Vibrant Sexy Strong

All gorgeous photos courtesy of the incredible Omar Foster. If you are in the Las Vegas area, check him out at Camp Fit Force. All photos of my gorgeous children courtesy of my phone.

How did this happen?

On a windy January day in Las Vegas, I found myself asking, “How did I get in this tree?”

It was one of those refocusing, defining moments. Me–the quintessential non-athlete–trying to activate muscles I never even knew existed and swing my leg onto an uneven tree branch. With total clarity and flow a la Csikzentmihalyi, I felt powerful. Nay, I was powerful. I’d transcended the limiting beliefs about my capabilities and was acting on my true nature. This was MovNat.

My love affair with MovNat began on Halloween day, 2010. I was at Robb Wolf’s Paleolithic Solution Seminar in Houston and Erwan Le Corre (MovNat founder) was visiting. His quiet and humble presence drew me in. I could feel his energy and I observed him the entire day. Simply striking.

We hardly spoke–an unfortunate mistake on my end since he was entirely approachable. He smiled for, cooed at, and doted on my 4-month-old baby who came in twice to nurse and make googly eyes at all the Fitness Hounds in the room. But since I’d never heard of him or MovNat, I didn’t recognize my opportunity. I could feel that he was doing something special, but didn’t know how to say: “Hey Mr. Erwan, I can read your energy and my intuition is telling me you are going to change the world and my life.” The more I learn about him and his mission though, the less embarrassed I would be to make that statement.

From that point forward, I pined for a MovNat seminar. I wanted it badly despite my vehement dislike for physical activity and conventional exercise. I have absolutely no confidence in my athletic capabilities and believed MovNat could be the key to helping me become more physically adept. I almost registered for the session right after the Ancestral Health Symposium, but working out with a bunch of Paleo fitness fanatics was too terrifying of a prospect. Fourteen months later, my intuition finally won me over and I registered for the Las Vegas workshop.

I almost didn’t go. Two days prior, my baby got sick. And goodness knows I was looking for an out. But she healed miraculously and I found myself working out at Legacy Park with seven men.

7 Lessons

1. My body is strong and beautiful. Brian Tabor (MovNat instructor) moves like a cat-gazelle crossbreed. It’s glorious to watch and I found myself in awe when he would jump onto a trash can or leap through the air, landing in a diving roll. As we moved throughout the day, the bodies of the participants (including my own) transformed into something similar. Strong and beautiful, even if they were untrained or still building their physical fitness. Because they are human, they have the capacity to move naturally. There is an underlying strength that may have been forgotten, but it is present nonetheless. And that is beautiful.

MovNat Las Vegas. The strong and beautiful bodies.

2. It’s all in my head. The first person I saw was Paul. He is an enormous mass of muscle and was wearing a shirt that looked like something from the periodic table (It read “Ow: The Element for Pain“). I looked over at my husband and shook my head saying I couldn’t do this. I wouldn’t fit in here. I don’t like exercise, I am not strong, and I really really really hate pain. He let me blabber until I could pull myself out of the car. But there was nothing intimidating about these guys. There was an atmosphere of camaraderie (of which I attribute to Brian’s ability to build a safe culture in such a short amount of time) and my fears dissipated by the end of the breathing exercises. Any ability I thought I couldn’t develop was all in my head. I could do this. I was made to move.

Our true nature is to move

3. I am afraid of my body. I was born massively pigeon-toed and required special shoes to shape my hips. The shoes were removed early and my hips/coordination are still paying for it. Even more, I got glasses in second grade (bifocals in fourth) and my optometrist said my poor depth perception would prevent me from ever being able to play sports that involved hand-eye coordination (i.e. anything with a ball). These early experiences shaped the last 20+ years of body image and I never got to know my capabilities very well. The unknown is frightening, so my body was frightening. Even at the end of the workshop, I was still timid about catching a ball (thankfully Robert went easy on me).

My special shoes

4. My children are inheriting my fear. The biggest motivator to finally get to a workshop was watching my children. Because I parrot the safety mantra “Be careful. Don’t break that. That’s dangerous” all day long, my kids started to exhibit more fear and timidity. I was creating a very pseudo-dangerous world for them. At the park, I would have minor panic attacks when my son climbed the big rocks because I was afraid he would fall and crack his head open. I always envied my husband’s ability to just let our kids be kids. But because I didn’t know what my body could do, I didn’t know what my children were perfectly capable of either. Luckily, that’s starting to fade.

My 3yo son climbing those big scary rocks.

5. MovNat is for moms. And everyone else, yes, but I’m particularly interested in moms. I don’t know how to play with my children very well. I’m great on academics and great at loving them, but having pure, unadulterated fun is hard for me. MovNat showed me how to awaken my body, play with my kids, and create stronger bonds with my Littles. Eight hours well-spent. More on this next Tuesday.

Hiking Zion barefoot with the baby wrapped in a sling on my chest

6. I could stand to do a few more squats, lunges, and push-ups. Sigh. No surprise there. From a purely functional standpoint, it would be in my best interest if I gained a bit more strength. I was able to hold myself on the pole, but couldn’t shimmy my way up at all.

Paul on a pole in a totally non-Las Vegas kind of way

7. Exercise ain’t so bad. Please don’t tell. I have spent so long hating it, I am almost having an identity crisis.

The Best Part of MovNat

…was walking away a new woman. I found someone who was hiding deep inside of me, and I really like her. More confidence, more joy, more love.

And in case you’re wondering…When I finally managed to pull myself up onto that tree branch with the help of the mighty Brian Tabor, everyone cheered enthusiastically. I am so proud.

Big thanks to Brian, Robert, Tim, Phil, Phil, Omar, and Paul who all helped me find myself that day. And to think I almost didn’t get out of the car.

This post was originally published on the now-defunct blog 3strong. All posts have been backdated and appear here.

When I taught middle school, I would occasionally use burpees as a motivational tool. Sometimes as an incentive, sometimes as a way to get their wiggles out. The funny thing about tweens is that it doesn’t really matter what they receive–it’s all about the attitude. I was just as easily fooled by my PE coaches.

If you have never done a burpee, you may recall squat thrusts from high school gym days. Just add in a push-up and that’s all there is to it (muscle-up optional).

Now that I am an adult and adequately jaded in regards to physical fitness, burpees generate a lot of muttering and groaning. For me, they are just plain hard. Especially because they require very little skill or strength. With pull-ups, I can sneak in rests because I’m simply not strong enough to do very many in a row, even with an assistance band. With cleans, I can sneak in a rest in order to maintain proper form and focus on improving my skill.

Burpees, not so much. The limiting factor is aerobic capacity. I won’t have that, “I could have gone longer and my lungs were fine, but I’m just not strong enough” excuse. Burpees grow with you and can be modified for strength. If I can’t do a push-up, I can go to my knees or I can just do squat thrusts. If I am recovering from a minor leg injury, I can go one leg at a time instead of jumping backwards.

There’s not much to them, and yet, they rock my body every time.

Which is exactly why I’m participating in Bridgetown CrossFit and Barbell Club’s Burpee Challenge. I don’t even live in Bridgetown, wherever that is. I just saw a friend sign up on and thought, “hey, I could do that.” There are 95 days left to go, and while I absolutely loathe actually doing them, I love the potential it has for improving my conditioning. Burpees are, in fact, one of my favorite exercises for that very reason. Look at how this woman gets wiped out by doing them:

Do you do burpees? What is your favorite conditioning exercise?

My current training is beyond lame. I don’t feel that bad about it since I’m still having a hard time finding my 2-kid groove, but a part of me wants to actually move heavy things that do not consist of car seats, groceries, and crying children.

Solution: 20 Girls in 30 Days.

My husband and I are embarking on this challenge to complete CrossFit’s Girl WODs. In any order I choose, I will take on Barbara, Helen, Fran, and the remaining 17 other lovely ladies. Here’s looking at you, Eva!

This is not an April Fool’s joke (but I kind of wish it was). My training needs this, but oh, how I may regret my decision after starting down Angie in the face. 100 push-ups? Really? My max is 4. And that’s to say nothing of the inordinate amount of pull-ups in these WODs.

Realistically, my 30 days is likely to extend to right around 60-70 days. I’m still waking up at night to nurse my baby and am just not getting enough sleep yet. And thankfully for my sleepy self, recovery is just as highly valued as the exercise itself. However, my Happy Goal would be to complete them before my 29th birthday (50 days).

I also know I need to stay Paleo for this and not have another binge week. During my Binge Week, my IT band pain and left shoulder pain returned. Once I was on Paleo, they mysteriously disappeared again. Spooky.

So wish me luck. I’m off to conquer Angie. Or maybe she’ll conquer me.

This post was originally published on the now-defunct blog 3strong. All posts have been backdated and appear here.

Wrong. Twenty-two months later, I CrossFit. It took me several months to realize that I don’t have to do the workouts as prescribed. If the workout calls for 30 clean and jerks at 95 lbs (aka Grace), I can do 30 clean and jerks at 135 lbs or 55 lbs or with a broomstick, depending on my level of mastery and strength.

If I want to build muscle (I do), if I want to stay lean (I do), and if I want to focus on functional fitness (I do), then a CrossFit-style workout is the way to go.

Check out these women. They are my heroes.

No person was harmed in the filming of this deadlift.

During my first pregnancy, I didn’t exercise at all and I paid mightily for it during recovery. I didn’t make the same mistake with my second pregnancy, faithfully doing something nearly every day of my 41.5 weeks.

Ten days overdue was no exception.

After 3.5 rounds and during my 8th squat of a modified Cindy*, I felt a familiar pop; a pop I had only felt once before. Stopping dead at the bottom of a perfect 90 degree angle, I felt a warmth spread across the lower part of my body.

I couldn’t determine if my water broke or if I was overzealous about hydration that morning. I went inside to see if I was in labor, leaving my workout partner in the garage wondering if her cash-out would include rushing me to the hospital.

Hard contractions didn’t start immediately like they did with my son, so my firm excuse for quitting early was null and void. I cleaned myself up, went right back outside and pounded out 2.5 more rounds (for an even 6) before my time ran out.

I’m not a hardore CrossFitter. I’m not even a good CrossFitter. But I feel like I could have made main page with that workout. Forget chest-to-bar pull-ups. Doing a WOD at 10:30 am and delivering a baby (without an epidural) at 2 pm. Now *that* should be the next CrossFit benchmark. Perhaps we can name it Mimi.

(Happy Valentine’s Day!)

* Cindy is one of the CrossFit WODs listed with the Girls. AMRAP in 20 minutes of: 5 pull-ups (mods: ring rows), 10 push-ups (mods: on an incline), 15 squats.

Two summers ago, I resolved to complete what I then thought was the ultimate proof of physical fitness: the marathon.

After years of avoiding an exercise I loathed so deeply, I finally took the plunge for that 26.2. My real goal was to do whatever it took to have a body strangers would lust after. For the year prior, I exercised fanatically and changed my eating habits drastically. Still, I only lost 1 pound. Despite rumors that it might actually help, I still found excuses to avoid running. I may have chosen the plague over running.

But after losing one solitary pound in a year, I realized how uninterested I was in taking 20 years to get rid of the excess baby weight.

I paid $120 for membership in a group training program and started running in July, which coincided perfectly with Houston’s notoriously sweltering heat and humidity. I bought shoes ($130), dri-fit socks ($15), dri-fit running clothes ($85), a hydration belt ($45), and anti-chafe body gel ($12). I spent every Saturday morning hating my life. Come to think of it, every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings as well. You see, the unfortunate thing about running is that if you don’t like it, you have miles and miles to think about the extent of your dislike. I find that around mile 4, I’m pretty much done. My legs aren’t tired, nor are my lungs. I’m just bored. My only solace was that on January 1, this thing would be over. I would have completed a marathon (just like a bazillion other people have done).

By week 2 of training, my weight started to change. +2. Pardon me? Perhaps I didn’t make my goals clear. The number was meant to go the other way.

I was reassured by friends that it was perfectly normal and quite common even to gain weight when you pick up running, but that would eventually reverse. I thought they were stupid, but had no personal schema to verify this gut feeling (which incidentally, was getting bigger by the week, according to my scale). I would just have to trust them until I could complete my own exploratory data.

Week 3 saw another pound increase and by this point I was ready to shoot myself. Week 4 did not include any weight gain (hallelujah!), but was that muscle I was losing? Why was I getting squishier?

This trend continued. Luckily, on my Week 6 long run, I had a full 58 minutes to think about what I was doing. And more importantly, why I was doing it.

I was running to lose weight. Oh yeah, and to be able to say I completed a marathon. They do it on The Biggest Loser, so surely I could too.

But did I want to spend the next 21 weeks running just because Tara from the green team did it? Or was losing weight more important to me? I couldn’t have both.

After finishing my 6 miles (in August. in the afternoon. in Houston), I walked through my door, logged my time, and quit.

Training for and quitting a marathon: $407
Recognizing a greater vision: still $407

Life lessons don’t come cheap, but failing never felt so good.