I did, and I was the thickest chick in the class. But I didn’t care.  When I say thickest chick, don’t think I’m over here feeling all beached whale because that isn’t it by a mile.  I’m just saying I have lots of room for improvement.

You know what drives me nutballs about the class. All the damn mirrors.  You run on the treadmill, boom…you’re right there.  You’re sweating your ass off lifting weights… well hellooooooo there Donna. You look constipated right now, but hell yes keep on keepin’ on. Mirrors, friggin’ mirrors every-damn-where.  And I tried looking at the lights and the ceiling and anything else but me.  But my ridiculous faces kind of entertain me through the “all outs”.  No one laughs at me like I do.  No one cheers for me better than my thighs. And no one grunts and heavy breathes like me.   That’s one hour of giggles for me.  In bootcamp I spend the hour trying hard and making dirty jokes to get everyone through the hour.   But here the music is loud and it’s dim and orange. So what is there to do but look that chick in the eye and tell her to just do it…even if you look like a total asshole.  It doesn’t matter as long as you are trying hard. Jeremy checks on my foot injury and asks if I’m ok. (probably because I’m breathing harder than a hooker in heat and sweating raindrops everywhere.) Yep, I may look like I’m dying but really I’m just concentrating on where this is going to take me.

Next class, I was also blessed with Jeremy as an instructor.  He passes a comment and says, this class is light for some reason.  That’s gonna be bad for you!!!! (insert evil trainer laugh here) My response.

” It won’t be bad for me at all.  I didn’t come here for you to go easy on me.  I came here because I want better for me.  You may here me huff and puff but you’ll never hear me complain.  Wipe the floor with me, I came here ready to work. ”

He laughs and says, ‘We’re gonna get you running faster here…I guarantee it.”

And off he went, killing us all as I laughed at myself in the mirror for yet another hour. Another hour of being the bigger girl in class, but in no way mediocre.  I’ve got tons to offer.  Each of these classes bring me something different.

Bootcamp is where it all started for me.  I can’t give up Katie and Karyn although my schedule doesn’t always work.  Those people have become my family.  I can work hard and never worry that they aren’t there. Even when I can’t be there, they never are not there for me.

Kickboxing has given me a whole new outlet to beat the shit out of things.  I work on my coordination there.  I have grown to add these amazing people to my workout family.  I still look ridiculous and Brad scares the shit out of me with hard kicks and peering up over the bags like a lion peering out over his tribe. But those people are super supportive. They are pushers. I like pushers.

And now I add Orange Theory. I’m still working on my comfort level, but I love having something new to try.  It pushes me harder on my runs and I think I believe Jeremy when he says I’m going to be a faster runner.  And I can look at myself in the mirror and die laughing for 60 minutes! What’s better than that?

Why am I admitting to you that I sat in my car wanting to puke instead of going in. Why am I telling you how uncomfortable I am being “the new girl” or “the bigger girl”?  Because you have to know you aren’t alone.  You’re not. Some people fake it better than others.  I fake some things better than others.  (Not that, you dirty fool!) But the truth is even the most confident person you see has those same insecurities you do.  The most perfect of Facebook and Instagram life, know that sometimes they’re just faking it.  We have to try not to overthink it.  Just jump…all you have to do is jump. No one says it’s going to feel amazing right away…but let me tell you about how good the freedom feels.  So, just do it.  Something amazing is going to come out of it, I promise.  If you doubt it, please please please… call me. I’m always gonna have your back.

Until Next Time,

DP Babbles

Because You’re Only Cheating Yourself

22 Feb

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So originally I was going to make you all piss your pants laughing about my first visit to Orange Theory.  And I promise you that one is coming soon.  I’m promising some laughing.  By next week I’ll have more material to laugh at…and by more material I mean the things that I think in Orange Theory, Bootcamp and kickboxing. I’ll also be out of this funk and will be happy to make jokes about myself for your pants pissing pleasure.  But today I learned something that made me super angry.  (Yes, super angry…cause regular angry isn’t angry enough).

This weekend was the Fort Lauderdale A1A Half and Full Marathon.   This was supposed to be my first half back after running New York.   But due to my foot injury, I’ve been unable to work up to running it without wiping out the possibility of running my favorite half in April. Sunday was a rough day for me. Not only was my momma in the hospital but not being able to participate in something that I love threw me out of whack.  I think that if you heard from me Sunday and I was odd, please know that was why. (I’m sorry).  I spent the morning blubbering a bit. Because although the race doesn’t define me, the feelings associated with the race are something I crave.  So, today, when I found out the  2nd place finisher cheated, I was infuriated.   It wasn’t as simple as her cutting the course, which she did without much thought apparently.  It was the thought she put into biking the course in the afternoon at the pace she should have been running in the morning so she could prove her time.  Who puts that much effort into cheating a 13 mile race?  Apparently that chick.

So why am I seeing red today?  Let me tell you why….

In February of 2013, I sat in a hospital room, at a whopping 250 lbs, unable to breathe.  I had pneumonia, asthma, and couldn’t run to save my life. My pulmonary function was 70%. This…this was my rock bottom.  I may be struggling a bit now.  But that was where I knew things had to change.  That I could NEVER go back. That this person was not me.  This was me hiding from…well…you. All of you. I was hiding from life and not putting myself out there.  I was closet eating pints of chocolate chocolate chip ice cream and tons of pasta.  I was known as “the pudgy pal”.  If you were a dude and you wanted to talk about screwing a chick…I was the girl that listened.    My absolute rock bottom.  The next week I started my journey into paleo and becoming some kind of runner.  Yes, I’m going to tell you that the 250 lb. me could run, and even slower than my slow now.  But there was no giving up because I signed up for my first half marathon.  I was going to do it.  So I lost 30 lbs or so and ran my first half.  Seven half marathons and one full marathon and more than 50 pounds gone later, my pulmonary function on a bad day is now 95% and on the best days over 100%.  And although I’ve been injured and in my own mind not on the cool list,  I am so far from that girl I was 3 years ago.

That’s why I’m seeing red.  I’m seeing red for every person like me who ever struggled, thin or chunky.  For every person who saw mile 9 and said “Are you fucking kidding me?”  For anyone who wanted to turn around at mile 6 but didn’t because succeeding was worth more than the pain.  For every person who ever ever heard these phrases:

“Running is bad for your knees.”

“It would be easier if you were thinner.”

“Fat people shouldn’t run.”

“You can’t!”

You won’t!”

“I don’t support you.”

“I don’t understand why this is important to you.”

“You’re not fast enough.”

“You aren’t a real runner.”

“You need to lose weight first and then run.”

You know what I have to say to the girl who cheated, and for anyone who has ever muttered any of these phrases?  Screw you!  Seriously, if you want to do it better, then lace up your damn running shoes and work hard next to me and everyone else who is working like the dickens to give their rock bottom a middle finger and farewell.    I’ve heard some of these, as early as recently. You need not go past my ass to see that running is a feat for me.  It’s not just my lungs or the size of my rockin’ ass, or my currently bum foot.  It’s the 250lb girl that still lives deep inside that doesn’t think she’s good enough.  Rest assured to anyone who thinks otherwise…I am good enough.  What she did this weekend was take the easy way out.  Those people who have hit you with the above phrases, but sit on the couch while they criticize you, should hold no merit in what you do.  But if you are anything like me, you hear them…you hear their voices mid run.  You hear them in the middle of you’re hardest moment.  You hear them at mile 25 when you’re not so sure there’s anything left.  You will always hear them.

That chick that cheated this weekend…I may not have been there, but I see her.  She disrespected elite runners, the middle packs, and the back of the packs like me.  She disrespected everyone who sweat in the middle of a race with a heat advisory where people got all their mileage in, or bowed out gracefully.  I will see her and people like her in my hardest sprint, in my last .1 of my 13.1.

Know that if you have ever had anything to say to me or anyone like me…  If you passed comments about the medals on my wall or decided that you know what a true runner is.  Or if you are the person who has told any of those lies above to anyone struggling inside, we hear you in our daily struggle.  Because of you…we can.  Because of the chick who shortchanged herself and let herself be called a winner…we can. Because of the rock bottom moment…I assure you, I will.  All of you struggling will.  All of you ready to run your first 13.1 will do it honorably for yourselves, and you will still hear those voices but they will only drive you to that finish line.  You’re only cheating yourself if you don’t.

The fat girl will live inside of me forever.  She is the reason I am where I am.  While I’m still not finished. She is the unworthy feeling that creeps out of me.  She is the person that gives me needy moments.  She is what drives me.  I was having  a moment the other day when a friend said the following to me.

“Question: Why does the cool chick always have to do with weight loss and exercise? You’re a cool chick no matter what. And you’re damn hot too (I love her…just love her for that one!) Stop being so damn hard on yourself. Look at a picture from 8 years ago.  Look  where you came from.  Look how hard you worked to get there.”

And she’s right.  The cool chick or dude is there no matter what…in all of us.  I am a cool chick, and I don’t have to cut a course by a couple of miles to look like a cool chick.  I don’t have to be everyone’s cup of tea to be the cool chick.  Neither do you.  Take your rock bottom and all those negative nelly comments and stick them into your most difficult moments.  Hear them, feel how they made you feel….and then let them go.  Let them take you. Fuel yourself with them. Let them be you’re drive. You can…I can. Watch me. Watch us.

I realize this…  If you have ever told me any of the above.   If you’ve ever been negative and not supported me…watch this. Watch me.  I’m not cutting corners to get to where I’m going. And chances are, if I or anyone else has felt that kind of negativity, we aren’t going to need you hanging around in a few pounds.  None of us will.  Because no one needs that kind of negativity in life.  Us rock bottom-ers, we’ve got us…if you can’t see us for the cool peeps we are, peace, out.  There is no skipping ahead to win the race, cause the race is inside of us.

So half marathon cheater, thank you, thank you for fueling my success.  I may not have been there, but my friends were and you will be fueling them too.

Until next time…

DP Babbles

 

Obstacles

29 Jan

 

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There are always going to be obstacles in life.  And they suck but I’m learning that the way I handle it makes me suck a little more due to lack of patience.  I’ve been in search of my positive pants because one measly joint in my left foot is being such an asshole to me that it’s held me back from my scheduled goals.   And I have proven to myself if you give me a goal to meet I’m going to find a way to conquer it.  But yet this one little ouchie has been the ultimate thorn in my ass…or foot.

I’m sitting here thinking of ways I can be more positive when faced with obstacles…so I’m going to try and make it humorous. Let’s see if you can relate…

Obstacle 1:  Assholes in life.  Life is full of them.  The one’s who can never admit they’ve done something wrong.  The ones that hurt feelings and can’t admit that maybe they sucked just a bit for a moment.  We all suck sometimes.  Saying I admit I suck sometimes…makes you less of an asshole.  Positive solution?  Be the better person. By better I mean, mentally punch that shit head in the face and move on. Let go.  Chances are if they can’t recognize their jerky behavior… they never will. So groove on, hot stuff.  You deserve people in life who value your place in theirs.  Harder said than done…it won’t always be that way.  Don’t force people…it only chokes you out in the end.

Obstacle 2:  Worrying.  I’m a worrier.  Most of the things I worry about never actually happen. It’s totally useless to worry.  But we all do it.    I worry about money, kids, work, people.   None of that shit worries about me.  My kids mean well but they don’t know what worry means.  So what positive thing can we do to not worry.  (I’m totally flying blind on this…)  Let’s create a rule: If it doesn’t give a shit about us, don’t give a shit about it. Plan for finances, but don’t let it make you sick.  You have no choice but to worry about your kids so suck it up.  Work doesn’t worry about you…have a glass of wine and say cheers.   And you never cross some peoples mind so…just stop worrying about them.  If that doesn’t work I could propose 50 push ups per worry.  Or 100 squats per crappy person your worrying about.  Ok, ok so you may still worry, but dat ass though after those squats, #amiright?   Besides if you truly did that, you’d be sore enough to not worry your pretty little head.  Right?  I’m a damn genius!!!

Obstacle 3:  Injury.  This has been my thorn.  It’s actually kept me quite down.  But today I’m vowing to turn this negative into a positive.  I’m going to just do my best.  If my best is modifying every exercise until I’m “normal” then, so be it.  I may have to do plank and push ups on my knees but I showed up.  (and my knees got some work in too!) Doing something is better than the nothing I was doing a month ago.  If I show up to exercise, chances are my thighs are still cheering but everything is working through the cheers.  The people who want to see you succeed, will make sure their thighs are cheering for you too! And the people who aren’t…see Obstacle one and two.  F*ck that shit.  Let go, do 50 pushups and 100 squats.  You feel better now, right?

Obstacle 3: Life.  Sometimes it’s just not fair. While it would be great to have a time out and a two year old tantrum, it just can’t work like that.  Life is just not fair.  We take the good with the bad, the assholes with the real friends, the brussel sprouts with the great big hamburger and fries (I’m hungry).  Sometimes life can’t help to be a big piece of liver and onions with a side of spinach (I like those, I but I’m sure most readers won’t).  Sometimes we just have to accept the lesson learned and that’s the positive.  The positive is that life is a roller coaster and the tough times don’t last. Tough people do.  Hey, you…you sassy amazing bitch of a chick, you are tough. And whether its any of the above mentioned…you can get past it.  I mean if you think that a bunch of f*cking assholes and a bum toe joint is going to get in my way, I’ve got news for you. Watch this asshole run right past you assholes.

So what can you take from this?  Really whatever the hell you want.

All I’m saying is this…don’t feel forced to be part of my life, or anyone elses.  I’m not groovy with forced friendships.   Don’t be an asshole, but if you happen to, it’s ok to apologize for that.  We all suck sometimes. Work through that injury.  Replace injury with whatever is ailing you currently.  And live life, but don’t be a whiner.  Try and replace your negative drawers with positive panties.  And be kind if you can…the sincere kind of kind.

No one is perfect. Stop pretending to be or expecting everyone around you to be.  Psssst. We are all flawed…and we all have obstacles.

I am forever flawed and hope to be fully accepted for all of them, but totally ok if I cannot.

Until next time…

DP Babbles

(the squatter of squats and pusher of push ups)

 

The Crazy Day of Me…

8 Jan

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Do you ever get a little overwhelmed with the wheels that spin in your head.  I’ve recently had a few of things going on in my personal life that have kind of spun my wheels in the opposite direction they were going.  Spinning to the point where I don’t feel like me some days.  Today was a tweener day for me.  It has nothing to do with an actual “tweener” you sickos.  It’s a day of transition to a new adventure, a new way to get the “me” I love back.

Yesterday I was excited for a new adventure, but exhausted after two hours of sleep post work call and a couple bottles of champagne.  So today was a day where the kiddos and I chilled.  By chill I mean I lay in bed acting like an asshole and letting my wheels spin.  So I slept on and off, neglected to eat and thought about whats to come.

I’ve been working on me for a long while but the last couple of months I kind of lost that strong chick, the confident one who’s happy.  I wish the pre-marathon me knew what to expect of the post marathon me.   I wish I didn’t have such high expectations of what post marathon me would be.  But tomorrow, I’m going to forgive her (talking about yourself in the third person is fucking stupid!) and move on.  I seriously hope that all of the people who noticed a shift in confidence and personality can forgive me too.

So last week I began training with my running coach again.  And I felt more alive than I have been in two months.  And tomorrow I begin a dedicated  journey to finish the one thing I promised myself I would finish.  I am finding my goal weigh/body, and the girl I knew a month or two ago.  It’s a promise I’m making to me in front of my few readers.   Yes, for everyone who tells me I’ve come a long way, you’re right.  I have the before pictures to prove it.  But  I’m not done. And there’s a tattoo at the end of this goal.  (don’t tell my mom yet!lol)

The thing about life is that we can’t all be perfect.  We make mistakes. We utterly fuck up in awful ways. We also have the ability to forgive and heal.  We have the ability to kick our own asses in to gear.  We have the ability to move onward and upward.   We have the opportunity to support each other.

My aunt texted me the night before I ran my marathon.  She reminded me that the race doesn’t define me.  That running never did.  That what defines me is the woman I am.  She’s right. I forget that.  I really forgot that.   How lucky I am to have people who really know and accept me for the me I am.  If your one of those people, thank you. Know that even when I struggle, I absolutely accept you.  I’m a needy little bitch about it sometimes.  But I promise, I accept you for the imperfect person you are.

I certainly appreciate all of the support I have received in the past and all the support and incentives to get me to my next destination.

So…Laura and Katie will be kicking my ass.  I see a Asbury Park Half Marathon in my future and a new me before 40.  I see that badass strong bitch right in front of me (even when my grammar and spelling suuuuck!).  I’m coming for her.  And I appreciate your support in the process.

For those that need a little inspiration, it’s all in you.  Right inside your heart.   And I know that now.  So from here on out … Let’s be bad ass together.

No regrets…(it’s all part of the journey)

Until next time,

DP Babbles