I Didn't Die

Now that I've had some time to process, I wanted to fill you all in on my fun-filled weekend of Les Mills RPM Instructor Training.

I feel like the title is appropriate.

Guys, this was one intense weekend.

I showed up bright and early on Saturday morning, not knowing what to expect.  I found the cycling room and people started filing in.  I was so incredibly nervous!  I was worried that I would look like I had no idea what I was doing, or that I'd have the wrong body type, or that I wouldn't know how to set up a bike that's different from mine.  I was worried that I wouldn't be Les Mills material.

Men don't do this shit to themselves, do they?

As if I wasn't already feeling insecure, I quickly realized that many of the participants already knew one another.  We were a small group- 7 women and 2 men- and I think only three of us walked in knowing no one.  And to top it all off, I was the only one with no group fitness instructing experience.  Everyone else had years of experience teaching a ton of different types of classes, many of them Les Mills.

Oy.

The first item on the agenda for the day was a Master Class, taught by our instructor for the weekend.  We all hopped on our bikes and got ready to work.

I mean this in the nicest way possible, but thank God I had received a video of the class two weeks prior, and had spent hours learning the music and choreography...because the English language was not our instructor's strong point.

I wish I could tell you how to even pronounce his name.  He described it as similar to Genghis Khan, only with a 'J' sound at the beginning?  Maybe?  All of us struggled so much to understand him, which was a very frustrating issue to have when we all really wanted to learn the material.

In any case, we were all familiar with the workout, so we worked hard and got it done.

That was hour 1 of about a million on the bike that weekend.

After our first workout, we moved onto the education portion of the morning.  We got out our notebooks and prepared to learn, waiting for some guidance as to where that would take place.

Cop a squat, pals, because the dirty floor of the cycling studio was the provided seating.

The teacher in me just cringes thinking that somebody really thought these were optimal learning conditions.  The oldster in me cringes remembering just how badly my lower back hurt after two days of sitting hunched over on a filthy floor.

And so the day went.  On the bike, on the floor, on the bike, on the floor.  We went through the workout together several times, taking turns presenting our pre-assigned tracks.  I was thoroughly exhausted by the end of day 1, especially considering the fact that I was so nervous that I hadn't really slept the night before.  Sleep came much easier that night.

Day 2 was much more of the same, only in addition to presenting our material several more times, we also had a fun "challenge" midday.  They like to call it the "RPM Ride of Truth."  What they should really call it is the "We'll Consider Letting You Instruct If You Can Survive These 30 Minutes" ride.  It was fun, guys.  I can't tell you how much I love pushing my body to the point of exhaustion, and then just for funsies, enduring a half hour of fitness torture.  But refer to my post title- I didn't die.

In the end, I passed.  And by the second day, I felt totally comfortable with my classmates, who were all wonderfully supportive of one another, and me in particular.  They called me Newbie (in the kindest way) and all cheered for me when the instructor announced that I'd passed.  We'd all bonded over extreme workouts, lack of appropriate seating, and straining to understand the spoken word.

Although the more seasoned instructors were highly disappointed in this training (for the obvious reasons), I left feeling pretty good.  Do I wish some of these issues weren't present?  Absolutely.  But as frustrating as they were, I left feeling encouraged and uplifted, and like this was something I could actually do, and maybe even be good at.  I credit my classmates for this.  I left itching to get into my gym and onto the instructor's bike.

Since then I've had the opportunity to co-teach with a wonderful instructor, and it was awesome.  I felt energized by the riders in front of me, and since we had drilled the routine a million and one times during training, I actually felt like I knew what I was doing.

I'm official now- as of press time, I'm teaching six classes in March.  Squee!  And for any of my local readers- should you decide to join me sometime, I promise you won't die, either.

        

Happy Birthday to the One Who Made Me a Mom

Today my best boy turns 8.

What a year it has been for Gabe.  He is in a weird in-between spot.  Sometimes I think he's so little and innocent.  Sometimes I feel like I have a teenager on my hands.  And sometimes I think he's just a mini-man. 

The in-between.  That's where we're at.

Gabe is a lot of wonderful things.  He has such a good heart, and is full of kindness.  He wants the best of everything for everyone.  He is ultra-responsible.  He always does the right thing, and when things need to be taken care of, he's your man.  He values his friendships above all other things. 

He is also extremely sensitive.  He feels a lot of feelings, and he feels them BIG.  This isn't always easy (for him, or us!).  When he's angry, sad, or worried, you will definitely know it.  There have been a couple of slammed doors and sleepless nights as he's tried to learn how to deal with all of these big emotions in a healthy way. There have been times he's been in trouble for his attitude, and then there are times when he beats himself up without a word from us (like when he was jealous that it was Margot's birthday, and then he was overcome with sadness because he felt bad that he was jealous- he even has feelings about his own feelings).

When he's feeling particularly moody, he likes to go his room and listen to his music- which lately is all Panic at the Disco.  His iPod is his most prized possession, and the Apple Music subscription gives him access to all the rock music his ears can handle. 

If this is 8, I'm having a hard time imagining what will happen when hormones actually kick in.

On the flip side, he still has so much innocence.  He likes to race his RC sports cars and dream about the day he'll own a Bugatti or a McLaren.  He has recently gotten into Harry Potter, and likes to cast spells with his pretend wand.  He loves video games.  Sometimes he'll build an "epic" car track (epic is his word choice for all things he considers cool) and race his Hot Wheels around his bedroom.  He likes to draw.  He likes to climb on the jungle gym outside and ride his bike down big hills and jump on the trampoline for hours.

And then I remember that he's still just a little boy.

Oh, Gabe.  

You keep us on our toes in a way we didn't see coming, but I guess that's parenting.  Watching you grow and change and mature isn't always easy, but all of the wonderful moments in between the tough ones make it worth it a million times over.  Luckily for us, love is one of those feelings that you feel BIG, and we feel it, too, buddy. 

Happy birthday to you, my firstborn.  I hope this year is your best one yet, and that all your birthday wishes come true.   

The Sweetest Four Year Old

That's my Charlotte.

My heart hurts a little writing this.  Literally just this morning, Facebook showed me this memory:

It will always be one of my very favorite pictures.  Exhausted as I was, I was just so happy.  My tiny little squish, all cuddled up on my chest.  Nothing in this world is better than a baby sleeping on your chest, amIright??

And now she's four.

I just don't understand how time can pass by so quickly.  It's this weird thing that moms have, not wanting their babies to grow up.  And I think with Charlotte being my last, I am even more desperate to hang onto her littleness.  In my mind, age four is a definite switch.  Once they hit four, every trace of baby is gone, and they are now just kids. 

Don't mind me sobbing in the corner over here.

But as much as I wish Charlotte would forever be my tiny baby, it is also pretty great to see her personality continue to develop.  If you have met her, you know she really is just the sweetest.  She has such a kind heart, and is a friend to everyone.  If you haven't met her, I guarantee that she'd charm you in an instant. 

She is charming.

This past year has been a big one for her.  She started school, which was a dream come true for her.  If she wants anything in life, it's to do the things her big siblings do.  If they can do it, she is sure she can do it.  She's paid her dues, watching them get go to school or dance class or to a friend's house to play.  She is beyond thrilled that she can now do those things, as well.

She is fashionable.  She has strong opinions about what she'll wear.  Don't even try to hand this one jeans and a shirt.  If it's not a dress (preferably with a tutu), she's not interested.  Sneakers?  Nope.  Only slip-on dress shoes.  No socks, thankyouverymuch.  And the accessories- oh, the accessories.  She won't be caught without them.  Even while she sleeps.

She loves princesses and unicorns and kittens and pink and purple.  And she loves her best friend Margot more than ice cream. 

And perhaps my favorite thing about her is she loves to cuddle.  She may not be as tiny as she was in that Facebook memory, but she still loves to snuggle in.

Charlotte Marie, my beautiful baby, I love you so much sometimes I think my heart just might explode.  Happy 4th birthday. 

My Current Downfall

Friends, we have a serious problem in my house.  I'm reaching out here because I know we are not alone.  I feel confident that I can find support in my community, and perhaps some resources to help us make it through this season.

It's Girl Scout Cookie time.

Girl Scout GIF from Girlscout GIFs

I know pretty much everyone has a weakness for Girl Scout cookies.  They see those sweet little girls at their table outside the Walmart and stock up on Thin Mints to put in the freezer and eat by the sleeve.

I used to be one of those people.  And aside from the Thin Mints, I was also in love with the Peanut Butter Sandwiches.  Side note: back in my day, we called them Do-Si-Dos, and that is what they forever will be known as in my heart.

Then one year I decided I didn't need any cookies.  I was going to stay strong and resist the temptation.  Of course, this meant not answering the door for the entire month of February and practically wearing a blindfold whilst walking in and out of every store in town.  Because, you know, once I make eye contact I become incapable of saying no.

And then the Thanks-a-Lots came into existence.  Damn it.

I happened to be pregnant that year, and I blame that sweet baby Charlotte and the cravings that she caused for this current issue in my home.

At first glance, these cookies aren't too troublesome.  It's just a simple shortbread, after all- with a heavenly chocolate coating on the bottom.  The real trouble came about when I had the idea to dip the cookie into my coffee one morning.  (Yes, I said morning.  I was pregnant.  I could eat cookies for breakfast if I wanted.)  It was all downhill from there.

J was immediately on board.  There are few things in life he loves more than dippable cookies.  I can't remember exactly how many boxes we went through that first year.  I can tell you it was definitely more than one would consider "healthy."  We would open a package, split it down the middle, and breakfast was served.  (I think that's probably how I grew the sweetest baby on the block that year.)

Since then, we've made progress.  And by progress, I mean that now we have a third adult in the house, so we split the package into three servings instead of two.

I may need an intervention.