When I was in my teens and twenties, I was fit. Not just fit, but super fit, like one of those annoying fit people you wished you could be, but just glared at instead. I was one of those, a long, long time ago. Since I rode 24-hour mountain bike races, cross-country skied across provinces and worked out regularly at the gym (yes, I’m bragging because I actually used to do cool stuff), I never thought I would ever have to worry about what would happen to my abs after I had kids – or my butt, or my thighs.
Like many busy moms, I put fitness on the back burner after kids. Not on purpose, but just by necessity. And lack of sleep. And overall exhaustion. As each year passed, I got more and more out of shape. And saggy. And fat.
Mind you, I did try to get back on the bike, the treadmill, the rower, and in the pool in between kids and schedules, but nothing ever stuck. Someone would get sick and it would derail me for a week, then two, then a month would go by and I’d be starting all over again.
Last September, when the skating and hockey season started up again, I got a Fitbit for my birthday and vowed to use the running track while Sydney was on the ice. I’d be in the same building, and just think, I could get back in shape!
I went to the track… twice. In a whole year. That’s it. On Mondays, I was too tired because skating started at 8pm and frankly, 8pm is just too late for me to exercise (never mind that Sydney is out there doing it). Tuesdays I was at a different arena for hockey… with no track. Then the baseball indoor training sessions started, so on Wednesdays I had Reid with me for half of Sydney’s session, then Rich would pick him up for baseball practice on his way home from work and then, well, with only a 1/2 hour left, there just wasn’t enough time. Then Rich’s work schedule changed and he was commuting downtown every day, which meant Thursdays I had Reid the whole time Sydney was on the ice. I’m pretty sure they don’t let young kids up on the track, although I never really asked, so may as well forget Thursdays. Fridays were often a hockey game, or a night off, and for goodness sakes, I needed a night off once in a while! And Saturdays… well, by Saturday, I had actually forgotten the plan to go to the track and just sat at the rink and had a coffee instead.
So here I am again, at age 44, chubby and out-of-shape. And the sad thing is, despite my jeans being tight, and a bit uncomfortable, it really doesn’t bother me. Well, it does, but I can quickly get past it. I’ll complain and sigh, tug at my jeans and complain, then have a glass of wine and forget about it. Of course, my health is always my main concern yet my blood pressure is low, cholesterol is low and bloodwork is stellar. So, no push there. The Fitbit I’ve had for a year has recorded me at the exact same weight as when I started. These days I use it more for tracking how little I sleep, and telling time.
So, what’s the plan? I lug goalie gear around 4-5 times a week (lift weights), bend and twist myself into a pretzel tying up goalie pads and skates (yoga), and hustle from the coffee place to the seats at the rink (speed walk) so I can collapse in an exhausted heap. And about once a week, Rich and I sit on the front porch with a glass of wine, talk about the day and what our plans are for implementing some sort of exercise routine. We call it the never-never plan.