Can’t we all just get along!?

I don’t often write about social, political or other issues.  That’s not what I’m here for.  I’m not here to fight a cause or push my world beliefs on others.  But I have been exposed to this topic of conversation through a few different avenues in my life lately and I thought I would address my thoughts on it.

Gym bullies.  Ok, so maybe “bully” is an over-used term.  But I’ll explain the people I’m talking about.  I’m talking about the ones who smirk and stare and laugh with their friends when a less than fit gym-goer is making their best attempt at running or they happen to be bending over.  I’m talking about the ones who feel the need to publicly or privately criticize others who are simply in their presence and trying to better themselves.  I’m talking about the extreme ones taking pictures of people at the gym in less than flattering positions (and even posting them!).  We’ve all seen these people at the gym, and to me it’s really sad.

Before I go on with my mild rant, I also want to say this disclaimer.  I believe there is a difference between the person I just described vs. a high performing achiever who’s physical perfection intimidates us solely because of our own insecurities and perception.  It’s easy sometimes to put our insecurities on the fit girl who runs on the treadmill for an hour with ease and the buff guy who has big muscles.  But every fit person at a gym isn’t there to launch a personal attack on those of us who may struggle in this area.

So let me be very clear.  Not all fitness buffs are jerks.  I am married to one, and he is the exact opposite of the person I just described.  He has a body 10 years in the making that was built from the ground up by shear determination, dedication and passion.  He is the guy that you might even judge when you walk by because he is focused and at the gym for a very clear purpose which goes much deeper than the physical that you see.  But he is also the guy who has met, coached, befriended and mentored many people who have had the guts to walk up to him at the gym, simply because they want to be something more than they are.  He isn’t the guy who laughs or smirks at others who dare step into those doors.  He isn’t the guy who turns someone away because he is too good to waste his time talking to those who may not excel in their fitness like he does.  He is humble and genuinely caring and I am proud that he is the type of man who willingly shares his talents with others.

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I think some people mistake intimidation for strength, when to me it really shows a great amount of weakness.  If you are truly proud of who you are, and are successful and happy, why wouldn’t you want to share that?  Why wouldn’t you want others to feel as great as you do?  Seriously people, can’t we all just get along?

I have been on both sides of this scenario, so I get it.  I was the girl who weighed more than an averaged sized man.  The girl who gained 93lbs during my first pregnancy and had to work my butt off (quite literally) to loose the weight.  For anyone who tells you baby weight just “falls off” after – they’re lying!  Unfortunately that is not every mothers reality!  I was the girl so embarrassed to even go sign up for a membership, because my body was in SUCH bad shape.  But I shouldn’t have felt that way.  What better place for me to be than right there!  There is nowhere else I should’ve felt more comfortable and more proud.  Proud for getting off the couch and taking those steps to not accept what my physical self had become.  And so I squeezed into my extra large track pants and borrowed my husbands t-shirts.  I couldn’t have felt worse about myself.  But I was determined to make a change – and so I did!  The process was not easy, and battling my insecurities publicly as my body learned to move again was mentally and physically challenging.

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It took me a full year to get my body back.  Once I got into the groove of mommy hood and really committed myself to my fitness, I did a 10 week program that my husband designed for me, and lost the final 45-ish extra lbs I was still carrying.  Yes – that is more weight that most women gain during pregnancy in TOTAL.  I was officially down to a weight I hadn’t seen since college, and was about 10lbs lighter than before I got pregnant.  I felt fit, I felt proud, I felt healthy.  I was happy.  A few months later I suddenly found myself on the other side.  A woman who had seen me drop off my son at Kids Club everyday for an hour for nearly 3 months, and sweat through my t-shirts every time, asked ME how I did it.  ME.  The overweight, out of shape, post-baby body ME who was nervous and insecure walking through those gym doors a few short months back.

We aren’t all in the same place.  Some of us are fighting a life-long battle with weight and nutrition.  Some of us are trying to lose the baby-weight.  Some have experienced a tragedy and are trying to get their lives back, including their physical selves.  Some are at their peaks, with 6% bodyfat, who can run a 45 minute 10k and squat 300lbs.  Whoever we are, wherever we are in our journey’s, be proud of yourself.  Maybe that’s a lot to ask, but really, who are any of us to judge another.  Especially in a place designed for people of all shapes and sizes to go and find their greatness!

So, if you are someone who isn’t where you want to be and wants to make a change, someone who’s jeans are too tight, or forget jeans all together!  Maybe you’ve been limited to yoga pants for months, or years even.  This post is for you!  Negative people will be everywhere you go, and they aren’t worth spending a second of your energy on (Easier said than done, I know!).  Be proud of where you are and that you’ve decided to be brave and admit you aren’t happy with yourself, and get that butt off the couch and to a gym.  Don’t let anyone or anything get in the way of you reaching your goals and being at your best.  Trust me, I know this isn’t easy, and it is definitely a constant battle.  As a 23 week pregnant woman who is ballooning again quite rapidly, I will soon be there right beside you, starting all over again after baby #2!  Let’s try to enjoy the ride.

73lbs and counting

40+ weeks pregnant ~ 6 weeks after baby ~ 5 months after baby

Looking back it doesn’t shock me at all that I had extreme back pain during the second and third trimester.  I have no idea how I even managed to walk with all those extra lbs weighing me down.  At the time I really had no idea that I had packed on so much additional weight.  I stopped weighing myself about halfway through my pregnancy, knowing I wouldn’t like what I saw.  I knew I was large, but looking back at the pictures now, it is surreal.  I can’t believe that was my body, and that the little guy I wake up to everyday, was living in there.  During my pregnancy I even outgrew my maternity clothes and ended up in my husbands track pants and t-shirts by 8 months.  By the very end I couldn’t sit upright in my chair at work, and the only activity I did was the 20 minute workout I’d have to get my butt up off the couch (where I spent much of my time), to get to the bathroom.  This wasn’t quite how I pictured it to be.  I thought I’d be all cute and skinny, with just a belly.  I don’t know why I thought that, since I have never had a hard time putting on weight.  In fact, I am somewhat of an expert.  It’s definitely a skill I’ve mastered throughout my life, and pregnancy helped a lot.  I had no motivation to get to the gym or put down the chocolate bar when I knew I’d just continue gaining weight anyways.  Sure, it was fun at the time.  Wait, NO it wasn’t.  There was a small window early on, before the weight caught up with me, that was quite enjoyable.  I had that cute little belly I had always imagined, and enjoyed looking pregnant, but still fitting into my cute clothes.  I don’t recall when exactly it happened, but I woke up one morning and was 93lbs heavier.  I remember I could hardly have a conversation because I was so short of breath.  I had to take breaks in my sentences to breathe.  I’d be panting by the time I made it to the top of the stairs.  I even hurt my shoulder pretty badly from trying to push all that weight up off the couch so many times (pathetic, I know!).  I couldn’t get up without a good push (It took a few months for the shoulder to heal).  Now, 5 months after baby, I am still working hard to undo the havoc that the weight wreaked on my body, and my life.  After months of balancing baby and fitness, I am down 73lbs, with 20lbs to go to reach my pre-baby weight!  Yes – 73lbs.  If only I was Jessica Simpson, I’d have made myself 4 million by now!  To put this into perspective, this is the equivalent of a Golden Retriever, a 9 year old child or a smart car.  Basically, it’s a lot!  I’m very aware that it’s my own fault, and I should’ve listened to my husband when he said to put down the pizza (and the pie and the donuts).  I was offended at the time.  How dare he tell ME what to eat!  Afterall, I was pregnant, and my baby was hungry! (VERY hungry!)  But as usual he was right (so annoying! lol).  He knew I was digging myself into a hole that would not be easy to get out of.  He knew I would face an uphill battle like nothing I had experienced before.  But at the time I felt entitled, as a pregnant woman, to eat what I wanted.  And truthfully, I always worried when I was hungry, that it meant my baby was hungry.  Yes, I ate the healthy stuff too, and took my prenatal vitamins to make sure baby was getting what he needed.  But then I added dessert, another round of pizza, and maybe a small cake or tub of ice cream.  Yes, I am embellishing a wee bit but you get the point.  At the time I thought if I had to do it over again, I’d do the same thing.  It was the one time in my life that it was OK to gain weight and no one would judge me.  Well, that is true.  Besides being asked MANY times if I was expecting twins, no one thought twice about the pregnant chick being a bit rotund.  But, I can say without question now that if I had to do it all over again, I would definitely not do the same thing.  These past 5 months have been the most physically challenging of my life.  I vow to never dig myself into such a hole again, pregnant or not.  I’m fairly certain that I’ll never be the girl that gains the “average” 30ish lbs during pregnancy.  But this whole 93lbs thing is a bit ridiculous!  I took pictures while I was pregnant, watching the belly (and everything else) grow.  I’ve started doing the same now, in reverse.  I am still shocked to see what I looked like.  I remember not wanting to leave the house because I was so embarrassed of what I looked like.  I couldn’t even fit into my “fat clothes” after I gave birth.  I remember being so worried that people would think I was still pregnant.  But to see the pictures now, it is shocking to me.  I am still embarrassed to look at them, and more embarrassed to share them (What am I thinking putting these up!)  But it’s an important part of my journey, and a motivation for me to keep going.  I have a long way to go.  20lb weight loss is no easy thing for me.  All I can do now is move forward.  20lbs to go…I think I can.

My weekly appointment with the dreaded scale

Thursday marked Deacus’ 12th week of life, and my 6th week of working out post c-section.  My progress has been ok, but I am nowhere near where I expected to be.  Somehow I dreamed my body wouldn’t mind the 9+ months of torture it had endured, and would cooperate when I told it to run 10km.  Pre-baby, I didn’t have a running plan.  I was relatively fit from exercising and running 5km or so regularly, and just decided one morning to try 10km – and I did it.  I wasn’t fast, but I did it without much trouble, and continued to run it often and increase my time from there.  Don’t get me wrong, it was hard, but I was able to physically do it.  It was more of a mental challenge.  These days my mental strength cannot mask the pain in my knees and the extra weight I’m carrying prevents my body from doing as it’s told.  I can push it, (and I do!) but only so far.  It is tough to feel so restricted by my own body, and to have lost the freedom to be in charge.  I will get back to where I was (won’t I?), but right now this is the body I have to work with.  This morning I stepped on the scale to see how I was progressing, hoping my track pants might start to fit a little less snug, and that my knees may have a little less to carry on my next run.  Or dare I wish I might even get into a pair of jeans again!  Most days I’m just glad the scale doesn’t just call me a fatso and tell me to get off!  So, how much of those 93 lbs had I shed in 6 weeks?  The scale beeped at me and gave me the good news.  I am officially down 57lbs.  Today was a good day.  With 36lbs to go, I might just get into jeans and even put on heels again at some point in the next few months!  With visions of the tiny stilettos snapping off from under me, I didn’t want to risk heels until I was closer to my goal weight.  Suddenly I found myself thinking of how the average woman gains around 35lbs total during pregnancy.  TOTAL.  I still have enough extra weight to be carrying a small child inside of me.  With 2 weeks until the 10km, and me still being 3km away from that goal, I had to put these thoughts out of my mind and hit the pavement.   Pre-baby I remember thinking I’d gain a lot of weight (I know myself and my body well!) but that I’d get back in shape fast.  What else would I have to do, right?  I could workout every day since I’d have all the time in the world.  WRONG!  Any mommy knows one of the biggest challenges is finding the time to workout.  After sleepless nights, and days that don’t ever really end, if I manage to muster up the motivation to exercise, now I have to figure out what to do with the little guy.  He’s a well behaved baby, but that doesn’t mean he is going to allow me to leave him on his playmat for more than 10 minutes that day.  So I can try interval training at home – 10 min run, 1 min insert soother back in baby’s mouth, and repeat.  My next option is leaving him with the gym’s childcare – a 17 year old girl who’s probably never even held a 3 month old, or has any interest to, (but for $10.50/hr. will do it).  No offence to the staff at the gym, I am sure they are lovely.  I have yet to even be to the gym since having Deacus, but this is how I picture it and it terrifies me to leave him there.  He still seems so little and fragile.  Where has my independance gone?  The days of getting up and going anywhere I wanted to, at any hour, are long gone!  Any outting now requires a jumbo sized duffle bag with all the goodies a 3 month old should need over the course of a few hours.  Including lots of diapers and changes of clothes in case we have any explosions (and we have many!).  I can see how fitness sometimes takes a backseat after children.  Even though it’s a time when fitness should be in the forefront.  I want to set an example for him.  I want to live a long, healthy life, and have the energy to be an active mom to my boy.  But sometimes it feels impossible.  Luckily, today I  have a friend who is kind enough to come all the way to my house and watch the little man while I get in some much needed exercise.  As hard as running is for me, I am beginning to enjoy my time on the road again.  Every part of my body hurts as I work towards getting my body back, and actually being able to complete a run without feeling the dreaded “out of shape pain”.  But while I’m out there I have time to think (and write my next blog in my head), and have some time for Shannon.  I love being a mom to Deacus, and I love being a wife to Nick.  But sometimes I need to just be Shannon.  For me, running helps me find her.  The girl I thought I lost a few short months ago.  The happy, healthy girl, full of energy who can look in the mirror without feeling ashamed of what’s staring back at her.  She’s still in there – somewhere.  And I believe one of these days, maybe on a long run in the middle of nowhere, I’ll find here and bring her back with me.  Until then, I will keep running, give myself some credit for my progress so far, and tell myself what I tell Deacus when we have a rough day of crying fits and no sleep.  It’s ok – tomorrow will be better!

Did you say 93 lbs?

Yes, you read that right – 93lbs.  Now, let’s put that into perspective for a moment.  It’s the equivalent of a whole other human, 5 toddlers, a pitbull, maybe even a small pony?  During the 9+ months of my pregnancy I gained a whopping 93lbs!  Ouch – it hurts to say out loud.  See, I wasn’t kidding in my other post when I said I had gained an “enormous” amount.  I’d say “93” deserves a good strong word like “enormous” to describe it!  Who could I blame this on?  The baby boy who grew inside me, or maybe the entire boston cream cake that forced its way into my belly while pregnant?  It is clear that I have no excuses.  The “average” woman gains 25-25 lbs during pregnancy.  I have seen them, and I dislike them (I had the word hate in there but thought it was too harsh).  Ok, that’s not fair to them, I take it back.  I am just not one of those women – clearly!  I have always put on weight easily, but 93?  Unreal and completely embarassing to admit.  Why I am admitting it, I am still not sure.  Maybe to keep myself accountable in a very public way.  Maybe to encourage others facing similar challenges in their life, and show them they aren’t alone.  I am not exactly sure of my motivation behind revealing this, but I suppose if I’m going to write about my journey, I might as well be painfully honest about it.  And hopefully someday I can proudly say I got back to my pre-pregnancy weight.  Today, however, is not that day.

So what are the downfalls of gaining 93lbs?  Where do I begin!  Of course nothing in my closet fits.  I actually doubt at times that the clothes housed in my closet actually belong to me.  Seems more likely that a small garden gnome has taken up space in my closet for her wardrobe.  There is no way I ever fit into them!  Now, besides the hit on my self esteem and obvious superficial issues of this weight gain, let’s think about the big issue here – my health.  I remember at the peak of my running in 2010 (wow-where did the time go!?!) I ran from Baden to Kitchener.  It was 22km and took me a few hours.  Someone asked me, “why do you run, what is the point”?  My answer was “Because I can”.  My legs work and until they don’t I’m going to keep running.  Maybe that sounds a little too Forest Gump-esque, but it is the truth.  Finally I had gotten myself into shape after the ups and downs over the years.  I felt the best I ever had, and I wasn’t going to take it for granted.  So now when I think about getting back out there and running, my answer is the same, with a few added thoughts since my sons birth.  Like the fact that I want my son to grow up healthy, and have a healthy, happy mom setting the example for him.  I want to live a long time, and do everything in my power to make sure I do.  I think about all the people out there facing illness and other serious personal struggles.  Those who literally cannot run or even walk for that matter, and would probably do anything to be able to.  I’m not talking about those of us who have packed on some pounds and really have no legitimate excuse besides self control issues and laziness (yes, pregnancy is a legitimate reason, but not 93lbs worth!).  When I think about that, running seems easy, and almost like something I have to do in honour of those who can’t.  Again, I am not breaking any records with my running abilities, and I am not trying to.  But my legs work.  They move when I tell them to.  They ache and burn and I want to stop at least 100 times when I am out there (and sometimes I do!), but I plan to keep pushing forward, and using them until the day comes that I can’t.  God willing that is many, many years away.  Think Terry Fox, Lance Armstrong…it’s in moments where I think about those facing challenges like they did, that I’m able to put things into perspective.  Now please don’t for a second think I’m comparing myself to either of those brave men, or comparing their fight to mine.  I’m simply saying that I realize when I think about their stories and similar ones, that in the grand scheme of things, I am lucky to have limbs that work.  So shame on me if I don’t appreciate that and use them.  Maybe I can find within myself, an ounce of the strength and bravery that those in such situations display, and push forward in the challenges of my life.  The challenges that are very real to me, but seem so insignificant in comparison.  That is not to minimize the challenges that I face.  Being a mom and all that entails, and trying to get fit is not easy.  But perspective is a wonderful thing.  So I run.

So where do I go from here?  Will I ever gain my self-esteem back?  Will I ever be able to look in the mirror and be proud of what is staring back at me?  Yes, I believe wholeheartedly that I will.  In fact, I am going to work my butt off to make sure I do!  Over the past 7 weeks since my sons birth I have managed to lose 46lbs.  I can’t take all the credit however, since I was only just cleared to workout last week.  Trainer Nick suggested I set myself an aggressive, measurable goal in order to get myself motivated.  He knows me so well!  I signed up for the Waterloo Classic, 10km run on June 17th.  I recall from when I did it a few years back that it was one of the hottest days of the year and the course is mainly uphill.  Sweat dripped off me, my eyes burned, and I thought I might pass out.  So I thought hey, lets do that again!  7 weeks left to train, and 47 lbs to go.  Here we go…the countdown is on…

The diary of an average girl

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Welcome to my blog!

As I ran down the street yesterday on my first jog in nearly 10 months (I’ll explain later), in order to keep myself distracted from the terrible aches and pains that were already setting in, I started writing my “story” in my head.  What a journey I had be on over the last year!  So in today’s world of modern technology, rather than reaching for a pen and paper when I got home, I ended up here as a new “blogger”.  I’m not sure how I feel about that title, or what all being a blogger entails.  Here I am none the less, about to share my thoughts, struggles, emotions…my story.  I don’t profess to be a great writer, or even a writer at all.  I also don’t claim to have anything particularly interesting to share.  So if you do somehow end up here reading this, firstly, thanks for coming!  Secondly, please ignore any spelling and punctuation errors, and keep in mind that I am just an average girl sharing my story, open and honestly.  For what purpose would I be so vulnerable, sending my inner most thoughts out into the world to potentially be judged and criticized?  I am not quite sure yet!  All I know is that I had the desire to document some of what I have experienced, and my journey during the craziest and most amazing time in my life.  I hope you enjoy the ride!!