Have you ever seen that meme? Isn't it true though? I am so lucky to be surrounded (mostly) by really fabulous human beings: thoughtful, considerate, nice to me, grateful, hard working, self starting, optimistic, upbeat and HONEST. Honesty is important... especially when you're being honest with yourself.
Every now and then I am put through the fire though. I hate. Yep - It is true. I become a hater. Then I walk through silent doldrums.
I remember someone told me what some other person was doing to them, and I said, "Wow - that person hates you! What ever did you do to him/her?"
... Sometimes, probably all the time, you don't want to know... And I wish I didn't know.
Hope you all have been having a greatly successful week of working out and eating right! I have had some questions on weight loss and nutrition. Of course, I ALWAYS emphasize following your body - really taking the time to tune in to what your body is REALLY telling you and how you can treat your body right! I think attending some of these outside workshops will certainly give YOU additional insight into how your body responds to working out and eating right - and how you can use that MATH & SCIENCE to get to where YOU really want to be.
So, I'd like to tell you a little about the Energy Bar, Snap Kitchen AND give you a few helpful links to help you on your weight loss and healthy eating journey.
THIS SATURDAY at 11AM with Victoria -> (RSVP today or tomorrow please please :) ) How to improve performance, heal from injury, stay injury free and get the most from your body and workouts: Energy Bar - with video: http://theenergybar.com Address: 640 S Washington St #180, Naperville, IL 60540, Phone:(630) 517-5944
Another great upcoming workshop:
Saturday, March 6th at 3pm with Ellen -> SNAP! Kitchen - downtown Naperville off Chicago Avenue - for healthy "fast food": http://www.snapkitchen.com
This place will give you great ideas also for how you can pre-pack and pre-prepare your nutrition for the week so that it's EASY for you to staying alignment with your HEALTH GOALS.
Body Mass Index calculator for calculating caloric intake v weight loss and weight maintenance:
Nutrition guidelines for clean eating: http://www.choosemyplate.gov
One thing I have been reading about in my CE studies for personal training is building a SUPPORT SYSTEM. I remember when I was about 8 years old I told my family I wanted to be vegetarian. It was actually exactly when I really started to put together where our meat came from - and it wasn't Jewel. I also started learning about health and cholesterol and it seemed like a win win situation - and that is exactly what I explained to my mom. My mom looked at me in the face and smiled politely and said, "Sure, whatever I wanted to do." She would be supportive of me.
Every night I would have to come inside for dinner at 6 or I'd be in trouble. That night I came in, washed my hands and sat down at the table enthusiastically talking about playing kickball or whatever with my friends and how I Could Not Wait for dinner (my mom always was a good cook!). My mom proceeded to plate the spaghetti and then pour the meat sauce... wait.. what? Mom, this is meat sauce.
"Noo," she said.
“Yes, mom. I can SEE the ground hamburger.”
“Oh, that?" <loving chuckle> "Thats NOT meat.”
THATS WHAT SHE SAID! That's not meat???? I could clearly see it was meat! Why do people do this? I don't know. at the end of the day and for the following 24 years I would have to watch out for mom sabotaging my vegetarian ways. Mom... oh mom.
Now- no, I do not think my mom had ill intent for me and my journey - I think she just didn't think I should be a vegetarian or maybe it was bad for my health or maybe that I didn't take it seriously. I shall never know. What I DO know is that as much as I loved her, she was NOT going to be my support group and cheerleader for this life choice. This made me really strongly focus on MY path and, eventually, I found a support system. It was always an uphill battle - but an educational one. No one ever benefitted from something that just came easily. I wouldn't trade the struggle for anything.
Okay - that's it for now! Hope to see you soon.
Cheers to your health!
Attendance BOOST and web11:54 AM
Hope this note finds you well. I meant to send this out yesterday, but did not get a chance. Because... Life, that's why.... AND that's also WHY I wanted to send you this message as well.
Listen to Jim's music: www.jimgreenmusic.com
Hot Yoga Naperville: 400 South Main Street, Naperville, IL 630.428.9644 www.hotyoganaperville.com
Abhyaasa Yoga Studio: 124 Webster, Naperville, IL 630.358.9642 abhyaasayoga.com
Live Work Yoga: 1470 North Milwaukee Ave., Chicago, IL buzz "HERE NOW" www.richloganyoga.com
Email Michelle: Michelle@MichelleLeBlancYoga.com
It's always good to love what you do and do what you love! #followyourbliss
ACRO YOGA JAM JAN 24 2-4PM at Hot Yoga Naperville: An acro yoga jam is a free style yoga jam that allows people interested in acro yoga and partner yoga time to practice. Guided.
MUSIC + FLOW : Feb 6, 530-730pm at Hot Yoga Naperville
$30 preregister, $35 walk in.
Physical movement through vinyasa and live music to burn away physical and mental blocks led by Michelle LeBlanc, RYT and Jim Green. Jim Green is a percussive acoustic guitarist who has recently completed his seventh album, True North. He is a world traveler and incredible being. (More about Jim: http://www.jimgreenmusic.com . More about Michelle www.michelleleblancyoga.com .)
[As reprinted from FB and ethereal beings blog]
It's not going to be relaxing and it's not going to be normal ... my last words before leaving in case anyone got any fancy ideas about me going to Hawaii for a vacation.
Arrive. No plan.
Sam searches for an uber sans luck.
Michelle walks over to the lone tourist bus,
“Hey, can I ask you sumpin’?”
“Wuts up?” says Nelly, a local bus driver no more than 25 years old.
Nelly, totally ghetto gangster with hushed expletives, tattoos ablaze from knuckles to neckline, new to professional bus driving stopped to say hi to friends, made the delay totally worth the people watch.
She hustles us all the way to Pensacola Street where we're staying even though she was supposed to drop us in the hotel district at Ala Moana.
Her 2 year old girl just broke her collarbone also. I told her she'll heal up in no time. Definitely a kindred spirit.
Selena welcomes us graciously to her small apartment down a few steps- single small bathroom, chickens outside, hot, no A/C…
so while scrounging around not wanting things to go to waste, I made this!
Broccoli mashed potatoes:
2-3 c broccoli
5 toes garlic, peeled
1/4 c water
>>> steam the garlic and broccoli w/ salt, pepper & tumeric until bright green and soft but not overcooked
>>> put broccoli and garlic mix in food processor
>>> add avocado, plain soy milk, one pat Kerry gold butter and a dash sea salt if needed (to taste)
>>> process until smooth
in the other large cast iron skillet we have:
4 pcs organic chicken (thigh or breast)
(First cook covered)
Lay the chicken on top 2 large chopped garlic toes, and about a cup eggplant slices in strips and sprinkle a bit of tumeric on top
Sea salt and pepper to taste and turn a few times
When the chicken is about done, lid comes off to brown chicken a bit, then add 1/2 c apple cider and squeeze one lime, reduce a bit for a nice thick gravy
As you're reducing, steam a pile of power greens on top which will wilt in the steam
Yum! A nice, healthy meal!
The cancer treatment had left her empty. Her bones like swiss cheese as she now suffered from osteoporosis. Her hair was gone except for random clumps, so she just shaved her head bald and wore a scarf. She swore that when she passed a mirror, her skin looked greenish-purplish which was not her color scheme at all. All she wanted to do was suck on sugar cubes. The doc told her she couldn’t have sugar. Sugar, she said, fed the cancer and now she must be very careful of her diet.
She couldn’t think anymore. She needed sugar. She pulled a mushy bag of marshmallows from the cabinet. They were all stuck together. In went the fork to scoop up a mass of marshmallow which would head directly to the gas stove for roasting. The gooey goodness slid across her tongue as she slid down the wall to sit on the floor enjoying every molecule of sweetness dripping down around the tines. The depression was setting in. She spent the last 3 years bed ridden (or bathroom bound depending on proximity to her treatment). Now she was mentally paralyzed, body weakened. She beat it, but it killed her doing so.
Days passed. When you are depressed and processing life, days can pass and you can find yourself at the end of the week without having really done anything you wanted or needed to do. “You’ll never run again,” they said. “You can’t have any children,” they said. “You need to get plenty of rest,” they said. “Don’t do anything strenuous.”
Don’t do anything strenuous? She pondered this lifeless existence blankly while biting her apple. Fuck that. Fuck them. She’s going to do some fucking strenuous shit. She didn’t know what, but spending her life avoiding things, good things, because it was risky or because ‘maybe’ it would put a strain on her was just too sad and lonely. She didn’t beat this cancer so she could be afraid to cross the street for fear of getting hit by a bus.
The very next day after work, she walked into the gym. She decided to just remove the head scarf. I mean, it was just going to get in the way or get sweaty anyway. Circuits, she thought: kettle bells, suicides, ropes, planks. She knew what to do. Ten minutes later, she was puking in the toilet.
Maybe she didn’t know what to do. I mean, it had been three years. More than three, really, if you include the beginning of her illness. The doctors hypothesized it was because she was so close to Hiroshima when the bomb went off. She was 14 at the time. It was rare for Japanese women to have cancer these days because of their healthy lifestyle, the American doctors believed. And now, here she is almost 16 years later. She was too young to be immobile.
She came back to the gym the next day, and the next. Slowly but surely, she grew more adept at her workout. New Mexico in the 1960’s was stark and in the very early day it was cool enough so she could walk. Soon she was walking a few miles a day before work and going to the gym after work. Her walks became jogs. The fresh scent of sagebrush in the cool morning mountain air was delightful. Looking back on her small but mighty accomplishments, she smiled brightly to herself while opening her bottle of water and taking a satisfying sip.
“Hey,” a gentleman said.
“Hey,” she replied.
“Mind if I sit down?”
“Uh, no. Not at all. Have a seat.”
“I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but I’ve noticed you out here every day,” he said. “Are you training for something? I mean, are you in the military or something? Not a lot of women run, you know. Well, anyway, I’m sorry for being so nosy. I really just meant to say I admire you.”
“Haha... well thanks. No, I’m not in the military. I just want to live my life fully,” she replied. “You see, I just recovered from a really long struggle with cancer. I want to get my health back. These small challenges keep me going.”
“Well, I don’t know if you would be interested, but a group of us run the canyon every year.”
Days went by. Now all she could think about was this handsome native fellow who sat down to talk to her. It was pretty unusual. Maybe because she looked like she could be native, he decided to talk to her. She blended in well when she came to document the tribal people as an anthropologist from the very beginning. It may even be part of the reason she got the job: her dark hair, eyes and skin. Often the native people did not want to give anything to the white people - so much so they often wouldn’t even speak English.
She began to research the run in the canyon and Phantom Ranch. It seemed pretty remote. It was 24 miles across, 8250 feet high on the North side, 7260 feet high on the South and about 2400 feet in elevation at the bottom where the ranch is.
Twenty-four miles. That’s almost a marathon. Women don’t do things like that. She was out of her mind for even thinking about it. That guy was out of his mind for even suggesting it. Was that some kind of pick up line? Who picks up women by suggesting crazy outlandish things like that?
She paced back and forth in her trailer thinking about what to do and how absurd the thought is. I mean, she was just doing this running thing for her health after all. She wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone. Plus, she IS a woman. She really was just walking fast - I mean it started as just a walk in the morning to start her day right. Who was this guy anyway? The nerve he had. How inappropriate he would even suggest this.
She began training. Her morning runs grew longer and longer. Soon she had to save herself for weekends because she was now running 2-3 hours at a time. She maintained her kettle bell training and weights. She probably started consuming 5000 calories a day - she was ravenous.
The gentleman would watch her from a distance. He lived high on the hill and could see her efforts from above. Every now and then he would go into the town and he would nod a head as they passed each other in the store or at a cafe. She would become frustrated at this and although she would behave politely, she did not want him to know what she was up to or that she cared for his suggestion at all. Coy, she called it in her mind.
One day she decided she wanted to take a look at this North Rim. She packed up her station wagon and headed out on the 9 hour trip. She gazed into the vastness of the Grand Canyon. Grand it is, she thought. So humbling. She booked herself a room at the Grand Canyon Lodge where she could relax for a few days and hike around, study maps and really consider what it is she would be in for if she decided to admit she wanted to do the run. “No one, especially a guy, ever really challenged me before like that,” she thought. “He was either very bold or very rude.” And she just couldn’t decide. Even so, there was something about it that gripped her mind.
A few days later, she returned home.
“Hey,” a mans voice called from behind her.
“Oh. Hey,” she said... coyly.
“What did you think?” he asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You went there, didn’t you? You went to look at the canyon.”
She began to walk away. She felt her cheeks turning pink. The Tanoan accent in his speech reverberated in her mind as she walked away. He trotted up along side of her.
“We’ll see you again out there in a few months. Oh, and if you want, come by in two days. 5am. We’re meeting for an easy run.”
With that, he was off.
By now, she was easily running 20 miles. But she knew this man ran 50 or more. They all did. She went inward. There is a place where race does not exist, gender does not exist - it is the place where we are all animals. Beasts. Wild and roaming. She feared this as she adored it.
She clothed herself, animal fully contained and subdued, early the morning two days later. In the light of the moon and stars, she trotted over across town and up the hill. She entered the warmth of new friends and kindred spirits on his patio pouring coffee and chattering about life and the beauty of the morning. He introduced her to everyone after finally asking her name, gave her a cup of hot coffee and, as they say, the rest is history....For in the end is the beginning.
#500wordsaday #days5and6and7 #kaleandcigarettes
The anger overwhelmed him. He didn’t even know why he was angry. She told him she just wanted to be friends. She even said she wanted the friendship to grow and that she loved him. What did that even mean? He was inside out. The idea of her with anyone else made him crazy. The idea of him without her made him crazy. But he knew he had to let her go. He didn’t even know why it made him crazy. He intellectualized the situation over and over again in his mind and he fully understood the situation. Often he would be fine. He would put it out of his mind as if it weren’t even there and not think of it and he felt normal... great even. Then something would happen and he would imagine her making love to someone else, or even kissing someone else. His cool was gone. His sense was gone. He would go outside his own self and lose himself entirely in madness.
What was this? Why couldn’t he control these emotions? Who was this woman? I mean, was this love? Was it obsession? Most importantly ... is there a cure? Funny enough, he now understood the film ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’. She was in his blood. And he was in hers. He wanted the pain to stop, but that was like trying to fix a ghost limb ... it was completely intangible.
Could he trust her that she felt the same way? She said she did. He was so mad, he didn’t trust her. He calmly said his goodnights and he ran. Out the door and down the street. He ran ten, fifteen miles. He just didn’t want or need to stop.
Back to his house, sweaty and endorphin filled, he wandered down to the basement. Half in a daze, he searched for his new towels and t-shirt. He heard a kah-thunk. Wiping the sweat from his face, he looked over his shoulder and saw his old drum kit from high school.
The drum set called to him from the corner. Forget her, it said. Let her go. If you play me, I will make you famous... you will travel the world and you will meet many women and you will see that she is nothing.
Mesmerized by this, he took the towel to his face as he removed the dust cover and sat in the hazy light of the basement enveloped by the kit. His drum sticks lay on the snare just where he left them probably a half a decade ago.
Tat tat... bbbbrrrrrrummm tat tat tat.... he went. It felt so good. His muscled remembered what to do. He was so tired, however, he could barely see straight. He returned the sticks to the snare promising to return in the morning.
The sun came up. It is now 20 years later. He traveled country after country, city after city. He became rich and famous as one of the single most greatest drummers in the world. He poured every single unexplainable emotion into his kit, which was now a very large kit, and gave that to the world. He still thought of her every day, and even though the kit promised him there would be others, which there were, there was no one. He was thankful for the pain which finally was subsiding after so very long.
There was a knock on the door. It was her. Finally, the calm he wanted and waited for. He drew the dust cover over his kit and never played it again.... until.... his little boy asked him, ‘Daddy.. what’s that?” half a decade later.