Running Against the Wind

Ever since I could remember I've disliked the wind blowing on me, and that dislike climbs to near rage when I'm running. In fact the wind is basically the only excuse I use to head inside, opting to use a treadmill; but even then the strong fans in the gym can irk me. The constant sensation of fighting to move forward, being held back and pushed around, while my hair flies about my face and into my mouth does my head in. It seems ridiculous, but on certain days when it feels like it slows my already tortoise pace to a mere crawl, it's enough to inspire a full-on pity party and the only things that power me through are blind rage and stubbornness. It's even bad enough that I actually fear high winds on Saturday's when I do my long training runs. I do it anyway of course, but I typically need to mentally prepare myself for 'the blow.' (Pun!)

Despite hating the wind I've lived in the notoriously windy state of Kansas, Palmerston North which is likewise known for its wind and even has windmill farms to capture its energy, and now I live in Taranaki where the term 'breezy' basically means 'will turn an umbrella inside out, but won't strip someone of their clothing.' Makes me wonder if I haven't subconsciously chosen windy environments to challenge myself.....

This morning was an easy 8k recovery after yesterday's 29k long distance run, and when I left home the wind was eerily calm. Knowing that Hawera can get windy astonishingly fast, and with my route in mind, I wanted to ensure that the two longer legs would be with and not against the wind should it kick up. I did the intelligent thing and looked up the direction of the wind on my phone, 6 kmph NNE, barely a whisper. After a quick assessment in my head I decided which way to start my loop and set out. 

Guess what? My intelligent assessment turned out to be completely backwards; NNE doesn't mean it's blowing TO the north, it means it's blowing FROM the north. I would've realised this if I had bothered to step outside and actually felt which way the wind was heading instead of making my super smart decision whilst sitting in my car. When I turned to head north along my longest stretch, there it was feeling more like a roar than a whisper; the usual aggravation gaining momentum. This time I paused my reaction however and thought, 'well, I'm not going to stop so I might as well have a think about the bright side of the situation.' 

Here's what I came up with:

• My 'duh!' moment made me laugh; I frequently over-analyse situations only to find I've landed on the wrong conclusion. For a smart person, I often do phenomenally stupid shit.
• The direction I took may have put me face-first into the wind, but it also kept the sun out of my eyes so I could see the path in front of me without burning my retinas.
• It helped keep me cool on a very warm day.
• I envisioned the wind and I clashing together and combining to form a tornado as we moved in opposite directions. Creating something powerful with the energy I put into moving forward raised my spirits.
• Though it felt strong, the wind was hardly blowing at all. This lead to an overarching acknowledgement that I tend to 'blow' things out of proportion (Boom! I'm on a roll!). I hate being hindered in my efforts in general, though slowing down typically prevents me from making a fool of myself in the long run. I could go even further down that rabbit hole, but that would end up being it's own article!
• Despite the weather conditions, length of the run or how skeptical I feel about my body's ability to finish, I remember that so long as I take one step at a time I'll reach my goal. I'm grateful that I have the inner determination and drive to keep going. Sometimes it comes from self-empowerment and other times rage directed at an invisible nemesis I can't control. Either way, I keep moving forward and that inspires pride.
• I spent so much time in my head creating this inane essay that before I knew it I had run the length of the road, turning in an different direction and out of the wind. I even missed it a bit.

Oh, I do love puns!

As I faced a fairly gnarly headwind during most of my 32km run this morning, a couple of more points came to me:

• I heard the wind as soon as I awoke and the idea of attempting my longest training run ever in it did not excite me to say the least. I began to worry about my ability to complete the run, but I was determined to set a new personal record and knew I had to give it a go anyway wind or no wind. This showed me how resilient I am and helped me to realise that fear necessitates bravery, and in a similar way mistakes necessitate adventure. What would be the fun in an easy life without challenges?
• The wind reminds me to slow down and keep a sustainable pace. Instead of seeing it as impeding me, I see that it's only serving to help me in it's own annoying way.
• Take each gust as it comes; staying pissed at a gust that held me back or worrying about future gusts that will challenge me is pointless, I can't control it so I shouldn't fight it (though this is easier said than done!).
• Despite the wind, I smashed it and hit my personal best for distance ever! 

All that just to come to this point; the wind is the physical manifestation of my own emotional issues. My reaction to the wind largely depends on my inner emotional state; some days I resign myself to it, other days I fight it, or run with it in beautiful harmony, and sometimes it breaks me and I end up in tears. Though this is a true account of what happened, I see how the wind also functions as a significant metaphor in my life. As humans we often feel like we're pushing shit uphill, running against the wind; the struggle is real. We all have triggers that push our buttons, and we may or may not understand why. A simple situation, a wisp of wind, can cause a torrent of emotions to erupt. 

It seems so silly that I would be so easily enraged by an act of nature that I can't control, but that's precisely why it bugs the hell out of me. The wind pushes me around and slows me down, it controls me. Historically I've fought against being controlled with every fibre of my being, opting to vehemently fight for control. It took me years of self-development work to discover that my obsession with control was a coping mechanism for feeling insecure, as well as a lack of trust in life in general. Deep shit, wounds from my past that never fully healed. So some days my emotions are stable, the woulds have scabbed over and are partially concealed so I can cope. Other days those scabs have been ripped off for any number of reasons and I cannot; turning the wisp into a gale that knocks me for a six.

Today I proved to myself that I can change my old habit of resisting control and fighting the wind. However foreign it may feel, I can consciously choose to challenge myself, to find gratitude in a situation where I would typically feel angry or victimised by a lack of control. Life is full of such opportunities. It takes courage, but we can all run into the wind.

Sometimes People are Assholes, Even Buddhists

While stretching this morning I got into a bit of an esoteric conversation, as I do, with one of my fellow gym rats. I'm not sure how it even came up, but he brought up revolving mental thoughts, shit going round and round in a continuous loop which afflicts a portion of the human population, driving us mad. Certainly a topic I understand well and have written about before, though that was 6 years ago and I've only just started understanding how to actually let the buggers go! Jesus, that affirms what I've suspected is the hardest part about dealing with life issues and making positive changes, mainly that knowing 'what' I need to do to be happier and more serene is easy. The crux is figuring out the 'how' and actually implementing those changes in a meaningful way so that they are sustainable; 6 bloody years?! Inside I'm laughing though, it's actually funny how frustrated I feel and by the end of this article I hope it's obvious why I find that comical.

Something to ponder ...... read on.

I'll admit I'm deep down the emotional healing rabbit-hole at present, and I intend to stay there because the fundamental changes that have transpired as a result are well worth the effort. By effort I mean terrifying confrontations about myself, my past and who I authentically am, meditation, trusting my intuition, daily journaling, walking around Mount Taranaki and tears; lots and lots of tears. Oh, and the odd bought of swearing so profusely that anyone overhearing me might assume I have turrets syndrome. Eager to show off my new and improved way of life I told my gym buddy that those thoughts would cycle until he let them out, talked about them. He said he was and I pointed out that all he was talking about was their presence, not what they actually were, to which he responded that he couldn't; it wasn't an acceptable subject to discuss. Uh huh, exactly! In his head those thoughts will remain until he's willing to let them go. When I suggested he explore that notion and talk to a trusted friend, he mentioned that's what dogs were for, and sure, whoever or whatever, just talk it out!

From there I mentioned that I talk to my car a lot, telling him about the epic time I released a hell of a lot of anger about my ex-partner and his family. With tears and an extremely liberal use of the term 'a pack of C*#$s', I finally got to vent the injustice I felt during that relationship and expressed my emotions in a safe environment. Afterward I even thanked Raven for her help in soaking up the shit-storm of emotions. My friend gave me a look I'm all too familiar with: 'What is this crazy bitch on about?' He went on to explain that when we think of others as assholes, we need to realise that we're actually the jerks; that it is our response to these people and experiences that is the issue, not the people themselves.

Raven is always happy to let me beat of her steering wheel. That's love.

Hmmmm, I'm familiar with this line of thinking; it's Buddhist. During said ex-relationship I sought a way to calm the fighting in my head so that I'd stop fighting my partner by visiting a Buddhist centre every week to gain some clarity and serenity. This ideal, that it is our response to issues that are the actual issue, made sense to me and I strove to embed it into my life. It even felt empowering because I had the control, I had the ability to control my emotions! Or not. I'd fail time and again, things my partner said and did continued to send me through the roof. Afterwards I'd beat myself up for getting upset. Seriously, I left black and blue marks on my self esteem I felt so much shame. Why couldn't I just keep it in and be calm?! I thought there was something wrong with me. Given my turbulent childhood and accumulation of mental health labels, it was certainly easy to believe. Who in their right mind would want to be with me? I was horribly flawed and broken.

Now, having done the work I've done in the emotional space, I proudly declare this sentiment is pure and utter bullshit. It never sat well with me then and now I understand why; it encourages us to suppress our emotions at best, and blame ourselves for feeling anything but calm and serene at worst. Both of which result in decreased self worth and a lack of trust in our emotions and intuition. Every emotion has a function, and when our emotions say 'they're being a dick!' it's to help us slow down and question the situation; to ask 'am I staying true to who I am and what I want?' In the case of relationships the fear of being alone usually keeps us where we, inspiring feelings of entrapment and disempowerment which results in a decreased sense of worth; perpetuating the vicious cycle.

Let me be quite clear, I'm not saying that we shouldn't take responsibility for our emotions. Feeling emotions does not mean we necessarily express our emotions. This is a central concept of Emotional Intelligence, and probably what the Buddhists were actually trying to convey. Our response to triggers and stimuli do, indeed, need to be carefully assessed, questioned, held up to the light for examination and re-assembled to take out any unnecessary baggage from our pasts. Otherwise we'll end up shooting a McDonald's employee for giving us Coke instead of Diet Coke because that is what suppressed anger looks like after 40 years. Not pretty. I'll own that I chose to be with that particular person. I chose to stay in that particular situation because I was in love. Besides, who else was going to love me? So yes, my responses were the issue because I chose to ignore the emotions that were actually warning signs that I shouldn't continue the path I was on, that I was unhappy and devaluing myself by assuming that I was the broken one. Yet I lacked the courage and security in myself to leave.

Honestly, I thought I could fix myself and keep it all bottled up in my head the way my friend does until I read a book that convinced me otherwise (listed below). The book insisted that we had to share our 'shame stories' to work our shit out. When I first read that theory something inside me recoiled. Stuff that! I could handle my own issues in-house without infecting others with my bullshit! Well guess what, if I could it bloody well wouldn't have taken me more 6 years to make this much progress in my meandering personal development journey. Especially considering I thought I had it 'all figured out.' The only thing I'm certain of now is that the more I know, the less intelligent I feel. Why? It's a bit like reaching the top of one summit only to discover all the other summits I must cross that I didn't even know existed! The difference is my mindset. Before I would've cried in despair, now I laugh and feel grateful for more adventure.

Kevin Biggar's Definition of Adventure. I love it!

My lifestyle and general demeanour almost certainly appear crazy. In fact, I distinctly remember rattling off the various mental illness diagnoses I've received throughout my life with a friend, followed by my assertion that I've never felt more sane despite these stigmas. I then followed it up with a hearty helping of maniacal laughter. Oh yes, to others I must seem quite twisted! Whole, authentic and worthy, not to mention infinitely less anxious, is how I actually feel. My whacky way of life basically involves allowing myself to feel whatever and however I feel without trying to justify it or beating myself with a naughty stick because others may not like it; I choose to defy social standards and conditions so I can stay true to myself. It's not easy, it takes conscious effort each and every day. But if appearing nutty is the price I have to pay, done deal! Hell, I'll pay double! The relief from a lifetime of bottled up stress and suppressed emotions is priceless, not to mention the profound elevation of my self esteem. I now invite all of my emotions, the good, the bad and the ugly. They are all signals that I need attention, just as physical pain cues me to the fact that I'm hurt and need healing. All or our emotions and feelings deserve consideration, compassion and celebration; they teach us what we like and what we don't like, how secure we feel in ourselves or how afraid, they outline our boundaries.

We were born to feel, to be human, so live!

Emotional Healing Resources:
The Gifts of Imperfection by Brene Brown
- This book has actually inspired a series of articles I'm working on at present about self-worth; consider this article the preface and stay tuned.

The Dark Side of the Light Chasers by Debbie Ford
- I've only just started reading this book, but it's already shifting a lot of rock!

Side Note on Humility: There used to be a point in time when I'd rather slash my wrists with a dull and rusty butter knife than read 'self-help' books. I had my issues, but I was strong dammit! A fighter! Oh, I was a fighter all right, but the only person I was fighting was myself and that's a lose-lose situation. Every living breathing human has issues with their emotions, it's a consequence of the human condition. Suck it up, read this stuff. What's the worst that could happen?

Worth

I'm a runner, yes it's true; 
But does anyone wonder where I'm running to?

I run forward, I never go back; 
Still, somedays I really miss my little cat.

She lives with her Dad now, we all know what it's like; 
I got her for him, I thought it would stop the fights.

But the fight was inside me, it was never going to stop; 
Until that fateful day when I completely lost the plot.

It was never about him, it was all about me; 
I was trapped inside my head, fighting to break free.

Since then I've changed so much, it feels as though I've experienced rebirth; 
The fights have all but ceased, I finally feel my worth.

Who is Monti Tao?

As a classically trained scientist in biology and a natural analytical thinker, I never put much stock in intangible concepts like Religion and ‘God.’ If I could not prove something using verifiable methods, I likely wasn’t going to trust the information that was fed to me. Even still, I dabbled in Christian faith during my youth independent of familial beliefs, as they were nonexistent. By my college years those views had pretty much flown the coup. The reasons being that science made more sense to me and I simply couldn’t buy into the fear-mongering dogmas regarding hell and the rapture. As life went on, however, I realized that living without a belief in something outside of this Earth was scarier than the concept of potentially having a pineapple shoved up my ass for all of eternity if I was naughty. This became particularly evident when I found myself in situations where I had no control, like on airplanes. Flying became such a terrifying ordeal that I dreaded it and even had to sedate myself. One day it dawned on me that what I truly feared was death because I believed in nothing beyond this life, and thus my own unique spiritual quest began.

Despite my scientific mind I was a rather odd child who was spiritual in nature. I had a high degree of self-awareness and empathic abilities that enabled me to experience the emotions of others. At the time I had no clue that's what I could do, I just knew I was different. My ‘gut feelings’ actually felt like physical pulls, especially with regards to directions, I would frequently befriend people I already knew but but had never actually met, experienced frequent and startling bouts of déjà vu and vivid dreams, and I always knew what song was about to be on the radio; a rather useless psychic ability I might add. It was no wonder those years without any beliefs were unsettling to me in light of these characteristics. I was keenly aware that my human brain was different from something else deep inside me that I had no language to describe, and when I tried I was treated as a child with a hyperactive imagination, or just plain crazy. As a result I endured almost constant anxiety throughout my life. Constant worry over things I couldn’t control yet were important to me and my loved ones, to our very survival; worry that was borne of a complete lack of trust that the Universe would sort itself out and take care of life as it's always done. 

I won’t go into the details here, indeed that’s what the articles that will populate this blog are all about, but during the first major spiritual shift of my life at the commonly pivotal age of 27 I had an epiphany that led to my own understanding of ‘God.’ Significant in that it sated both aspects of my personality whose inner conflict caused the majority of my stress, the scientist and the deeper intuitive knowing, which I’ll now begin to refer to as my Ego and my Soul, respectively. Again, I’m not going to get into those terms now, but trust that many future mental meanderings will touch on those subjects in eccentric and thought-provoking ways. So, enough suspense! What was this miraculous experience?! Simply seeing something on a commercial one morning during my routine cardio workout. No, it wasn’t an infomercial for a shake-weight, an amazingly powerful vacuum or even a super versatile ladder; it was the infamous equation:

I hope I’ve sufficiently prepared readers for a bit of a far out trip. It’s time for a wee lesson in particle physics and an adventure down a spiritual rabbit hole!

The Physics

E = Energy

m = mass

c = speed of light = approximately 3.0 x 10^8 m/s (in a vacuum)

Leaving the spiritual stuff behind for a moment, I’ll explain this equation on a purely physical basis. In simple terms it states that energy is the result of mass times the speed of light squared, or to the second power depending on the preference of our high school math teacher. The implications of this equation are far more interesting, and get to the meat of this introduction to my spiritual meanderings. 

Breaking down the components of the equation we see mass, which can literally be anything, and the speed of light. The speed of light is a constant, so we can basically ignore it since it’s not going to change. It’s contribution to energy while formidable at about 9.0 x 10^16 m^2/s^2, aka really fucking fast, remains the same so it’s not the critical component of the equation. Mass, consequently, does change and therefore dictates the amount of energy within whatever it is we’re investigating. For example, a car has more mass than a mouse, so it follows that a car will have more energy than a mouse because only mass contributes to the mathematical significance of the equation since c remains the same for both the car as well as the mouse, aka hot rod and mighty mouse! 

Almost there, I promise. If it’s all about mass, what constitutes mass? When we drill down to the most basic units of mass we interestingly find that they too are constant. There are a finite number of particles and subatomic particles that make up everything in our Universe. Whether we’re talking about a car, a mouse or a hydrogen atom; we’re all comprised of protons, neutrons and electrons, which themselves are assembled from still smaller particles known quarks and leptons according to the standard model of physics. Given the continual advancements in particle physics it gets even crazier and new masses are still being discovered, but my point remains valid: we are all made up of the same fundamental elements and their molecules.

Time to back out and bring it home. Given that both the speed of light and the mass components are constants, it logically follows that we are all the same Energy; BOOM. The only difference between me, an Australian aboriginal, a tree, a tin roof, a puff of wind or the laptop I’m using to write this article is the number and composition of particles, thus mass. While our varying masses insinuate that we contain different amounts of energy, the Energy we embody nonetheless originates from the same source. 

Before reading the next part please sit with that, read it a couple more times, wrap the brain around it and ask what it might mean. What feelings begin to stir?

What the Shit Does it All Mean?!

This collective Energy from every particle in this universe encapsulated in every imaginable form on Earth, emitted from every single thing that has a mass greater than zero including gases and substances far far smaller than can be conceived by our human minds, is ‘God.’ Critically, and I really cannot stress this enough, the terminology is completely irrelevant. This Energy is indescribable, has no gender, no agenda, nor any other human quality we feel inclined to assign it to make ourselves feel comfortable. To name it and describe it is to completely miss the point of what it is, but I’ll give a go anyway for dramatic effect. It’s the lift under the wings of an airplane, it’s the love found in tears of joy as well as tears of pain, it’s the amazing job that turns up when we’re broke and destitute, it’s the life force that embodies an ova when it meets a sperm, it’s the rush of the first time we ride a bike and realise no one is holding us up, it’s the magnificence of a snow capped mountain in the distance, it’s the feeling you get in the pit of your stomach right before you find out a loved one has been in an accident as well as the butterflies anticipating a first kiss. It’s the light and the shadow, there is nothing it is not nor is there anything it cannot create. Though it has no agenda, learning to trust that everything is as exactly as it should under its guidance is beyond the abilities of most humans, most see only good luck and bad luck. We call it many things: God, the Atman, Spirit, the Universe, Christ Consciousness, Higher Power, etc. For genuinely personal reasons, I affectionately refer to it as Monti Tao.

For now all I’ll say is that our Souls are but a piece of it, and our egos function to remind us that we are still individual entities. The reason I started this blog is that the day I made the conscious decision to stop controlling and start trusting this Energy force, truly miraculous things began to happen. I mean 'holy fucking shit that's creepy' miraculous, which is coincidently how I came upon the descriptor of Monti. Since then I’ve incorporated an even more important component to my faith: everything I do, I do with a profound intent to serve this Energy in a positive way. Every work on this blog represents my feeble attempt to explain what the hell I’m on about, and to keep it fun and interesting by using both obvious and bizarre analogies, all based up my own experiences in life as well as things that come to me from that Energy (come on, don’t act like we didn’t know this was going to get weird!). My ultimate hope is to cultivate small yet significant shifts in the mass consciousness, positive waves that reverberate throughout the Universe, so that we can experience more peace of mind and start to understand the world we live in on a more spiritual level, connected to our roots and not so horribly amassed in chaos, fear and general negativity.

Until the next one, let's take good care of ourselves. 💖

What it Looks Like

Fuck. It’s happening again; please not again. Son of a bitch. What does it mean? Am I still broken? Haven’t I worked hard to change? To heal the damage? How the fuck did this happen? I promised myself a while ago that I’d never fight again; it wasn’t worth it. Now, I stand in the bathroom, reflect; I need to breath, to think.

A day centered around me, perfectly planned to fuel me for the next day’s event; the type of support I’ve often given but have never received. I knew it was too good to be true. But it had been such an amazing day, I even challenged old conditions and pushed beyond old uncomfortable boundaries for the very first time. I had been winning, so why was I now losing the plot? A surprise guest? No, that didn’t bother me. I knew him to be a social bloke and was genuinely pleased to see him happy. A kink in a day designed for me? Not precisely, but getting warmer. The unexpected food smack in the middle of my articulately planned meal schedule? Bingo. We had a winner.

I was mad, but I lied and said I wasn’t. Yet another old habit of supressing anger, afraid it would inspire feelings which would ultimately lead him to reject me. Wasn’t I worth a day? Hadn’t the plan been his idea? Just yesterday I suggested some changes and that seemed to upset him, so why could he now change them without consideration of my feelings? Shouldn’t I stand up for myself? I have done the work dammit, I fully comprehend the repercussions of continuing those old thought patterns and not taking care of my own needs; resulting in continuous vicious cycles. I won’t do that to myself, not anymore. Not for him, not for anyone.

Tense words past between us as I attempted to convey the millions of conflicting thoughts swirling around in my brain. I did a shit job of it; there was too much to process, everything was happening too fast. The brakes were failing. He joined his friend and left me alone. I’m always left alone. Old trigger, old response. I’ll leave, that’s what I do; flee, fuck off, run. “Stay” I heard a tiny voice inside me say. I ignored it, packed up some stuff and went to the car, but where were my keys? “Stay.” I become confused, disoriented; another old sensation. I recognized the signs, the stress had depleted my blood sugar. I couldn’t think, my emotions were spiralling out of control; the irony of trying to escape from the very thing I needed; both physically and emotionally.

“Stay.” Where the fuck were my keys? I went inside to find them; I must have looked insane. He asked me what I was doing. I don’t remember what I said, just walked away. I felt his hurt, his anger. “Stay.” For him the plan hadn’t changed, it had only been improved. He didn’t understand the broken connection in my brain that I’d only just begun to repair. A repair currently being tested; like a new fuse being pushed to its maximum amps, smoking, threatening to blow under the weight of the situation. Could it handle it? Would it hold?

Back at the car I realized the keys had been there the whole time; under normal circumstances that would have made me laugh. “Stay.” I broke down into tears. All the thoughts flooded me at once, the dam burst. I heard myself say “I don’t want to be alone anymore,” understood it sounded dependent and desperate, but it was actually a cry to the Universe for help. I’d been on my own for 87.9% of my life. For the first time I had hope that I could balance my need for freedom with my authentic desire for a healthy, mutually beneficial, relationship; a partnership. For the first time I thought I was ready, but here I was again. Broken. “Stay.” Louder now. I asked, “Are you sure?” In the past the voice always told me to run but I’d fight to stay, eventually to my own detriment. It’s never actually told me to stay; can I trust it? “Stay.” But he’s mad at me, he thinks I’m crazy, he won’t want me anymore; he’ll see me as broken, just like the others. A toy that was fun for a while, but not worth keeping.

“Stay.” Where will I find the courage to challenge those old patterns? The false conditions that previously led me to self-destruct in similar situations? “You are worth it; Trust yourself. Everything will work out; Trust me. Just Stay.” Inspired by an energy my brain couldn’t comprehend, I wiped the tears from my face. I didn’t look at him as I walked up the drive for the third time. I went inside, put some things away and took three deep breaths. “You’re almost there.” I went outside to join them; still too embarrassed to look at him. Without a word he got up to get me a chair, placed it beside him and seamlessly integrated me into their conversation. I sat, ate something, had a chat; recovered. The rest of the night went precisely to plan, right down to the minute.

Exercise: Push Through or Pull Out?

I find there are two predominant personality types, those who push themselves to nearly inhumane limits and those who give up at the slightest pang of resistance or pain. This is particularly true at the gym, so I thought I'd share my thoughts as a health and fitness professional regarding when to stop and when to push through while exercising.

The first critical assessment that needs to be addressed is whether the resistance to working out is coming from the Mind or the Body. If it's the Mind: PUSH THROUGH! If it's the Body, well, we'll talk about that in a bit. Overcoming mental barriers may take a considerable amount of practice, particularly for those who are not used to exercise and have not yet made it part of their normal routine. The Mind dislikes change above all things. Think of any new habit that you've started or, still more difficult, trying to quit a habit. For most people the Mind becomes addicted to routine and even though we all know exercise is beneficial for both the Body as well as the Mind, making it a habit is extremely difficult and takes a phenomenal amount of will power, especially considering the starting up process can be a bit uncomfortable for the Body as well.

Nine years ago when I started my journey I would cringe, hell sometimes even cry, at the thought of getting out of bed, putting my puppy in his kennel so I wouldn't accidentally stomp on him, and popping in my Hip Hop Abs workout DVD. Somedays it would be my Mind begging me not to start up the same old 40 minute workout, which involved listening to a ridiculously flamboyant yet ripped instructor, Shawn T, and doing the hilariously ludicrous dance moves; other days it would be my extremely sore and fatigued Body. The irony that I was a 120kg white girl attempting to execute hip hop dance choreography to drop fat and tone my horribly out of shape body was not at all lost on me. I would often laugh out loud at myself, knowing I must look completely absurd. Yet somehow I pushed through. That tiny voice inside my brain that screamed "Please, for the love of God, your Body and your health, get your lazy ass out of bed and MOVE!" had miraculously won out. Some people aren't able to hear that voice however, and that's why personal trainers are extremely valuable. I am gladly that voice for others!

Over time as I stuck with it and started to see results that voice became even stronger. In the coming months I'd even look forward to my routine. Once I was under 80kg and confident enough to enter a gym I expanded my routine and started running, which again set my Mind to coming up with all sorts of excuses to stop and give up. This was when I came up with my 10 Minute Cardio Rule: No matter how much I wanted to stop, regardless of all the mental resistance or muscle soreness, I made myself stay on the piece of equipment, be it a treadmill, bike, cross trainer or row machine, for a minimum of 10 minutes. After 10 minutes if I still wasn't feeling it, I could stop. Nine times out of ten, however, after 10 minutes my Mind would quiet down and my achy muscles would loosen, glad for the extra blood flow, and I'd realise that doing the next 20 minutes wouldn't be so bad, especially if I was listening to a good playlist, reading an interesting book or watching a movie to help pass the time.

Getting to this level takes time, practice and determination (and a bit of crazy)! But once you're there, boy do you love that Runner's High!

Now onto the Bodily aspect of this dilemma. As stated above, if it's run of the mill muscle soreness push through. People who think soreness is an acceptable excuse to cut out a workout, well, I hate to tell you but it's not. If muscles are sore get some blood flowing through them and move! Afterwards give them a nice long stretch and drink plenty of water to help ease the soreness. People new to fitness should expect some soreness, and so should people training towards a specific goal. For example, when I trained for my half marathon there were days I could barely walk let alone run, yet somehow I'd take to the road and bang out my 10 mile training run. How, one might ask? I knew if I didn't run I'd never reach my goal of finishing the race, and I really wanted to finish that race! Still better, when I pushed through and proved to myself I could run despite the soreness I felt like a champion. It gave me confidence that no matter how my Body might feel on race day I could accomplish my goal.

Like the Mind, the Body resists change. Evolutionarily it functions to maintain homeostasis, so changing it and reaching fitness goals takes effort and will definitely include some serious soreness and even some mild-ish pain. So here's my advice: Suck it up Buttercup! I have a lot of clients and they all put up little fights in various, and often humorous, ways. One likes to complain that they're getting really hot, to which I reply "Really?! Could that be because you're lifting heavy weights?!"Another repeatedly tells me that they can't do the movement or handle the weight while they are LITERALLY doing it, so I make sure they feel supported and encourage them to keep going. My favourite is when clients look at the weight I'm about to ask them to lift and tell me they can't do it without even trying! And guess what, no one has ever been completely unable to do what I ask of them. They always end up surprised by their own strength and feeling better about themselves; one of the many reasons I love my job.

So, when do you stop? If you FEEL a sharp or shooting snap, crackle or pop of pain in a joint (Ankle, Knee, Hip, Elbow, Shoulder, Wrist or Neck), or FEEL a muscle, tendon or ligament tear, STOP IMMEDIATELY. Also STOP if you feel sharp pains in the chest, significantly high heart rate, or feel lightheaded and/or dizzy. Assess the situation by lifting low weights and stretching the area, and get professional help if injured or the Body doesn't recover within 5-10 minutes of rest.

The joints will often make popping sounds as air works its way out and/or cartilage moves around, but it should not hurt. Be conscious of persistent pain that becomes constant over time and repetition. Any persistent pain is a cue to stop pushing through it and address the underlying issue. Chronic pain often leads to issues that could become extremely limiting and difficult to heal if not addressed by adequate stretching and mobility exercises. For example, my left knee is currently out of commission due to the way that I walk as well as some inherent muscle imbalances. Does this mean I don't train? Absolutely Not! It means I try exercises and stop if my knee starts to seriously talk to me (or scream as the case may be), which basically limits me to biking, swimming and rowing. One day during spin class, which usually doesn't bother my knee, I felt a stab of pain while spinning in a standing position so I opted to remain seated for the rest of the class and go at an extremely easy pace. By comparison, when my wrist begins to hurt in class I take note of my position, make adjustments that ease the pain and keep going. Though I haven't stopped training because of my knee, I have altered how and how long I train in order to work through my injury. I now focus less on cardio and more on stretching and strengthening the muscles around my knee which will adjust the misalignments and help it recover.

It's also worth mentioning that excessive training leads to burnout which is a real physiological issue that causes the adrenal glands to malfunction (follow the hyperlinks for some more information as I'm not an expert). Additionally, excessive fatigue may restrict exercise and should be addressed if persistent. Lastly, as far as illnesses such as the common cold are concerned, it's ok to workout at a lighter intensity so long as the infection doesn't effect your ability to breath properly.  Evidence even suggests that exercise can be beneficial.

The take home message is to be aware of the Mind and Body during exercise. The default should be to push through unless there is physical evidence that a workout would be detrimental to your emotional state or might cause damage to the Body. 

Dear Amanda

Hey Sis,

I can't believe it's been 10 years since we last spoke on your 25th birthday. I'll always remember that conversation and your hilarious comment about Grandpa being so racist that he'd shout at the TV when a black person won on The Price is Right. Writing this letter is something I've thought about for a long time, but just couldn't get the balls to write it. No one in our family has ever dealt with emotional pain well, always opting for some drug, alcohol or food to avoid our feelings and ease our broken minds. The day Mom called to tell me you were dead was the worst day of my life, everything in me went cold and numb. I'm not sure how I made it through the following days, I just remember being weirded out by Mom and Dad standing next to each other at your funeral, Sarah and I knew you'd have felt the same.  Oddly I don't feel much different or older since we last talked but holy shit have things changed! You'd absolutely shit yourself if you could see me now; I'd also like to think you'd be really proud of me.

The 22 year old graduate student you left behind, morbidly obese with a sedentary life and shitty eating habits, drunk more often than not, and a mean streak like a viper; she's totally changed. It took place so gradually I'm not even sure how the hell it happened. Things got worse before they got better. When you first left I kind of lost my shit and took to getting utterly wasted and being reckless, laughing madly as I drove around Denver knowing full well that I was compromising everything I had, my license, my degree, my freedom and even my life; I didn't care and it scared me.

I want to sincerely thank you, Amanda. Your death caused a couple of shifts that I'll be forever grateful for; mostly that it brought me closer to Sarah and made me take stock of my own life. It reminded me that no one knows how much time they've got left and if there's something we want to do we'd better damn-well get on with it. At some point all the times I felt disgusted with myself and my body became too much so I decided to lose weight but went on a bit of a different diet than you did, though everyone believed I'd just become addicted to crack too, hahaha. The first time Mom saw me after I'd lost about half the weight she couldn't hug me because I looked so much like you. Everyone at the bar back home kept mistaking me for you as well, which gave me mixed feelings of shame and pride. Still more years of seemingly endless trial and error in the pursuit of happiness led me through countless changes; I left my PhD program, spent some time with a guy I thought I'd marry (I'll spare you those details!), moved to Kansas of all places, burned through many jobs low and high from McDonald's to Pharmaceutical Management, and finally found myself in New Zealand where I finally figured out how I could find peace and happiness within myself, or at least as much as I'm likely to obtain. You'll never believe it but I'm a health and fitness coach, personal trainer and Pilates instructor! I can almost hear you saying, "what the fuck is pilates?!"

The ASS Sisters: Amanda, Summer and Sarah

Sometimes I miss you so bad it stops me in my tracks, a distinct pain I feel in my chest. I'll look at a phone and want to call you, hear your voice. I unexpectedly found a couple of letters you had written me from jail a few years ago; I read them from time to time, laugh at your horrible spelling and smile at your descriptions of jailhouse antics. Mostly I wonder what you would say, so many things things have drastically changed in this crazy world since you left, no doubt it would involve copious amounts of swearing. I'm sorry for the times your addictions made me distance myself from you. As I get older and become more aware of my own mental demons, I can't imagine how badly you suffered and feel comforted by the fact that wherever you or, you're better off there then you were here. I keep my share of you and your many body piercings in a pretty blue bag that hangs on my wall; I bet you never thought you'd live in New Zealand! Luckily the people at customs didn't notice I had illegal ashes in my pack. You'd be happy to know you slightly resemble cocaine now, and Sarah and I used to joke that you'd snort yourself if you were here.

I think what scares me the most now is that all I have are memories which no doubt have been distorted over time, but since you were a pathological liar I doubt you'd have an issue with that, haha. What's real are my memories of the odd combination of cold metal and soft lips when you'd kiss my cheek as well as your voice; how it sounded when you said "You are my heart, I love you Summie" so many times that night you were drunk and high, and I had brought my ultimate frisbee team up from Rochester for a game in Canada. I was so fucking embarrassed then, but I'm thankful now that it was burned into my brain.

I'm not sure when we'll meet again or what our bodies will look like, but I look forward to the day I'll recognise your Soul and smile, probably as you slap me for some reason or another.

Love You Sis,
Summie