it's not magic, folks.

2014 is coming up.  In case you haven't looked at a calendar recently.

I, like many of you, have been thinking about my goals for the New Year.  I think I made some last year, but I'm not sure I met them.  I don't even remember them.  But I've been focused on living more intentionally and that's what I plan for 2014.  Be intentional with my time, my goals, my people, my health.

While thinking about my health/fitness goals for 2014 I kept thinking about running.

Running may as well be a four letter word.  I would much rather ride my bike for three hours than run for 30 minutes.  You think I am exaggerating. I am not.

Dead serious.

So yesterday while I'm thinking about running and goals I text Jessica.  (side note: I always wonder if she rolls her eyes when a text from me comes through because they are so random.)  I asked her if someone who is not a runner, who in fact HATES to run, could make a goal to run a half and full marathon in the same year.  I loved her first reply: "hmm."

I love that she doesn't just jump in with an answer I want to hear but takes the time to reply what I need to hear.  (I've told you guys before, you need a Jessica in your life.) (Just not mine, she's taken.)

Off and on all day yesterday I was thinking about running.  Thinking about it makes me groan.  Roll my eyes.  Get crabby.  Why do I hate it so much?  This morning while blow-drying my hair I realized something.

I don't hate running!

I hate not being the best at running.

Realizing that I don't want to do something just because I am not, nor will I ever be, the best was a pretty ugly realization.  That says so much to me about so many areas of my life.

So I shut off the blow dryer, got out my favorite Sharpie and a piece of paper and penned my 2014 goals.

I'll start in February with a 3 mile run, St. Patrick's Day always has a 5 or 10k, I'd like to do the 10.  In May I'm going to attempt my first half marathon.  13 miles.  Then July holds STP.  Seattle to Portland on my bicycle.  200 miles.  October holds the Portland Marathon.  I really considered a full as one of my goals, but I honestly am not feeling it at this point.  Maybe as the months and training goes on, I'll get there, but for now I'm going to be proud of myself for the halves I've signed up for.

I'm going to do this.

It's not going to be easy.  And I'm going to want to give up.  It's not always going to be fun.  But it's always going to be worth it.

(and now begins the real reason for this post)

With the New Year approaching I've seen many FB posts with people wanting their friends to join their weight loss programs.  Get results!  No pills!  No this!  No that!  But lots of results!  Almost like magic!

I call bullshit.

Yeah, I said it.

Weight loss is not magic.

A healthy life is not magic.

It's hard work and it's determination.

To achieve a healthy lifestyle, to achieve weight loss, to see results - literally takes blood, sweat, and tears.

I can attest to this because I have fallen off my bike, scraped my elbows, knees, wrists.  I have sweat from workout after workout and I have cried because I'm tired of those workouts and I have cried from falling off my bike.

But not all tears were out of pain.

Many were out of success.

I've been extremely frustrated by these posts.  These ads.  These gimmicks.

Friends, I'm sorry to say, but losing weight is not easy as 1, 2, 3.  It's not as easy as signing up to receive pills, or shakes, or meals.  It's not counting calories, or cutting out bread, or meat, or sugar, or beer (Oh, Lord, not the beer! don't take mah liquid gluten!)

It is, however, about cutting down on those things.  Not eating (or drinking) as many of those things.  Stop depriving yourself of those things you love, you'll just end up binging on them later and you'll beat yourself up for it, give up, feel defeated and be a Sad Pants Sally.

But it's also this:

It is about getting off our asses and moving.

It is sweating and it is hard.

It is time consuming and it is hard.

It is self-control and it is hard.

It is determination and it is hard.

It is not magic.

It is not pills.

It is not shakes.

It is not sugar-free, carb-free, gluten-free, meat-free, fat-free, taste-free.

It is, however, persevering.  It is not giving up.  It's about failing but starting again.

You don't have to pay someone to help you lose weight.  To tell you what you can and cannot eat.  What pill to take or shake to down.  I can say all of this because I've lived it.  I've done it.

That picture on the left (153 lbs).  I can't believe I was her.  That picture on the right (123 lbs), I wish I still looked like that.  But over the course of a few months, I've eaten more and exercised less and I have 10 extra lbs to show for it.  However, I'm back on track, paying attention to portions (still eating chocolate and drinking beer) and getting up at 6 AM (ew!) to work out at home.  I've also been to the gym once this week and will go again tonight.

But I'm not the only one who has busted her ass to make improvements, to better herself, to lose weight, to get healthy.

A couple hardcore, amazing examples of people I know:

My friend Melissa is engaged to a guy named Matt.  Matt was in a mountain biking accident four years ago that resulted in him being paralyzed.  Reading through his blog posts from that time and seeing that immediately after his accident he could hardly move his arms, at one point couldn't even lift a single pound but I asked today and found that he is lifting, get this, 60 lbs!  How can he do this?  Because the man hasn't given up.  Because he busts his butt.  Hours upon hours.

Not only can Matt lift 60 lbs, he's also standing.  Standing!

He didn't get to this point because he sat and did nothing.  He hasn't gotten stronger because he popped magic pills.  It's his determination to never give up.

So freaking inspiring.

*i know Matt's story is not one of weight loss, but it is a story of what can happen when you are determined to change your life, to not give up, to work hard, and see results.*

Another friend of mine, Mark, used to weigh 307 lbs.  He's Josh's height (5'8"ish).  One day the man decided to take control of his health.  It hasn't been an overnight change.  And it wasn't a month or six months.  It wasn't a year.  It was more than that.  His journey started in 2006.  But it was in January of 2011 that shiz got real and Mark started running. He has run and pedaled mile after mile to lose 130 lbs.

Let me type that for you again.

The dude has lost 130 lbs.  

He's held the same weight for several months.

It wasn't magic, guys.  It wasn't some pyramid scheme that got these guys where they are today.  It was a lot of freaking hard work!  It was hours of their time.

Three years ago Jessica was posting her running updates to FB.  What I loved most about her updates wasn't that she made the work out seem easy, she made it seem doable.

Friends, changing your life to get healthy, to get fit, is never easy.  And it's not magic.

But it's always doable.

And it's always worth it. 

How I'm feeling right this minute. Uncensored.

I started writing this out on paper and then decided to blog these feelings.

Maybe I'm alone in them, and maybe I am not.

I'm equal parts hopeful I am and am not.  I'd hate for others to feel this way, I'd hate to think I'm the only one who feels this way.

I feel so inadequate.  In every area of my life.  Every single one.  There's not one area of my life where I feel I'm doing well or succeeding.

Lately I've wondered if staying home with my kids and educating them is the right thing.  For so many reasons I wonder if this is the right thing for me.  For my girls.

I'm not smart enough.

I'm not disciplined enough.

I'm not structured enough.

I'm impatient and crabby.

I'm not a gifted teacher; I'm horrible when it comes to explaining things.

I don't even know how to teach or what teach.  What goes together, when do I teach this, is this relevant, am I teaching this just because the schools do?

I used to work at Pier 1 Imports.  I also worked as a barista in a local coffee shop.  I was great at selling furniture and I was great at making coffee.  I can be good at something.  I have been good at something.

But this, this mothering and teaching.  I am not good at these things.

And I'm a horrid wife.

I get it.  I get why women leave.  Because this, this stuff is just too much some days.  Many days.  Most days.  And wouldn't it just be easier to leave?  To walk away?  Wouldn't the children and the husband be better off?

I'm not leaving.  I won't.

And I'm not headed off to work outside the home and have my kids in school.

I am, however, venting this hurt and frustration and panic that's rising.  Suffocating.  That's how I feel, like I'm suffocating.  I feel this claustrophobic craziness.

Okay, I'm going to publish now.  And in the middle of the night I'll wake up in a panic and try to delete but it'll already have been read and judged and well, and well...oh well.

Here it is and here is me.  Uncensored.

bruised but protected

i fell while riding my bike two days ago.

i bloodied my knee.

bruised my wrist and elbow.

but i got back on my bike yesterday.

because you have to get back on.

you can't be afraid.

you cannot live life afraid.

yesterday i was a human punching bag.

assaulted with words.

i've had hurtful words, hateful words hurled at me before.

nothing like what i experienced yesterday.

i've never had my entire body shake the way it did yesterday.

i've never cried more tears.  i've never had my head and eyes hurt that way before from all the crying.

i've never ever hurt more than i hurt yesterday.

but today i'm up.

i'm out of bed and i'm going to live this day.

and love this day.

i won't live my life afraid.

for i have a shield around me.

psalm 3:3

sometimes the mess isn't so beautiful

The 2012 election is over.

I sat on the couch with my phone, laptop, and the television.  I ignored my family while I watched the results.  There wasn't a sense of panic this election the way I had four years ago.  I think because just a few days before the election I re-read my post from four years ago and Josh's words from that day were a comfort to me.  That God is our ultimate Commander in Chief.  So who am I to worry?

As I re-read that post I saw my own heart.  My faith.  Four years ago it was so much stronger than it is today.  I hate admitting that.

But it's the truth.

Four years ago I read my bible more.  Not much more, but now my daily reading is Sunday reading as I'm in church.  Four years ago I applied Sunday's sermon with my day to day.  Now I listen to the sermon half-heartedly and find myself thinking about what to put on the grocery list and, will Josh stop at Starbucks on the way home without me asking or not.

Over the last couple of  years I have made some positive changes to my life.  But I've made negative changes as well and isn't it funny how negative can outweigh positive?  No, it's not funny.  Yet it's how it's working in my life at the moment.

You're probably reading this and wondering what the heck.  That's okay.  I'm mostly writing to get all these thoughts outta my head that have been making me crazy.  Crazier.

The other day I was so frustrated.  My heart hurt so badly.  I threw my phone across the room and dented the wall.

And then I wept.  Not for the wall.  Or my phone.  But because I just needed to let my heart spill through tears.

I'm really mature for 32.  Obvs.

I get so frustrated with myself.  I am this mess of a girl.

I love my husband and I adore my sweet baby girls.

I love my mom and my word how I love my sisters even when they don't speak to me.

I would not be the person I am without the amazing friends God has blessed me with since I was 14 years old and moving to yet another new school.

I have rockstar in-laws, that if not for them, sometimes I feel as if I would have no family at all.

The biggest area where I'm so frustrated with myself is that I love Jesus but to meet me now or just a couple of years ago, I wonder if you'd even know that.

I'm failing all the people I've listed above.

I tell God that today's the day.  Today I live for Him.  Today I'll do it different.  And days will go by and we're tight.  We're good.  And then I screw up and I when I screw up I don't mess around, I screw up big.  And I wonder how on earth I can train these girls of mine when here I am.  Like this.

With tears and snot running down my face while I type this, two sets of innocent eyes are looking up to me and asking, "Mama, why are you crying?"

I don't want to worry them.

So I'm going to go snuggle them.

Thanks for letting me lay out my heart.

Will 32

i'm 32 days from my 32nd birthday.  i wonder if 32 is my year.  my year to get my shit together.

{pardon}

will i stop being such a screw up?  will i finally get it right?

is this the year i get up at 6 am to feed my husband breakfast?  the year i don't get behind on laundry.  the year i quit losing my temper with my kids?

will i finally keep my rig cleaned?  and always have a well stocked pantry and freezer?

32 means i'm a grown up.  i'll make better financial decisions.  i'll stop buying coffee so often.  i'll do better with josh's paychecks.  yes i will.

this is the year i'll be a better daughter.  a better sister.  a better friend.  i'll stop sucking at those.

and this year my husband will always have clean clothes for work.  i'll know when he needs new shoelaces for his boots and i'll buy them before he even knows he needs them.  he'll never run out of shaving cream and a clean towel will always be waiting for when he's done in the shower.  and when he gets home from work i will not be frazzled but wear a smile and kiss him passionately and ask about his day.

when i turn 32 i'll care about my children's attire and have them dress in clothes that match instead of clothes that do not match.  i will comb their hair and put it in braids and they will look like little girls instead of little ragamuffins.

i will not want to quit homeschooling this year.  i will love it everyday.  and i will be good at it.  and my kids will learn.  and i will stop wanting to wave down the big, yellow bus at 7 am everyday.

is this the year i put others needs ahead of my own?  is this the year i stop being a selfish wretch?

the year i quit thinking about how big my nose is and how my tummy is wrinkly and my clothes are blah.

maybe this year FB, Twitter, my blog, your blog and Pinterest won't matter as much to me.  maybe this year i'll send thank you cards. and Christmas cards.  heck, maybe i'll even send out birthday cards.

32 means i'll read my bible daily and live out my faith, right?  maybe people will actually know i'm a Christian this year, huh?

is this the year to be comfortable in my own skin?

or will 32 be a repeat of my years gone by?  a repeat of who i don't like to be?