What I Did Instead of Working Out on Sunday

When I was training for my half-marathon, I was in the middle of building my midwifery practice and it wasn’t a rare occasion that I felt like ass because I was running on a sleep deficit that was stretching across several days or weeks.  You see, if you work 30 hours in a row and then come home at 6am and crash and get a three hour nap before you have to start taking care of your kids or go back to work again and then you sleep 5 hours a night for the next six days, you don’t ever feel awesome.

I knew that I wanted to be fit and I knew that my life wasn’t going to change anytime soon, so I just decided to power through.  I made a rule that I had to do the run/bike/HIIT class that I had planned for the day unless I was actually working at the moment that they were supposed to occur.  I became the queen of discipline.

That was some dumb shit.

Dear readers, could you guess what happened next?  It took another year, and a marathon, but then I totally crashed and burned. Shocking.

So, this weekend I found myself in the familiar territory of having a few workouts scheduled (an iaido class, a bike ride, a powerlifting workout).  I missed them all.  I worked most of the day on Friday and then worked from 1am Saturday to 3am Sunday, then from noon to 6pm on Sunday.  You know what I did for the rest of Sunday?  I held down the couch.

In that three day weekend I got to be part of two amazing births, including helping a mom have a healthy baby girl after she’d lost two previous children to a congenital disorder.  I was a big ball of ugly crying when that birth was done and everything was joyful and triumphant.  The stress of carrying the desire for a happy outcome on that one made me even more wore out than normal.  I understand that for most people working 30 hours in two days would be enough to be wore out. It’s not my everyday normal, but it’s my normal.

It would seem to make sense to skip a workout after having your body and mind thrown through the grinder, but it is something I have to make a conscious effort to allow myself to do.  I’m feeling a little different about fitness these days — the weightlifting and short, high-intensity cardio I’m doing leave me less flattened than long, steady-state cardio workouts did and so I don’t have to force myself to do them.  I’m not really using my willpower to get to the gym.  And I’m not punishing myself when I don’t get there.

A funny thing is happening — when I rest and drink enough water and have enough recovery time between workouts, I can do more.  (I realize this is not rocket science, but allow me some grace for figuring out human physiology 101).  And it’s exciting to go to the gym and totally crush my goals.  I know that my progress will suffer if I skip a week or two weeks or a month, but it’s actually ok to take care of myself and enter my workouts healthy.  This is my new balance with my crazy life.  Last night I hit PRs on all my lifts and tried a few new accessory exercises (and had gas in the tank to do them). I still expect to work myself up to a heavy training schedule, but I’m also planning to be more holistic in my approach — seeing nutrition, rest, and strength and cardio work all as part of training and all equally valuable.  I’m already a champion napper.  I think I have a good start.


The Family that Trains Together Stays Together

So, I somehow managed to get my whole family doing Starting Strength-style powerlifting workouts.  And three out of the four of us are doing them together.  17 is far too cool to be seen with any of us, but so far he is my best partner in the most important part of the newby-nerdy fitness journey — obsessing over it.  We talk about our gains, about our PRs, about our macros.  We have stopped being fun at parties. We just train in parallel — an hour or two apart.  Him with his high-school bros and me with 13 and 54.  We even make fun of the same dudes we see at the gym.  

17 is a pretty intense athlete in his day job, which largely consists of picking sports he looks really, really good performing so that he can impress his friends, generate wicked snapchat videos, and pick up girls.  So it isn’t surprising that the addictive early gains of starting strength appealed to him.  “I wanna deadlift 400lbs by the end of the summer.”  You and me both, cupcake.  

But 13 and 54 are different and while they’re into it, I have to make sure to be sensitive to the fact that they’ve got unique goals and varying experiences from mine.

13 is a geeky, chubby kid who has always thrown in the towel pretty easily instead of trying to shine athletically in the presence of his big brother.  But he’s crazy strong, probably from spending the last few years of doing judo.  Proportional to his size, he’s probably got the most natural talent for lifting in our family.  But he’s all about intensity and gonzo, then fades as soon as something is consistently hard.  I’ve been trying to nudge him a bit, show him how impressive his gains are, get him to hang in there.

54.  Well 54 is complicated. He’s not an intensity junkie, which makes him set apart from the three of us.  And I’m struggling with being supportive-but-not-patronizing as I talk about climbing your own hill while I’m sliding on a few extra plates between his sets and mine.  I haven’t quite finished finessing the art of negotiating the impact of the aging dude ego on our ability to share an activity that I am way more into than he is.  But he is really supportive of me in general, and I’m really hoping that this is something that we can enjoy doing together.  I think maybe I just need to put more metal songs on his playlist and we’ll be alright.

It’s Not You, It’s Me


Pinkhairedchickenmama and I pausing on a run during happier times.

Dear running,

I have to break up with you.  Our relationship has not been good for a while.  When we met I was all in, maybe a little bit too soon. Spending time with you gave me a kind of heady feeling, some would say addictive.  But there have been signs since the beginning, red flags if you will, that we are a bad match.  I have other lovers now, and while things aren’t necessarily easier with them either, I just get don’t worn down by the them the way I did with you.  Plus, they’re sexier.  Sorry.  Well, sorry not sorry.

Be well,


I have a backstory, as lots of people do, which put me in the not-so-unique position of having two young kids and being in crap shape.  I had a few false starts at trying to improve my fitness (including a very fun, but ultimately too time-consuming stint on a competitive rowing team) but found that I couldn’t stay consistent with anything fitness-related because of the constant pull of insomnia, kid-wrangling, work-wrangling, and inertia.

But then I found running.  And because it was something that could be done in my own neighborhood, with no prep time and minimal gear, it seemed doable.  I did couch to 5k four times before making it through the program (should have been my first hint), but kept going and then joined a running group where my embarrassment about being last every time motivated me to gain speed and distance at a reasonable pace.  I ran my first 5k, a women’s only race, and placed a full 15 minutes after my friends.  But then I PR’ed every single race after that, running about one every one-two months.  I started to feel like a fit person.  I was proud of myself.

With the help of an amazing group of people at the Ypsi Studio, I managed to train for what seemed to be an impossible distance, the half-marathon, and ran a very satisfying 2:32 in the Detroit Free Press International Marathon (half-marathon event).  It was a real peak experience and I savored every minute of it.  I felt healthy and strong and capable.  I knew I wasn’t the fastest runner there, but I finished the distance just fine and I did so at 218 lbs.  I was pretty proud of what I had accomplished and felt like my fitness was better than it had been in years.  And it was. Training for the half-marathon took me from someone who struggled to finish a 5k without walking to someone who cranked out 9 and 10 mile training runs and had a bit to give.

Looking back, though, I wonder if it was the running that led to my fitness gains or if the running just benefitted from my fitness gains.  I was running in the mornings twice a week with the Studio running group, then filling out my program with three more runs a week.  But I also was doing bootcamp classes, spinning, and a HIIT workout with the Studio’s owner, Julia Collins.  Sometimes I was doing three workouts in a row — running with the group then staying for bootcamp and spin.  I think that my body responds awesomely to resistance training and high-intensity cardio.  And maybe not so much to the long slog of distance running training. I often felt like my long runs were my least effective days.

This became really obvious when I tried to springboard from my half-marathon success and train for a marathon the next year.   One mistake — I started training too early on an ankle I had broken in a rock-climbing accident.  But really, marathon training was just one fail after another.  As running replaced my other workouts, I actually felt my body get weaker.  My adrenals took a hit.  I began to get repetitive stress injuries.  I had to roll my IT bands every day or they felt like concrete when I ran.  I had absolutely debilitating heel spurs.  My knees sounded like they had a bag of marbles in them every time I went up or down the stairs. I gained 25 lbs.  My long runs were three and four and five-hour-long exercises in sheer will against a constant desire to quit, followed by a day on the couch.

My friends from the Studio and from our running community were super-encouraging on the day of the race and it did feel like a triumph, though strangely not as satisfying as my half and with a time much less satisfying — over six and a half hours.  I could say that I ran a marathon, but, in reality, I wasn’t sure I would ever want to run again.  And, two and half years later, I’ve gathered together all of my false starts in running, attempts to use running for fitness gains again, and I’m officially saying goodbye.

My closure was inspired by one of my neighbors, who has found a new love of running by running races of only a single mile, finding meaning in being fast.  Here is her story:  http://milermethod.com/blog/breaking-up-with-the-marathon

Sierra’s writing about how holding the marathon as the pinnacle of the recreational running experience led her to doubt her body resonated pretty strongly with me and awoke me one step at a time to something I hadn’t realized:  running puts me in a constant battle with my body.  Sierra came to a slightly different conclusion — she decided that her body type was more suited to a faster, shorter race.  I decided that I’m not going to run at all.

I’m now about 270 lbs.  And even if I get down to 218 again, or lower, to my fighting weight of, say, 165-185 lbs, I still don’t think running will be my best sport.  I’m in a head space where I don’t want to make weight loss my primary focus, rather I want performance and strength.  And I’m finding that there are a lot of sports where my weight is not the kind of hindrance that it is in running.  Because even 165lb me is not going to be a Boston qualifier.  I’ve accepted that.  My muscle-y self is not made for it.  And I don’t want to do a sport where I’m thinking that if I could just lose a little muscle weight, I’d be faster.  It’s a battle I don’t want to fight.  Running makes my body my own enemy, and I hate that.

I’m an awesome athlete, when I train consistently, and I sometimes make sick improvements in short amounts of time that surprise me when I pick the right activities. When I was cross-training for the half, I surprised my trainer by pulling 400 watts consistently on the erg and I’m erg training now, trying to get a 5k time less than 20 minutes.  I think I’ll get there by the end of the month.  I can cycle efficiently and tear up the mountain bike trails.  I can swim long distances easily.  But what I really can do is lift weights.

What all of these activities have in common is that having a more muscled body is a strength, not a weakness for them.  I knew that I would excel in weightlifting because I have a long-ago history with it and a little flirting relationship with it from HIIT.  But now that I am working an actual powerlifting program, I am absolutely, totally, head over heels in love.  And I’m crushing it for now.  I feel at harmony with my body in a way that I haven’t for years while exercising.  I’m dreaming big dreams about how far I can go with this sport and, best of all, I can do it in the body that I’m in.  LOVE.

Back on the Beast-Wagon

There have been some recent conversations between pinkhairedchickenmama and I regarding shaking off our stuckness. And just like the ice is leaving the Great Lakes and the ground is thawing all of the way through, so are we shaking off our winter blues and stepping out into the springtime to look around.

She was brave enough to register for one of the hardest trail half-marathons in Michigan and is starting running down the country roads near her farm full of wayward creatures trying to train after being seriously sidelined by illness and injury. She got mobile rural internet access, aka a smartphone, to help track her nutrition. I just finished passing a big belt test for my Iaido training and am going full gonzo into working out with my new gym membership. Truth be told, I’ve got my whole motley nerdy family on a powerlifting program. The YMCA has seen nothing like us.

We’re going to try to write more about this journey, be consistent, accomplish something, be epic, be beastly. Stay tuned.