Just call me Mudder - Tough. Mudder.

Saturday September 10th, 2016.

Time to put my body through the hardest, toughest, craziest shit I've ever done.

6:30am - Alarm goes off and I'm up and at 'em. I have 2 hours to make and eat breakfast, shower, fit in a quick yoga session and tape up my knees and back. 

8:30am - We've got our buddies waiting outside, we're all laughing nervously. The sky is grey, the air is cool, and we're all a little jittery. We're checking each other out, am I wearing the right clothes? Think these shoes will be alright? What'd you eat for breakfast? Man, I don't know if I can do this - You can do this! We can do this! We're gonna friggen do this. Let's drive. 

10:00am - We arrive at the offsite parking. It's setting in. People are changing from flip flops to runners. We're trying to guess whose running and whose spectating. The comradery with strangers starts early as we walk to the busses and joke about lack of toilet paper in porto-potties. If you can't get over that obstacle just wait til we get to the event. 

10:30 - We file off the bus with the same excitement of a field trip - some of us anyway. We see the Finish line first. Did they do that on purpose? There are already people in view on the course - our start time is soon. We line up with other jittery first timers and distract ourselves with talks of what we're going to eat tonight. We swap training notes, we poke fun at ourselves, at each other. Before we know it we're signed in and pinning our numbers to our chests. This is real. 

11:30am - Like cattle we pile into the "Warm-Up Zone" after chugging the first of many electrolyte-pumped hydration sippers. The speakers thump with Jay-Z, Drake... anything they can think of to get us hyped up. It's raining now. Some people are hunched, trying to warm themselves - I've embraced the weather. This is nothing compared to what's ahead. We break the ice with those around us, still looking to find someone who looks more scared or nervous than we do - aha! Found one - ok. I'm ok. I got this. Let's go already.

12:00am - They move us to the starting line - holy shit. But it's not just Ok-GO. Come on. This is TOUGH FRIGGEN MUDDER. Of course there's more hyping to do. We salute legionnaires, returning Mudders. We salute EMS teams running together, and those who have raised money along their journeys - I let out an extra loud YYYEAAA, look up to the cloudy sky and remind myself this isn't just for me - don't worry Nonno, I got this. I make eye contact with my team. Michael nods and smiles. We shout TOUGH! MUDDER! with the rest of our heat like a swarm of vikings going into battle, the horn blows and off we go. 

We weave and wind through trees and mud puddles and the rain eases up. We see spectators cheering for loved ones, and engage in a couple high fives. Before we know it we're at our first obstacle - Kiss of Mud: Army crawl under barbed wire...in the mud of course. Let's go.

Next obstacle - Skid Marked. It's our first wall. Our first taste of what it means to work together to conquer a Mudder obstacle. There's four of us in our team, legionnaires are already in place on the other side with arms outstretched and helping people over. I go first, using one of our team members as a step ladder and the hand of a marine-type to pull myself up. Next comes Michael, then the rest. We're already sucked into the comradery of the event and stay to help a few more over. We're already heaving but we did it - and we're stoked to keep up the momentum. 

And on we go, winding through more woodsy trails, hitting the 2 and 4 km marks and three more obstacles. We pull ourselves through muddy tunnels, and get ourselves over what Mudders call Berlin Walls. I make bit of a crash landing as a drop 8 ft from the top of the wall, bang my knee nice and hard, but I shake it off and keep moving. We conquer the Blockness Monster and the Mud Mile, where I get another beautiful bang-up, this time on my elbow. This is a team obstacle for sure, I'm pushing peoples asses up over my head, I'm getting pulled up by those same strangers once they're up and over.

We hit the 6km mark shortly after making our way through the Birth Canal - low crawl under a water filled liner. The weight is killer, there's feet in your face and dirt in your mouth. Tough. Then it's up a hill, down a hill, up a hill (a mogul ski hill to be exact) and back down. All the while we hear hooting, hollering, cheers and OHHHHHHs. We're 7 km in and we hit Everest 2.0 - the one obstacle I actually had nightmares about.

This is actual footage of the exact version set up at our event - not of me, but you'll get the idea. 

I stood in this crowd and watched people run, faceplant, run again. I hooted. I hollered. I shuddered and nearly cried. I was TERRIFIED. Michael went first. I needed to rely on more than just the hands and muscles of strangers to catch me. I ran once, twice, three times and finally grabbed hold of someone. They grabbed my other hand, and eventually my ankle. I held on for dear life and eventually, answering the calls of "PULL HER UP! PULL HER UP!" was yanked up and over. I caught my breath, I shook it off, and helped several other people get up. What. A. Rush.

We have a hill to climb, then back down, then up again - 8km - back down. Another obstacle, Pyramid Scheme, we're exhausted. We catch our breath, then take advantage of legionnaires who have stacked themselves and are helping first timers up the ramp. We see a check point - We're halfway there. 

Jesus. Another friggen hill, what feels like the longest one yet. We're heaving. We're out of breath. But we're also side-by-side with the spectator path and there's a mom with two kids under the age of 8 walking up alongside us. Motivation. Keep going. Make it to the top. We hit the first obstacle I can't do, Funky Monkey - it's monkey bars . Shit. Michael's got this no problem, I cheer him on. He gets his first real injury of the day. But he did it. I'm out of breath just watching.

We hit our 10km mark. We're feeling the burn in our legs now, our feet are starting to swell and we're hearing less WHOOOs and more uggghs. We get to an obstacle called The Liberator and see our first medical concern, someone's fallen off and hurt their ankle. We tackle it anyway. A teammate almost sacks himself on one of the pegs, comes away shaken, but ok. Moving on.

More hiking. Next is Cage Crawl. More like cage freak out. Water is 2 or 3 feet deep. Cage over top with about 6 inches of breathing room. Pull yourself across on your back - no problem. The water is cold and I'm not a great swimmer, but this isn't swimming - this is holding, breathing. I get through it but I panicked. Boy oh boy did I panic. I walked away with jitters, goosebumps - that one freaked me out.

Shake it off. Keep going, breath. Next is Cliff Hanger: Ropes on a muddy hillside. Upper body. Team work. Helping hands. Nothing fancy. Muscles still burn though. Glad its done. Next is Devil's Beard: Heavy net, army crawl... naw, more like monkey crawl. Tiring, but a breeze compared to some of the other ones. Keep going. 

Next: Hold Your Wood. Grab a log, walk a loop with it. Some people go solo but we're a team. Michael and I pair up and I put my shoulders to the test. I need a break but get back into it and we complete the loop together. It's all good. Breath. Hey look - we hit our 12km mark. Only 5 more the go. 

We find Arctic Enema. I'm still shaken up from Cage Crawl so I sit this one out. The boys face their fears of ice cold water and take the plunge. Another km and a half and the wind is picking up, it looks like it's going to rain again. We find King of the Swingers and hit our 14 km mark. How appropriate. Leap from a platform 10 feet up, grab a bar, swing to hit the bell then plummet into 14ft deep waters. Not for me. So I take the chance to loosen my laces, expel some gravel from my shoes, hey there's Michael - Holy crap that's scary. But I'm proud of him, I'm spent just from watching. 3 km to go. 

Another loop and some logs to propel ourselves over - Lumber Jacked. This is where I got the nice bruise on my belly. We're exhausted. We go up a hill...flat....up more.... loop... King of the Mountain - some hay bails to climb over, slide down... another down hill now. Then up again... then down....second last obstacle - Balls to the Wall. Upper body, think gym class ropes, up and over the wall. I attempt it, and realize I'm on empty. I need to conserve what little I have left to get through this last lag. I watch Michael power through his aches and do it. We hit 16km as we make our way up the last hill. We get high-fived by volunteers waiting to cheer us on. They promise it's the last hill and we're almost there - just 1 more km downhill to go.

We've heaved and huffed with strangers who wanted to give up. Knee pain, back pain, sore feet, blisters. We're a mess. But everyone's convincing each other we got this. We can see the finish line. It's right there. I pass on the last obstacle - Electroshock Therapy. It's done though, we're done.

5:30pm : We finally cross the Finish Line.

We get our T-shirts, our honorary Tough Mudder 2016 Headbands. I'm so relieved. I'm proud, I'm pumped. I'M STARVING. Where's that free protein bar! Ah, there it is. Nom. MMmmmm . Maybe a beer isn't such a good idea right now.... Water. Lots of water. We get our bags. I peel off my shoes and socks and I finally really look at myself. Yuck. Gross. Awesome. Yes. I did it!

MUST TAKE CELEBRATORY SELFIE! 

We get on the bus. Everyone's dirty, exhausted. I'm giddy. I'm proud. I'm overwhelmed with accomplishment. I'm answering texts and other messages, people asking how it went, are we alive, is everything ok. Yes. Everything is good.

One last obstacle, walking from the bus to the car. The pain is setting in. Holy shit my feet ache. The tops and bottoms and toes and soles. All of it. My legs oh my dear sweet legs. Every stride is an ouch. 

Must. Get. To. Car.

There it is! Praise the angels thank you Jesus. I make a sad attempt with wet wipes to clean off some of the dust dirt and mud and get in the car. I chug some water, put the key in the ignition, buckle up and head out. Everyone's pooped. All I want is pizza, and to soak my feet. AND A SHOWER.

The drive home is a breeze, we get home, brag a little - or maybe a lot - to our welcoming party, and hit the showers. Never has a shower felt so good. The mud disappears down the drain and now I can see my battle scars. I have never been more proud of scrapes and bruises. I've been showing them off. I love them. They remind me how hard it was, how tough I was. How tough I am. I can't wait til next year.

Just call me Mudder - Tough. Mudder. 

Just Me

Tough Mudder is in 9 days. And yet I feel like my journey is just starting. Again.

I've been in a weird place these last few months. I've been in a lot of weird places.

I've been in grief. I've been lost. I've been found. I've been lost again. I've been with friends. I've been alone. I've been searching. I've been looking, listening. Seeing. I've done a lot of seeing, and noticing. Observing is a good word. Cataloguing, saving. I've been happy, warm, humbled.

I've felt a lot too. Being in a place, and feeling something, I've learned, are two VERY different things. At my Nonno's funeral, I was IN shock. I was IN grief. I was in a state of sadness... but I didn't feel much. That, I know now, is why I felt compelled to raise money for The Scarborough Hospital Foundation in his memory. That's part of why I'm doing Tough Mudder to honour him. I've said it before, he probably wouldn't understand what Tough Mudder is if he was here, if I were to tell him at one of our family get togethers... but I think now, where he is, he gets it. When I organized the fundraiser lunch, with all the sweets and teas and painting, he wouldn't have understood it if he was still here, but where he is now, when I talk to him and ask for strength, or tell him I miss him, he hears me. He understands.

I've dealt with this before - as a kid. When I was 8, my Nannu died - that's grandad in Maltese. My mom lost her dad long before my dad lost his. It was different, I was sad, I was hurt, I was confused. But I didn't understand. I didn't bare the weight and guilt that adults feel when they lose someone. Kids feel loss differently. I spent so much time with Nannu as a kid, he and my Nanna took us everywhere, and yet, my most vivid memories of him only come from pictures or home videos. I do have one, of us standing at my front door, him standing there in shorts, socks pulled up high, in a collared dress shirt and sweater vest, with his pencil thin mustache and a toothpick hanging from his lip. Waiting. Waiting for me and my brother to get ready so he could drive us and Nanna somewhere - I don't remember where. They took us everywhere, they babysat me when my mom first went back to work, looked after me when my mom was giving birth to my brother, they were so present - but I don't remember him as much as I wish I did. Instead I remember my Nanna, and growing up with her, a strong independent lady who relearned how to drive when she was widowed at 60 so she could continue to explore and enjoy life. That's what I remember.

Anyway, the hard part about losing Nonno is the memories. Thinking of my wedding, dancing with him. Of growing up knowing he was sick, but strong. I can still hear his voice... I can't hear Nannu's. Both realities are sad. They were two very different men, but with like values. They both worked hard, they both loved their families. They both wanted the best for us. They both left behind families who love and miss them very much.

I'm rambling. But I'm learning sometimes it's better to ramble. To rant. To get it all out there. Swimming in these thoughts in my head, alone, isn't always the healthiest thing to do. Yes, sometimes I need my quiet, and even here, writing/typing it all out but not really sharing with anyone in particular... it's not the same as tugging on the sleeve of Mum, or Hubby or Bestie and saying, hey, I need to talk... but this works for me. In it's own way this works for me.

I'm gonna jump here, because I got off topic - sort of. 

Honestly, I'm self editing here - I've finished writing this entry and realized - we're lacking some fluidity here, go back and contextualize for a second. When I write these, I don't know what I'm gonna write, I just write. I let it all out - sometimes I'm surprised at what spills out, but it's all valid, it's all necessary, it's all me. So it may not connect right away, but it all makes sense in my head - bare with me. On to the next thought: 

Last night Michael, hubby dearest, described me in a way I knew was true, but made me think in a way I hadn't really before. We were talking about the future, about family, about kids. I expressed my excitement to one day be a mom, to have a little human call me mommy. I said I know our reality now isn't ready for that, but that it's something I've always wanted very much. He said "Marina, your personality, the kind of person you are, you want to serve, to care for people. You want to mother and nurture, it's who you are".

That's the meat of the conversation there - there was more but it's not what's relevant. What's relevant is his perception of me. It's true. I am that way. And THAT's why I'm not one to tug on someone's sleeve and ask for help. I'm more one to be tugged on, in fact I rarely wait to be asked, I'm jumping in to offer help and guidance and support before people even realize they need it.

That's just me. 

It's not bad. 

It's not wrong. 

It's just me.

There's more to me than being the helper, the protagonist, the hero. There's the needy me. The praise-seeking me. The clingy me. There's independent me, strong me. Self-sufficient me. But there isn't a "I am the only one who matters" me. I'm ok with that. But I've learned with my increased self-awareness lately that, though I'm not the only one who matters, I do matter.

I'm important.
I deserve. 
I am worthy. 

Some people look at these ideas, and think wow, that sounds selfish. That's how I looked at it. 
There's a difference though, between selfish, and self-love. 

Self-love. 

hoo. (that's a big ol' exhale right there - not a sigh, sigh's to me are helpless, pitying, that's not what that "hoo" is. just an exhale.)

Exhale the bad out. 
Inhale the good. 

I accept. I embrace. I am strong. I am bold. I am loved. I can do this. 

I'm still training myself to make these mantras a habit. A reality. I believe in their purpose, in their significance. I am still working on applying them to myself. In saying them out loud and BELIEVING them. Not with my brain, with my heart. Well, with both I guess. 

Yoga is helping. 

I'm not going to go too far into this again but Yoga, specifically Yoga Camp care of Yoga with Adriene has helped immensely. If you're reading this and going - I want this for me - go. Go to the link. Go to her page. Do the camp. It's all you. Seriously it's all on youtube. No driving to class, no fees, no excuses. Do it at home, do it in the park, in your backyard. Find a spot, tune out the world, and get acquainted with Adriene, and with yourself. 

Anyway. 

Yoga is helping. Even if it's only 20 minutes. It grounds me, it helps me remind myself of my intentions for the day. People question why I wake up at 530 "just to do yoga". It's not just to do yoga. It's not a fitness craze. It's to anchor myself. In fact, the whole concept of anchoring myself didn't even come from Adriene or her yoga videos. It came from following The Rock on instagram. 

Yes. 

The Rock. 

Dwayne "Can you smell what The Rock is cookin" Johnson. 

On Instagram. 

Celebrities are super humans. Some of them anyway. I am very selective and methodical in my choices of who to follow. To be inspired. Not jealous. Inspired. 

He wakes up at 4:00 am to anchor himself before his crazy day ahead. His crazy is much different than ours. We think getting up, making breakfast for ourselves, and driving ourselves to work is crazy. He wakes up, works out, and typically has a list of 10 or 12 things to get through before hitting the hay (sometimes for only a few short hours). And most days those 10 or 12 things span across several states, or even countries.

Shit, right?

Suddenly making breakfast for myself doesn't seem that hard.

One day The good ol' Rock posted about his anchor. His gym. For some people its yoga with their pets, and for others its pumping iron. While some just need coffee and contemplation (I just watched Stranger Things ok - you're welcome if you get the reference, if not, just accept it as someone's anchor)

Back to the point: The Rock. Anchor. Grounding. Important.

You know what, I just googled "Rock, instagram, anchor" and I found it under "Rock Shares Inspirational Instagram Post". Perfect.

"You always want to protect the thing that allows you to do what you do. In this case, my "thing" to protect is my training. Regardless of what time zone I'm in, or getting pulled in a thousand different directions or how little sleep I've gotten - I'll always find a way to train, get after it and push thru. Training is my anchor - it centres me and allows me to then work a full 12-14 day of business. Find your anchor. Protect your anchor. And always clean up your own sweat 😉. #CentralIntelligence #WorldPressTour #3Countries #In3Days #GERMANY #OurAnchor" 

How can you not be inspired by that? 

Let yourself be inspired (Inspire, another word I've realized my love for as of late).
Anchor yourself. 

Find what matters.
Do it. 

Do we get it? Do we understand? What's an anchor.

Something you drop off a boat to keep you from floating away.
What are we trying to avoid floating away from?

Ourselves.

Yourself. 

Myself. 

AIYYOOO
EUREKA
AHA!
THERE IT IS!

I'm not crazy I swear. I type how I think ok? But seriously, that's what it is and when I realized that I had the same aha moment, reading an Instagram post by The Rock on my lunch break in my car sipping an Iced Cap.

I was already doing the occasional yoga video, and it took me awhile to finally slap myself (figuratively, not literally, self-love remember?), and just say OK I NEED TO DO THIS NOW, on the regs, every day.

When I got to day 6 of yoga camp, and felt like maybe I'd skip a day, something inside my churned, it twisted and knotted and said NOOOO.

That's when I knew. I knew I needed it . I needed my anchor. I was floating away and I needed to come back to me. It's not that I need to stretch or I need to breath... that wasn't the thought. The thought, the mentality was :

I need to do this because this is something I do for me.

And when a personality type is as focused on everyone else as I am - that's a HUGE breakthrough to have. Realizing: "Shit, doing something just for myself is important too". It's a big deal.

It's helped me identify the weird places I've been. It's helping my exercise self-awareness. Anchoring my day and setting an intention, a purpose, even if it's just "I will have a good day today", is helping me bring things into clear focus. I have a lot to work on still, a lot of self-bettering to do... but I'm proud of the fact that I've made it as far as I have.

I don't know if it's Nonno passing away, or signing up for Tough Mudder, or starting a new job, or breaking my hand. I don't know what sparked this intense desire to be me. But something did. These new perspectives, new lights shining into spaces I didn't know existed before...They sparked and caught and even if it's the littlest of flame right now, I'm adding to it each day. Little by little I find out more about myself, accept more about myself... like kindling.

So in nine days, when I cross the finish line at Tough Mudder, the journey isn't over. 

This is just the beginning.

Managing the Madness

It's August already. Tough Mudder is less than 40 days away.

There's a lot I need to work on still, and continue to improve. I've been working on my mind more than my body the passed couple of weeks, and I need to let myself be proud of that. That's not to say I don't seriously need to kick the physical training into high gear... but my mind has been in serious need of some tender love and care and the passed ten days have been the most up and up I've felt in a while.

I decided to commit to a 30-Day Yoga Camp via YouTube. I've mentioned her with love before, Miss Adriene Mishler, founder and host of Yoga With Adriene . Seriously - if you have not checked her out. Do it. I owe it to my friend Steph, who inspires me in her own wonderful ways, for telling me Adriene even existed. I've tuned in for videos here and there since Steph made her suggestion back in January, but despite (what I thought were) my best efforts, I've yet to stick to it. Adriene has more videos than I know what to do with sometimes (all free by the way) but she has two 30 day sets of practices, one of which is Yoga Camp - and I'm loving every breath of it.

I draw a lot of things from the videos: inspiration, affirmation, light, calm, breath. It's hard to wrap your head around if you can't open your mind to the possibility of feeling good, but once you do - it's truly amazing how connected you can feel to someone whose talking to you through a computer screen, especially when thousands of other people around the world are in the audience with you. Adriene has this way of reading your mind - her intuition is key in making her videos feel so easy. Even if you're shaking and wobbling in and out of poses, she encourages you to laugh at yourself, she grounds you. She's also great at offering different versions of poses to ease the pressure of "trying to get it right". Often I find she calls me out on things, like maybe my tail bone isn't tucked in quite right or I'm anchoring through the wrong foot or I'm falling into a pose instead of holding it strong - and it's freaky deaky but in a good way! Her empathy and ability to read her audience is surreal. And she's so genuine - you can feel it. Her dog makes appearances from time to time, instead of fancy yoga equipment she uses pillows and blankets, and sometimes she sings just for the heck of it. She rhymes for fun, makes silly references but at the end of the day - or should I say at the end of the practice - I leave my mat brighter than I was when I stepped onto it, wanting to be the best version of myself.

People think yoga, and feel they can't because they aren't flexible enough, or can't sit still. Or the house is too noisy or you can't clear your mind well enough.

These are all reasons you SHOULD be doing it. The fact that you don't think you can do it, the fact that you are doubting yourself - is the very reason you need it. And that's how I get myself on my mat. I know my day won't be as bright as it can be, that my mind won't have the same clarity, unless I have my morning pow-wow with Adriene.

I'm not that flexible. In fact I'm stiff and sore and tight in a lot of areas. Almost all the time.
That's why I do yoga.
I fidget. A lot. I'm always shifting my weight or trying to unkink something, or twirling my hair or rubbing my eyes. 
That's why I do yoga.
There's a lot of people under one roof in my house, 6 + pets and frequent guests. Quiet doesn't come easy in my house. Hubby and I have our space, yes, but even still it's us and three pets - a golden retriever and two rambunctious cats - in a basement apartment. Things get crowded, things get loud and hectic. And that's why I do yoga (at 5:30 in the morning lol)
My mind races. Always. I worry about time, having enough, running out, being late. But when I roll out my mat, sit in front of my laptop, and press play, I ignore the clock. Whether it's 10 minutes, 25 minutes, or 50 minute practices. I just go with the flow. I breathe, I stretch, I relax. I recharge. THAT's why I do yoga.

Actually. That's why I do Yoga with Adriene.

She didn't ask me to write this. Now that I'm this far into this post though I might share it with her. I don't plan my posts out, I wing it. Whatever flows through my fingers to the keyboard happens. Today I must have been extra inspired. It was day seven of Yoga Camp today. Each day has a different affirmation or theme. Day 1 was "I Accept". Day 3 was "I Embrace". Today was "I Am Capable".

A different mantra every day with the same underlying goal - to find what feels good. To be there for myself. To love myself. To be aware and mindful, to let go of that which no longer serves me and move forward. Serious stuff right? Well this all comes to fruition while breathing deeply, smiling brightly, and the occasional LOL at whatever cooky thing comes out of my eccentric, charismatic yoga teacher.

So, yes, with Tough Mudder around the corner, the physical training needs a serious notch kick...y'know... kick it up a notch.. same thing. Anyway... Between that and my fundraising craziness, I am so thankful to have found a way to ground myself. I am not cured of craziness, but it's helping me manage it. Which means everything.

32 days left till Tough Mudder. 
23 days left of Yoga Camp. 
three weeks to get pumped, get fit, get ready, for one of the biggest challenges I've ever given myself. 

Bring it on

Refocus

This blog is about more than how much I sweat each day or week. You know that. 
Truthfully, I haven't been here bragging about sweating because most of the sweating I've been doing is thanks to the 40°C humid weather we've been having.

So here's what happened.

I got my cast off, I told you that right? Anyways, I've been busy trying to strengthen it and it's paying off. I can do yoga again. WOOHOO! So happy to be able to downward dog and cat-cow and STRETCH again. I missed feeling strong. With each day I can do a little more, I can open jars and lift groceries again. And I got back into my baking business and SOLD OUT at my last vendor show on the 16th. I was worried I wouldn't be able to do it but when my cast came off early I kept myself on the list and did it. It was hard, my hand still gets tired and sore - and it is still much weaker than my right. I couldn't bake as much as I wanted to, or as much as I apparently could have since I sold every crumb! I was so happy though to be busy again, to be in my element and to feel like me again.

And since I enjoy busy so much - I've been busy putting together a fundraiser event to help my efforts in raising money for The Scarborough Hospital Foundation. That's what this is all about right? For Nonno, for me. I didn't just want to spam people on Facebook asking for donations, so I'm doing something a little different... well two somethings.

First, I've been taking cookie orders as a way to entice people to donate - and it's working! I've baked three orders so far, and at $20 a box that's already a $60 increase in funds raised.
I have another ELEVEN orders to bake this week - That's another $220 ! Almost $300 raised thanks to Chocolate Chip Cookies is awesome!

Second, I'm hosting a Fundraiser Lunch in August and getting all of the details sorted out for a charity event is wild ! Approaching potential sponsors and donors, speaking with the charity and outlining our projected funds, there's so much to do! The event is a month away and I'm running way behind because I let my hand set me back - but it's coming together and I'll be selling tickets starting this week, so I'm equal parts Excited/Nervous to see how that goes. This will be my first really big charity event so i'm definitely distracted with all the planning of that!

But, I do still have my fitness goals. I woke up at 5:30 today. I know I've had a few posts where I brag about something I did...and then didn't do it again after that one time. But my goal is to wake up early every day this week so that I can hopefully start biking to work next week. I just recently biked a real bike ride (you need your hands to ride a bike, brakes and gears and all that) and boy was my muscle memory foggy. My poor legs were jello! I'm hoping biking to work and back every day now til September will get me ready for that 20km course !

So this is me remembering I'm doing this big fitness event in September that I need to be ready for - this is my reminding myself that yes, raising money is important, but the real challenge here is Tough Mudder. 

Snap out of it

It's been a crazy couple of months.



To say the least.



As of yesterday I've been at my "new" job for three months now. In those three months I've signed up for Tough Mudder, lost my grandfather, and broken my hand. It doesn't sound like a whole lot, but I feel like I've been through a lot.
 I'm more used to worrying about everyone else but over the last 12 weeks I've been reflecting on myself more than usual.



I've looked inward a lot, and thrown a lot of what I find out the window. I have a tendency to analyze myself and my feelings and responses so much sometimes that by the end of my reflection time I dismiss myself. In fact, it's usually cut short because I tell myself "this is ridiculous, forget it" and I try to go on to the next thing.



Dismissing things isn't a very good way to deal with them. Obviously. That's why I've been taking so long to get back here writing. I've contemplated coming here to spill my guts several times over the last week but I've been too distracted. I blame the cast because I don't know if it was something else, but I've had some pretty bummy moments over the last month and I didn't want to moan and groan about it here. I did start this blog with the intent of trying to find a positive outlook after all . I was feeling low because I couldn't do anything - or at least I felt that way. Marina and useless don't go well together in the same sentence. If you know me you know I am always buzzing around doing something. If you come to my house I'm cooking or baking or cleaning or something. I'm the planner, the maker, the chef, the cleaner, the mediator, the voice of reason - always. Getting stuck in that cast for 3 weeks turned me into the sleeper, the grumbler, the whiner, the baby, the invalid, the yawner, the sigher, the cryer.



I'm out of the cast now though.



Last week, exactly 3 weeks from the day the cast went on, I was set free. Instead of the projected maximum of 6 weeks of healing time, I was told after 3 weeks in the cast that my hand was healing very well and that it doesn't look like it was broken. Now, I saw the x-ray, I know it was broken, but I'll take the early freedom.


I didn't feel good coming out of it though. They took the cast off and I couldn't believe how heavy my hand felt, despite how small and insignificant it looked. People warned me it would smell, it would hurt, it would ache. The ache was the worst. Ever sleep funny? Wake up with your arm asleep because it was under your head under your pillow all night? Ya, multiply that by 10 and that's where my hand was. Posing for my follow-up xrays was excruciating, the physio exercises killed and I was stuck with sores inbetween my fingers because the emergency doctor who casted my hand didn't wrap my fingers first. The first two days out of the cast were uncomfortable and I had a very hard time being happy to be out of it.



But now a week has gone by and I'm typing this with two hands. It gets sore after a while, I have to massage it every couple of sentences since it cramps up very easily. But I can do it.


I can drive two handed again too, and text. I can turn a doorknob and open a jar (as long as the lid isn't too tight). I can shower comfortably again! I can shampoo and condition and style my hair PROPERLY now that I have two hands again. I can cook dinner for myself and my hubby. I can take care of myself and my home again. It's wonderful.



I have to take a second here though, to shout out to my main man for taking such good care of me. If you know me, you know I am very much the matriarch of our group of friends. I am mom. I take care of everyone. I mother and nitpick and keep everyone organized. I host and spoil and never ask for help - maybe not never... but someone usually has to insist.


Anyway. For the three weeks I was in my cast, my hubby was so awesome. He's always awesome, but this was special. It's not that he never takes care of me or helps with anything - we're a team, obviously we share a lot of our responsibilities - but I was truly humbled to have him do literally everything for me. He didn't just tie my shoes or hook my bra for me. He did more than just cook for me and do dishes. He was patient. He was strong for me when I couldn't be strong for myself. He reassured me that it was ok to ask for help, to be in pain, to be sad and frustrated. He was my rock. He is my rock.



And now my rock is eager to get me back into my training regimen. I'm eager to get back into my training regimen. This is a Tough Mudder blog remember?



This journey has been a crazy one already and I feel like my mind and heart have been working much harder than my body has (except for the whole bone healing thing). My heart has been happy, broken, light, sad, warm and heavy.... my mind has been foggy, stressed, hopeful, worried.... And if I didn't have the Tough Mudder I don't think I'd be able to learn from all of this as openly as I am trying to.


Like I said, this blog was for me to share with you my journey, yes, but it's incentive for me to articulate my thoughts positively. I want to give myself a reason to see the light at the end of the tunnel, the greener grass, the glass full, that sort of thing. If my Nonno had died before I signed up for this, I don't know what I would have done with myself... If I broke my hand without the motivation to get better for TM... I'm not sure what I would've used to drive myself... But I'm thankful I can use TM to push myself now. 



So that's what I'm doing. That's why I did my first bit of yoga (a hands-free yoga session with Yoga with Adrienne!) this morning. Just breathing my yoga breaths cleared my head in a way I have not felt in some time. I've been walking Moose again, with my good hand lol - I wanted to run this week but I've been sick (did I forget to complain about that?). I won't sob about being sick... but it sucks - but it's a less gruelling delay than a broken hand so maybe that's why I didn't give it much thought here. Anyway, when this sick is gone, and I'm home from my long weekend stay in Wasaga Beach (excited to be at the beach without a cast !) training recommences. Doing yoga for the first time in a month reminded me how quickly my muscles lose their flexibility and strength. I can't slack anymore.



No more moping
No more slacking
No more excuses

It's just a matter of how ...

It's day 15 in my cast and I guess I'm used to it now...
I still don't like it... but I'm learning to manage life with a cast...
There's a lot I can't do because of the cast though and that is frustrating for sure. 


I had this super optimistic outlook at first, telling myself I'd be running and doing handless yoga and continuing with my training without a worry...But the last two weeks have been rougher than I anticipated. Keep in mind this is my first time breaking something. I just typed out a list of things I can't do then deleted it - I don't want to complain. This is only 6 weeks of my life, it could be worse. If I focus on everything I can't do for 6 weeks I'm going to be pretty miserable....
I might not be able to open the peanut butter jar myself but I can still hike and walk. I might not be able to ride my bike but I can still sit outside and enjoy a sunny day. I may struggle to get ready in the morning but at least I'm awake and blessed with another day. It can always be worse... It could've been my right hand. 

When I tried running a the first week with the cast I was shocked at how much it hurt my hand to run....My hopeful ignorance convinced me the cast would protect from pain... it did not. The impact running up from my feet throughout my body as I took each step was too much and my run quickly turned into a walk. I do want to give it another shot soon - Maybe after some rested healing I'll be able to get a few runs a week in....

When I tried yoga I was reminded of the weight of the cast and the awkward way it impairs my ability to extend my arm. I also learned more about just how connected my muscles are...I was feeling stretches in my hand when I least expected it... the tingling of muscles working in my neck and shoulders and down through my arm radiated outwards and it was weird at first. A big part of yoga is self-awareness and awareness of the body so having an injury like this was interesting to say the least.

I haven't attempted any one-handed push ups or anything like that but I'm definitely building strength in my arms passively. My right hand and arm are working twice as hard and my left arm is always holding this cast up so it's not exactly a session with a personal trainer... but it's something.....


If you haven't noticed yet I work through my thoughts as I type... there's no rough draft or picky proofreading and editing. So forgive the scatter-brain approach here. When I start these entries out its usually because I need to rant, to reflect. I start with a negative thought, a sad self-pitying weight, and then my self-awareness, sense of reason, and persistent back-of-head voice lead me to a version of my thought that ends up being a little less whiney.


So am I pissed I broke my hand?
Heck yes. 
Am I going to cry about it for 6 weeks straight? 
No
Am I going to have some complaints along the way? 
Well ya. 


I just feel like I made so many promises to myself that I cant keep now... I already felt like I wasn't doing enough for Tough Mudder... and now I've hit a six week speed bump...And I was starting to do more with my baking business but now I've had to cancel my vending shows... I've had to take a break from teaching Paint Nite too. I don't know what the universe wants from me...

I was getting antsy, bored, lost... So I slowly took things on, first Paint Nite in February, then Tough Mudder. Then with Nonno's passing I was driven to take Tough Mudder that much more seriously. I filled more of my time with my baking stuff in hopes to occupy myself and keep my mind busy. I got next-level busy all at once, embraced a few relaxing weekends and then bam... broken hand = 6 weeks of nothing.



So is this a sign to slow things down?
Is it a challenge to power through? 
That's my main struggle right now. 
I try to tell myself I have to find balance... but even that is hard... 

I try to look at every awkward one-handed attempt at things as a test of patience and perseverance...Try to see my inability to bake/cook alone as an opportunity to share something I enjoy more closely with my husband (he has to do 90% of it, I coach him through it)

I'm still bummed though. It's very up and down.

I don't know what to do. 

I know I still have to make each day count for something.
It's just a matter of how ...

Well Shit.....

This experience has had a lot of "firsts". 

When I signed up I knew I'd do my first real push up, run my first full mile... I've done my first 20km+ bike ride, I've started my first blog...

And I broke my first bone!

On the weekend I broke my hand...trying to do a friggen cartwheel. 

I mean really.... COME ON!

Seriously though, it hurt. 

A lot. 

I thought I just sprained it initially, and I actually thought it was a wrist injury not my hand. I've never done a cartwheel before. I tried something new and I failed. I could just say oh ya I was doing cartwheels and landed funny oops. But when someone asks "OH SHIT what did you do to your hand?!" I shrug and say "I tried to do a cartwheel and it didn't go so well". I'm actually impressed with myself for trying so hard I broke my hand. I went all in - figured k if I'm going to launch my legs into the air and over my head I'll probably need some force behind it. If not, I'd end up doing the same dizzy-drunk somersault flail I usually end up in when trying to cartwheel in the past. 

It happened Saturday night. I iced it. I wrapped it in a tensor bandage and continued on with my weekend. Sunday morning I was achey but ok, didn't pay much attention to it. See we were at our friends' place in Alliston and since I had never broken a bone before I had no idea whether I was actually in as much pain as I thought or if I was just being a baby. I shrugged it off, accepted everyones words of encouragement, and moved on. 

Sunday I saw my mom and she had a different opinion. She didn't like how swollen it was and suggested I see a doctor if it continues. My Dad said I should go get X-rays because it could be broken. I said it was unlikely because I could move my fingers and it didn't hurt enough anymore to be broken.

I woke up Monday morning (yesterday) in the worst pain thus far. 

Either I wrapped it way too loosely or I slept on it but more bruising was showing up and the swelling, though it had subsided a bit thanks to ice, was back with a vengeance. So I decided I'd make an appointment for "sometime this week" and "hopefully everything will be fine"

I got lucky and saw a doctor at my office at 9am yesterday. I had left work (I start at 730) thinking "yeah I just have a doctor's appointment no problem - brb!" but I didn't get back until 3:00!!!!

I waited a lot yesterday, in several different rooms and chairs. I got asked the same set of questions more times than felt necessary and I met a lot of people equally as embarrassed as I was to be suffering a silly playtime injury. 

It doesn't really matter exactly where I sat or for how long. I got referred to Emerg by my family doctor and was there most of the day. I hated being there, I felt sick, grossed out, spooked. I hate surgeries and blood work and needles. It makes me want to cry when I see people in pain, worse if it's kids. The number of seniors there reminded me quickly of Nonno and his time in the hospital. I had a moment while I was sitting in Urgent Care and realized "shit, Nonno's last conscious thought was in a room like this, surrounded by a whole bunch of people waiting to find out what's wrong with them". I didn't want to think about it and luckily I was interrupted by my name being called. 

I was greeted by a friendly, smiley, pleasant nurse. 

I understand nurses play an especially challenging role in the emergency care area(s) of the hospital and I totally empathize with how insanely stressful their jobs must be, but I was so happy to see a smile that I thanked her for her kindness. I made sure to point out that I know its not easy to stay light in a role like that and I thanked her for brightening my day. She seemed to appreciate the gratitude. 

When I moved to the next waiting chair I sat next to a little girl. 

She was about 6, and had hurt her neck on the trampoline. She was so poised and articulate for her age. She was with her Nana (who couldn't have been much older than my own mum) and we all chatted. Alissa showed me her stuffed turtle named Rosie, and her Shopkins. She listed all the characters she's collected and asked if I had a daughter who liked Shopkins too. I explained that my babies were my dog and two cats and showed her pictures. She asked her Nana "Hey Nan, could I please use your phone to show her Zoe?" and she showed me a picture of her little dog saying "come on, isn't she just the cutest little thing?" We were interrupted by the Doctor who came to give Alissa and her Nana the results of her Xray and watching this little girl listen to the doctor even though he spoke mostly to her grandmother left me in awe. When she was dismissed from the hospital she shook my hand and I thanked her for brightening my day - she said you're welcome I hope your hand feels better and I smiled. 

3 hours later I walked out of the hospital with a plaster cast and a recovery time of 3-6 weeks. I learned it wasn't my wrist but in fact a main - though small - bone in my hand between my thumb socket and pointer finger. The second metacarpal bone in my left hand broke. I looked at the Xray and got to see the break, identified by very fine stepping visible in the bottom third of the bone. That explains the crack I heard when I fell... In 3 weeks I follow up at the fracture clinic to get another x-ray and better cast. 

So how bout that Tough Mudder training, eh?

Well, this itself is a test of pain tolerance and mental grit right? I broke my left hand so I still can write and paint just fine. I'm typing this one-handed because moving my fingers on my left hand isn't recommended - that and I can't lay my wrist flat anyway so its easier with one hand. I won't be able to bike much - if at all, upper body training is going to be pretty lopsided and yoga is going to be tricky when it comes to any poses that involve holding myself up with my hands.

But I can't just give up. I have to keep at it. 

So this week I'm getting used to having this cement block at the end of my arm. I'm finding out what I can do without hurting myself and what I definitely shouldn't. Then its time to get back. I can run - no excuses there (darn). I can do yoga as long as I either skip or find variations of poses that require pressing my hand to the ground. I don't think biking is a great idea unless it's leisurely around the neighbourhood but it's something. 

If I break my streak of activity entirely it'll be THAT much harder to come back to it in July. I only have 3 full months left before the Tough Mudder in September, I need to make the most of that time and prove to myself I can do it - broken hand or not. 

I Will

I never know how to start these things. In fact today I just opened up this window and decided I was going to write a blog - I'm just feeling good and need to share I guess!

Since this week is a short work week thanks to Victoria Day on Monday, I figured nows as good a time as any to restart my morning routine before work.
So yesterday I woke up at 5:30 and took the dog for a run. Moose (my dog) loves getting up with me in the morning, no matter what time it is. He definitely makes it easier to get excited about going out that early. The weather helps too! I didn't even need a coat which is awesome.

So yesterday I woke up early, ran a mile (and by ran a mile I mean I ran parts of a mile and walked the rest because I still can't run a mile), did a quick yoga session then off to work. After work yesterday hubby and I went for a nice walk with the dog and enjoyed the weather, then I painted for a few hours. It was a long day but it felt good to have a different kind of energy throughout the day. 

So I did it again today. 

I woke up at 5:25 (realized I need the extra five minutes to pet the cats before Moose and I head out for our run) and went out with Moose. It wasn't as sunny today but we did alright. The hard part about trying to run in the morning is actually running with Moose. He's not used to running on a leash, and it kinda cramps my style when he sniffs for minutes at a time before doing his morning business, but can't let myself leave him at home while I go out. So he'll practice just like me and we'll learn together. I had a hard time keeping a good pace today, and had a longer stretch of rest time (walking) at one point than I would have liked, but I did it. I'll just have to do better tomorrow.

I did my yoga this morning too. I might have to wake up a little earlier so I can fit in some longer sessions but for now I'm just doing quick morning routines. I use youtube videos and watch Yoga With Adriene's channel. I've mentioned her before I think; she's got so many videos to choose from but most are 30-40 minutes and right now I only have a short 20 minutes . It's enough to do one of her few morning routines but one of my goals is to roll out of bed a little earlier eventually. 

I need to incorporate more strengthening exercises. Sure I need to be able to run between obstacles, but I need to be able to tackle the obstacles too! So today after work hubby and I are going to do some weights and at-home exercises to do some upper body work outs and get my muscles working. I want to start including strength exercises a few times a week and eventually move into daily practices as well.

There's a lot I can't do yet. But I know if I just stick with it instead of falling out of routine again, it's possible. I will be able to run a mile. I will be able to carry myself across the monkey bars. I will be able to pull myself up over a wall. Whatever it is I just need to work hard, deal with the pain and strain, and keep on keepin' on. 

And I WILL !

PS: I forgot to post pictures from my busy busy weekend on the last post. Hiking and biking in Niagara was awesome and I loved it and I want to go back again soon. And biking along Lakeshore on Monday was awesome too! Looking forward to many more activities in the sun this summer, we're just getting started :D

I would bike 500 miles and I would bike 500 more....

So this weekend I biked 41 miles. 

41 miles. that's 65 kilometres. 

Now I didn't do it all in one shot. half was in Niagara during a little getaway with hubby and the other half was today along the waterfront trail on Lakeshore in Toronto. 

When we plan little trips like the one we took this weekend to Niagara Falls, we try to incorporate hiking and/or biking when we can. During our stay we walked everywhere, hiked the Niagara Glen, and biked the Niagara Recreation Trail. Well, we biked most of the Trail, we were about 10 miles short of completing the trail when we turned around. It's a 32 mile paved path that runs from Niagara-on-the-Lake to Niagara Falls and runs along the Niagara River. 

I have never biked along side so many other people riding their bikes all at once in my life. It was very cool! And annoying. But it was a good experience considering the Tough Mudder course is going to be full of other people clustered and moving in the same direction. It was interesting to see the different varieties of people biking the trail too. Seeing pros outfitted in the best gear riding alongside moms on their 20 year old walmart bike pulling her toddler in a little tent trailers was really something. I used it as motivation when I wanted to swear really loud and call a cab lol.

There was a part of the trail we hit shortly after taking a snack break. That lag of the trail started with a really fun downhill stretch that involved little to no peddling and the wave of bikers cycling down the road in a huge cluster was really cool. 

Not so cool on the way back. 

The incline actually started well into the residential area at the "bottom" of the hill. I started clicking through gears, scrambling to make this as mechanically easy as possible and warned Michael this could take awhile. He was patient, talked me through the gears, and bribed me with a promise of dinner on Clifton Hill before we head back to Brampton. I knew I had to do this but the bribe helped, and I made it up that hill without dismounting my bike once.

I can't explain the elevation of this hillside. But it was long, and steep, and near the end of our ride. I was exhausted but I knew I had no choice but to just get back to the car. We had checked out for the weekend and worked in a ride before heading home, so finishing this ride meant a long drive home too. It was a difficult journey back but I was pretty impressed with myself when I rolled up next to the car, got off my bike and realized I hadn't keeled over and died but had actually made it .

And for some reason I decided to do it to myself again today.

It's the long weekend. Some people go away, some people go to the cottage and relax, some garden. We biked 22miles .

It was 27 degrees in Brampton today, 22 by the lake in Toronto. We spent the day in the sun riding along Lakeshore between Etobicoke Creek and Exhibition Place. We stopped just short of the Ex grounds, and set up camp for an hour or two snacking and playing catch and frisbee. The ride itself was crowded, a little confusing, and I fell behind a lot - I was just so exhausted, but I kept a decent pace for myself and didn't give up. Although I have to point out it's really difficult to give up when you're a long walk from the car....

Biking back felt easier. But I was burnt. I'm gonna have a sweet tan on my forearms tomorrow. I'm exhausted, but proud of myself for what I did this weekend. I never did make that work out schedule for myself, but I am going to try to wake up and do a mile run/walk followed by some yoga each morning this week and see how that goes. I need a routine! 

Maybe then these little day trips won't be so exhausting!