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.

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

I've been on an informal quest to find a sport to play, or to find an activity that can become my "thing." It's partially behind my quest to try as many new things as I can, though that is - in and of itself - a worthy pursuit for overcoming fears and building confidence.

Initially, health and weight loss was the only goal, it was my reason for finding fitness. The longer I do it, the more it becomes habit, the more I need another objective. Otherwise, working out becomes solely for the purpose of losing weight or manipulating body size and shape. That's not the most healthy place for anyone to be in, let alone me. I feel like if I have a sport, a game, a physical activity that I really enjoy, then working out at the gym becomes a way to support and enhance that thing. It helps me to focus, and it helps Mat to plan a training program for me.

Except, I'm the girl who never liked sports. I skipped out on as much of gym as I could, and the non-traditional activities were not often introduced in grade school.

So, how do you find your game? You act like a kid and try anything and everything. And the best places to start are with your friends. When people are passionate about their activity, they tend to get pretty good at it, and they tend to want to get others involved. They love when you show interest, and they want to share that passion. What I have found in the last few years is that, as I've become active, people who are passionate about their sport invite me to try it. All the firsts I've written about? I haven't sought them all out. They've come to me, and I've said yes to trying. Each time I try something, I reflect and evaluate what I liked about it, what I didn't, what hurt, the kind of equipment I'd need, and whether it's something I could see myself doing on a regular or long-term basis.

Plus, I get to have a lot of fun in the process. Passionate people are the best way to learn about, or get introduced to, something you're not sure about.

I had such an opportunity this weekend. (I know; it was right on the heels of a vacation packed with firsts. It's becoming a great month!). Since the spring, Melissa and I have been trying to find a day that worked where she could teach me archery. After making and breaking two dates, we settled on a third. When I heard that she had dislocated her shoulder, I thought "that's it, archery wasn't meant to be." But the hallmark of an experienced instructor is that she can talk you step by step through the learning process, emphasizing proper form and technique, even without having to demonstrate it herself. She brought in some ringers for backup, and that's how Sunday became a day of friends teaching friends to shoot stuff.

Archery is not completely foreign to me, at least not as much as some activities are (or will be). I've seen it done at camp, had to help out with wee campers (as in, keeping the ones on the sidelines occupied and safe while other staff instructed those at the shooting line). I just hadn't actually done it myself. After reading the Hunger Games trilogy, I totally wanted to be Katniss and get my hands on a bow and arrow. After this weekend, I can safely say that if I had to survive based on my shooting skills, I would make a terrible Tribute who'd die in the first few chapters. But, as a skill to try again, as something to work on and hone, this is something I could see doing.

What was particularly interesting to watch was some of the other first-timers going through what I habitually go through. I go in to any of these new activities with a will to try, but very little ego; I assume I'm going to be bad until I surprise myself. For people who are used to being good at most sports, who've been active their whole lives or who are physically fit, there's often an assumption that they'll be really good at it right away. Seeing the same frustration that I often feel, and observing the same kind of growth and progression to "hey, I am getting good at this!" was rather fascinating. That's when I wasn't busy bruising myself by badly aiming one too many times at Bambi.

Eventually, I'm going to have to stop playing and pick something. I can't reasonably expect to be good at anything if I only try everything once. Regardless of which "thing" I pick to pursue, it's going to take practice. It's the testing the waters that is teaching me what works for me and what doesn't, and it's how I can start to narrow down a commitment to one or two pursuits. I just can't keep flitting about forever, delaying a decision.

I've tried: racquetball, climbing (indoors and out), Ultimate Frisbee, hiking, canoeing, white water rafting, and archery. On the bucket list to try are: water polo, kickboxing or a martial art, rowing, kayaking, volleyball, biking. Fencing would be cool, because ... swords. Or, y'know, something else I haven't even thought of yet.

What I know is that motion matters, so start-stop activities (raquet sports, most field sports) wreak havic on my knees. What I know is that surface and equipment matter: snow and ice activities or things with wheels on my feet are out. No roller derby for me. What I know is that I like a certain level of agression. Finesse? I could do with a bit of zen calm, but what fuels my fire is having to rely on strength or power (or just throwing my weight around). What I know is that I need a challenge that is mental, with a bit of strategy mixed in with that brute strength. What I know is that I am comfortable in and around water, it's the least impact on my knees, and usually involves nature and being outdoors.

I think I'll get a membership to the indoor climbing gym in town, as a start. Look into whether there are recreational water polo teams in the vicinity. Keep rowing on the top of the list for next spring or summer, at the start of the season. And, in the meantime, whenever the opportunity comes up to try something I've never done before, the answer will continue to be "yes!"

Fitness, after all, should be fun.

Endurance. Mental strength. Drive. Determination. Willpower. My mind has been occupied with the concept of pushing yourself, all weekend. So much so that I am compelled to write it out just to make sense of it all.

It started even before Friday's disaster of a workout. On Thursday, I had a personal training session with Mat. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for a conversation in between sets. "We gotta talk about yesterday. You might be getting too comfortable." I couldn't think of what I had done at Wednesday's Outdoor Fitness Challenge that would elicit that comment. "Think. What did you say?" I thought hard. Oh, right. One of two things that will always get a rise, an immediate reaction from him: either 'no' or 'I can't.' I had said, "I can't" and when he'd growled "what did you say?" instead of taking it back the way clients usually do, or trying just a wee bit harder, I repeated it loudly and clearly: "I SAID I CAN'T."

Mat admitted that I don't do it often enough to be a pattern, so maybe it wasn't a matter of me getting so comfortable with him that I was sassing him or being disrespectful. It's been a trend he's noticed lately with many clients and others at the gym. Maybe it's because in summer we're in mental vacation mode. It's hard to give maximum effort when you're tired, when you're looking forward to time off, or when schedules all around you are in flux. And because he's seeing it everywhere, he zeroed in on it when I did it, too. I explained to him that it wasn't a personal reflection on his coaching. At that specific moment, I really couldn't do any more of what he was asking. We'd just finished a leg crank, it was nearing the end of boot camp, and he had us holding a squat for as long as we could. My legs were burning, my knees were aching, everything was shaking, and I stood up pretty quickly out of the squat and said, "I can't." What I meant was "I can't keep holding it." It wasn't "I can't, EVER." It wasn't "I can't do it at all." It wasn't "I won't." It was "I can't hold this pose without standing up and then going back down, but if you're asking me to hold for as long as I can, at this very moment I can't hold it any longer." But all I said, and what he heard, was just "I can't."

In our discussion of it the next day, I realized that there are specific times and activities where I'm more likely to say "no" whether it's to myself or to the person telling me what to do. I roll my eyes and shake my head a lot in spin class (especially when they say "hill climbs"). I allow myself to get annoyed and cut a swim short when the lanes are busy and someone comes into 'my' lane. When I try to run and the shin and knee pain kick in fast, I stop immediately and say "see? I can't run" instead of pushing through, or doing a run-walk combo to build up the skill. I am not putting in my maximum effort. It's not a reflection of Mat. But maybe it's more of a problem than I realized, because until he pointed it out, that "can't" was a total non-issue in my mind. I didn't even question it. Slump? What slump? There's no slump, here.

And then, well, Friday happened.

Sunday was a great day. I finally made it out to Grand River Rocks to try climbing. I'd only ever done it once, at camp. That was over a year ago. But in order to build grip strength, and really work the mind as much as muscle, there's nothing quite like rock climbing. Two friends had just done the belaying course and had a two-week pass where they could bring a friend for free. I got to be that friend, and it was awesome. I think I'm hooked. Captain Cautious was gentle with me, explaining everything, assuring me that I didn't have to make it to the top, I should just do what was comfortable. But in my mind, the challenge was to the top, or not at all. I didn't care how long it took me, I was just gonna make it. And, it was far easier than the first attempt at camp. We climbed in different ways, on different walls. I always did the easiest levels, but I could make it to the top each time. And each time, when I was about 3/4 of the way up, the thought crossed my mind "okay, you're good, you can go back down now." I had to decide to keep on going. When we tried bouldering, that's where the fear kicked in for me. You're not harnessed in, so if you fall, you fall off the wall. There's tons of padding and it looks like it would be hard to hurt yourself, but knowing me, and knowing my knees, just landing on them the wrong way could be disastrous. I went up that thing with the mantra in my mind that I could NOT fall, though near the top I started to think about what would happen if I did. It was in the coming down that the true fear kicked in, both because I was high up and because my body could feel that there was a slope down. Once I was climbing down backwards, it was better, but I couldn't see where I was going. It was not a debilitating fear, I never got stuck, but I'm not sure that the heart rate was due to the cardio and effort required. Pretty sure it was pure adrenaline. I trust the harnesses and the gear to keep me safe. I do not trust my own body! Still, the point with climbing is to make it to the top, to build strength, and especially to challenge yourself by trying harder and harder routes. Somewhere, each of us has a voice inside that will say yes or no to things. That will allow you to quit or to keep going. Climbing tested that, and I kept going.

The BadAss Dash is coming up quickly. It weighs heavily on my mind, as I see photos on Facebook of each weekend race, from Ottawa and York Region and across North America. I see what kinds of obstacles I may face. Truth be told, these are not elite or overly demanding tasks. Thousands of people participate every weekend. The goal of the race is not to be good, not to have the fastest time, but simply to finish. To just keep going and complete the course. There's far less pressure when you go in with that mentality.

Endurance was my main focus on Monday as I swam. It was a civic holiday, so there were no classes at the Y and it was modified hours, but the pool was open for lane swims for 3.5 hours. I tried to time it so that I'd be there when the fewest number of folks were taking up the lanes. The last few times I'd tried to swim, I made it for about 20 minutes before getting annoyed and getting out. The lanes are not wide enough in the leisure pool for two people to swim in, the way they are at many of the City pools I'm used to, and you inevitably hit each other as you go back and forth. So, I was chagrined to see that all the lanes were taken up when I got there, and two of them were by walkers! No lie. At least they didn't have pool noodles, but if you're going to walk and lunge back and forth, you don't need a lane for it, you can use the parts of the oddly-shaped pool that are off to the sides. Fortunately, a lady called to me and said, "I'm almost done here, do you want this lane?" And, for the next hour, nobody else came who was lane swimming. There were a few more floaters and a family with kids who stayed in the shallow whirlpool area, but I had the lanes to myself. No excuses.

My goal was 100 lengths, or about an hour. When I got in, I negotiated with myself, "okay, minimum half an hour, then you can see." I already didn't want to do it. I should mention here that 100 lengths is not all that impressive; it's a 20 metre pool. At one time I was hitting 100 lengths of the more standard 25 m pools, in under an hour. But since I'd joined the Y and have been doing more dry-land exercise, I'm out of practice and out of the swimming habit, so it had been a long time since I've reached that number. This was going to be more of an endurance game than a cardio workout. If it was just about heart rate or speed, I'd do sprints in under half the time and get out and be on my way. No. This was mental preparation for the Dash, and to see if I could break the "no" habit I'd gotten into with cardio. This swim was all about not quitting.

The first 40 lengths were quick and easy. I'd been doing about that much all along. And that's usually the time when I'd tell myself I'd done enough and could get out. The next 30 were the toughest. I was tired. Bored. Had done the all different strokes I usually move between. Did some more legs-only. When I need a bit of a break I often do arms-only breast stroke, because it's slower than the full-body front crawl or back crawl, but after the day of climbing my forearms were sore so breast stroke was not much of a "break." The last 20 lengths are always where the magic happens, because you're nearing the end. I can picture the number of lengths going down. The finish line is in sight, and I get a second wind to push through and go just a bit faster. Where does the power and energy come from, and why isn't it there in the middle? I imagine that runners go through something similar. It's just one length at a time. One step at a time. One stroke at a time.

Endurance. I'm better at that than at speed. And that's what I was thinking about as I swam. When the goal is just to finish - whether it's to make it to 100 lengths, or to get to the top of a wall, or to cross a race finish line - I know I can do it. I visualize it. I can break it down into small parts. One length. One rock. One step. One obstacle. One at a time. I can do it because the goal is to keep going. And when you need that little break or slow down, you allow yourself to take the pause, because you're not stopping.  You don't care if you're affecting your time. You simply catch your breath and then tap in to the energy you reserved. You just.keep.going. When it's about speed, I tire out and give up way too early. Very few of those 100 lengths were fast, at my full capacity to push.

When Mat and I talked about the times I say no to him, or to myself, we realized that it's mostly on steady-state cardio (boring! repetitive!) or things which I don't enjoy doing, which is the high-intensity maximum-effort drills. It's almost never with weights, because I like how I feel when I can do them. I like what I get emotionally out of it. And, while it may be hard in the moment, I know that as soon as I put the weight down, it's over. The pain or high heart rate or effort stops. Endurance-based activities which are all about finishing, period, I am less likely to give him grief over because I can slack or back off. I don't have to give maximum effort the entire time, I just have to get 'er done.

Crap. What does that say about me? I don't like to work hard? I don't wanna have to give maximum effort because it's uncomfortable when my heart is about to thump out of my chest and the sweat is pouring into my eyes? That's what it comes down to. And what I think contributed to Friday's meltdown.

There's still an inherent laziness that underlies all of this for me.
It's what got me to 270 lbs in the first place.
It's what is holding me back now.
I'll work, but I don't like to work THAT hard.

Is it possible to have some drive, some determination, a wee bit of willpower, or just enough mental strength to endure ... and to still be lazy? How do you learn to not quit? How do you find a true desire, a WANT to push yourself to a breaking point? I honestly don't know. And therein lies the tug-of-war struggle.

What Mat is seeing is the mid-point between old me, and potential me. The me I kinda think I want to be, but am not sure I *can* be. I'm past the point at the beginning of weight loss journeys, where the hurdles are habit and just showing up to try. I've got that. I try hard enough to get by. It's pushing myself into discomfort - out of that "comfort zone" - and doing it on a regular basis. That's the only way I'm going to get out of the stalled slump of a plateau I've been in for a year and to see continued change.

The real question is: how badly do I want it?
Enough to truly overcome laziness?
Or am I just going to finish the race?

Antecdotally, we know that exercise improves mood. I've talked about it. Others have explained it. Brain-based science has demonstrated that the body's endorphins are increased and released after exercise. Which is also probably why doctors recommend exercise to patients with depression.

There is now evidence that the dose of exercise impacts the effect on patients when it's prescribed for treatment of depression, whether it is in conjunction with medication, or instead of. In a Psychology Today article called "Dose Matters: Exercise as an antidepressant" it was found that the groups in the study who did exercise alone, or exercise with medication, had lower relapse rates than the group who had medication alone. Even when drugs are used or needed to treat depression, the effects are longer lasting with exercise. The amount, frequency, and intensity of the exercise makes a difference. "The magic numbers equate to 3-5 days/week of rigorous exercise for 45-60 minutes (e.g. jogging or biking, or using a treadmill or stationary bike)—similar to current public health recommendations."

It was also found that, as for "the benefits of morning bright-light exposure on mood and sleep quality, that an outdoor workout in the morning will augment exercise’s effect even further."

Hmmm. Outdoor morning workout, of rigorous exercise for 60 minutes, multiple times a week? Sounds like Outdoor Fitness Challenge (a.k.a. boot camp) to me. No wonder I am happier in the summer!

And here I thought it was all the beer-on-patios, backyard barbeque sunny days.
Turns out, tires and sledgehammers are good for much more than just building muscle.
They're the best way to fight off depression.

It's often easy to overlook change and growth when it's daily, when it's slow. Summertime Tuesdays have become a good barometer of how I'm progressing annually, and especially how fitness has helped me increase my stamina.

I have worked at the same library for the past four summers. Every year, for 7 weeks, my Tuesdays have been packed with back to back to back outreach programs. I start at our local market and do a Family Storytime. Then, I go directly to a community centre and do another story program. There is just under an hour between that and the next thing, during which I usually go home for lunch and a quick email check, because I happen to live just a block away from the community centre. Then, I used to go back to the community centre to do another program for the older kids. This year, I am instead going to the Y (my home away from home), and doing yet another story time for the 3-5 year old day campers. By the time I actually set foot at work, my day is nearly done, and I only have about two hours to do everything I need to before I am on a public service desk for an hour. It's kind of a crazy set-up, but it works because of how close each location is to the other. So, each year, I keep scheduling it this way.

By the end of the day, I'll confess: I'm exhausted. Doing a program takes a lot out of you, because it's a specific kind of energy, not unlike performing. The travel to and from adds to the frenetic nature, and means being really well planned and packed. Timing is everything.

Three and four years ago, by the end of the day on Tuesdays, I was done. Just ... done. I could hardly speak. I'd be at my desk, breaking down in some way, whether it was near tears or in uncontrollable hysterical  giggles. Thinking was hard. Talking clearly was worse. I got a bad case of the stupids. And most of my half-hour desk shifts at the end of those days were generously picked up by co-workers who could see that I just didn't have it in me to serve the public. In other words, I could barely do my job. I went straight home to bed and did nothing in the evenings.

I shouldn't have been so tired that I couldn't think straight, but I was.

Flash forward to this summer. Same routine. Different outcome. Four weeks in, and I have no problem doing the last hour on the desk - pleasantly, helpfully, professionally - and getting ready for the next day. In fact, after my work shift, I go directly to the Y for Group Core and TRX Flexibility classes. I don't get home until after 8:00 pm. Granted, I sometimes get the yawns by the time TRX rolls around, yawns which are awfully contagious (sorry, friends). But I also get a second wind in between work and working out; the stamina and energy I have from the consistent fitness routines is tangible. Last summer I saw an improvement over the first summers. This year, it's even better.

Truth be told, my summertime Tuesdays still tire me out.
It's just that it feels like a much healthier, honest-day's-work kind of tired instead of can't-cope-with-the-world exhaustion. Exercise is helping me to do my job, and do it well. Fitness is helping me live a much happier life.

The proof is in the Tuesdays.

We all need role models and heros. We need to have people to look to, who give us hope. We especially need to see ourselves represented in order to begin to believe.

Last night, on American Ninja Warrior, Kacy Catanzaro became that person for a lot of women, myself included. She proved that the impossible dream was possible. On what could easily be dismissed as a cheesy summer reality TV show, she became the first woman ever - on either the American or Japanese versions - to complete the second round and qualify for Mount Midoriyama.

If you are not familiar with the show, let me catch you up: that's a really, really, really big deal. On American Ninja Warrior some of the best athletes and competitors attempt some pretty gruelling obstacle-course style challenges. There are qualifying rounds, then finals, and if you're good - like, superhuman GOOD - you go to Mount Midoriyama. Nobody has ever completed the third round and made it to the top in the 5 seasons of the American version of the show that originated in Japan. Few Japanese have made it to the top. It may provide eye-candy style summer entertainment for viewers, but this is an intense and elite athletic competition.

It's the only show I watch live, putting up with the commercials, sitting in suspense on the edge of my couch. It was worth it to witness history being made. Knowing that Mat also watches the show, I texted him when she did it: "it's a good thing you can't see me right now, because I am crying." I wasn't sure why it was such an emotional moment for me. For her? Sure. Obvious. It was the culmination of years of training and three years of trying and not qualifying on the show. But why was *I* so invested in her accomplishment?

Before her run began, I told Mat "...a win is good for all women. It helps when you see someone representing you be able to do something. Then it stops being a big deal and people start to accept that women can do it, and attitudes change. Kinda like how now it's normal for women to lift, when it used to be odd or unusual."

In her pre-interview, Kacy said pretty much the same thing: "I feel like getting to the top of the warped wall and hitting the buzzer has kind of been almost like this impossible dream for women, and it's been amazing to prove that wrong. I know that there are so many amazing women out there, and I think they just kinda needed that extra push to say 'hey, someone else has done it, I know that can do it, too' and I'm glad I can be that person."

The announcers summed it up even more succinctly, when she became the first woman to conquer the Warped Wall: "she changed our view of what women can do."

See, we tell ourselves that women can do anything. (At least, I do). To truly believe it, most of us need proof. Kacy didn't need to see anyone else do it before her, she had complete faith in her ability to complete the course. That's rare. Amazing. But rare.

To believe, you have to be able to visualize it. And when there haven't been external images to support what you think or hope or believe in theory, it leaves room for a seed of doubt. Can women actually do it? Now we know. Yep. They can. In the same way thatwomen can do push-ups, and pull-ups, even if there aren't proportionately the same numbers as men or the odds aren't in our favour.

And that's one of the great things about American Ninja Warrior. Women haven't been excluded from trying. Competitors recognize other athletes and welcome their attempts. That women are less represented on the show is more likely because fewer try out than men. Each year, those numbers have risen, and as more women show up to try it, the odds increased that one of them would make it. I am sure that many of the women who stood in lines to try and qualify for the show did it because they saw other women do the same thing the year before. While lots of little boys watch this show and aspire to be like their heroes (as one kid excitedly told me in a class visit), now the girls who watch have someone to look up to as well.

Seeing yourself represented is crucial to feeling connected. When most picture book illustrations show white kids by default, and other races only if the story is specifically about colour or culture, that creates a disconnect for everyone. We inadvertently teach that white is the norm, and everything else is "other." The impact of fatness not being represented in the media comes through loud and clear on this blog. When the fat girl typically plays the sidekick, the funny friend, the desperate butt of the joke, fat girls everywhere internalize that message. Even with all the Melissa McCarthy films and shows lately, she is still playing the can't-get-a-date, gotta-be-crude-to-get-attention, gee-isn't-it-funny-when-she-tries-to-hit-on-men characters. Where are the roles where the fat girl finds a love interest? When her TV show, Mike and Molly, first came out there was quite an uproar over people not wanting to have to watch two fatties kiss. The fact that it was so abnormal to see fat people in love, living their lives, doing anything at all ... while still being fat ... shone a bright light on how invisible we've been, and why it's important to show all kinds of people, with traits that different groups identify with. Representation in media makes an impact. Even when that representation is based on skill, and not on bias.

Women on American Ninja Warrior don't fall into that invisible category anymore. Kacy is an elite athlete, a nationally ranked competitive gymnast. She has trained and conditioned herself to do things most of us could never do (or would never do, without that same level of conditioning). That's not the point. I'm not pretending that "if she can do it, I can do it." What got me last night, watching her hit the buzzer and be one of only seven to even finish the course - the top 15 move on to Mount Midoriyama but only 7 actually finished it, and she did - what got me was that she did something that many equally strong, equally trained, equally conditioned men could not do. 

She made it much more difficult for women to say "can't" with credibility.
She made it possible to envision completing that course, and as more women visualize it, more women will do it.
She made what used to seem an impossible dream, possible.

Because she made it.

Which video is the best? You tell me! Vote for your favourite.

The Summer session of Outdoor Fitness Challenge started this week. The twice weekly, 8-week Spring session ended about two weeks ago. There were a few days when we had pictures taken, and I put them into video slideshow montages.

I just couldn't quite decide on which music mix to use, so I made 3 short videos. Feedback was that the pictures moved too quickly, so I added a fourth video which is longer, but lingers on each photo for those who want to see every drop of sweat or grimace of effort.

I'm going to leave it up to YOU to decide which one is the best! Watch them all then vote for your favourite. There's no real prize, here. Nothing more than sharing the videos with people who've heard us talk about the ODFC for the past two months. It gives us all a way of showing what we went through. As one friend who joined me for the drop-in option one morning observed, "Sufferfest was better than I thought." But it was still, some days, a sufferfest, and a camaraderie grew out of the shared experience: muscles that were sweaty, stiff and sore. And strong.

It's an outdoor boot-camp style of class, technically considered small-group personal training. I did it last summer, when it was brand new, and I was immediately hooked. So, when Mat offered it again this year, there was no hesitation for me to sign up (especially since it's the closest thing at the Y that can approximate training for obstacle course races, like the BadAss Dash). That friendships formed and strengthened was a bonus. It's one of the best things I can say about small-group training, in general: you get to know people in a way that you simply don't through classes or one-on-one training, but you also work with a personal trainer who can adapt a program for each participant.

Below are the videos. I hope they capture how much fun we had, while working our butts off.

Then, let us know which version you enjoyed the most!

I've heard that there are people who love burpees. Frankly, I think the existence of those people might be an urban myth. To me, there are two kinds of people: those who HATE burpees, and those who are willing to do them. "Love" is a mighty strong word for the fitness move that finds its way into a lot of workouts.

The thing about burpees is that they're hard, because they are effective. They use your entire body, and no equipment. You can do them anywhere, anytime, meaning they're ideal and easy to toss in to any workout. Not particularly impressive to watch, they're intense because your heart rate skyrockets no matter what your fitness level, especially because it involves a lot of up and down motion. Eat too close to a workout and your burpees become barfies.

Fellow blogger Scott, who also did the Outdoor Fitness Challenge class, has mentioned burpees a lot in recent posts. He has questioned the validity and usefulness of the movement. In particular, he's wondered about what kind of sick and twisted mind would create such a punishment. He's got a few choice words for that dude.

Well, you can't put questions like that out there to a librarian and history major, and expect them to remain unanswered. I was curious: where DID the Burpee come from?

Bad news, Scott. You will not be able to tell the inventor of the burpee what you think of him. He's long gone. They've been around since the late thirties, and have their roots in YMCA history. And we all might as well get used to doing them. As an exercise with overall efficiency, they're right up there with the push-up.

So, the next time you do a Burpee, whether it's one or one hundred, you can thank or curse Royal H. Burpee for studying fitness and coming up with the most scientifically taxing, hard-core, efficient bodyweight fitness movement there is.