Monday, May 16, 2011
First things first: I’m down 10 pounds total this week, which is week six. And I gotta admit I’m pretty pumped. All those hours of battling emotional eating, hitting the treadmill and missing perfect nights with my son in my arms…sure wish I would’ve thought of some fabulous reward for this milestone. But there’s still time, right? Maybe I should pluck from that Mother’s Day list that didn’t quite get checked off…
So two pounds off this week, which is amazing given my love affair with vodka drinks and SkinnyGirl margaritas on Saturday evening for Sarah’s graduation soiree. Not to mention the little smokie, bit of cookie cake and buffalo chicken dip that wandered it’s way into my pie hole…whoops. But hey, those delinquent, forbidden items still made the food log, ok? In fact, they practically ate the entire log for breakfast, but Wednesday starts for a new week – phew!
But enough about that, let’s talk endurance. One Webster definition of endurance is:The fact or power of enduring an unpleasant or difficult process or situation without giving way
I may have been drawn to this portion of the meaning because I had to run 30 minutes solid at the fastest speed I could, leaving me feeling limbless and more than annoyed with that dang camel drink thingy my husband so kindly gave me last week. Or maybe it’s the fact I may have played a small part in potentially getting our trainer the boot…
Did I actually write that out loud?
So I knew I was getting more crochety, persistent, “finding my voice” and “providing feedback” due to, I don’t know, life experiences? Exposure? Exhaustion? Or maybe this is who I really was all along. Yikes. But in my little world, I like to call it: not.settling.
In some areas and ways, I demand excellence. And if I demand it, I sure as hell will return the favor. And one of these areas definitely is when I fork over 500 bucks to slave away on the treadmill three days a week, away from my family, the boob tube, the iPhone, drinks with friends or a quick catch up with the hubs. Because if I could motivate and train myself, I sure as heck wouldn’t be showing up to the gym soiree with a bunch of strangers only to go home with a soaked tee, aching body and bad taste in my mouth. And I wouldn’t be using this lovely time to work with Jillian Michael’s potential sis-in-law.
Actually Jillian – she’s not all that bad.
And S wasn’t either. In fact, I really, really wanted to give her the opportunity to improve. I had prepped all weekend to share feedback, starting with the heart and positives, even getting some coaching at work so she would know it wasn’t personal but that we needed a true motivating leader week after week for the rest of the program.
And perhaps a little less talk about herself. More focus on us. Less chat about food, 300 pound family members, the fact that she’s HUNGRY and endless amounts of spinach. And more running through intervals and zones so it didn’t feel like we could just grab a piece of paper and do it ourselves.
And it would’ve been really cool had she arranged for a sub this evening so I didn’t get in the middle of the drama of being asked to run the class (um, no personal training degree here…in fact, that’s why my fat behind is in attendance) that ended with a perfectly fine chat with the head manager who said we’d see improvements by Wednesday.
But not so much S on Wednesday.
In fact, I’ve received word she’s being fired.
So now I don’t know what’s worse – fighting for what the group desired and deserved to achieve maximum results or being the straw that broke that camel’s back on this poor woman’s “career.”
They say choose your battles, but what about endurance? When is enough, enough? How long can you go and when should you settle? Because these days I seem to be putting my endurance into the wrong areas.
So here’s to endurance in all the places it counts: love, life, happiness, family, friends, marriages, careers, kiddos and more…
But not so much running on treadmills.
Or getting someone potentially fired.
And definitely not planks or pushups…which is exactly why we need a trainer there. Because otherwise we just skip those bad boys.
May endurance where it counts be a part of your life where it counts the most for you, and thank you for enduring mine. And to my special FIL, who is enduring plenty at his hospital surgical stay today.
Endure. Strive. Support. Love. And endure again…
Disclaimer: those are so not my legs.
Disclaimer 2: I so wish those were my legs.