A Day In The Life. January 2014
Gratitudes & Small Graces

Getting Fit {The 7 Realms}


We’ve all heard the depressing statistics:  Americans are the fattest, most outta shape people on the planet.  Despite being privileged enough to have access to a vast variety of foods

(some claim due to this vast variety….)

many of us are dangerously obese. 

Heart disease, diabetes; all sorts of other weight related illness are rampant.

The weight loss industry rakes in heaven knows how much money a year as people desperate to lose weight and get in shape (whatever that means in our youth and looks crazed culture), sign up for this eating program, join that gym, purchase those pills, and generally look for a quick fix.

{I hate to tell you this but I’m begun to suspect there isn’t one…}

Of all of the Seven Realms the Physical is probably the one I enjoy the least and thus find the most challenging.

I don’t like exercising.  I don’t like sport.

{And I shall never understand people who do like sport.

Participating in sport is like exercising, only with people watching and very possibly yelling at you.

Why do so many enjoy torturing themselves in such a fashion?}

Despite my dislike of exercise, I do recognize its importance and have done it sporadically for years.

When I was younger during those PK (pre kidlets) days I could eat masses of anything I wanted, (no really, masses), and always feel secure those skinny jeans would slide on easy.

And they always did. 

Till I had Baby Number One.

And then, exactly a year and two weeks later, Baby Number Two.

Around ten month following his birth I made the utterly horrifying and somehow entirely unexpected discovery that

I Was Fat.

After wallowing in tear soaked self misery for a solid week , (maybe two), I immediately limited my eating, exercised daily, and in just over three months lost every unwanted pound (thirty or so).

Then I had Baby Number Three.

This time it took a little longer to get back into shape (and those skinny jeans), but I eventually did it and things went along just fine until…

I had Baby Number Four.

And after that it was all over and I seemed doomed to eternal Fatness.

Forever.  (That’s what eternal means).

This was depressing.

So I went ahead and had Baby Number Five, figuring that my Being In Shape gig was over anyhow (and thinking having one more child a most excellent idea); I packed those skinny jeans into a bin along with all those cute ‘lil tops and stuck that bin as deep as I could behind everything else in the storage room.

Which, in retrospect tells us something…

I hadn’t really given up.

Cause if I had don’t you think I would have gotten rid of all those clothes?  Given them to goodwill, chopped them into pieces for use as “garage rags”

{evidently “garage rags” are something required on a regular basis in the garage.

I’m afraid to ask why…}

The thing is I didn’t.  I kept those clothes because somewhere deep in the furthest corner of my mind I imagined that just maybe I would Get Into Shape & Wear Them Again.

{Some may object at this point by mentioning said clothes would be out of fashion.  Anyone who knows me or is familiar with this blog knows I believe Fashion Is Relative.

In other words I wear what I like.}

Though in order to wear a piece of clothing (fashionable or not) it must fit.

So here I am, years later.  Baby Number One is over twenty years old, Baby Number Five is ten, and some of those packed away clothes fit and some don’t.

{And honestly some of them make me look like a hooker and I can’t imagine why on earth I ever wore them…..}

And, after a back injury which put me in a soft chair on meds and heating pads for four months I’m up and running on the treadmill with all the Christmas goodies and candy either gone or firmly Put Outta My Sight.

And the weight set has been dusted off and the workout and yoga dvds placed prominently upon the bedroom desk (rather than hidden in the cupboard) and I’m Beginning Again.

Because isn’t that what we all have to do?

If you fall off your eating program.  If you bail on the gym or that yoga class.  If you find yourself with a back so messed up you can barely move and require three epidural shots and a buncha (on going) physical therapy just to function,

take a deep breath and Begin Again.

Begin moving, begin eating right

(you know you know how.  And if you really don’t, it’s easy to learn.  Check these out for a start).

Hold yourself accountable.  Keep a food journal, a workout journal.  I just jot it all down in my daytimer

(yes, the old timey sort made of actual paper!)

But there are tons of websites and apps available free or cheap and easy to use.

I’ve created my own personal goal (and, naturally, hashtag) #LisaWalksAroundPlanetEarth.

{Did you know it’s 25,000 miles at the equator.  Much more on that continuing story another time.}

Whatever you decide to do – running, pilates, yoga, do make an effort to embrace the physical.

I know it’s painful, boring, repetitive, sweaty, tiring…

…..did I mention boring and painful?

But put it on your 7 Realms Over 52 Weeks worksheet and get going.

And please follow along with me at #LisaWalksAroundPlanetEarth.

It’s lonely out there and I get lost a lot.

#LWAPE collage