22 miles: demolished

I was looking for redemption this morning.
Redemption from that disastrous 20-miler last week. 
Redemption from the mind games that I let control me while on that run. 
Redemption from the doubt that started to creep in…the “why the hell am I doing this??” kind of self-doubt. 

This morning I got that redemption…and then some. We literally demolished our 22 miler this morning. Killed it.

(once again, looks here are very deceiving, I was in so much pain — it took all of my strength to amble on over to Scott, sit in his lap and position the camera correctly. If you look really close, you can see the pain amid my furrowed brows lol)

Everything just felt right today. The air was the coolest it’s been in weeks…not a lick of humidity in the air whatsoever. It was dark to start…which I just love, it puts me in this zen-like state, so peaceful and calming. We were nicely fueled thanks to our usual pizza night shenanigans the night prior. But most of all — we were ready. Ready for redemption. Ready to prove to ourselves that we’re right where we need to be with just weeks to go before Chicago.

Two phrases whirred around in my head this morning and I truly believe it’s what helped me stay ‘in’ it without letting my thoughts control me in that mental mind game sort of way.

The first came from a friend, Meaghan, who I adore and totally admire (she’s training for an ULTRA, I mean really, that’s just amazing). She lives and breathes running — it’s what fuels her, it’s her passion, it’s her first love (aside from her daughter maybe, hehe). Her words:

“Let the run come to you.”

I took her words to heart. I internalized them. I held onto them for dear life today. I let the miles come as they may, I didn’t force them, I didn’t overthink them. I simply ran. Letting the run come to me instead of the other way around.

The second phrase that drove me onward today? They came from my sis who gave me the sweetest, most thoughtful, most perfectly-written card. (side note: a card out of the blue, or a hand-written note for that matter — totally lost art form if you ask me, it sends such a signal of thoughtfulness and love that you don’t get from a text message or an email…). The words from that card…scripture actually:

“I have great confidence in you.” – 2 Corinthians 7:4

Simple, beautiful words. Comforting. I literally chanted that phrase over and over in my head anytime my brain started to veer towards mental mind game territory. I also thought a lot about my sisters on this run…both of them. And how much I love them and admire them and don’t tell them nearly enough.

I’m keeping today’s post short today — as I still don’t think I’ve quite let the 22 miles sink in yet. That we did this…together, yet again. We powered through even when everything started to hurt and all I wanted to do was stop. Scott was my sherpa today — cheering me on, telling me to stay right by his hip and he’d carry me home, and it got me through those painful last few miles. I had to stop myself a few times from breaking down in tears the closer we got to home — I was just so in awe of us in those final moments, so proud, so amazed. In fact, I did cry as we hit the home stretch. Scott took off ahead of me and was waiting for me at the finish, cheering me on with that huge smile of his. And I just lost it. Just for a minute. Just a few tears and sobs escaped. It was my way of ‘letting the run come to me’ – through tears of joy, pride, and yes, utter exhaustion. 

We did this. Yet again. And we’ll do this *again* on October 7 in Chicago.
…and yes, there will be tears then too. You’ve been warned. 

Of (fit) bucket lists and things

Hi friends! I’m baaaack! 🙂

And this pretty much sums up our glorious ‘lakation’ in Maine:

That would be me stealing a spot on my sister’s chair to lounge my legs on while we sat dockside for pretty much the entire trip up to the lake house. It was so perfect. Perfect time with friends. Perfect sister time. Perfect hubby time. Perfect gram and gramp time (complete with gram teaching us to make our first blueberry pie!) Perfect me time. So perfect I really can’t put words together to describe the trip properly.

…so I won’t even try. I hope you don’t mind.
(and for those of you following me on instagram, I apologize in advance for all of my annoying “omg it’s so beautiful here” pics, hehe)

In other news — I *did* successfully knock an item off of my fitness bucket list while we were away. A (fit) bucket list I’ve been keeping up with over on pinterest with lots of fun items on it, a few of which I fully intend on knocking from that list this year.

One of them is hitting that 26.2 goal of mine. 
…but you knew that already. 

The other one? Feeling confident enough to go for a run in just a sports bra and shorts. 
…seems pretty simple, right? 

But for me — this marked a pretty big milestone moment. Of me finally feeling comfortable enough in my own skin to not give a rat’s ass care what anyone thought of me (good, bad or otherwise) while I was out there running some miles. The confidence I’ve been working towards since the barre n9ne challenge first began for me last May, a confidence I’ve been chasing for years and years. A confidence in who I am today, tomorrow and forever — a confidence I’ve finally chased and snagged. And am holding onto for dear life.

So yeah, this happened:

With my sister and bestie Steph — two of my fit friends that have been right there with me on this journey of mine from the start. Quite fitting if you ask me. Also fitting? That it was muggy as all hell when we took off for our run last weekend in Maine. Holy sweatfest.

So how did it feel, you must be wondering?

To be honest, I was expecting to have some sort of an epiphany. To feel this giant rush of some sort. But instead, I felt…normal. As if I should have been / could have been doing this all along and why-did-I-wait-so-long-to-do-this sort of thing. It sort of felt like no big deal. But I guess that’s kind of the point, right? If it DID feel like a big deal, if I DID feel exposed or conspicuous or something then maybe it would mean I’m not quite ‘there’ yet. As in not quite as confident and comfortable being me as I thought I finally was.

I guess that’s my takeaway then. It was no big deal. But not because I had built it up way too much in my head and it was a giant fail. Nope. It’s because I really *am* that confident and happy person at last. I am who I am. And happily so. 

…and maybe this big 14-miler (holy PDR time!!) I have planned for tomorrow will be done sports-bra style too. Just maybe. 😉

Workouts *can* be fun (and still qualify as “badass”)

After last week’s very mental 9-miler, I’ve been trying to shift my focus a little bit. Sure, I’m in ‘training’ for my first marathon this fall, but does that mean my workouts — and really, my “me” time — need to be uber-serious and uber-structured all the time (if at all)?

I say, nope!

And this morning’s workout is total #PROOF that workouts can indeed be fun and still qualify as totally badass and totally sweatastic, too.

(note the barre n9ne sign behind us, hehe)

As you can see — we’re *still* smiling. Which is rather surprising given the workout two-fer we just put ourselves through:

— 6am barre n9ne fusion class with Julianna, who always seems to find a way to sneak in some new moves on me when I least expect it. Today was totally killer and I LOVED it. Fusion is a nice switch-up from the classes I’m used to taking and teaching since this is a barre-less class, relying on bodyweight-style moves coupled with resistance bands for strengthening while lengthening and the evil (but I love ’em) gray 1 lb balls. ❤ it.

— we oh-so-smartly followed this up by trying a new running route near the studio that would get us about 5ish miles of rundate fun in, directly after class. Rookie mistake on my part? *Not* bringing shorts to change into after class. I literally had to peel my Lululemon wunder under crops off before I could shower. Holy sweatfest.

What I loved about this workout? Sure, it was totally killer and badass and all of that good stuff, but really? It gave me time to catch up with my sis who I see a little bit less of now that she teaches in the barre n9ne studio near her and I teach at the one near me, so we don’t get nearly as many fun fitdates in as we used to. And I KNOW — 22 mins apart is TRULY nothing in the grand scheme of things, but when you’ve been spoiled by living a mere 5 minutes apart (or less) for years, it feels a heck of a lot farther.

I also loved that we were able to pull eachother up, running-wise. We’ve both battled a bit of the mental mind game thing lately so it was really good to shake that off together, chatting away as best as we could while “bunny creeping” as Jo calls it. (for the record: we only saw ONE bunny, two if you count the same bunny twice).

So this is just my little blogger PSA for ya’ll on this super-steamy winesday Wednesday: workouts *can* be fun (and still qualify as “badass”) — quit taking yourself so seriously sometimes. It’s kinda nice now and then. 😉 

60 days…one year later (before/after)

This girl?

Sad. (but very few knew this)

Feigning confidence (that most mistook for genuine confidence)

Working harder, not smarter. (and getting nowhere fast)

Frustrated with her current “path.” (career path, life path, fitness path…all of it)

…I don’t even recognize this girl anymore.

This is me.

The “me” I’ve always dreamed of being but never quite got there.

The “me” that is joyfully confident and not afraid to say so.

The “me” that loves her path…career, life, fitness, all of it.

The “me” that works smarter (not harder), always.

The “me” that is the happiest she’s ever been.

…I love this girl.

Honestly – I can’t properly put words to paper to adequately describe what this past year has meant to me. And for my sis. And our sisterly bond since we set foot in the barre n9ne studio on May 12, 2011 as the inaugural 60-day challengers and barre n9ne spokesmodels.

It’s been life changing, transformational, joy-filled, intention-driven.

Sure I could sit here and tell you how many pounds I’ve lost, how many inches I’ve whittled away and how many classes I’ve taken in the past year to get me where I am today. But that’s not what this is about. The numbers part is the obvious part. You can see it in the before/after pics clearly. What’s harder to show and share is the way I’ve changed on the inside.

This picture (below) was taken on May 12, 2012, one year to the day since we started the 60-day challenge. The look on my face and my sister’s face says it all: pure joy, happiness, confidence, pride. We did this.

All I can say is this: I am blooming right where I’m planted. And loving every single fit-filled moment.
…and I owe it all to the barre (n9ne).

On my mind.

On my mind…

My next trip for work. Booked for mid-May. At first I was feeling anxious about heading back into un-routine mode, but now I’m kind of looking forward to the change of scenery. It also helps that I now have coworkers that love to be healthy and fit like me (score!). I already have a trail run and a healthy dinner planned for one night while I’m there. However, I *will* be seriously missing my barre workouts though — so here’s my call for entries: who wants to meet up with me for a barre class while I’m in Cali? (ahem Naomi??) <—don’t all raise your hands at once now 😉

A week, run-less. It’s happening. Probably the week after the half marathon. Or perhaps the week I’m in Cali for work. Though, I did just book a rundate while I’m out there. Fail. I guess the run-less week will happen the week prior then afterall! Note to self.

My Nonna. Her birthday is this week (today, actually). And the anniversary of her death is coming up this May. I’ve found my mind wandering to thoughts of her a lot more lately, particularly given the time of year. I had a dream about her the other night and woke up sensing her presence nearby. It was comforting. Everytime I see my little niece Isabel, my mind rushes to Nonna…she would melt in Isabel’s presence, I am sure of it.

One year of barre n9ne classes. Yep, today is also our one year barre-versary. The first day that my sis and I set foot in the studio for the very first time. Little did we know that just weeks later, we’d be embarking on the 60-day challenge and months and months later, our lives would be transformed in far bigger ways than either of us ever imagined. Stronger. Confidence blooming. And now, joyfully fulfilling our passion through teaching.
…one year later. Transformed.

Friends I adore. My friend from college (who is by far the funniest yet most loving and kind person I’ve ever met) just welcomed her first child into this world yesterday. I’m so happy for her and her husband – the two of them are going to be a riot as parents, I can’t wait! And another friend — a friend I met at work seven years ago and instantly connected with (one of those “I feel like I’ve known you since birth” connections) — has a birthday coming up. We’re celebrating the big 3-0 together this weekend. It’s going to be epic. I promised her that and I never reneg on a promise. 😉

Sisters like mine. Jen is thisclose to defending her PhD dissertation and then graduating with her PhD in May. She’s in the final throes of it — all while raising the most perfect like 17-month old I have ever seen. I am constantly amazed by her. And my other sis Jo is constantly giving me the perspective I look for, the encouragement I need and the inspiration to dig deeper, push harder, reach farther. She’s come a long, long way over the past few years and sometimes I think I forget to tell her that. So this is my reminder to both of them — I am proud to have sisters like you. xo

A husband who gets me. Truly gets me. Who’s gonna push me all 13.1 miles in just over a week. Who I cherish date nights in with more and more each week. Who I can’t wait to celebrate our 8 year (!) wedding anniversary with in June. And who I *really* can’t wait to get back to wine country with at the end of June. It’s long overdue. We’ve earned this one. No doubt.

On my mind.

Work. Workouts. Friends. Family. Loves.
…totally not in order of priority either. 😉

This is how our minds work: ‘The Rules’ edition

As you now know, not only do I suffer from OATT every five seconds on occassion, but my sister Jo has a similar case of OATT (though I daresay mine is worse than hers, most of the time, anyway).

Here we are – y’know, in case you forgot what we looked like or something 😉

On one of our rundates recently, we started mulling over “The Rules” — our quirky little “mandates” we try to live by, and make sure that eachother upholds too (even if it includes a little arm-twisting, now and then).

So without further ado — on what normally would be Foodie Friday, I bring you:

This is how our minds work: ‘The Rules’ Edition”

A ‘triple’ is only allowed on the first Monday of every month (just kidding…kinda)…and only if the other one is also doing a triple. Otherwise, it is completely fair to bitch the other one out for doing a triple. (caveat – if we ever DO complete a triple workout, we promise, we’re fully fueled before/after, the workouts are spaced out, and we don’t make a habit of it, we promise. We’re not here to advocate over-exercising!)

Rest days must be ‘complete’ rest days and must be taken in the same week. None of this ‘I’ll use Sunday as my rest day’ when the other knows that her last rest day was the PREVIOUS Tuesday (in other words, more than a full week between rest days? No bueno.)

There is no such thing as ‘only‘ running XX number of miles for an allotted run. A run is a run, plain and simple. Could be 3 miles, could be 12. It all ‘counts.’ It all matters. It all rocks.

It’s completely normal to discuss the week ahead’s workouts and how you can strategically plan run, barre, sister dinner dates into the mix.  <—OATT alert!! At least one of the three must happen each week. (and every other ‘date’ should include sushi. Or oatmeal. It’s a rule).

Throwback ‘rule’ – you can only trade three skittles (at minimum and none of this only yellow and green, there must be at least one ‘money color’, i.e. pink, purple, or one red. MUST.) for one starburst (again, said starburst must be a ‘money color’ or else the 3 skittle-minimum no longer applies. You can give her none in return as far as I’m concerned. In fairness, of course, to the flavor law.)

(does anyone else now suddenly have a random craving to go buy a pack of starburst now? yeah…er…me neither.)

There is absolutely no truth to the phrase: I’m not in the mood for wine tonight (if sister says this, there is something seriously wrong….or she’s pregnant. Justkidding.Justkidding.Justkidding.)

A couple of chocolate chips is totally an acceptable yogurt topping. ‘nuf said.

There is always a way to fit in ‘Jess and Scott’ pizza and two glasses of wine and still be within ‘your number’ (i.e. food log ‘number’) and not starve yourself all day. It’s been done. And it was worth every last cheesy filled calorie.  TRUTH.

If you’re gonna eat a cookie, eat the damn cookie. A real one. Homebaked. With real sugar. Real butter. Real chocolate chips. No going halfway and stopping. Commit to the cookie. And enjoy it, dammit.

You can work peanut butter into any recipe. Savory. Sweet. Doesn’t matter. It ALWAYS WORKS.

And finally, you are fully within your rights to block your sister’s Facebook and Twitter updates while traveling to avoid oatmeal envy. It’s sheer torture otherwise. Trust me (us) on this one.


It was a good day.

<Editor’s Note: This is a long and rambly blog post. I’m apologizing in advance! It took me awhile to formulate my thoughts for this one for some reason. But I promise (hope) it’ll be worth you hanging in there until the end…this is very much a self-reflection style post.)

Actually, today (er, yesterday) was a great day.

It went something like this:

Wake-up at 5am: literally bound out of bed (yes, I *did* “bound” out of bed, Scott can attest to it). Time to get ready to teach my second barre n9ne class. WAY too much energy for a Monday morning, particularly after daylight savings kicked in the day prior. Note to self: if I were not a morning person, I’d be really annoyed by this version of me right about now (visions of Office Space flashed before my eyes at the sheer thought…”does somebody have a case of the “Mondays?” <–said with the most annoying, off-pitchy chipper voice ever). I digress.

Arrive at barre n9ne at 5:30am: get myself settled, turn the heat up, music on, review my notes (briefly). Clients trickle in. My energy picks up another notch. It’s game time.

Teach barre n9ne method from 6-7am: It was even better than my first class, I do believe. I felt more relaxed. I wasn’t worried about the time, or what I was saying or doing. I was simply doing my best to be in the moment, to motivate, to inspire, to get every single person in that room to shake at the barre, leaving nothing but sweat on that studio floor. I walked away from the studio feeling good. Really good.

This feels like a dream…

Get ready for and head into the office (my one day ‘o the week in the office for this week) 7-8:30am: Amazingly, I hit zero traffic *and* I left my house an hour later than I normally do. Whaaaat?? Work my little butt off, knock off a bunch of to-do items, chat up a few coworkers. It’s quitting time before I know it

(again – a Monday that flew by, what is going on here? I must be dreaming…)

Walk out to my car @5pm: I’m sweating. It’s 65 degrees out. In March. My running plans change immediately. It’s rundate time, sister-style. Not the planned hill-style intervals I was aiming for, per the “plan” and all. Nope. Scrapped it. Moved that workout to Friday AM. Yesterday’s weather was legit begging to be run in (“it” told me so, I swear). Banged out a fun 5.5 miler with Jo (thankfully, we wear the same size so the fact that I had zero running gear with me was no big deal!). It was downright muggy. Felt so weird to run in warmth.

(annnnd it’s March and I’m sweating. I must be dreaming…)

Headed home at 6:30pm, dinner-for-one coming right up: Monday nights are my “me time” night. Scott is in a bowling league (yes, he’s totally in a bowling league, and he takes it very seriously thankyouverymuch) so every Monday I’m on my own for dinner. I really embrace this “me time” and make it truly all about me. I made a dinner only I would eat (last night involved shrimp and veggies stir fried and served over butternut squash). I wrote this very blog post whilst eating said dinner (I’m a big fan of using random words like “whilst” now and then, a vastly underused word in my view). I spent time stretching out my hammies and IT band and glutes. I caught up on blog friends. I may have eaten a homemade chocolate chip cookie while blogging. I even worked out a new version of my barre method “plan” for Thursday and Friday’s classes. I can’t even believe how much fun I’m having teaching and prepping to teach (including playlist development! but more on that in a future post…).

This feels like a dream.

And that’s when the concept of this very post hit me (because honestly, I started out having not a clue what or if I’d even blog today): I’m not dreaming. This is my life.

I’m blooming right where I’m planted.
…and this garden of mine is growing by leaps and bounds. ❤

(and interesting side note – I first blogged about the concept of “blooming right where you’re planted” almost two years ago to the day — when I first heard the phrase during one of Joel Osteen’s sermons. Two years ago? Well, I feel like who I was then is very different than who I am “blooming” into today. I feel like I’m this refined — or even revised –version of myself.  Not Type A. Not Type B….Type “me.” A “me” I’m really digging these days…)

Sometimes a look back is all it takes to gain new perspective. Something my sister’s post yesterday totally reminded me to do more of (also something we discussed during our rundate – see? running has soooo many side benefits than just the running – and sweating – part!).

< < Annnnnnd end long rambly but hopefully thought-provoking blog post. >>
(wow, my brain does.not.know.how.to.shut.up tonight).

Where did this passion come from?

As I sat in Terminal B at Logan Airport yesterday waiting for my flight to San Jose to board, I flipped through blog comments from my post. I smiled at the words “inspiration” and “passion” that seemed to be popular themes among the comments.

…and, as I settled into my seat on the plane, I got to thinking.

Where did this passion (for healthy living) come from?

I mean, I know that passion tends to be ingrained, but it’s got to start from somewhere, or something, right? I sat and turned the question over in my mind and suddenly, my mind returned to a childhood memory.

Of opening my lunchbox to find applesauce and “ants on a log” (celery with peanut butter in the middle as the “log” and raisins as the “ants” – to this day, I still love this snack!) sitting there staring back at me. Looking around at my fellow classmates, who chomped on bags of chips and cookies, and I knew my snacks were “different” than everyone else’s but that was ok (mostly) by me.

I remember looking back at that time and thinking, “wow, my mom really buckled down on the healthy eating thing when we were little. I dig that.”

Fast forward to middle school.  My parents had split up. My mom was now raising her triplet daughters on her own. She did so with one income and not much in the way of child support, all while putting herself through college and working full-time. She was (and still is) supermom. I admire her strength, perseverance and commitment to giving us the best possible life she could at that time while working on giving us a better life by finishing her degree (she later graduated summa cum laude from Wellesley College – go mom!!).

But it was during that time, when money was extremely tight, that I first experienced what it was like to be unable. Unable to choose the healthiest and highest quality foods to eat. Unable to dedicate large chunks of time (and money) to physical activity (we weren’t the “typical” kids who were granted the luxury of taking ballet, dance, or gymnastics classes or participating in school sports).  Unable to do many of the “typical” things most kids our age totally took for granted,  having no idea what it was like to be unable.

It was also during this time, that I distinctly recall feeling extremely grateful. That I had a mom who worked her tail off to put food, any food, on the table for us. That we had incredible grandparents who routinely made us dinners and carted us around while mom was busy with school. That my sisters and I had each other – to look after one another every single day, taking turns making dinners (which is a whole post in and of itself, lots of funny stories from that time), and being our own mini-family when mom was in school or at work or at home but distracted with homework.

Sure, we didn’t have the best options for meals – Chef Boyardee beefaroni made regular appearances at the dinner table, as did Tuna Helper and other quick-fix meals that offered nourishment of sorts, but very little in the way of fresh, healthy, wholesome ingredients, to say the least. But at that point in time? We didn’t care – it was food, it didn’t matter where it came from or what was in it.

Fast forward to high school and then college. My mom finished her degree, got herself an excellent job at an area school as a technology director, and the money strain lessened a bit. Fresh ingredients returned to the table. I started going to the YMCA, and then the gym at my college, and I started to see just how incredible the world of healthy living was again. I had it as a child, missed out on it as a pre-teen/teen and had it back in my life in my early-20s and onward.  

…and the rest, as they say, is history. My passion for healthy living took center stage in my life for good.

I say all of this not to create some sort of pity party that we endured a bit of a “rough patch” growing up (because honestly, during that time my sisters and I didn’t really even recognize how tough we had it until years and years later and we looked back in comparison one day…). I say all of this, sharing this bit of history with you, because I now see that this is where my passion comes from.

I’ve seen both sides of the equation. The inability to choose to be healthy. And then the ability to make my own choices and to naturally find myself gravitating towards a  healthy, fit and energetic lifestyle. One that I completely credit to the early years when my mom insisted on raisins over m&ms, bananas over bags of chips and tree climbing and fort building outside over hours spent motionless in front of the TV.

This is why I am who I am.

Because I’ve seen both sides. Experienced both sides. And now I can fully appreciate the ability to choose healthy. Gratefully so. Yet another reason why this journey towards becoming barre n9ne-certified means the world to me. Just like I said before, it’s my chance to pay it forward. In way more ways than one.

So next time someone asks me: Where did your passion come from? I’ll say – it’s a long story, shall we chat over coffee? 😉

So this is 32, huh?

On this day, October 6, 2011 – I’m embracing all 32 years of my life. 

holy sh*t, I’m 32??

But seriously, what have I learned in the past year? It’s a biggie: I’ve learned that I am finally truly comfortable in my own skin, truly comfortable being “me” – and that feels like a huge breakthrough, and something to celebrate, not just the fact that I’m a whole year older. 😉

I obviously credit this breakthrough in large part to the barre n9ne challenge, coupled with my recent running breakthroughs, for giving me this newly discovered confidence and “happy trust” in who I am today. All 32 years of “me.”

But what I’ve also realized this past year? That I have a heck of a lot to be thankful for – most of all, that I’m surrounded by loving, beautiful, exciting, inspiring friends and family.

I have two beautiful sisters that I love more than anything. 

And a gorgeous niece I’d walk on fire for. 

And the best husband I could ever, ever, ever ask for. 

And the best friends – IRL and of the bloggy variety – that support me and my crazy ways, that “get” me, and that are just as beautiful and inspiring as ever. And it’s all of these things, on my 32nd birthday, that I am forever grateful for.

I am right where I belong. Right where I’m meant to be.
…and that feels damn good.

But – you know me, this post would  not be complete without a few declarations of things I want to see/do/experience during my 32nd year. 😉

A few I-can’t-believe-I’m-32 bucket list items, if you will:
…I will face down 26.2 at 32
(or at some point during my 32nd year…)
…I will  make my blog my own (as in my own URL, my own hosted site)
…I will learn to be more spontaneous (weekend getaways on the spur of the moment are in the back of my mind…as in book it on Friday, leave on Saturday morning; SO unlike me)
…I will do one thing that scares me everyday. Big or small, I plan to be plenty scared every single day this year.  

Happy birthday to meeeee (and to my beautiful sisters; I love you both so much)!! 32 is gonna be awesome (wrinkle cream, be damned!) 

A workout-y week

***First things first – THANK you for such awesome words of encouragement and excitement at the prospect of me committing to 26.2!! I was totally bowled away by all of your comments on yesterday’s post. I heart you all and PROMISE you’ll be the first to know when I sign up for my first marathon. <—notice I said “when” not “if”??***

Yes friends, “workout-y” is a word in my dictionary. Right there next to puke-worthy and sweatastic. 

But yes, I am deeming this week a “workout-y week” in EatDrinkBreatheSweat land. I mean, it usually is a pretty workout-y (let’s see how many times I can use this word in one post!) week up in here, but this week I’m focusing on it a little more than usual. For a few reasons.

Mainly to keep myself motivated while my sister is off gallivanting among the vines, on the epic wine country three-peat that I’m missing out on this week (sad face). But also to keep myself from getting blue, particularly early on in the week when I start to want to roll into “can’t wait for the weekend” mode.

Working out, sweatfests – they keep my mood up, my spirits high, the smile on my face. Last night’s barre n9ne method class was exactly what I needed after a rather “meh” Monday (complete with 3 hours spent in the car…I swear it’s a form of torture in most countries). 

And after reading Lindsay’s post on her “mon” day – I totally took what she said to heart. About taking back your (mon)days, making them “mine” again, and finding joy in them, even on a “meh” day like yesterday. 

So I’m focusing on what makes me happy this week – workouts, workouts with friends, a long run with Scott on Saturday, and hopefully a little epic-ness of a weekend in the Sutera household despite missing out on wine country. We haven’t quite figured out what we’ll do to make this weekend *almost* as fun as if we were in wine country, but you better believe I’ll be back to report on our shenanigans afterwards. 😉

But I digress – you wanted to hear about my workout-y week, didn’t you? (well, even if you didn’t, I’m sharing it anyway, because that’s how I roll if you hadn’t noticed by now!): 

Sunday – fabulous rest day spent celebrating my niece’s first birthday. Here’s a picture of her cuteness – check out those cheeks:

Monday – a fantastic 5 miler on the DREADMILL no less; barre n9ne method (legs were shaking, loved it!)

Tuesday (today!) – 6 miles on the dreadmill (yeah baby!); barre n9ne lean & tone

Wednesday – a ‘date” at the barre with my friend Michele, testing out her barre studio in the city, I’ll report back dutifully, of course. There *may* be sushi involved afterwards (yum).

Thursday – rundate with Steph (finally!); barre n9ne legs and barre n9ne fusion

Friday – rest!

Saturday – 11 epic miles followed by lots of epic-ness with Scott (epic-ness TBD at this moment in time…how many more times can I say “epic”??)

Sunday – barre n9ne INTENSIVE (not even sure what this will entail other than 90 minutes of barre work with a huge focus on form, but I can hardly wait for that shake!!); football Sunday with this girl, a bestie for sure.

See? Just writing this all out totally lifts my mood right up there. Lots of sweatastic workouts, lots of fun “dates” and a peek into the weekend tells me that this week ought to be a good one.

Just gotta make sure I keep focused on the “mon…” (thanks Linds, what would I do without you??)