Slow progress is still progress - a #GlowGetsFit update

The last time I joined I gym I was 18 and in my first year of uni. I was around 55kg and thought I was fat (oh, the hilarity!) so I joined the campus gym all "yeah, let's do this, let's get totally smokin' hot".

That feeling lasted about three weeks. After a handful of sessions did not see me looking like a supermodel I gave up. Because motivation and I are not usually on speaking terms.

But this time, something has shifted. I'm enjoying going to the gym. I can hear you now: "Wait, what? Who are you and what have you done with the real Glow? I mean c'mon, really?". But I mean it. At least right now I do, who knows what next week will bring.

It's been about five weeks and I've gone to the gym at least five times a week. More times in the first week than I ever went to the uni gym, actually. I do pump class, combat, yoga, weights, or sometimes I'm just a cardio bunny and I jog on the treadmill. I have no idea about jogging, but I can sustain 7km/hour for 1.6km without stopping. Everyone else on Instagram is running marathons and here I am rejoicing at 1.6km, but for me that is huge. HUGE!

As someone who has suffered from a diagnosed chronic pain disorder for over a decade (and the decade before that when it was non diagnosed and involved a shit load of trips to the childrens' hospital for nuclear scans and what not), exercise is still very new to me.

I mean, I had an ACROD pass for ten years for Christ's sake. Disabled parking! My muscles and ligaments were so pathetic at their job that I was allowed the same parking privileges as those with exploding hearts and peeps in wheelchairs. Granted I rarely used it because I was always abused by people who have no idea what an invisible disability is, but still, I had the pass. I was on a disability pension because I couldn't always get out of bed (I was also a bit crazy at the time, but let's just stick with musculoskeletal shiz right now, OK?) and here I am now, running on a freakin' treadmill and attending pump classes.

I still feel my usual pain, though it has lessened over the years a bit (I gave up my ACROD permit). Well, either that or I just got used to it with the help of hundreds of hours of mindfulness training and therapy. It's definitely still there, but the post exercise pain drowns it out. Like when you're super itchy and you shove your hand under hot water so the heat cancels the itch, the work out pain is cancelling out the "me" pain.

I'm not really sounding like a good advertisement for the gym right now, am I? Go exercise and you'll hurt way more! But it's different pain. It's pain for a reason. I did something kickass to elicit these aching muscles, rather than just waking up unable to walk for no reason.

If I can't get to the gym, I spend about twenty minutes on the elliptical (the one I scored for free at bulk rubbish which is AWESOME and works perfectly except for the temperature gauge - why do I need one of those though?) and will do some sit ups and kettle bell work at home. Or yoga so the kids can join in.

I haven't weighed myself since I started. I don't feel the need to because this isn't about being skinny. I want to be strong. I want to be fit. And I can feel it happening already, slowly but surely. I can ride further, jog further (the fact I can jog at all is awesome, really), lift heavier things, walk up stairs without needing the handrail. So many things I couldn't do before. But saying that, I wouldn't turn down some associated weight loss, just so I could fit in my damn clothes again. It would be nice, not gonna lie.

So here I am, getting fitter. Getting stronger. Feeling the urge to share inspirational fitness memes (it's a sickness, I apologize). Wanting to buy new workout pants. Listing the pros and cons of Garmins vs Fitbits. Taping my aching feet and shins. And feeling fucking awesome.

The hot lap that was meant to be

This is a S2 post as I got invited to an event.
There was no obligation to blog the event or the prize.

For full details please see my disclosure policy

It seems forever ago now, what with the whole me being hospitalized and then BOTH my kids being hospitalized, but I recently got the opportunity to go to a Meet the V8 Drivers event at Volvo Cannington.

Map Guy and I are big V8 fans. He more so than me; he can tell you all the drivers' names and stats, and which bits of the engine does what, but my knowledge is not quite as robust. I love fast cars that make a lot of noise and can tell you where the steering wheel is. I pick a team based on the colour or car number.

We were so excited to attend, and a little nervous if I'm honest - I was the only parent blogger there, the others were fashion bloggers and they were all looking fabulous and fancy, while I'm there in my Coles jeans. MG assured me I wasn't under dressed

On the invite it mentioned that a V8 hotlap around Barbagallo Raceway would be drawn as a prize on the night, so first thing we did was put our entries in. I drew a little Volvo symbol on mine just in case whoever drew it saw it and went "OH LOOK, EXTRA EFFORT! Ima choose this one" (they didn't). I told my friend I was going to win it because it's the #33yearofme.

The Volvo drivers, Scott McLaughlin and David Wall, were there so MG waltzed up and schmoozed them.  They seemed happy to talk to someone who knew cars and the Barbagallo track. MG was in heaven. I discovered that Scott McLaughlin drove car 33 and told him it was my favourite number so he was now "my driver". Which I'm sure did not freak him out at all.

Toward the end of the night (after I'd been told I'd get a loan of a Volvo soon - OMG! It's this week!) they interviewed the guys - they said Perth drivers suck at merging and they were not wrong - and then it was on to the draw. Third prize, second prize, and now, the first prize. The emcee swished her hand around and randomly pulled out an entry... IT HAD A VOLVO LOGO DRAWN ON IT!

Booyah!!!

I got talking again to the drivers and mentioned that I'd done a hot lap before and felt really sick from the smell of petrol and the G forces. Quick as a flash, David pipes up "Well, lucky your favourite number is 33, because you can ride with Scott!". Scott did really well to hide his distress. Ha!

"I'll try not to vomit in your car" I said. He smiled. Poor guy.

On the day, I felt like crap. I was having so much trouble breathing and I'd go on to end up in hospital the next day, but there was no way I was missing this. I went with my Dad and watched as the other people took their laps.

I got chatting to the woman next to me and managed to make a bit of ass of myself:

"Such an awesome prize. I had a feeling I'd win this, how cool that we all get to go in a real race car!
"I didn't win mine. I paid $100,000"

Cue awkward moment.

"Oh, do you sponsor the team?"
"No, I bought a high end Volvo."

Then it was my go.

I suited up. Being on pit lane, this close to the cars and feeling that rumble, I was really grateful that the suits were dark just in case I crapped my pants.

The "oh shit" smile began around here

I turned myself in to a pretzel to get in to car 33 with Scott. A real V8 Supercar with a real racing driver. Duuuuuude.

"You're not going to spew in my car, are you?" he said.

Smiling so big in a helmet gave me chipmunk cheeks

I couldn't believe he remembered me. We figured out a signal to stop if I was going to be sick, but told him the faster the better. Some people were doing single laps and some were doing double, based on how well they were handling it. As we were rounding the last corner he asked if I was good to go again and we roared down the straight at over 300km/h. I was shoved so far back in to the seat that I could feel my face flatten out. It was AMAZING!!!!

Thumbs up for not spewing!

I smiled the whole time. A weird mouth open, holy shit I can't move my body but this is awesome smile. I also did a thumbs up sign most of the way around for some reason - I'd done it early on to say I was OK and I think I was paralyzed in awe and just couldn't move.

It was so much fun and Scott was so lovely. The whole thing was recorded and I had no idea... good thing I didn't chunder all over the place!


Car 33 in the #33yearofme. It was meant to be.

The 2015 #GlowHoliday has been decided

MapGuy is itching to go on holiday.

Every day he checks out the discount websites, the deals, travel blogs and more. He has racked up long service leave, so there are all these luscious paid weeks of holidays hanging tantalizingly over his head saying "Go on a little trip. You've worked hard. Go on, mate, you've earned it".

I'm a little less eager, purely because I'm a bit anxious about flying right now. I know statistically it's safer than driving my car, but with all the stuff in the news lately; hijackings, missing planes, crashes, homicidal co-pilots and what not, I'm a bit nervous. I'm not usually afraid to fly, so this is a bit of a foreign feeling for me. I keep telling myself that if we die, well, we all cark it together. Strangely, there is comfort in that for me.

Despite the anxiety (hello, Valium), It's a great time for us to go on a trip, because we don't have to pay for Bobbin's flights or accommodation. Score. We did the same thing when Tricks was just about to turn two. Related: um, my baby is almost two. Whut?

We considered going two weeks in the snow, because MG's never seen snow before, but that idea was quickly quashed thanks to fabulous advice (along the lines of COLD, WET, WHINGEY CHILDREN AND HOLIDAYS NO NOT MIX), and very helpful tips on the WMG Facebook page. Thanks, people!

I wasn't fussed on the destination, because wherever we go will be fun, so I left him to book it and surprise me. He almost booked a trip to Bali. Then he almost booked a trip to Canberra with a day trip to the snow (because I could handle the cold/wet/whingey trifecta for a few hours). Then he almost booked a fly drive holiday up the East coast.

But after much to and fro, a decision was made and MapGuy woke me at midnight to tell me the news. There are only a few instances where waking me is acceptable: If the house is on fire, if someone is dying, if we're being robbed, or if it's to tell me we're going on an INTERNATIONAL HOLIDAY in July.

Destination: Malaysia!

We are going to Kuala Lumpur for ten days, hitting up all the tourist things and then making the journey here:

OMFG LEGOLAND! I don't know who is more excited. Me, Tricky or Map Guy. Bobbin has no clue but keeps clapping and shouting hooray whenever Tricks does. Only one day of the trip will be spent there (because it's a four hour bus ride away), but already I'm pegging it as the highlight of the trip. Because LEGO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you have any suggestions of things we should see or do in KL in July, hit me up! Now, to get a passport for the little one and reread those flying safety statistics.

Glow Gets Fit

I've been kicking ass lately, even if I do say so myself.

I've been following the Get Commando Fit program (GCF - I've fulfilled my sponsorship obligations, anything I say about them now is unpaid) and I've been trying my bloody hardest. As someone who eats her feelings, it has been challenging on the hard days to not just go and get a sundae or some chips. Twice I've had a scoop of icecream, but it was a scoop not the whole tub like I'd usually do. And rather than going "well I've fucked up, might as well order a pizza, too" I've tried to be all zen and shit about it. It happened. Move on. Eat better tomorrow.

I know, right, who even am I? Next thing you know I'll be writing fitspo quotes or some shit.

I have motivation for the first time in forever. I'm eating well and exercising, along with doing daily yoga for free thanks to YouTube. Tricky and Bobbin join me most mornings before school, waving their little bottoms in the air for Downward Dog. If my bottom looked as cute as that I'd wave it in the air at every opportunity I got.

Accidentally matched my kettlebell to my top. #Glowgetsfit #knowthyself #nearlyvomitedaftertodaysworkout

A photo posted by glow (@glowless) on Feb 24, 2015 at 6:24pm PST

I weighed myself last week and I've lost a few kilos, but I'm resisting the urge to do it again until the GCF benchmark test in a few more weeks because I'm one of those obsessive people and I'll end up focusing too much on the number, which doesn't mean much, and less on how I'm feeling. I want to be fit and healthy. I want to be strong. I don't want to be a number.

My clothes are looser and my head is held higher. That's good enough for me.

Right now I'm sore. Bloody sore. And I could sleep for a week and still not feel refreshed because I'm exhausted. My doctor is working with me, doing some blood tests and the like, to help me get on track, and keeping me supplied with lovely pain meds - though I'm taking 1/6th of what was originally prescribed now.

It's a different type of pain, the post workout pain. I don't like it, but at the same time I don't hate it the way I do the muscle and ligament agony that comes with my chronic pain. I'm learning to differentiate between the two and it's a slow process. Figuring out what pain I can push through and what pain is seriously telling me to stop or I won't be able to look after my kids tomorrow.

I'm getting there. I'm planning on kicking even more butt, and having an online cheer squad is bloody amazing, so thank YOU!

Taking Command-o

This is a S1 post

For full details please see my disclosure policy

The days are quickly ticking past in my self proclaimed year of being good to myself. The #33yearofme. Tick, tick, tick. I've made leeway in to some areas; I bought a chair I'd been wanting for years, started decorating the house a bit, written down something good about every day and placed it in a huge jar, and I've blogged more.

So yay for me.

But, one area I wanted to work on, my health and fitness, has seen no movement at all, quite literally. Because < insert multiple pathetic excuses here > . The only genuine reason I have is my chronic pain condition, but I'm on a new pain management plan now and I haven't felt this pain-free since before Bobbin was born... when I was doing weekly physio sessions, doing mild exercise and eating well. Funny that. Hrmmm. 

I'm not happy that I can't play with the kids like MapGuy can. I'm not happy that I sit out activities because I'm so unfit. I'm not happy that 18 months after throwing out all my "fat clothes" I have had to go and re-buy pants to fit. And I'm not happy that the lifestyle I'm currently living has giant big neon signs along the path saying DIABETES! HEART DISEASE! CANCER!

And yeah, I'm also a bit vain and want to look hot. Type two diabetes isn't known for being sexy.

Rather than just sit around and moan about how I'm not happy, I'm doing something about it. *fist pump*

I'm buying a bike next week so that I can ride to and from school with Tricky. I've been saving up for it for a while now and I'm so excited. But I don't think my motivation levels will just suddenly skyrocket with the purchase of a bike -  evidenced by the fact that so many people have almost brand new bikes sitting in their garages, becoming rather expensive cobweb display systems. I need something more.

I need GetCommandoFit (yep, that hot dude from TV), and a sense of accountability (that means you, internet).

The program started last year with three levels and it wouldn't have suited me then but this is Mission 2 and includes a new starter level, "Get Active", for the first time. It's the one for people like me who might be a bit unco and haven't done anything for a while, plus it doesn't require any equipment which is ace because I don't have any.

It's a 13 week Mission, can be done individually or in a squad, includes meal plans made by a nutritionist, workouts, motivation, an expert health and fitness team, access to the community forums and more. Sadly, no personal visit from the man himself. Sigh.

It starts in FOUR DAYS.

I'm pumped and shit scared. But mostly pumped. I think. Argh!

Wanna join me? You can sign up to GetCommandoFit and we can be motivated, and ever so slightly terrified of that muscle bound hunk, together. But it's all about fitness and nothing to do with what he looks like, OK? NOTHING. Well, it doesn't hurt. Let's just say it's extra motivation and leave it at that.

You in?

33: The year of ME

I have a love hate relationship with the number three.

I bet you didn't even know you could have a love hate relationship with a number, but you totally can.

Three is my favourite number. I pick it, and variations of it, whenever I have to choose a number. 333 would be the ultimate, but any number with a 3 in it is preferable over one without. If I'm in a pinch (ie. some bastard has taken all the tickets with a 3) then I'll pick 9 because MATHS. Hell, even my name kinda sounds like three in Italian.

But at times I loathe the number three because whenever I get anxious (usually on days that end in Y), my self soothing routine is to count in very specific patterns of three, usually by moving my fingers. Ohai, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It's pretty discreet, most people don't notice and those that do just think I'm fidgety or maybe have an itch. 

1

12

123

123

12

1

123

12

1

1

12

123

123

12

1

1

12

123

1

12

123

123

12

1

That's my pattern. Over and over and over and over and over and over again. Typing it out makes it seem bizarre, and it is, really. 

I'm about to turn 33. Because two threes are better than one, I figure it's a good time to focus on myself in this year of the fave digits. I'd wait until I grabbed the trifecta 333, but alas, I don't think I'll last that long. 

So, the next twelve months I'm going to focus on me, or more specifically, my health and my goals. Why am I telling you this? Well, I have zero willpower and am highly distractable (oooh look, something shiny) so I'm hoping that having this here will give me a sense of accountability. I can let myself down over and over again but no one knows; if I put it out there publicly and say this is what I'm going to do, and then I don't? Well, I'd feel like a bit of a dick. Hooray for internet shame.  

My goals for the next twelve months:

Become more organized and procrastinate less - yeah, starting off with some that aren't really quantifiable, but meh. It could be summarized by: get off Facebook and DO SHIT!

Exercise three times a week - the shitty thing about chronic pain is that it makes it hard to exercise because PAIN. Yet exercise is meant to be the bestest thing ever to decrease the pain so I just gotta stop making excuses. I'm not talking about pushing through the pain to a point where I end up immobile, just consistent gentle exercise. Oh god I sound old. 

Focus on health - mental and physical. My pap smear was due last month and I still haven't made the appointment; I've been wanting to get advice on changing medications for aaaages and I still haven't made the appointment. It's the same story over and over again because it just hasn't been a priority. That has to change. That will change.

Don't eat in secret - I am a huge binge eater and it is the reason I have put on so much weight in the last year. It is totally embarrassing to admit, but I go through drive through and gorge myself if I'm alone. This year with Tricky at school and Bobbin being asleep half the time we're in the car it became so much more frequent. Tricky will be at school full time next year and the rhythmic rocking can still lull Bobbin to sleep sometimes so it will be hard, but it has to stop. Both my health and my wallet are suffering from this one. 

Blog more - I have taken the "slow blogger" approach out of necessity the past twelve months, but I want to get back to it. Consciously pulling back was what was needed at the time, and it's almost like it is a habit now to not blog whereas before I would think "I'm blogging the shit out of this" whenever I did anything. I'm out of practice!

Volunteer - I used to volunteer for Look Good, Feel Better but I stopped when Tricky was born. I loved doing it. It is such an everybody wins situation. It's hard to organize babysitting for little ones, but now that Bobbin can go for hours between breastfeeds, it will be easier to have her looked after by someone else. 

I'm sure there are more things. But I got distracted by making a crappy button. See? Procrastination Queen.

I won't wait until my birthday to kick this off, because why delay? 

How do you make yourself accountable?