It's been awhile since I've spent a Sunday in the gym, "working out." Sometimes I'll go for the lane swim. I've tried the morning yoga class. But, more often, Sunday is the day that I do things with friends and it's very often active. Especially in the summer.

This weekend I tried kayaking. It had been planned for some time, but with the cold, rainy weather we've had lately, I didn't think it would happen. As it turns out, it was a great day to be outside, on a little lake, enjoying nature and one of the last days of summer weather. It couldn't have been more perfect.

It hasn't been deliberate, equating Sundays with trying new active things, or getting together with friends in fit and healthy ways. It's usually because it's the one day of the week that people have off work and are able to make plans.

But I got thinking about the spiritual side of exercise. Finding Fitness. Is it a little like finding religion? I mean, what do people get out of spirituality? They get a direction for their life, a purpose. They get strength. Sometimes they get a social group out of it, because you're with like-minded people. Most often, they get peace, a way to find an inner calm in a society of chaos.

"Working out" doesn't always do that for me. However, physical activity DOES. It's why I think it's really important to find something that you enjoy. The working out in the gym allows me to do these fun, adventurous things with people in my leisure time. On occasion, the gym IS the social aspect, or what I accomplish doing something hard or something new or something fun in a workout IS the peace or confidence I'm seeking.

And the physical strength that I build in the gym translates pretty directly to an increase in overall strength: emotionally, mentally, and - yes - spiritually. In a recent article about female bodybuilders, Dani Shugart wrote why women train, even when they're not entering competitions: "We train for mental clarity. We train because the goal of fat loss is soul-sucking, cliché, and mostly unenjoyable. We train because we'd rather look like Wonder Woman than Barbie. We train to be the type of woman nobody wants to mess with. We train to build grit. We train for habitual excellence. We train for ourselves."

I guess it really all works together. The pursuit of fitness is the purpose and direction I'm trying to base my life around, and I get a lot of the same benefits out of it that many people do by pursuing religion. It supports and enhances all other aspects of my life.

Why this never occurred to me before, I don't know. I only made the connection yesterday when, in a conversation with Mat about having to decide how much I have time to do and what I can afford to pursue, he reminded me (again), that I am not doing this for him. I don't exercise for anyone else, I do it for myself. "You find what works physically, financially, spiritually, etc." he told me.

Spiritually.
That word jumped out at me. Seemed a bit odd and out of place, but the more I think about it, the more sense it makes.

Fitness is becoming my new religion. And I can worship anywhere.

What holds you back from reaching weight loss goals? Why is it easy to start diet or exercise regimens, yet so hard to maintain them? For me, part of it is because when I got close to where I thought I wanted to be, I looked around and realized that the grass was not as green on the other side as I'd expected. And that can be demoralizing. "I did all of X, Y, Z, and still A and B haven't changed?"

Following the path to happiness through weight loss. Is there any bigger fairy tale fantasy out there?

I bought in to the Fantasy of Being Thin from an early age. It's an idea I'm working hard to let go of, with some difficulty, because no matter how rational or logical I try to be about it, the idea that being thin or losing weight is the solution to all your problems is reinforced left, right, and centre. See, we're sold on the idea that life will begin when. You will be good enough, worthy enough, WHEN. When you lose enough weight. When you are thin enough. When you are strong enough, healthy enough, fit enough. So, weight loss and/or the body becomes the focus, and if that happens, you often tend to put your life on hold. Waiting. Just waiting until.

Weight Stigma is about buying the magic beans. Believing that, if you can just lose enough weight, you'll climb your beanstalk to find whatever it is you're lacking. Happiness, love, acceptance, health, money, fame, revenge. So, you work and you work, and you climb that beanstalk, and all you find is yourself, in the clouds. Without having enjoyed the view on the way up, at all.

It is a pervasive sentiment. And it's not just in the obvious places like media or industries which stand to profit from people feeling bad about themselves. It's, well, everywhere. In fact, years ago when I was in counselling - clearly talking about body image as a direct connection to low (damn near non-existent) self esteem - the therapist suggested that perhaps I would be happier if I lost some weight. Yeah. This happens in real life. The fantasy was reinforced by a professional: the key to accepting yourself is ... to change yourself? "Most healthcare providers and therapists want nothing more than to relieve suffering and enhance the health of our patients.  Both patient and provider may think the obvious solution is to try to leave the stigmatized group and try to lose weight. But participating in the illusion that weight loss is possible, desirable, and the only way to have a good life, is to perpetrate weight stigma." 

The topic of Weight Stigma and Psychotherapy was addressed as part of Weight Stigma Awareness Week. The article called "Surprises when you venture off the eating disorders island" is about how so deeply ingrained the belief is that weight loss leads to happiness, that even well-trained psychotherapists recommend it, despite evidence that such a suggestion (or judgement) has the opposite effect. In other words, the fairy tale is retold; the therapist is selling magic beans.

And, I think, buying in to this fantasy that weight loss is the solution to all of life's problems leads to self-sabotage. I mean, there are lots of reasons that we take ourselves down, when we go against what we think we really want. (It's called cognitive dissonance, and I've written about it before). Maybe it's an esteem or confidence issue, when you really think you're not good enough. But, more often, I think it's because we have internalized a message that is so ubiquitous that it is reinforced and repeated in all areas of our lives: that getting thin is the answer. What happens when you get there, or when it becomes within view, and you all of a sudden realize that it is NOT the answer to all of life's problems? It's only the answer to some health issues.

One of the best pieces I've come across that helps me to combat those kinds of suggestions, one I go back to often, is Kate Harding's post on The Fantasy of Being Thin. It's what I need to remind myself of often. It's even more honest than the generic "love your body, love yourself" message that abounds in marketing campaigns and women's magazines. She lays it on the line: focusing on weight loss as the answer to life's problems (ie: the things we don't like about ourselves) only masks those problems. 
"All of those concrete things you’ve been putting off? Just fucking do them, now, because this IS your life,
happening as we speak. But exhortations like that don’t take into account magical thinking about thinness, which I suspect  is really quite common. Because, you see, the Fantasy of Being Thin is not just about becoming small enough to be perceived as more acceptable. It is about becoming an entirely different person – one with far more courage, confidence, and luck than the fat you has. It’s not just, “When I’m thin, I’ll look good in a bathing suit”; it’s "When I’m thin, I will be the kind of person who struts down the beach in a bikini, making men weep.”
Changing your weight in the hopes of changing your identity? Doesn't work. It's magical thinking at its beanstalk best. Or worst, really.

So, self-acceptance - acknowledging who you REALLY are, and what you REALLY want - is more than body acceptance, even though the two often intersect. And this is a hard pill to swallow. The magic beans of "change your weight, change your identity," where all your hopes are pinned on weight loss, they're much more palatable. Because, when you buy the magic beans, you don't have to examine your true self.

There are some things about me that aren't going to change, no matter what size I am. Losing weight will not make me any better at math. Being thin isn't going to magically make me more creative than I already am. Gaining weight isn't going to make me any less pragmatic, or funny, or caring, or control-freak-ish. The things I like about myself? They exist at every weight. So, too, will the things I don't like about myself. Rather than putting all of my eggs into the "lose weight, feel better" basket, I'm trying to separate out the things that I can change from the things that I can't, and work on getting healthy only for the sake of health. This yellow-brick-road journey is long, but worth it.

A huge part of health and fitness, to me, is working on letting go of the idea that losing weight will somehow change you into someone you're not already, and on accepting who you are right at this moment. Frankly, it's the reason I insist on getting pictures of myself doing active, fun, adventurous things. I still don't love how I look in them, but I need the proof, the reminders, that I summited a mountain, went rock climbing, white water rafted, worked at camp, travelled the world, and I did it while being varying degrees of fat. That comes directly from having read The Fantasy of Being Thin. Not waiting until the end of my weight loss journey for my life to start.

Is something holding YOU back? What Fantasy have you bought into, that thing that you're waiting until, before you feel whole? What's at the top of your imaginary beanstalk? Because, if it's keeping you stuck where you are, it may be time to chop that thing down.

Taking ownership over your own actions and not playing the victim, it's a little bit like throwing away the magic beans, picking up a rake and a hoe, and tending to the garden you have.

Given how much I write about body and beauty image, it should come as no surprise that I'm no fan of beauty pageants. I don't care how you defend them, or whether there are similar competitions for men, to me they're just gross. Based solely on looks, and a pretty racist and narrow standard of beauty, you can't convince me that there is any kind of skill or talent truly involved in someone winning such a pageant. At least bodybuilding requires a ton of effort and physical tranformation, and it's the most comparable looks-based kind of competition I can think of. Beauty pageants reward people who have already won the genetic lottery. What's the point?

So, when John Oliver tackled the topic, you can imagine the little happy dance I did. Not only did he say what I've been wondering for years (it's 2014, "how the fuck is this still happening?"), he went further and targeted the usual defenses made in favour of the pageant. The scholarships, the 20-second interview with ridiculously complex questions, the "inexplicable ventriloquism."

Watch as what probably started out as a snarky puff-piece turns into some incredible investigative reporting about how much scholarship money actually gets awarded by Miss America.

Miss America markets itself heavily as a scholarship pageant.

John Oliver: "Right. Yeah. Right. You need to see them in bathing suits because as we all know, the intelligence portion of the brain is located somewhere on the upper thigh. In fact, Miss America trades on their scholarship claims so much, if you call the Miss America headquarters, this is what you hear: Thank you for calling the Miss America Organization, the world's largest provider of scholarships for women. If it is actually true that Miss America is the world's largest provider of scholarships for women, that's a little bit weird, because Miss America does not offer scholarships to all women, only those who compete in its pageants. So to qualify for a scholarship, you'll need to certify not just that you've never been married, but also that you are not now pregnant and never have been, which of course makes sense. Miss America is supposed to be a role model for children. How can she be that if she's got a child in tow who's constantly looking up to her? And those are just the official rules you need to abide by. If you want a shot at winning one of their scholarships, you're also going to need access to a can of butt glue, a spray adhesive essential for keeping those bikini bottoms on their bottoms."

It's 2014. It's hard to believe that something as outdated and misogynistic and purely beauty-based is still going on. It's hard to believe that they can claim to provide $45 Million in scholarships when it's actually $500,000 directly, maybe $4 Million indirectly. But thank goodness for guys like John Oliver who are willing to go to great investigative lengths to point out the absurdity of it all.

"Miss America gives out way less than 45 million dollars in scholarships and yet, whatever the number is, one thing does still seem to be troublingly true. The Miss America Organization IS actually the largest provider
of scholarships to women in the world. Yeah, because even their lowest number is more than any other women-only scholarship that we could find, more than the Society of Women Engineers whose website is here, more than the Patsy Mink Foundation here, and more than the Jeanette Rankin Women's Scholarship Fund here, all of which you can donate to if you want to change the fact that currently the biggest scholarship program exclusively for women in America requires you to be unmarried with a mint condition uterus and also rewards working knowledge of buttock adhesive technology, which is just a little bit unsettling."

The world of Fat Acceptance is pretty small, so something like Weight Stigma Awareness Week goes easily overlooked. But, it started today, and each day posts from bloggers will be published on various topics. Monday is all about stigma in Health Care. Tuesday is related to Psychotherapy. On Wednesday, the sticky issue of weight stigma in schools and kids' programs will be addressed. Thursday's posts will be related to fitness professionals. And on Friday, it's Nutrition Counseling settings.

It's pretty likely that if/when I find the time to write this week, it'll be related to weight stigma, fat shame, or thin privilege. In the meantime, bookmark the link to the Weight Stigma Awareness Week page, which is hosted by the Binge Eating Disorder Association, and check there daily for the live links to blogs and articles. Whether you find yourself nodding in agreement and understanding, or you think it's a load of hooey, it's worth reading some pretty educated, prolific, and opinionated pieces on the topics. Because the first step to fighting stigma is to acknowledge that bias exists and to understand how it affects us all.

"Remember when you started swimming and losing weight, and said you'd never get a personal trainer because you already knew what you had to do?" Robyn laughed as she asked this recently, during the BadAss Dash. I had forgotten the conversation until she reminded me. Years ago, she had suggested that perhaps I'd need help along the way and should consider working with a personal trainer, and I brushed it off. "I know what I need to do, it's just doing it that's hard," I scoffed. She was understandably skeptical, because she wanted me to succeed and knew what a long road I had ahead of me. What neither of us knew at the time was that most people who lose massive amounts of weight successfully, and keep it off, generally seek outside help at some point. However, at the time, I didn't think I needed someone to tell me what to do. Not entirely untrue, especially if weight loss was my only goal. At that point, eating less and moving more WAS a viable answer. And then I hit a point where my body wasn't responding to "just eating less" and I needed someone who understood why. I needed someone who could teach me, train me, and plan programs.

I get asked fairly often about the experience of personal training. Just last week, a group of ladies at the gym stopped Mat and I after a session, and jokingly said to me: "you PAY him to torture you? Don't you have anything better to do with your  money?" Well, no, actually. Other people invest in a house, or RRSP, or education. I'm investing in my health, in me. I may have been able to lose weight on my own (doubtful, but maybe), but there is no question that I would not have had the attitude shift that came with strength training, and I would never have picked up weights or tried something like TRX or boot camp if it weren't for Mat. Working with a personal trainer and fitness coach changed my life, plain and simple.

A few friends have mentioned their interest or intent to get a personal trainer, and it is a growing trend. I used to think that hiring someone to help you get fit was only for the super-rich, celebrity types. Not any more! Thank goodness I forgot about that conversation with Robyn, pulled my ego out of my butt, and eventually found a coach to guide me on my way.

I've only had the one experience, as far as working with a coach - which is Mat, to whom I so often refer - so I polled our group on Facebook for advice and tips. Not surprisingly, people who'd had positive experiences all said the same kinds of things. And the people who have had the biggest weight loss successes, who have maintained for the longest time and who are heavily invested in their health and fitness, all have something in common: they hired someone to help them.

So, here are a few things to keep in mind if you're looking for a personal trainer. Because you can't all have mine! (Though I'm sure Mat is always willing and eager to consult with potential new clients. He comes highly recommended, if you trust me).

WHY
The reasons to invest in a personal trainer are fairly universal. Most people are going to fall into at least one category for needing a coach by their side. Usually, all of these apply on some level: 

• Motivation. Let's face it, some days you don't want to get out of bed. Paying for a session is incentive to show up. Having someone encourage, congratulate, cajole, push - whatever it is that motivates you, when a coach figures it out, you go a lot further, faster. The number one answer, when I asked why my friends got personal trainers, was "I needed someone to kick my butt!"
• Accountability. Similar to motivation, a trainer should hold you accountable. Are you tracking your nutrition? Are you showing up regularly? Do they see progress, whether it's in inches and pounds, or in sets, reps, and weights? If you sleep in or cancel too many times, do they call you on it or charge you for missed sessions? Having someone to answer to keeps you accountable to yourself, and makes it easier to establish the habit.
• Knowledge. You save your own time because they've done the work of learning, of planning a program, of researching various methods. It's their job to wade through the mountains of information and help to decide what's right for you.
• Form correction. Safety first, friends! When someone who knows what they're doing is watching you, they correct as you go, meaning you learn what proper form should feel like and you reduce the chances of getting hurt. Even the most seasoned gym-goer can benefit from having someone observe their form from a few steps away; something that is not always easy to do with just a mirror or by how you think you're doing.
• Comfort. For the newbie, everything about fitness and a gym and working out can be intimidating. A personal trainer can eliminate or reduce some of the barriers early on, even if you're only using a few sessions with them in order to become familiar with the facility.

HOW TO CHOOSE
It's important to acknowledge why you decided to look for one-on-one training in the first place. That will determine what kind of trainer you look for. Whatever your primary reason may be, once you decide to make the investment, it becomes a bit of a personal choice.

• Word of mouth / Recommendation. Ask your friends who they use and what they like about their person. It may not end up being the best fit, but there's a certain safety in knowing that others have had positive experiences.
• Observe, if you can. If you're able to watch someone in action, with other clients, work with them in a small group setting, or take a class they teach, you'll get a better sense of the person than if you're only meeting with them in a consult where they're probably putting on their best sales face.
• Ask them why they became a personal trainer. One would hope that their answer has to do with helping people. For me, I needed to know that Mat had some kind of understanding of the struggle I was in. How has weight or health impacted the trainer's life, or affected their loved ones? Is there a deeply emotional reason behind their career choice, or do they just love working out and figure they might as well get paid to do it?

OTHER FACTORS TO CONSIDER, IF POSSIBLE
These aren't always easy to assess right away. It may take a few sessions with someone before you figure it out. Choosing a personal trainer is a lot like finding a good therapist, doctor, or hair stylist! When you find one that you connect with, you know it and you're loyal for life. It doesn't always happen, and it's far better to walk away than to stay in a bad situation. It doesn't mean they're a bad trainer. It just means that different things are important to people. You have to be honest with yourself about what you want and need, or it's as unfair to your personal trainer as it is to you.

Humility and Learning
A trainer's education and previous work experience can be important, especially if you're considering someone with a private business. If you're going through a commercial gym, it's pretty safe to assume that the organization has hired someone with the necessary education and certification. What I looked for was the ability to learn, and the ability to say "I don't know, but I can find out" because nobody knows everything about everything. I'd rather know that my coach is being honest about limitations, and when Mat takes the time to research or to talk to colleagues who have specialized skills, it solidifies my trust in him.

Looking the Part
Not once did any of my fitness friends mention a personal trainer's looks being important, and yet I have seen it stated in numerous articles that they should look the part. Again, you have to decide what's right for you. For some people, they feel that a trainer should, well, look like a fitness model, as if it's a reflection on what they know or well they coach. Frankly, I'd rather have someone who knows what they're talking about and is able to explain it, who can motivate me and who understands the importance of the personal and emotional connection, than someone who simply looks the part. That's both because of my background as a teacher and librarian (therefore, knowledge is power and the ability to explain and teach is more important than the ability to just DO), and my history with emotional eating and terrible, terrible body image. In fact, looking too much like a body-building fitness model almost worked against Mat. I made assumptions and judgments about him based on how he looked, and it was through observing him as an instructor and with other clients that I realized there was much more underneath the pearly whites. It was how he dealt with me once I became a regular in his class, and then as a participant in Biggest Loser, that I finally came around to buy into personal training sessions because I got over the meat-head personal trainer stereotype. (Sorry, Mat. I pre-judged. Thank goodness you're not a meat-head, just 'cuz you look all fitness-model-ish! This is why we don't assume).

What do you anticipate will work for you?
Refer back to the reasons that people invest in trainers in the first place. The "why" before the "how." If you primarily want someone to stand over you and yell at you, military-style, it's because you may know what to do and lack the motivation. If you're completely new to fitness, you may need the knowledge the most. I started on my own with the easy stuff, and it was when I wanted to progress into weights and needed guidance and accountability that I made the transition. It was the knowledge and accountability that was key. Within those realms, I also knew that someone who talked down to me or used shame in any way was probably going to get an earful and no more of my money, whereas for someone else that could be motivating for them. Personality matters, a lot, because you end up spending quite a bit of time with someone and you might as well get along.

Ultimately, you have to find what works for you, or it doesn't work at all. A lot of people get lucky. They show up, looking for a trainer, and they get paired up with the first person who's available. Preferably, there is some sort of system that helps to match your criteria with the skills and specialties of the trainers working at the facility. If you're flying blind, keep some of these tips and questions in mind. Above all, speak up if you're not clear about anything. A good trainer will address it.

Personal trainers and fitness coaches are people, too. At times it seems like they are meant to be magicians, but they can't read minds and only the most versatile can pull a rabbit out of a hat. Talk to them and let them know what works for you, and what doesn't. They'll learn as much as you, and together you'll grow and get closer to your personal goals.

That's their ultimate goal, too.

Want to read more about personal training? Check out some of these links:

• The 12 Biggest Myths About Personal Training
• Personal Training: What you really need to know
• Personal Training: Sexy maker or Health producer?

Being sick sucks. In every way.

I have a hard time deciding when to call in sick to work. Apparently, I also have a hard time deciding whether to workout or not. I mean, sometimes it's obvious. If you're nauseous, if bodily fluids are involved and/or likely to erupt, then you stay home. If there's a fever, you stay home. If you're super contagious, you stay home. If you're injured, you - well, you don't stay home, you get yourself to a hospital and get fixed up, but after that - you stay home.

Most of the time, though, "sick" means the common cold. Sore throat. Congestion. Cough. Headache. Achy everything. If there's limited mucous, no fever, and no fluids escaping, do you workout or not?

That has been my dilemma for the past few days. On Tuesday, I could feel it coming on. Sore throat. Itchy eyes. But I hoped that with a ton of vitamins, water, honey, garlic, apple cider vinegar, and ColdFX (high-dose ginseng), that I could fight it off. This time around, I lost the battle, and by late Tuesday night I knew I was capital S "sick." Shivers, trouble sleeping, dry cough. On Wednesday, I had to call in sick to work. It was not a week I could afford to lose a day, and I had grand plans of getting far more done from home than I actually did, because my body said SLEEP! and it was deep and intense.

I considered going to my usual spin class. In the past, I've done spin while sick because I figure that if I'm already sweaty and miserable, I might as well burn some calories while I'm at it. But by the afternoon I knew that, respiratory-wise and head-ache wise, the responsible thing to do was to take a rest. Therein lies the biggest problem for me: being honest about what is the most responsible thing.

See, it's pretty easy to talk yourself out of working out, so I don't give myself the choice. No deviating from the routine! Which is why, when something like this comes up, it's hard for me to listen to my body.

Mat knew I wasn't feeling well. I had put him on notice yesterday that I might have to cancel today's personal training session, though I didn't want to and would see how I felt in the morning. He texted this morning to ask how I was feeling, trying to gauge whether it was smart to train or not. I told him that I had a headache, and was tired - really low on energy - but that my throat was improving and there was no cough, and my respiratory system was not affected. I planned to come in. He wasn't so sure. Kept asking questions about how I felt. "It sounds like I am trying to talk you out of training but I'm not. I just want to make sure that your body can handle it." He pointed out that he'd rather have me at 100%. "Remember, if you give half the effort, you get half the results." That's very true. But I pointed out to him that 50% is still better than 0%. Given that I skipped spin last night, and am not likely to get much workout time in on the weekend, I wanted to be absolutely sure that if I cancelled a training, it was because it was the best for my body and not because I was allowing myself to be lazy. Straddling the fine line between excuses and responsible choices left me indecisive. Mat had one more trick up his sleeve: "can you do 15 burpees?" I thought about it. Texted back, "I don't know. Probably." He replied: "I meant right now." Oh. In my living room? In my pajamas? Uh, okay. Yup. 15 burpees, done, no coughing, no trauma. He wasn't my favourite person at that moment, because - burpees. But I reported back to him and we decided "today, we train."

There you go. The Burpee Test for training when sick.

All jokes aside, it really can be a grey area when it comes to feeling well. I laughed to myself when Mat said he wanted me at 100%. If I only worked out when I felt 100%, it would never happen. There's always something a little bit off, something that aches, a headache that hurts, cramps that grip. I often feel like I'm fighting off a cold, and with the help of fitness and improved health I think I am able to fight off more than I used to. No, if I waited for 100%, I'd be cancelling 75% of my classes and sessions!

Sometimes, what your body needs is a good workout, even when you're sick.  You build energy, you help your body to fight whatever virus is attacking it. But sometimes, you can make it worse. Sometimes, you need to let your body rest and use all available energy to make those antibodies. Unless it's cut-and-dry (respiratory system is compromised, fluids, fever, injury), you have to listen as much as possible to your body, and be honest with yourself: are you giving yourself an out, an excuse, or is the best thing for you?

For more information about whether you should "Sweat it out, or Rest and Recover" when you're sick, check out this article from Precision Nutrition: www.precisionnutrition.com/working-out-when-sick

"So? How was the race?" All through the day yesterday, the well wishes, good lucks, and questions came in. "How'd it go? Did you finish? Will you do it again next year?" My quick answers to people were: "Hard. Cold. Wet. Fun. Muddy. HARD! BadAss." It will take me some time to process the whole thing. I'm not sure how I feel about it. (Other than sore. On that point, I am very very clear!)

There were so many things running in and out of my head before, during, and after. In no particular order:

• If you are racing with a team, have a plan for where and when to meet. Preferably off-site, so you go in together. It was chaos! Supposedly 3500+ people raced yesterday in Kitchener; officially 2030 finished, in the recreational category. As it turned out, we never did find two of the girls that we were supposed to be doing the race with. It was only the 3 of us who got dropped off together who ended up staying together. Sounds like it was more chaotic and less organized than last year, and I'm glad that we all picked up our timing chips and t-shirts in the days before, rather than the day of. Made life smoother on an already crazy day. Especially when data and wireless connections seemed to crash from overuse. If you didn't have a plan for meeting people, you were out of luck.
  
• No matter how prepared you think you are, there is no way to be prepared for the first time. The chaos. How long 7 km really is, even when it's broken up by obstacles. That pictures are hard to get when you check your bag and lock your purse, camera, phone in a locker (and then have to go get your bag again because you don't have a pocket for the locker key). That changing in a washroom seems like a good idea until you realize how many others had the same idea.
  
• Did I mention that there are 30 obstacles? Yeah. Some are easy, some are hard, some are really really really hard. Which, by the way, it's impossible to keep count of. You know you're doing about 30 obstacles, but after about 5 you lose track and you just go. Take them one at a time. 
• Things I hadn't thought about in advance: racing with glasses. I never take them off. I work out in them. I don't have contacts. So, at the last minute, I shoved my glasses into my checked bag, which left me feeling disoriented from blurry vision. Not the best feeling when it's also raining, adrenaline is high, and you're doing hills. Probably not what is meant by "the runner's high."
  
• The very first obstacle was to run up a ski hill, across the top, and back down. It had poured all morning, so everything was slick and wet. I was terrified of that descent down. As we waited at the starting gate for our heat, we watched two firefighters load up an ATV and head up the hill to rescue an injured person. It was the second-last obstacle, but they had to immobilize her (no idea what happened; rumour was a collision with another person). The cool thing was that they carried her through the Finish line. The uncool thing was that I watched it all as I waited to start, and it shifted some nerves and anxiety into full-blown terror. 
• The waiting and anticipation was the worst. Once we got started, there was nothing else to do but just go. One obstacle at a time. Just go.
• Whose idea was this, again? Why did we think this was a good idea? WHO DOES THIS SORT OF THING? I mean, honestly. Oh, and are we signing up for next year, 'cuz we get a big discount if we do it by the end of this week... (Robyn asked me this question in the middle of the race. I looked at her. "Uh, let's finish this race first, before I commit to doing it again.") At one point I looked at people passing me and thought, "why are you taking this SO seriously?" But, now I wonder, why wasn't I? Clearly, I had much lower goals and expectations.
  
• Having people at the Finish line was amazing. Jamie and Jenny had said they'd come, but I hadn't seen them when we started, and with the rain I figured they might stay home. Robyn had told her family the same thing, but when she saw her husband and girls in the spectator area, when we were just about near the end, at the two-and-a-half-hour mark, she got emotional. We happened to be at the monkey bars, and knowing her kids were watching her, I was like "Get on my shoulders. We're doing this!" At the finish line, when I climbed up and over the top of the school bus, hearing Jamie shout my name and take a picture made me happier than I expected. As it turns out, this is the kind of thing that is better shared. You want cheerleaders. You want friends and team mates. Which is also why it was special that Mary was waiting for Robyn and I to finish the last obstacle. "We're crossing this Finish line together," she said, as we all grabbed hands. Our timing chips show, to the second, that we started and ended together.
  
• In addition to cheering and taking pictures at the end, Jamie made me stretch. You can take the personal trainer out of the gym (even if they're not YOUR trainer), but they'll still make sure you drink plenty of water and stretch your muscles. Mat had prepared me the day before, and given me pre-race instructions, and between both reminders, I am *only* stiff and sore today. At least I can still walk!
• Also? Voltaren is my friend. I don't care if it's basically old-people achy-muscle gel. My knees are loving the person who invented it! On the shopping list for tomorrow are Epsom salts.
  
• Having oatmeal for breakfast was the best choice I made all day. I didn't want anything that I'd puke up later, but I didn't want to get famished through the race. Good thing, too, because we were told it would take on average 1 hr and 30 to 45 minutes to complete the race. It took us just under 3 hours! This was partly due to a water obstacle which had a lineup so backed up, we stood there waiting for an hour.
  
• About that obstacle: it took us through a pond. Ponds are gross. Weedy. Smelly. We could have bypassed it, and saved a lot of time. But, because we were not racing for speed or time, we decided we'd rather at least attempt all the obstacles. This one had a bunch of floating barrels strapped together to try and run across. Nobody completed it while I was there, or watching. It was easier to try and when you felt yourself start to fall, to just jump in the water and swim for shore. But it was at that point, early in the race, that you realized you were going to be WET and not just a little bit.
  
• Thank GOD that I did this race with friends. It was their help and support that got me through. I would not have done the balance beam had Robyn not walked beside me, just letting me know she was there to lean on if I started to fall. In some cases, the support was mental or emotional. In others, it was a literal hand up to boost this short body over a wall, or seeing that someone was tangled on some netting and straightening it out for them. But no way would this BadAss have made it alone. Friends are just ... super awesome, y'know? <emotional sniff>
  
• Gloves were a good idea, even though it was super wet. Note to self: don't use the cheap imitation-leather gloves that bleed black dye on your hands when they get wet. D'oh!
• It was so much harder than I thought. I mean, I don't know what I thought it would be, but I was not prepared. As "fun" as it is meant to be, it was still really challenging physically and mentally. For me, at least. I was out of my element and for some parts, I can honestly say that I had no business being there. I assumed there would be more people like me. I wasn't ready for it this year, truly, but I was ready enough to get through it, and know what I might need to do for next year in order to treat it as a race and not as ... a fun-fair kind of carnival event.
  
• I didn't know how to mentally prepare. I'm not an athlete. I've never BEEN an athlete. So, I never learned how to think like an athlete. Mary and Robyn had been athletes in high school, and it showed. It wasn't just in their physical strength and ability, it was in their drive during the race. I grossly underestimated the value of learning to prepare for a competition, hence the freaking out in advance.
  
• In my head, I knew that the race was 7 km. They marked the race by miles, though, so I had a hard time knowing how much longer we had. Also, so much of it was uphill, over and over and over again. If we do it again next year, I will have a better sense of how much of the Chicopee Ski area they use, including all the mountain bike trails and recreational areas. I'll practice hills, and I'll walk the race area to familiarize myself with it. Because my calves were pretty unused to that burning sensation!
  
• Obstacles I feared in advance included the monkey bars, the slip and slide, the tunnel tubes you crawl through, and pretty much anything that had a steep downward slope. I DID THE TUBES! Tore the hell out of my elbows doing it, but I made it through. Obstacles that induced fear: the balance beam (because it was muddy and slippery), the rope climb, and the somersault. I have not somersaulted since I was a wee kid, and I started to tuck and roll, envisioned breaking my neck, and went "nah. Not worth THAT risk." With Robyn's help, I walked the balance beam. On her shoulders, I did the monkey bars (and she sat on mine to get across). 
• Our chant was "win or lose, booze booze booze!" Yeah, I was definitely racing with the right friends. That motivated us towards the end on a few occasions.
  
• Things to train for if I do it next year: running is the biggest one. Gotta be able to run in between at least a few obstacles, even just to stay out of people's way. I think I put more pressure on my knees from trying to step off the narrow mountain bike path to let dozens of runners pass than if I'd just let them feel the impact of hurrying the hell up. It is, after all a race, and I focused on finishing, not on speed (at all). Also to train for: pull ups (yeah, those were included!), monkey bars, and climbing things with less fear and without getting stuck.
• The biggest hurdle (and there were several little hurdles, which I mostly stepped over or crawled over), was this plywood A-frame wall with a rope on it. Ah. The dreaded rope climb. "Mount Wedge-more." The reason I had worn gloves. I wanted it. I needed to get up that wall. Holy crap, I did it! I had the arm and grip strength to get my feet on to the ledge mid-way up the wall and my hands could reach the top part of the A-frame and then ... and then ... Oh. Shit. And then, I looked down over the other side, at how short the rope was, at how far down the fall was, and I couldn't get myself up and over, nevermind conquer my fear of dropping. Robyn was able to do it, to get her leg over the ledge and then the Dash attendant held his hand for her to step on to get down. Mary, too, got over with his and Robyn's help. And there I was, stuck, holding up everyone else behind me. My worst fear. "I need to come down, on this side" I said. The guy came around. "Are you sure?" "Oh, yeah," I replied. I think I more or less fell on him as I slid down the rope, trying to belay myself but having very little grip left. He kept asking if I was alright. I asked if HE was! It's the only obstacle that I truly failed, but I'm happy that I tried. The opt-out was 25 pushups and I thought "psh, I can do THAT!" but I feel better that I tried the hard thing, the scary thing, and then failed it than having chosen the easier been-there-done-that choice. Next year. Next year, I will figure out how to get these short legs over high things!
  
• It's worth wearing actual light-weight, workout clothes - even if they get ruined - because old cotton sweat pants and t-shirt feel like a loaded diaper after swimming in a pond and sliding down muddy hills! Plus, they look rather terrible in photos...
• At some point, Robyn asked "are you having fun?" I didn't have an answer. Was I enjoying it, really? Uh. No. Did I hate it? Was I angry? Nope. Neither. I was just ... doing it. I don't know how much I'd enjoy all those obstacles in a relaxed, fun context. In a race, with crowds, "fun" might be relative. Was it worth it, though? Hell, yeah. If nothing else, it reinforced the value of long-time friendships, teamwork, and goal setting.
• Most of all, it's something that nobody ever expected I would do. Least of all, me.
  

So, there is a story behind the photos, and why we have so many. I ran into a friend from university, whose husband and son were running the race. She got some good pics of us at the start. Jamie and Jenny came to cheer us across the finish line, and got some more. But, half way through the course, literally as we were debating whether the 2-mile mark meant half of 7 km or not, at the top of the ski hill where spectators were not supposed to be, I hear a voice. "Barb! Barb!" It's my dad. He has climbed the hill from the back, so he wouldn't have to pay the parking or spectator fees. "Look over here!" And he snaps a picture.

I was glad to see him, and surprised. I'd deliberately downplayed the race to my parents. I think my sister tipped them off to the fact that it was a bit of a bigger deal than I'd let on. Besides, once I found out you had to pay to get in, I knew Mr. Cheap wouldn't do it. I hadn't counted on the fact that he's shameless about getting photos he wants, and is particularly good at climbing hills and knows Chicopee like the back of his hand. Of course, we had no way to communicate during the race, with anyone, so he had no way of finding us. It was just dumb luck that he spotted me at all.

It was also fortunate that he'd spent time watching some of the obstacles, and could give advice. When it came to the cargo net, (the Australian back crawl), I listened the first time he said, "it's about the feet,  you got to push with your legs, get your feet in the net and push, don't try to pull yourself up." The problem was that I was struggling with getting my feet ON to the net, so the more he repeated himself, the more frustrated I got until I yelled "STOP. TALKING! STOP." And, I love photos and wanted proof that we'd done this thing, so when he'd make us stop and pose, or smile, I obliged. Until he wanted a do-over. "Dad! This is a race, you know! I have to keep going!"

His advice for the slip and slide was the best, though. He'd watched enough people wipe out to know that if you tried to slow down or stop yourself, at that momentum, you'd tumble or get injured. There were a lot of pile ups. I watched as Mary hit some sand instead of mud and stopped dead in her tracks. I watched Robyn go flying and then hit the ground and roll. (You can hear the thud and Mary's shrieks of laughter on the video). So, I didn't try to stop. I stayed flat and kept going. And going. And going.

I am still finding sand and mud in places I didn't know existed.

For your amusement, I give you the evidence:

So, we did it. I met all three goals that I set:
1) Finish the race. Cross the finish line.
2) Don't get injured. "Stiff and Sore on Sunday is okay; unable to work Monday is not."
3) At least TRY every obstacle. There were a few that I did half-way, by cheating a little, but every one of them was attempted. Even if the somersault was a rather weak attempt.

I think, perhaps, the best compliment my dad could have made was when he looked around, after calling my name and snapping my photo, and said incredulously, "THIS IS HARD!" From the man who doesn't give compliments readily, and who scoffed at my Megathon challenge ("I should do it with you; looks easy"), admitting that it was hard and I was doing it was high praise indeed.

I hadn't been feeling very BadAss up until then. I wasn't racing it. I was kind of playing it. But it WAS hard. It WAS a long race. It WAS significant that we finished.

We didn't just do it. We did it together. We crossed that finish line holding hands, as a team. It was a team made up of the former fat girl, a self-proclaimed diva whose husband couldn't stop laughing at the fact that she'd be getting dirty, and a brain surgery survivor. We all had something to prove, in our own way, and I think we all did.

And then we popped some champagne in celebration and said, "So. We're registering again for the next one?"

Mat sent this video to me yesterday, knowing how much I was freaking out about trying the BadAss Dash.

Is there anything more humbling or perfect to kick off race day? I don't think so.

Never say "can't."

The question of childhood obesity, health, and fitness is a complex one. There are no easy answers. But I'm signing a petition put out by the Ontario Home Economics Association to "Urge the Government of Ontario to make at least one food and nutrition course compulsory" because giving kids a solid foundation of skills is a pretty good place to start.

I've been asked to blog about parenting obese children and how to address the issue early on. Well, that's a pretty massive hornet's nest to tackle. This? This is one fragment of an answer, but given how much we know about processed food contributing to poor health, and how meals prepared at home are almost always healthier, surely teaching the skills needed to cook for one's self should be as mandatory in the curriculum as math and reading are.

If you choose to sign the petition (and I hope you do), this is what you're agreeing to:

The Ontario Home Economics Association (OHEA) calls on the Government of Ontario to make at least one food & nutrition course compulsory.

Despite healthy lifestyle trends, there is growing concern about a general lack of time, knowledge and skills to prepare healthful, affordable meals at home.

Kids today rarely learn to cook. Families microwave a commercially prepared entrée, or eat-out en route to their next activity. Not a serious issue − until the habit becomes a frequent practice. And it does!

Many people can’t understand food labels, make a meal at home, stick to a food budget or reduce food waste. The irony? Those exact topics are integral parts of high school Family Studies curriculum.

Home Economics was re-branded Family Studies, years ago. Twenty new and revised Family Studies courses were released by the Ontario Ministry of Education in 2013. Several of these optional courses are Food and Nutrition related and need to be prioritized. Healthy eating must be a focus in all grades.

Whether destined for college, university or the workplace, all students need food education to put healthful, safe, affordable meals on the table. That’s a societal responsibility.

For more information visit www.food-literacy.ca


I took Family Studies in grades 7 and 8. No high school courses were mandatory, so I never took them. Fortunately, I had a mom and grandma who were pretty handy when it came to home economics, and while I don't put a lot of my skills into practice, the foundation is there. I don't cook because I don't enjoy it, I don't prioritize it (it's just me, no family, not worth the time and effort), but not because I don't know how. But a lot of domestic skills are dying out. When it's more convenient to pay someone else to do it, kids don't grow up having those role models to watch. Whether it's learning to sew, bake, cook, remove stains, administer first aid, or plant a garden, most daily life skills are hands-on. They don't have the opportunity to try, fail, and try again, with someone providing wisdom and guidance. That's where school comes in. Just as at least one Phys.Ed. credit, and Maths, English, and Sciences are required, I agree that high school students should have to take at least one Food and Nutrition course.

Because, as those cheesy NBC public service announcements taught us, "the more you know..."

Um, today is Wednesday. The BadAss Dash is on Saturday.
That's ... that's ... that's ...

Oh, dear lord.

February feels really far away, now. February is when I signed up for this thing. February is now as far away as, well, as September felt back then. Like I had an eternity to prepare myself.

I am not prepared for this.

Okay. Yeah. Freaking out just a bit.

A lot.

A really really lot.

And, I know it's supposed to be this fun event. The point is only to finish it. It's about working as a team. Blah blah blah. What if I hold everyone back? My team, or other racers? I still haven't been able to do monkey bars on a children's playground, nevermind the adult-sized race ones. I don't know how my knees will hold up through mud, or down a ski hill, even at a walking pace. There are tubes that people have to crawl through, people much smaller than me, and they barely fit into those tubes! I tiptoe/walk through the tires in Outdoor Fitness Challenge because I trip on my own two feet, and they have a field of tires to agility-run through. There is a giant slip-and-slide, people. Giant! Giant obstacles equal giant bruises.

What the hell was I thinking?

I'll tell you what I was thinking: I was cocky. I thought "sure, I can do it. I've got time to lose weight and get strong and train specifically for this event. And then we'll have some beers afterwards and congratulate ourselves on being badass-princesses-who-turn-forty-next-year."

God. I just hope I live to see 40 and don't end up "celebrating" this reunion from the emergency room.

Guess we'll know in about 3 days.