Today was hard.  And it’s only 11 am.

Disclaimer: Nothing said here will be earth-shattering, life-altering or anything but mundane.  But we live in the mundane, a very busy, hectic, joyfully-sad mundane.  I think if we discount the hard, but little things in our day-to-day, we eventually realize they have snowballed into something much bigger and harder to ignore.

With that said, I awoke to face some challenges this morning.  As I had mentioned previously, I was scheduled to walk six miles with friends today.  I am continuing my slow-but-steady trek towards a 1/2 marathon in December.  But it was raining and so the walk was cancelled.  I reluctantly decided to roll with the weather punches and started to formulate a half-heart plan to walk on the treadmill.  If I was being honest, I did put on my workout clothes and tied my hair back, but it may have been more for comfort than a true intent to continue with a walk this morning.  But then, my dear husband, noting the weather and seeing the workout clothes, called me out on it.  He didn’t mean too.  He was just making conversation with assumptions any person outside of my head would make – “oh, going to workout?  Good for you!”  My external response, “yep.”  My internal response, “crap, he noticed.”  It wasn’t just about the weather this morning, I was dragging and tired.  I hadn’t slept well, coffee wasn’t working, the sun wasn’t shining, I had errands to run….and on and on…the list was truly endless.  If I have excelled in anything when it comes to taking care of myself I can boast a long list of every excuse in the book.  I have used them for soooo long, they don’t even sound like excuses to me anymore.  They have become second nature and I have accepted many of them as truths, instead of what they really are – little lies I tell myself.

So by 6am this morning I had already realized today was not perfect.  And as I sat down to draw my “Today’s Not Perfect” picket sign to protest doing anything I had originally said I would do, I got sucked into our morning routine and, next thing I knew, I had two kids on the bus and was shuttling the other two to preschool.  So I was out of the house.  Step 1.  Then I ran a few of my errands and as I was driving home to drop off groceries I made up my mind that I would just stop by the gym and walk for a bit.  Much of this decision was based on having created this blog because, if I don’t walk, I die a tragic death during a 1/2 marathon and I don’t want to write about how miserably I failed (thank you inciting blog).  So, I went to gym, got on the treadmill and, even as I set the time for 40 mins I knew, in my head, I was already giving myself a way out.

“I can stop if I get too tired…at least I got here”

“I can stop if I have to use the bathroom….because I always have to use the bathroom”

“I don’t have time to do 40 minutes today.  I should be doing…xyz”

But I stepped on the treadmill and I turned up my music and I started.  That’s it.  Well, then I realized I had forgotten to put on my Fitbit before I left and I had one more heated debate with myself about if I should even do this walk because it wouldn’t “count” on my FitBit.  THEN, I started.

And I did it.  I did 40 minutes, which at my pace was 2.36 miles.  I did it with small steps and miniature defiant actions against the little wars that wage in my head.  I did it by accepting imperfection in the day, in myself, in the situation and in doing so, I created my own moment of perfection.

An inciting life isn’t about having all the answers, or having a clean house, great kids, a great boss, or all the time in the world.  An inciting life is about quieting those “if onlys” of an imperfect life by creating our own perfect moments that speak so much louder to who we truly are.

Today might be imperfect, but I created a shining moment of perfection for myself this morning.  And I can be proud of that.

**I don’t have a picture to go with my post today.  Perfect moments look different to everyone.  I did take a picture of my workout stats on the treadmill, but it would’ve been a lame picture to post.  I do, however, encourage you to take a quick snap shot today of the perfect moment you created, just for you.  Be proud of those moments.**

Change is stinking hard!  Bad habits call to me like a warm bed on a snowy, cloudy day.  They’re sooo comforting and familiar.  Trying to start new habits feels a lot like being out in a desert wasteland where I am totally unprotected and unfamiliar with everything that surrounds me.  That is precisely why I have turned to creating situations of “do or die”, the inciting incident, in which I could only exit out the other side.

One of my worst habits happens around 3pm every day.  I come downstairs from having spent 20 mins up in the twins’ room, trying to get them to nap, and listening to the soothing sounds of serene ocean, and I am zapped.  I make the mistake of sitting down “just for a minute” and I never really recover.  I try drinking more coffee and snacking to revive my senses and both usually make me feel worse.  Friends of mine have called this the “witching hour”, between 3 and 6pm.  It use to happen even when I was teaching full-time, but in a slightly different capacity.

It is the time of day when everything seems to turn back into a pumpkin.  This is the part of my day my dearest husband witnesses when he arrives home.  I could have had THE most productive day ever – ran all of my errands, organized closets, volunteered, kept up with laundry and dishes and toy pick-up, worked out, ate healthy – but then the clock strikes 3…dun dun duuuunnn.  What my dear husband sees, as he trips over the back packs and miniature shoes by the back door is – toys all over, laundry on the dining room table, dinner-prep pots and pans strewn all over the counters, and a disheveled and exhausted looking wife who is already in some stage of depression because she is keenly aware that all of the work she did, with house and diet, are now a distance memory.  Whew!  The witching hour.  When I live out the classic Princess story in reverse.  I go from the glowing Princess who kisses the Prince good-bye every morning and floats throughout her day, to the one dressed in rags, scrubbing floors with some sort of dried on something on my shirt that I wear in place of my diamonds every evening.

But these are my perceptions.  Dear husband never says a thing.  He comes home, steps over the shoes, around the backpacks, pushes aside the dishes on the counter to make room for Tupperware from lunch and leans in for a kiss as he rolls up his sleeves to unload the dishwasher.  I’m a lucky Princess, if only I let myself feel like one.

So the question remains, if I have identified my weak point why don’t I just do something about it?  Good question.  And, I don’t know.  That’s why I am here.  It is not for a lack of knowledge about how to set and achieve goals, or how to change bad habits, or have a healthier lifestyle.  The knowledge is there.  But the thing many of those articles, quotes and self-help books don’t directly mention is all of the knowledge is useless if you don’t use it.  Honestly, my husband and kids do a better job following my advice than I do.

Today I will think Princess-like thoughts.  I will stave off the witch inside with the following potion:

Intentional smiling (silly, but try it)

Music (to drown out the nay-saying voices)

Movement (no sitting at 3pm – the witching hour is going to have catch me if she wants me)

I’ll let you know how the potion works.  Keeping it light, keeping it simple, keeping it happy.

And the news on the fitness front is I walked 40 mins and met my 5 mile goal on Monday, I walked 4.45 miles yesterday and I was invited by friends to walk 6 miles tomorrow.  And yes, 6 miles makes me a little nervous right now, but I’m all in.  Creating my inciting life meant telling my friends about it, and good friends help you write a great story.

Happy Mother’s Day!

A mother’s view is often very different from how the rest of the world sees them.  She sees her child’s beauty, her husband’s talents, and her friend’s successes.   What she often does not see, is herself.

I have a mirrors in my home, which is normal.  I see my face when I put on make-up and do my hair.  I occasionally catch a glance when I wash my hands or when I am backing up my car.  I see myself standing there, but I don’t really notice the person.  Not really.  The problem with ignoring the sight of myself  is, over the years, I have been able to ignore the physical changes that have occurred as a direct result of lack of self-care.

I once considered it vain to spend time in the mirror or at a gym.  People who spent time on self-improvement or caring for their bodies obviously had nothing better to do.  It was almost a badge of honor as a “good mom” to personally look like you cared very little about your own well-being.  If I wasn’t taking care of myself, the assumption must be it is because I am spending so much time taking care of my family.  When did this become ok?  Maybe it was a movement  lost in feminist translation somewhere – we don’t have to look good all of the time for our husbands and families anymore, so we don’t.  It’s really gotten to a point where, when I see another mom with young kids (especially one with four or more like me) and she looks put together and physically fit, I stare like she’s an anomaly of a woman.  Someone who obviously “does it all!”  (True or not, I still place her on a pedestal.)

Here is what I’ve come to realize (and this is nothing new, just new to me), ignoring myself isn’t a badge of courage, it’s a cop-out and it’s hurting those around me.  It’s taking a toll on my body and my mind, which is taking moments away from my family.  It means a lack of family pictures, a lack of patience because of exhaustion, a lack of mental clarity, and a lack of energy to simply keep up with all a home of six requires.  My kids think I am beautiful no matter what.  They are the epitome of unconditional love.  I am very fortunate to have a dedicated and loving husband and sweet, endearing children that love me for who I am no matter my hair, my face, my size.  Raising them to be giving, caring, thoughtful children who love to learn and are comfortable in who God made them to be is one of my highest priorities.  As a mom I am dedicated to this cause.  But even so, it is not for them that I must take care of myself, it is because of them.  I need to start letting myself be loved – by me, so that I may do what I want most – to spend more time enjoying moments with them and living a full life.  As Bob Goff, one of my favorite author’s and philanthropists says, “Love does”.  So this is the part where I “do”.  To clarify, I am talking about 20-30 mins a day (at least) to take care of my health.  I am talking about positive self-talk.  I am talking about squelching consuming habits that eat away at my time and energy.  For me, this looks like scheduling my walks/runs or gym time on my calendar just like every other daily event I want to remember to do.  Saying “no” to events that conflict with that time.  It means writing this blog so I can see and appreciate tangible results.  It even meant deleting Facebook off of my iPhone.  Even though it seems counter-intuitive that spending time on me allows me to spend more time with them, it’s true.  And I can no longer ignore it.

I will never be a fashion-maven.  It isn’t part of my DNA.  I will probably always prefer flats over heels and will have a special place in my heart for yoga pants and, what my husband calls, my “going out t-shirts”.  But if this journey allows me to be a better version of me for them, then it’s hard to think of anything more important.  When I look in the mirror (maybe not every time, but at least once a day), I am going to stop and notice the person there.  I am going to appreciate the view that everyone around me sees and know that I am beautiful.  I am not on this journey so I can look good in a little black dress (that’s a bonus side effect), I am on this journey so that my kids know the importance of nurturing, not just their minds, but their bodies as well.  I teach them this, but it’s time to show them.

Here is how a wonderful husband and children support their wife/mother when she decides she wants to run 13.1 miles in a crazy fit of insanity.

I’m pretty excited!  Day 2 is about getting my plan together and getting the tools in place.  And then taking some stock of all that makes me a great person, mom, friend and wife already.  Appreciating where I am, so I have a strong foundation to start building tomorrow.

 

I am 37-years-old.  I have a great life.  I do great things (well, good things).  But, like many, I don’t acknowledge my accomplishments.  And, like many, I have dreams that always seem just out of reach.  I ponder things like – how do I remain grateful for what is in front of me but restless enough to keep moving forward?

So here’s what I’ve decided to do.  I am using a writer’s concept of creating an inciting incident to move me forward into unfamiliar and scary territory.  I am creating my own catalyst for success.  I am moving past the “how”  to the “do”.  I am choosing to live an inciting life.

I am a fabulous list-maker.  I LOVE to plan things out, set goals, create schedules…in short, I’m a dreamer.  The implementation of my dreams is often where I fall short.  I create moments of accidental bravery and these become the moments I am proud of, but they have to sneak up on me.  But what I am starting to learn is, through all the uncertain, fuzziness of the unknown outcomes in life – it feels really, really good to be brave – even if I do it accidentally or reluctantly.

So I am going to be reluctantly brave.  I am choosing to put myself in situations that make me uncomfortable, expose my weaknesses to others and, in the process, create the person I feel I was meant to be in this world.  The person that has been buried by to-do lists, insecurities, and just the sheer momentum of life.  And I am going to do it publicly.  I choose to share my struggles because, in exposing them, I can no longer hide behind them and make excuses for myself.

Inciting Life – Day 1

On March 29th, 2014, one of my friends, Jennie, signed-up for the Diva Half-Marathon and posted it on Facebook.  The only other race I have ever done is the Color Me Rad, which was a little over a year ago.  Jennie ran it with me.  So I wrote to say congrats for signing up and “go you!”  She wrote back, “You should do it with me!”  And I thought – that’s insane!  And I should.  So here we are over a month later and I have told a handful of my friends that I “should” sign up, but I hadn’t.  You see, I’m physically (and mentally) nowhere near ready to run a half marathon.  My stats are something like this:

Ran one 5K a year ago (I took a few breaks to walk)

Had a foot fracture about six months ago

Get shin splints every time I’ve tried running

Carrying an extra 40 lbs (or the equivalent of my almost 4-year-old) around with me

Have a gym membership, but I take weeks off at a time

Live in Florida and it is getting ready to be Summer, which is ridiculously hot

Have four kids (the last two being twins), all 9 and under (enough said)

And last, but most importantly, I am NOT a runner

These don’t define me as a whole – not by a long shot.  But they do define my physical abilities.  So why, you ask, a half marathon?  Because it’s big.  There is a 5K option too, but I’ve done that.  It wasn’t big enough to incite the kind of physical change I need.  A half-marathon is no laughing matter.  They make you sign a waiver that says you are physically ready for it.  I’m not.  BUT, I will be.  I will be because I’m terrified.  I’m terrified that my to-do list will intervene (or that I’ll let it intervene).  I’m afraid that all of my excuses will win.  I’m nervous that I can’t go the distance (literally and figuratively) to reach this goal.  But, the bigger the goal, the harder the work, the bigger the reward.  Right?  So I’m all in.

Viva la inciting life.