beachbody

Sunday musings

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Someone asked me the other day what I was doing, because I am so energized and driven (and getting results) in my business life right now. As with many things, when you’re in a groove and doing stuff, you don’t think a whole lot about it – you just DO. Kind of like walking and running – you don’t consciously think, “Gee, I’ll put one foot in front of the other.” You just walk.

Being asked to explain (by two or three people) made me think about it. And my answer feels absolutely spot on.

I’ve been struggling for a while with the “should.” Running your Beachbody business on Facebook? Then you “should” only post once every five posts about Beachbody. Time it so it’s in the evening. Never mention that you’re a coach or people will think you’re trying to sell them something. You should be on Pinterest, and Linked In, and Instagram and Twitter and a like page on Facebook and your regular wall on Facebook and three zillion other social media places I haven’t even figured out about yet.

In the past two months, I’ve gotten a couple of messages from people that read something like this: “Hey! Cool! I thought you’d like to know I purchased T25 (or P90X or whatever)! Thanks to your posts I’m excited about this new exercise thing.” Great, is my response. I don’t see you in my back office . . . when did you purchase? “I ordered from Amazon! I can get it from you?”

Really? I’ve been that subtle that people who interact with me almost daily have NO IDEA that part of my business is in being the resource for the programs and shakes?

I’m done with the “shoulds.” Like parenting, when you read every single book you can get your hands on and tear your hair out trying to do every thing you read about (often contradictory) and finally decide “Hell with it. I’m doing it my way.”

Pretty much that’s where I am. I’m doing it my way. Yes, I’m learning the basics, and taking in as much of the incredible wealth of information available to me – but I’m digesting it and turning it into what works for ME. What resonates with ME.

I’m trying to be the best ME I can be. Not someone else. Me.

Feels pretty badass.

Decisions

This morning I decided two things. One, my 5 am wake up was not necessary, at least not this morning. I could snatch an extra hour of sleep and my day wouldn’t be much different at all. This workout I’m doing now, T25, is 25 minutes long (okay, 28 if you count the cool down). I have time for the rest of my life without waking up at 5. When I start doing P90X again, then my alarm will sound at that early hour. For now, though? 6 am. Decision made.

My other call today? To do a workout from the earlier round of T25. I chose Speed 2.0 over Speed 3.0. My shoulders are not in the best shape, and Speed 3.0 might as well be nicknamed “Death by Burpee.” I did double weights yesterday and thought my arms would appreciate the rest.

 

Does it sound as impressive to say I got up at 6 rather than 5? Or that I chose Speed 2.0 instead of 3.0, even though I’m on the Gamma round? No, it doesn’t. But both of those are what I needed today. And bottom line? I killed my workout, a difficult one by most standards. Does it matter what time it was?

Badass means figuring it out for you, not for everyone else.

 

Respect!

Finished sweating!Yesterday I looked at the calendar for today and realized I needed to be rolling well before 6, to take my son to meet the bus for a field trip. Since I know me and the way I work best, I backed this timing up to the unwelcome realization that my alarm would have to go off at 4:30.

So by the time we hopped out of the car, ay 6:02, I had done a couple of workouts, showered, dressed, and even made my coffee.

A friend was there, dropping her son off as well. “Did you really get up at 4:30?” she asked me. “Yes. It lets me start the day off well – on my schedule.”

We chatted for a few minutes, and looked at each other with some surprise when the bus rolled away at 6:15. One or the other of us commented, “In middle school, there’s no way they’d have left before 6:30.”

My son and I had talked about this on the way to school, wondering aloud what time the bus would actually leave. He was worried we’d get there, 2 minutes late, and find the bus rolling away. I pointed out that that was pretty unlikely, that if the bus needed to leave at 6 we’d have had to be there about 15 minutes before. But anything was possible, I suppose.

It’s a respect thing, though. If the bus had not left before 6:30, that’s disrespectful to all the kids and parents who got up and were there at 6. Holding the bus for latecomers as a matter of course means that people will arrive later and later, which is not honoring the schedule set.

I can go on and on about this. But the main point for me, sitting here at 7:07 am with my coffee, is that respecting time is a way we can be a part of a community. That community can be a community of one (me, getting my workout even if it is some ridiculously early hour) or a community of tens (arriving to the bus on time, and the bus leaving on time.)

Being timely, being respectful of your schedule and that of others? Small notches in the badass belt. But every notch counts.

Inspiration!

  • Shaun T inspires me to dig deeper, to count to ten on a leg lift instead of giving up at 5.
  • My children inspire me, sometimes to fits of absolute incredulity and more often to experience moments of clarity and joy.
  • A certain ingredient will inspire a recipe, or send me scurrying to a cookbook to find the best option for dinner that night.
  • A friend’s email or phone call or picture posted on social media can inspire laughter, or tears.
  • A rude driver can inspire me to sink to his/her level, fuming mad and shaking sometimes.

 

There’s an image floating around Facebook of a woman surrounded by her three kids. All are wearing Superman colors. She is clad in workout clothes (and full makeup), showing off her washboard abs; the kids are cute and smiling and wearing clean clothes (all are under the age of 4. If you have kids, you understand my point.) The caption is “WHAT IS YOUR EXCUSE?”

Her point, if you read the explanation behind it (she’s had such a vitriolic response, plus all the “Go get ‘em” comments, that she had to write an explanation), is that she manages to stay healthy and fit even with three kids – and that having kids is not an excuse to stop taking care of yourself.

Two people have sent this to me outside of Facebook, and countless others have sent me the link within Facebook. I’ve gotten into at least three different discussions about it, although you’d think I’d have learned to leave well enough alone.

I applaud her work. I think it’s great that she’s figured out how to have a body strong enough to parent well AND work out, that she’s managed to organize her time and her priorities to fit it all in. Heck, I know people with no kids who can’t do that.

I do not, however, find this inspiring.

What would be inspiring? What would motivate me to seek her out to ask her advice or want to work out or realize that my reaction to my life is well within my control?

Different words. Some kind of positive statement. Something more along the lines of “You can too!” or “Love them enough to love yourself” or something. “30 minutes a day.” Something other than a guilt trip.

Words and images can be very inspiring. This one makes me think long and hard about the combination of the two.