Gym Girl Dana

I’m not exactly sure of the timing. I was on cruise control and writing daily and feeling well. I’d been in a groove of several weeks of writing, exercising, eating well, working and so on. Nothing much had changed, but then it was as if everything had.

Regardless of my consistency with daily workouts and clean eating, nothing has aided in my weight loss. I’ve had NSV (non scale victories) for sure, but that damned scale mocks me daily and I just can’t seem to get past it. My lifting became stronger, my push ups grew in rep counts, my stamina had improved. I’d moved forward in some ways for sure and I celebrate that. I acknowledge the work I’ve put in and I’ve convinced myself that with consistency, my continued efforts will pay off. I’m determined.

With the covid crisis carrying on, the vaxxed vs the non vaxxed, the daily depressing news stories, more deaths, more violence, unemployment rates, closing businesses, presidential nonsense, more Murphy with seemingly endless mandates…I’d found that when I’d sat down to write, I was overcome with negative thoughts. I didn’t want this to become a bitch board, I’d get up and promise myself ‘tomorrow’. As you already know, that tomorrow led into another day. And another. Finally I’d lost all motivation to blog. I’d had nothing to say and nothing to share and certainly didn’t think anything worthy of your time to read.

There was a few times that I’d considered writing again, but I was usually at work or driving to a studio visit. Not the time to gather thoughts on a personal note. When I was presented with time later on, I’d decided to pass on it and do something else. Again, just wasn’t in the right head space…I’ve been living a fire drill for months between work and home and I wasn’t ready to add something else to my plate.

I’d had a few people reach out and ask about when the next blog would be. I felt satisfied that it was missed, but pressured to get something out. Self imposed, of course. I’m famous for putting pressures on myself and imaginary deadlines with horrific consequences. Then of course, I’d sway the other way…what’s the big deal? No one is really missing it and what difference does it make?

To a few, it makes a big difference. And for that, I’m grateful and appreciative.

Tomorrow is June 1st already. (Rabbit, Rabbit). My Memorial Day deadline of weight loss and body carving has passed. I didn’t meet my goal. I did create great new habits and have committed the 60-90 mins to myself daily. I’ve given myself some grace and also have finally made a doctors appointment to get some nagging things checked out. I’ve worked tirelessly on body confidence and wish I could report that I’m making strides, but I’d be lying. It’s a continual work in progress and one in which I won’t give up on. I preach it to others but can not get it into my own head. You’ve got know idea how frustrating and exhausting it is….or, maybe you do. I’m hopeful and committed.

My son has graduated college, Magna Cum Laude no less. My boy Miles has broken his leg and my boy Mike has been living with my dad (my Boston Terriers, for those of you that don’t know). My dads dog passed suddenly prior to Mikes move in. The vet situation has been a nightmare. I’ve had a few long term co workers leave for other adventures, I’ve lost a few close friends (did I though?!). I’ve not felt 100%, still no sense of smell from COVID and I’ve had more darker days than I’d like to admit. So, that’s what’s been going on and at least we will have stuff to talk about in the upcoming days. I don’t think you’ll hear from me daily, but I’m committed to get started again. Hope you’ll still be with me.

For the last 15 years or so I’ve had strands of gray hair appear. I remember at one point that I’d had a co worker actually search my head and pull them out. I was surprised by how many were actually in there.

Just a few years ago, still just random grays, I was obsessed with dying my hair that color. I loved it and finally decided to go for it. Being my hair is borderline black, basically the darkest brown, I knew it may be challenging. Well, during the bleaching process, I’d successfully reached Heat Miser color. Couldn’t take it any lighter than this amber orange blend covering my scalp. They were not about to let me leave looking like that….but they’d mixed a color to try to reach a darker shade of gray as a compromise. My hair was purple.

I wasn’t a stranger to dying my hair, or to funky colors, but that was in my teens and twenties. Luckily for me, my hair is short and within a few weeks, it’d all be cut out and back to base. However, I’d tried it again. Yep. Shocker. Same result.

I’d spoken with another salon owner about reaching my desired gray and she explained how it would be weeks of varying bleached out blonde so they could strip my dark locks of color and then create my desired look. No effn way. With this dark hair and dark eyebrows I couldn’t bleach my hair and walk around like that; the bigger fear was that by the time some of my hair was ready for color, the roots wouldn’t be. Forget it. It’s not meant to be.

Now, slowly I’m reaching my desired shade, as the gray hairs are multiplying rapidly. However, they don’t cooperate. They grow in coarse and unruly, always in opposing directions. They stick out and want to be noticed. There’s no taming them. They just want to celebrate their arrival.

Anti aging face cream, eye cream, face serums…I’ve got them all. I use them. Collegen supplements, I’ve been there. Red light therapy, I love it. I’m not giving in to aging, I’m putting up a fight of sorts. However, I’m aware of these companies targeting women’s insecurities regarding aging and it’s a big business. Every major player has an anti aging line and pays millions in marketing to promote it, the competition is fierce. And we, the consumer, especially women, are all about it.

There will always be someone younger. I’m ok with that. I just want to look my best…and not for your age…for life.

It seems I’ve lost six weeks.

What started out so promising, so strong, surrounded by a crew just as motivated and everyone paying $25 each so the winner gets the total. Although the scale wasn’t showing much, I was feeling better, lifting more, eating well and super consistent with water intake and workouts. Notice it’s all in past tense.

I got covid. I wasn’t feeling well on March 4th, by March 5th it was clear. I was terribly sick that weekend. Today, 33 days later, I still have no taste or smell, still experiencing headaches and for two weeks have experienced a crazy stomach ache….just that, a dull, reminding, annoying ache. It was one week of horrific discomfort and pain with severe flu like symptoms. Then each day was slow and steady improvement. During the improvement phase I’d try working out, then would be so tired that I allowed myself some grace. I knew what my body needed and it wasn’t muscle tear down. It certainly wasn’t cardio when I couldn’t even take a deep breath for a yawn.

But the carbs. The comfort of the carbs. I’m carb sensitive, so even good carbs tend to stick to me. Although there were good carbs in there, for the first time in over a decade I’d craved grilled cheese and fries. And it was freaking delicious. I’d had days of frozen fruit bars to soothe my raging throat. After a few days of very little food but great veggie broths and things, I’d then began giving my body what it craved. Let’s face it; I was willing to do anything to feel better. (And yes, I was taking medicine and a full vitamin regimen).

Since feeling better, my eating has been cleaned up, eating unprocessed foods and plenty of vegetables and some sweet and tart berries daily. There’s been an occasional cheat, dessert with my son while visiting, carrot cake on Easter. Last night when I could’ve had key lime pie, I’d resisted.

The scale shows nothing and I will get on the InBody to check my body fat percentage versus muscle gain, and not that I plan on seeing a change because of everything that’s happened, but to give myself a new starting point for the next six weeks. I’ll be taking measurements and *gasp* maybe even photos and I’ll start again. Mentally, finding a routine again had solidified so many things, but sadly, not feeling well for weeks on end crushed that also.

On top of it all, I’m already bloated and in pain from PMS and my cycle is scheduled for more than a week away. The joys of womanhood.

Today, I’m determined. I’m doing a three day Beauty Cleanse with Organic Pharmer. Although mentally I’ve been taxed, physically I’ve been tired, I’ve been paying attention to my skin care routine and trying to recapture that amazing glow that has gone missing. Diet is a big part of that. So today I’ll fuel my body with the best of the best ingredients, picked and packaged for me and give my body a break from heavy digestion and pump a reboot into these tired organs. After all, you literally are what you eat.

You need to think of your body as a machine that is constantly regenerating itself to keep all it’s parts in an optimal peek state of efficiency. You wouldn’t put deisel fuel in a Maserati. You wouldn’t feed your pets chemicals and byproducts.

Your body has a manufacturing plant of cells that works to replace and renew dead cells. An average adult loses around 300 billion cells every day, and this “cell manufacturing plant” is fuelled by the food that you eat.*

You can’t eat nutritionless food and expect your body’s “cell manufacturing plant” to run efficiently and produce at its best. Eat well, feel well. Eat poorly, well…. you get the idea.

*source https://blog.mindvalley.com/you-are-what-you-eat/

So this week is a reset of sorts. I look forward to the challenge. I definitely look forward to the change.

A woman has a lot of sex and she’s a whore. A man has a lot of sex and he’s a stud.

A woman wears provocative clothes, she’s asking for it. A man goes shirtless and it’s acceptable.

A woman has big breasts, she must be dumb. A man is well endowed and he’s virile.

A woman with a strong personality is a bitch. A man with the same personality trait is a man.

Women, 85% of them in fact, suffer from PMS monthly, and yet we continue to hear the stupidest comments, the majority made by people that don’t experience traditional periods. Politely shut the hell up please.

Every month my uterus feels as if it’s trying to punch it’s way out of my body. Every freaking 28 days. It doesn’t get easier. It doesn’t get better. And being told, “you deal with it every month so why can’t you just suck it up” doesn’t do a damned thing to help.

“You must be PMS-ing” is my fave. This is one is tricky, because every woman with PMS knows that it does do a number on our ability to behave 100% logically. But women are also really tired of having our judgment second-guessed in our personal and professional lives because of our hormones. We’re a little emotionally out of whack. So, no, this isn’t “my period talking.” So even if this does occasionally happen to be true, it’s also a sure-fire way to make it a lot worse by blaming everything on our hormones or pointing out, that, yes, we are feeling a little testy. If men are testy, is it manstrating?! Can we comment on that during a board meeting?!

Every woman who goes through PMS deserves to be treated, if not like an actual queen, then at least with a modicum of respect. We should certainly not be made to feel embarrassed because our body is working through the mechanism that creates life. When women ask to be cut a little slack because we’re PMSing, it’s not because we’re whiny babies — we’re just going through some major stuff! I wish more non-PMSers (of all genders) would ask what the experience feels like, so they’d have some sense of what a painful, exhausting, expensive ordeal it is. 

I wish men had the pleasure of womanhood, menopause (how ironic, men…opause) and monthly periods. Then they could experience the joy of carrying a child and pushing a watermelon through a key hole or having your organs placed on a side tray while they remove this amazing human life. If they will never have the opportunity to participate in these things, they could at least have the courtesy to be quiet.

Every damn day.

With Wednesday being Transgender Day of Visibility, I was seeing many ignorant posts about gay pride, trans choices and even white history month. It was shocking that there are still so many people choosing to remain uninformed and basically oblivious. It was alarming that they are seemingly proud of it.

The Gay Pride Parade isn’t an in your face event to share their preferences. Since the 60’s when gay pride and awareness marches started, it’s about celebrating social self acceptance, achievements and legal rights. It helps bring awareness to same sex marriages and serving in our military. Those of us that are straight, we haven’t faced these challenges, therefore, we don’t need a parade.

Gay pride and awareness has been a work in progress for over 50 years. Clearly we still have work to do.

Love is love with me. I wish it were the same for all.

Transgender people face a gender identity different from the sex they were at birth. Trans people may identify as heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual or asexual (lack of sexual attraction at all), or may choose to not declare an identity regarding attraction. Transgender first began as simply ‘cross dressing’….. Transsexual are those seeking medical assistance to change their bodies to reflect how they are truly feeling and identifying inside.

Could you imagine living a life where you have to hide yourself? Sitting at the dinner table with your family and unable to share with your closest loved ones what you are feeling and facing? I can’t. Further still, knowing that to become whom you want to be opens you up to random hate crimes and violence, scrutiny, discrimination and possible exile from your own friends and family; it’s horrific to consider. Yet, it still happens today.

If someone chooses to serve our country, their sexual orientation shouldn’t matter; their qualifications should.

If someone wants to marry, their choice of spouse shouldn’t matter; their love and commitment should.

If someone wants to have a career, their identity shouldn’t matter; their skill set should.

So for the straight, white folks that are asking for their parades, history months and tv channels, take a step back. Review the history and check your oppression. We’ve had it pretty damn good, haven’t we?

Can’t we just be kind to one another because we are human?!

I don’t think women are alone in the thought process of altering their wants and desires to appease another person. I do think it may be more common, however. Let’s face it, both traditional males and females have pre set rules and guidelines on how to act, what they should feel and so on. “You’re a man, men don’t cry”, “You’re a lady, don’t be so loud” … you get the idea. The boxes we grew up in and many of us have tried and continue to grow out of.

I catch myself sometimes doing what I feel I should be doing, as opposed to what I want to be doing. Not always, understand. I have grown comfortable with myself and learned at an early age that I didn’t fit the mold. Head shaving and clothes covered in safety pins in my teen years, dark lipstick and short hair in my 20’s. Tattoos starting in my friends house, as a friend of mine had a desire to turn his art into ink (and now is a super successful tattoo artist!). I’d always walked to the beat of my own drum & still do. Even when I was faced with questions like, “Why do you do that to yourself?” Or statements, “You’d be so pretty if you just grew your hair out.”

Pause.

By who’s standards? Society? I found comfort in my harder edges. It allowed me to see very early on who was interested in me as a person and not just intrigued by superficial nonsense. Why is ok, acceptable even, to tell someone how they should look or how they’d look better?

If you’re telling me I’m too much in an area, you’re also telling me I’m not enough in another. Why do we feel it’s tolerable to thrust our own opinions and ideals upon another?

Yet, it happens. What happens next is we actually listen and begin to second guess ourselves. Sometimes we even agree.

I know I’m not alone in having my confidence shaken. I’ve definitely heard random opinions, some from my own inner circle and considered alternating my appearance/approach/actions. There’s been times I’ve tried to delete whom I was entirely to make someone else happy. Their happiness comes at my expense. Not so often anymore.

Don’t be scared to be YOU. Stand tall. Head up. You’re a perfect representative of yourself, and if that’s lost on others, it’s entirely their loss. You are remarkable just as you are.

I’m pretty particular how I have my things. My cabinets rival those from the movie Sleeping with the Enemy. I don’t have a ‘junk drawer’ in my kitchen; and that very well could be because I don’t have a ton of drawers to begin with. But, you get the idea. I like order.

When I was interviewing with Orangetheory Fitness, I was asked about my greatest strength as well as my greatest weakness (which, since we have renamed ‘opportunity’). No brainer with the opportunity, it was control. I’d explained that I like things done a certain way; I’m borderline OCD. It’s a blessing and a curse. Over the years, my need for control has released in so many areas; for my own sanity as well as the growth and development of the teams around me.

Ironically, this has also been a struggle for some of my team mates. As they have grown in their roles, they like things a certain way...their way. There have been times that they get stuck on their way rather than completing the project…that causes a loss in focus and an overall frustration amongst the teams. It’s not easy to change, it’s a conscious decision day after day.

What we’ve learned is there’s more than one way to arrive at a destination. If someone chooses three rights to make a left, I’m ok with that, as long as they arrive and are on time. Everyone learns and executes differently. It’s an awesome accomplishment to learn about your team and figure out what works best for them. They go from frustrated to flourish in a hurry.

However, as you know already, not everyone takes the time to learn about others. Not everyone takes a new or different approach. Some insist their way is the ‘right’ way and that becomes the only way. We know how that works out.

If the problem is solved, does it really matter how it was done?

Are we so convinced that only we are right? When did we lose interest in learning?

I want to be romanced. I want to be respected. I want to be paid the same as men for the same job. I want the door held open for me. I want to be the best…at my career, in any endeavors, anything I’m a part of. (Understanding this is totally unrealistic; doesn’t change my mindset.)

I want to surround myself with greatness. I have mentors that motivate me and guide me. My top five people change from time to time, if their growth seems to stop, I’ll move forward with a new focus. I don’t like to settle. I’ve done it, but I don’t like it.

When I was racing, I wanted to win. In the competitive world, second place was really ‘first place’s loser’. I’ve been on that second place podium, and I’d waver between proud of myself for my placement and why didn’t I push harder…the most challenging part of my training was that I was a triathlete. So I couldn’t be the best swimmer, the fastest runner and the swiftest cyclist. Trying to chase two rabbits, you won’t catch either one. It didn’t matter, it’s how I continued to train. Mentally, this became my downfall.

In the pool, I was an anchor. I was slow and ineffective. It took a lot of training to improve my stroke and perfect my technique. Lines at the bottom to guide you and no waves to worry about, I was hitting my stride. Now, the races are in the ocean and there’s so many more factors. My skills quickly turned into survival. I’ve eaten jelly fish for breakfast and had my goggles knocked off by a competitor, been kicked in the face and swam entirely off course. Swimming was not my strong suit. Maybe I’d go back to duathlons; run, bike, run.

On the bike, I’d had an indoor trainer and all kinds of equipment to read power and output, I’d ride in my bedroom as well as hit the open road. Now, racing bikes have these skinny tires. If you see cyclists outside of the white line of the shoulder and riding in the car lane, sure, some of them are just entitled assholes but most are avoiding debris and hazards in the shoulder. Keep that consideration as you pass them…it’s definitely an issue. The entitled assholes are also an issue…but, you know, control what you can. My spin classes helped to create strong legs and my cycling was solid. Not the best by a long shot, but that was mainly over my confidence. Transitioning to a more aerodynamic position was nerve-racking for me. I was determined.

I used to run ten miles for fun. Where’d that girl go? Running was most in my control, as it’s you and your sneakers and the terrain. I’d trail run, road run, treadmill interval, beach run, hills. I was chasing a sub 7 min mile. I’d not hit it, but it’s important to have a goal. I worked hard to get there and my running improved. Again, learning about arm swing and hydration on the course, conquering focus and effectiveness. I’d also learned how to run after tripping and cutting up both knees and that no matter what happens, just keep going. Slow down, but stopping will stop you.

In the end, I never was the best. At any of the components. I’d won races for sure, I’d been strong in my age group for a while. I kept chasing. I kept chasing numbers that I knew I’d likely not catch. It didn’t make me want them less.

Like the number on the scale now.

Like the key performance indicators in the businesses.

Like the territory of sales in icebox.

I. Want. It. ALL.

& I’m not ashamed to admit it.

In 2020, gun related deaths reached an all time high of 41,000+ by December. Sadly, 23,000 of these gun related incidents were death by suicide. Could these numbers be inflated by the pandemic and stress and depression being at an all time high? Sure. Numbers haven’t been this inflated since 1981 reported by the Crime and Justice News.

Cigarette & tobacco related deaths totaled 480,000 in 2020 and that number includes deaths from second hand smoke. Tobacco use is the leading preventable cause of death in the United States each year.

Guns don’t kill people. People kill people. Someone has to pull the trigger.

Tobacco kills people. CDC reported that (ready for this…..pay attention) second hand smoke causes an estimated 41,000 deaths each year in the United States. Did you get that? Every year, people are killed by cigarette smoke….innocently….second handedly…and the same number of the gun related deaths last year. Yet, cigarettes are still on the market.

We scream for more gun control and stricter gun laws. The criminals love this theory…because it doesn’t affect them. Let’s let everyone get caught up with more laws for gun purchase, as the criminals make their deals on the streets. They don’t buy at gun stores, they don’t do background checks. As we keep the law abiding citizens tied up and slowed down, the wrong doers continue to work the streets.

{This world is far from perfect. We could use improvements in many areas. And the suicide number scares me over all, but especially related to guns. That means guns aren’t being locked up as they should be. This is something to change and those purchasing guns legally, this could be a discussion. Again, it’s not all….}

Just goes to show you that if your pockets are deep enough and the right people are paid… I’m not even sure how I want to finish that sentence. I’ll let you fill in the blank there and draw your own conclusion. To know that people die from second hand smoke, 7,333 from lung cancer and 33,951 from heart disease (again, CDC sourced) and we continue to sell cigarettes; it’s equal parts alarming and appalling.

Yesterday marked the seven year anniversary of the SquanStrong Guinness Book of World Records Kilt Run.

Community is a group of people working towards a common goal. Regardless of zip code, we welcomed everyone into our community & we called it SquanStrong.

Dr T Shirt, (Gio), a local business man in town, had approached me to talk about the Kilt run and ensured he would be able to get the kilts needed to support these efforts. He also had a printing shop for tee shirts and whatever else, and he’s been doing fund raising runs for a lot longer than I had. Paired with our group of selfless volunteers, endless enthusiasm and the momentum of successful fund raisers of our own, this was about to be colossal.

The SquanStrong crew was determined to break the worlds record. And we’d not failed at anything thus far. I think Gio admired our passion, but seriously never believed that the existing record would be reached. We reached it. We surpassed it. We owned it. Watch the race kick off here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7TGhpb_nxfU

Not for long, however, as Perth Running Goats Club of Ontario, the original record holder with 1,764 participants, already had their next race being promoted and just waiting for our final number to snatch the record back! But we did own it until their race just a few weeks later.

Weekend after weekend, the SquanStrong volunteers were in different bars doing Kilt Race sign ups and kilt sizing. Hundreds of people gathered every weekend and the excitement leading up to race day was palpable. It was seemingly just a one mile fun run, but it had become so much more.

I look back and don’t recall the exact money we raised. I truly don’t remember our final number of racers that day. I don’t rehash what could’ve been different. What comes flooding back is the friendships formed, the community coming together for a common goal and the endless support of everyone that participated. I miss these days. A lot.

Local businesses thrived, as every weekend, we ventured to a new local spot for sign ups. The bars would be loud and laughter would ensue. The volunteers and I would have to repeat that ‘the kilts were European sizing and don’t focus on the number’ as we wrapped our arms around the waists of hundreds of people in just a few short hours. The people involved with the Kilt Run were nothing short of amazing. I miss them. A lot.

Seven years have passed. We changed lives with SquanStrong.

One year has passed since COVID changed our lives.

What a crazy life it’s been.