Out of the ZONE

I usually keep to myself when I am at the gym. Most people work out with headphones/ear buds anyway so striking up a conversation isn’t usually feasible.

As a NASM Certified Personal Trainer there are certain things I notice when it comes to form. Whether or not I can remember what they mean is a different story. On Sunday I saw this guy performing body weight squats. He was a BIG DUDE, like he could have been a former football player. I watched as his heels elevated each time he came into the bottom of his squat. Normally, I wouldn’t have said anything as I personally do not appreciate unsolicited advice...but he and his buddy seemed nice enough so I started talking to him about mobility and suggested that he widen his stance just a little bit.

Guess what? It worked!

I left feeling good that I had helped someone but even better that I had stepped out of my comfort zone and initiated the conversation.

Lately I have come to the realization that my world is getting smaller. My goal this month is to do one thing a week that is outside of my comfort zone. Hopefully it will encourage me to open a few doors that have been closed.

SEVEN

another trip around the sun without you

some days i miss you

some days i really miss you

one thing that is certain is that your memory inspires me to be a better person...and your anniversary reminds me how much i am failing at that task

there is nothing i want more than to make you proud 

i have been struggling

i feel trapped in these four walls

i am a creature of habit...my routine is suffocating

how can i change this?

how can i expand and grow?

when will i finally stop allowing the number on the scale to define my self worth?

i think that is the only way things are going to change

a box full of memories

Over the past several years my parents have been assisting the neighbors with tasks such as grocery shopping and yard work. Tom was in his 90s and suffered from dementia that had become increasingly more severe over the years. It had gotten to the point where he did not leave the house aside from routine health visits and his wife, Fran, who is in her late 80s could no longer safely care for him. She had reached the decision that it was time for both of them to move into assisted living. They would be at the same facility but he would be in the memory care unit. She could visit him daily. Tom did not adjust well to the move and his health rapidly declined. He passed away in March. 

My parents have been helping Fran's family clean out her house now that the house has been sold. Tom was an avid photographer. There were a few cameras and lenses that no one wanted. My dad knows I'm always looking for a side hustle so he brought them over to see if I could sell them on eBay. I opened up the box to find a couple of beat up camera cases and dozens of cardboard envelopes containing photos. They were pictures of birds, pictures of trees, pictures from trips, family parties. I felt like I was watching his life story unfold. Now, these pictures were nothing more than unwanted items in a box and after I sold what was of “value” they would be discarded in the trash. 

Thinking about this made me sad. It also served as a reminder to get out there and live life instead of taking pictures of it. The best memories are the ones we hold in our heads and heart. They cannot be captured on film. 

Do you believe in Matt-gic?

The past week has been mentally and emotionally draining. I had three phone consultations with nutrition coaches, each of which lasted well over an hour. Those conversations touched on some of the things I have struggled with emotionally since the loss of my brother in 2016. I remarked that he would be so disappointed in me right now. That was one of the driving factors for wanting to make a change. It is time to start living again. It is time to start allowing myself to have enjoyable experiences. It is time to start recognizing that I deserve happiness.

My final phone consultation was on Monday evening and this woman ended up being my choice. Our conversation finished waaaaay past my bedtime so I quickly brushed my teeth, turned off the lights and crawled into bed. A few minutes later the room was lit and the light switch was in the “on” position. 

I don’t know what you believe or think but I know for a fact that was Matt. 

In that moment, the lights came on for me both figuratively and literally.

Rest and Digest

The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade was on TV and my mom was crying. Thanksgiving marks the start of a rough stretch of months, the culmination of which is February 22nd, my brother’s birthday.

My parent’s had dinner at my cousin’s house. I spent the day in the company of animals...scooping litter boxes, walking dogs and feeding my furry friends.

Friday it poured rain, but the sun was shining on Saturday so I treated  my mom to a cup of Dunkin' Donuts coffee and we went to the cemetery.  I asked if she wanted to pray and so we did...Hail Mary, Our Father, Glory Be...we said them out loud and at times her voice trailed off, full of emotion...I hugged her and told her that I love her.

On Sunday I had a surprise for her. McNaughton’s in Cherry Hill had resurrected the old Gaudio’s (G Boys) display that she took us to when we were kids. We walked through twice and then we saw Santa. It was perfect.

Right now my parents are in Texas visiting my nephew. I am thankful that his birthday is in the beginning of December because it provides them with a bright spot in an otherwise dark time.

Their absence has left me alone with these thoughts to digest. Tonight I was in the kitchen making dinner. The tree was lit and I was playing the Frank Sinatra Christmas album. It was Matt’s favorite. It made me sad for a minute, but then I felt him there standing next to me. I thought about all of the holidays that we stood in that kitchen together…so many memories...good ones.

a moment of clarity

In June I sustained a foot injury which required me to take time off from running. Inactivity and the fact that I had to cancel my first vacation (the Race the Cog event in NH) had me feeling pretty miserable.

Older and wiser, I took a conservative approach to healing and by mid-July I was back in stride. That is when August decided to lay a giant turd. So far I've had strep throat, covid and got stung in the face by a bee. The air conditioner in my rental house broke. A pipe in my rental house broke. Illness and finances prompted me to cancel my two remaining vacations. While I consider myself resilient and mentally tough I'd rather not be tested to find my breaking point.

Covid has made my lungs feel like they are being assaulted any time I try to put forth a strenuous cardiovascular effort. As a result, I've spent a lot of time walking. It gives me time to think and in that sense it is therapeutic.

I've come to the realization that not much has changed about my body since the foot injury in June. I've dialed back the frequency, duration and intensity of my exercise which has been extremely challenging.

Tell me to workout for two hours at maximum heart rate and I will do so with pleasure. Tell me to take the day off and go to the beach with my mom to indulge in pancakes and I get anxiety.

I ate the pancakes and lived to tell the tale...after all, you are reading this.

one foot in front of the other

Not many people will understand why this picture is such a big deal. To say that Covid created the perfect storm would be an understatement. I’ve struggled severely with mental health issues for the past two years. Part of this was a self imposed lifestyle of depravation. I am trying to shake it off but it isn’t easy. Today was a small step in the right direction.