Coaches are my Heroes

I’ve run seven miles this week. I can’t tell you how that feels. I haven’t run seven miles since before I was a mom. If you’ve spent any time here, you know my fitness struggle seems an endless saga.  I’ve spent the better part of eight years, since my first was born, trying to find my mojo.

I won’t bore you with the details of my journey, but I will say that I think this time it might just work. You may remember me writing about my boot camp experience earlier this year. Well, not only did I love boot camp but I also learned something about myself: I need a coach.

Almost as soon as those ten weeks were up, my exercise routine went to shit. (Pardon my language but sometimes it is the only word that works.) I got way into yoga but as far as strength and cardio I had nothing and boy did it show when bathing suit season hit.

So I wallowed in my failure. Then, I whined the “why me” that usually comes when I see some naturally skinny ladies who I know don’t work out strut their stuff around my pool. Then, I transitioned from whining to despair. What was I to do? How was I to recover? It seemed physical fitness wasn’t for me.

Out of desperation,  I signed up for boot camp again and even though I’m not loving it like last time (it’s hot and working out in the sand just isn’t fun. Sorry.) I am going and doing what I’m told.

Doing what I’m told. Huh? That seems that’s the secret; I’m good at doing what I’m told.

If you look back at my sports and fitness life, the times I excel are when I have clear direction from someone else. I was an excellent pitcher because I had a motivating catcher and I adored my coach. I played for them. I swam fast because my coaches provided my training and threatened my fun summer if I didn’t do it all. I ran a marathon at the side of my brother who handled every single detail of the training. I am a great team player, working hard so that my friends and fellow players can enjoy a win.

I beat myself up for this for a while. I am a grown ass woman who handles every other portion of her life with efficiency and aplomb even.  Why couldn’t I just figure this part out myself? What was wrong with me?

Then I realized that all beating myself up was doing was making me fat. After all, part of the reason I handle life with aplomb  is that I put myself in situations where I know my strengths. If I know something is not my strength, I find a work around. Working out isn’t a problem, knowing how to work out and getting started working out is. So, I found a work around. I got a coach.

It’s clear that my strength is not figuring out my own fitness routines. I need accountability. I need direction. So that’s what I got. Mary walks me through an hour of Boot Camp hell every week. Lori sends me running schedules and expects that I’ll check in when I’ve done them and Jenn sends super- excited facebook messages to keep my chin up.

This is not some wildly expensive training program. I thought that was the only way to do it, but it’s not. Mary, Lori and Jenn are all part of Mommy-Moves, a local group that started out as a stroller fitness group but has morphed into a woman’s powerhouse training, fitness and wellness program. I’m not suggesting you need to call Mary & Lori to be successful. I’m just saying it is out there if you look for it-support that isn’t beyond your reach.

I pay for the classes I take, but the prices won’t break me and even more these women go above and beyond doing more than money can buy. They care about our success. They motivate us and believe in us more than we believe in ourselves. Now, I still have to do the work. Every morning when I come up with 4, 675 excuses for why I shouldn’t get out of bed, no one can make my feet hit the floor but me. Every Saturday I have to tear myself away from warm and cozy family time to get my butt Boot Kicked. To really be successful,  I still have to do what they tell me. But I’m feeling good about that happening. I always listen to my coach.
These are just the coaches I needed and I can’t wait to see what I do under their watchful eyes.

Photo Courtesy suebarrphoto.com