Mama Said, Mama Said

I feel as though I've spent much of life trying to figure out what I am so that I could be it, instead of just being myself and not worrying about the what that is. I've been a joint custody kid of divorce, a tomboy, a cheerleader, a Catholic schoolgirl, an altar girl, a choir girl, a ballerina, an outsider, a troublemaker, a bookworm, a rebel, a soloist, an actress, an sprinter, a dork, an instigator, an A student, an F student, a curious teen, a first love, a heart breaker, a triple threat, a slut, a follower, a leader, a spoiled brat, a role model, a crusader, a wallflower, the life of the party, a fuck-up, a shaman, a shoulder to cry on, a mess on your living room couch, an inspiration, a lost soul, a pain in the ass, a know-it-all, and a true friend. The sappy, after-school special truth is that I'm all of these things.

Smoking cigarettes doesn't make me. Doing Yoga doesn't make me. I am. All I have to do is be. But I have to ACTUALLY be. I can't just think about it, talk about it, or blog about it. I have to DO it. So today's word to live by is ACTION. When I think of something, I'm going to act on it instead of writing myself a note or putting it off until later. Which is why I'm writing this now as I think of it. Besides, I'm only doing what my mother told me to do. When I was 23, I called my mother and told her that I had decided to change my career path and I was planning on being a writer. Of course, we'd had this conversation before. There are many creative pursuits I'm interested in, I have had quite a few talents, but I never focused on just one long enough to become truly great at anything.

First, I was going to be on Broadway in musicals, then I discovered Shakespeare and poetry, then modern dance and choreography, soon after I wanted to be a Jazz singer...when it came time to choose a college, I went back to Musical Theatre because it encompassed so my three main loves; acting, singing, and dancing. When I moved to New York, I quickly became bored and just wanted to live life, which meant quitting everything and starting from scratch, at which point I decided to become a musician (read: Rock Star). When my boyfriend and I broke up, so did the band and my discipline for music. I was writing a lot, though. Constantly. Every day. At work, on the subway, in the park, while I ate, in bed, everywhere. Because that's what you do when you're lonely. If I didn't let it all out, I knew I'd end up a crazy person, wandering the streets of New York, muttering to myself and occasionally screaming at small animals and children.

One day, in a haze of smoke, I called my mother with this brilliant revelation; I was writing all the time so maybe I should be a writer. Usually she would argue with me about my first love, acting, because she was certain that was my strongest talent. Then, she'd mention her thoughts about me one day ending up a director or choreographer, you know, in the later part of my career. This time, her response was different. She sighed a heavy sigh and said, "Fine. You're a writer. Now write." I was astonished, certain that there was a big "but" waiting around the corner of her next sentence. "What?," I replied. "Oh, just pick something and do it," she said. "Anything. But just do it!." She was tired of me coasting through life. Of course, she wanted me to find my passion but...I had a lot of passion for a lot of different things, for life. She wanted me to take that passion and turn it into ACTION.

So I did. I found a class with an amazing poet and mentor, Laurie Wagner Buyer. She taught me how to write without censoring myself, how to rewrite the babble, and how to step away from something so it doesn't get "overwritten." She taught me not only was it okay to write in my own voice, but it was imperative in order to tell my own stories. I still have some of my old passions, and a few new ones, but I never stopped writing. Writing led me to film, and back to acting, and that's why I'm here in LA. Thanks to those two extraordinary, patient, and sometimes pushy women, I'm still writing and I'll always be writing. Now, if I only get to those dishes. And that pile of laundry. Maybe I should call my mom.

It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to BE!!!

Bend Before I Break

I literally rolled out of bed today, for fear that putting too much pressure on any one body part would result in not only great pain, but more embarrassingly, me groaning like an old lady. Today on the P90X schedule is Shoulders & Arms, followed by Ab Ripper. As soon as I stood up, I knew that wasn't going to happen. The days of skipping workouts are behind me but I don't want to overdo it so I opted for the Stretch program. It's a thorough hour long program and the key to maintaining progress.

When I was younger, I prided myself on my flexibility. I used to practice my center splits every night while watching television. I'd spread my legs, put my elbows in front of me on the floor, and rest my chin in my hands. I knew that every day that I didn't stretch, I would lose flexibility. I worked on it as often as any of my studies. Looking back, I realize now that I never had any substantial injuries until I stopped stretching every day. When I went to college, there were too many "distractions." After one year without daily stretching, apart from the stretching I did in dance classes, I injured both my knees.

To this day, I have knee pain whenever I jog or run outdoors, or if I stand up for too many hours at a time. I must add daily stretching to my routine now, not only to maintain the progress I make during P90X, but to ward off future injury as I get older and my body continues to break down. So I didn't do today's workout, but I gave myself an "A" for effort for stretching instead of giving up. It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to bend before it breaks.

Gonna Make You Sweat 'Til Ya Bleed

Cardio. Ugh. I always think it's gonna be easy and then I end up exhausted, red-faced, and sweaty. Although, to be honest, I like to sweat. No, actually, I love to sweat! I have ever since I was a young dancer. I wasn't satisfied with a dance class unless I left dripping with sweat. I thought it was a clear sign that I had done the best work I could, leaving it all on the dance floor, as Debbie Allen would say. I had forgotten until just now how much I love to sweat.

Ladies aren't supposed to sweat. They might "glow" or "glisten" but sweating was supposed to happen to big, hairy men who had just chopped down a tree or unclogged a drain. It's just not proper for a lady to sweat. Which probably made me want to sweat even more, to defy convention. During this round of P90X, I'm making it my goal to leave it all on the mat during every workout. I won't feel satisfied unless I'm wiping the sweat from my eyes, so it doesn't go into my contacts; it can really sting, ya know.

That's what I did today. I felt weak and heavy (oh, so heavy) but I kept on pushing until I couldn't anymore. It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be real sweaty.

I Can't Do It Alone

I need Tony Horton. I'm realistic enough to know that I don't have enough self-discipline to workout on my own. I need a program, guidance, rules, goals, and someone to push me along in a positive way (even if that someone is on my computer instead of in my living room). I decided the best way to get back on track is by making myself accountable. So I'm doing P90X Lean again and blogging after every workout. My entries may not be exciting but they'll be real and honest.

I thought Week 1 started with Cardio, which is the shortest workout and the easiest way to ease back into a routine. I was wrong. The first day is Core Synergistics and it is a bitch. I was three minutes into the warmup when my thighs became sore, an instant reminder of what was in store for me during my first day of P90X. I breathed deep and forged ahead, knowing that I would feel much better emotionally and mentally if I just got through it and gave it my best. The short term physical discomfort is nothing compared to how depressed I might feel if I gave up. It was tough but I did what I could and made it through.

Afterwards, I thought back to last May, almost a year ago, and the first round of P90X. I remembered how exhausted and almost nauseous I was during that very first Core workout. I didn't feel anything like that this time. When I stepped on the scale this morning, the digital blue numbers loomed, mocking me. 136 lbs. I had gained back almost all the weight I worked so hard to lose last year. On the other hand, I still had the ability to fight through the discomfort and have a good workout, so something must have stuck with me from that first round of P90X. Muscle memory of some kind, perhaps. It took me 90 days to lose 8 lbs the first time around, starting from scratch. This time, I'm going to build on the base I have and go farther, work harder, and get leaner.

It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be.

Ouch.

I may have gotten ahead of myself. I know I said I wouldn't but I did. Today on the Tony Horton recovery schedule was Cardio X. I got 10 minutes in and had to stop. The Cardio program begins with Yoga poses and my arms were like, "No, sorry, nuh-uh. We just did Yoga yesterday, remember." So I skipped to the next section, the Kenpo moves. I used to love Kenpo so I was really excited. Everything seemed fine until we started kicking and I realized that by skipping the Yoga, I had skipped the warmup. I'll repeat this for effect; I skipped the warmup.

So...today's "obvious lesson I learned the hard way" is do NOT skip the warmup. There is a reason for it...so you don't pull every muscle in the back of your right leg. Okay, I didn't pull every muscle, but I'm being careful and I've learned my lesson. That being said, I'm still proud of myself. I almost didn't work out today. I was on my computer, avoiding it, putting it off, building excuses in my head. I started telling myself I would be too sore from yesterday's workout, or I should eat more food first, or drink more water, and then I realized that was the problem. I give in to my laziness, make excuses, and then the cycle continues. Not today, friends. Not today.

Today I got dressed, laced up, water bottle by my side, and went for it. I could feel the heaviness and it made me wanna work harder. By the end of the workout, I was sweaty, red-faced, and content. Day three and going strong. It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be.

It's About Time

I'm back! I know I always get ahead of myself but I don't care. I'm letting myself get excited about exercising again in the hopes of building momentum. And I'm making myself accountable to you, all four of my readers, by blogging. It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be.

I found a recovery program in one of Tony Horton's blogs and I'm gonna use it to get back in the swing of things. Mondays are 30 minutes of easy aerobic exercise so I did speed and incline intervals on the treadmill downstairs with The Kooks keeping the beat. It was just right. I didn't freak out and overdo, as I've been known to before. I just got out of bed and kept my promise to myself. Enough is enough. I'm settling into my new apartment, I'm finding more jobs to pay the rent, and the Olympics are over; no more excuses!

Tonight, I did 40 minutes of the P90X Yoga. Perfection. Broke a sweat but didn't kill myself. I feel stretched out and strong, and ready to chip away, day by day, sculpting the body I want. I'm changing my diet with little steps, too. This week, I focus on drinking water all day long and cutting out the junk food. I get two days where I get to cheat (read: eat pizza and ice cream). During my latest trip to the grocery store, I bought lots of fruits, veggies, and nuts making it easier to eat throughout the day so I don't binge on sweets.

It feels good to recommit myself. My body is already thanking me for getting back to work. I feel more confident and in tune. No more rut!