The Working Mom's Secret to Working Out

I hate working out.

Seriously, I do. Like most modern women, I have a full-time job, a husband, a child, responsibilities at home, and a passion that I pray might just evolve into a full-time career someday. Being a helpful wife and the best mom I can be (while inundating both my husband and kid with love and wet kisses) is my top priority, but I still have my own individual pursuits, too. I’m an author. After my family, my writing is the next biggest priority. It’s something I will not yield on. If I couldn’t write, I know I’d not only lose a part of myself, but I’d go out of my mind. (My head is like the island on Lost; if I don’t release the energy up there every so often, things get scary). During the week, my writing time is already reduced to just a couple hours. I get home, change clothes, maybe grab something to eat, let the dog out, play with my daughter, and talk to my husband. Depending on the day, that only gives me 2-4 hours to write. That may seem like a lot of time, but to an author, it’s not. Not all of that time is spent actually writing; some of it is spent doing necessary research or thinking. That time runs up fast. I hate working out because, at the end of my eight-hour work day, I want to relax, spend time with my family, and write my novels.

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Every woman knows your entire life philosophy changes when the kids come along. Those things that used to be a priority—make-up, hair styling...heck, sometimes even showers—just don’t take precedence over an itty bitty who needs to be fed, bathed, cuddled, and looked after every second of the day. Then, there’s the clothes that need to be folded, dishes that need to be washed, kid-crumbs that need to be vacuumed, husbands that need assistance (don’t laugh ladies; we need his help sometimes, too). We blame our flabby bellies and mermaid thighs on the burger and french fries (or in my case, pizza) that were easier to run out and get than the time and the energy it takes to cook something ourselves. Sometimes, I apologize to my husband because he’ll come home to find me in sweats, my hair in a bun, and not a stitch of make-up on my face. I just felt like I didn’t have time. There’s just not enough time in the day for working out, especially when you hate it.

But you know what else I hate? I hate that sweats are the only thing I feel comfortable in.

I hate feeling self-conscious when I go out, all the worst parts of my body emphasized in pants that I can barely squeeze into anymore and shirts that seem to have shrunk.

I hate that there are clothes I love hanging in my closet that I haven’t worn in years.

I hate that while I feel confident in many things, my body is not one of them.

Recently, I had a life-changing revelation: I don’t hate working out at all. I actually love working out. I love being able to see the shape of my waist changing. I love being able to feel the hard muscles starting to emerge underneath there. I love feeling the strength and stability in my legs that I didn’t have before. My arms are stronger. My face is slimming. I’ll be honest with you, though; I’m only on my fourth week and have lost only five pounds. No one else can see a big difference yet, but I can. The difference to me is so substantial that I’m quietly waiting to see if my friends and family notice the changes in another four weeks. I know I’m still going to be doing this in four weeks because I discovered the secret to following through. Do you want to know what it is? It’s going to be earth-shattering. It just might blow your mind, actually. Ready?

I stopped making weight loss the purpose for my workouts.

Why? Because the numbers on the scale are dropping at a turtle-like pace, and when I weigh those numbers with the time I’m sacrificing to exercise, it’s just not worth it.

But five pounds is not at all a reflection of how hard I’m working. I know this, because there are these awesome things called oblique muscles that I can feel in my sides now. I’m constantly tensing my hamstrings (thighs) just because I can’t believe they’re no longer mushy; they’re becoming rock-solid. My endurance increases with each workout session, and it’s not even a conscious effort I make to push myself a little harder anymore. I’m just curious about how much farther I can take it.

But that’s not how I started! I’m a total homebody; a couch-potato! My first week of doing T-25 (the first half of my personal daily workout routine), my goal was not to keep up with the people on the screen (I still can’t!). I just wanted to get through the workout.

I probably overdo it, (I can be a bit of an overachiever in some things—probably the effect of being the daughter of two Marines). After doing T-25, I top it off with Pilates (because I LOVE Pilates and it always gives me swift results, and after that, I do 10-20 minutes of hamstring stretches and hip-opener stretches because I feel like tight hamstrings hinder my workouts).

But I don’t want any of you to read this and be discouraged from making some healthier, happier changes in your life. I made this hour/hour and half commitment because it works for me. There’s a certain taboo about being self-absorbed (and for good reason), but when it comes to working out, you should only be thinking about yourself. Don’t compare yourself to those fit people leading you on the screen. Don’t compare yourself to the models in your Victoria’s Secret catalogs. Don’t compare yourself to your favorite actress, or that girl at the gym. What can you do? What can you make time for?

You could commit to running in place for two minutes once a day. You could commit to doing just five sit-ups, or jumping jacks, or lunges once a day. You could commit to doing at least two good push-ups once a day. You and I both know you can do at least one of these things.

Anyone will tell you that that’s not enough—and they’re right, you’re not going to get a slim waist and toned arms and legs by doing so little—but that’s not the point. Not yet, anyway. All that matters is that you are DOING SOMETHING. This kind of thing snowballs. A month and a half ago, I would have told you you were crazy if you expected me to sacrifice an hour and a half of my day to working out. But I started doing the minimum, and the little differences I noticed made me push my body even farther.

Isn’t the time you give up worth it if you can fit into your clothes again? Isn’t it worth it to feel your body getting stronger? Isn’t it worth it to feel confident and happy in your body for once, or once more? I’m still nowhere close to where I want to be, but because of the changes I can already see in the work I’m putting in, my confidence is soaring.

I see now it wasn’t the workouts I hated; it was just the time they took up. So now, I’m learning to make each minute of my day count. (It helps, too, that my husband began doing the work outs with me, and now our little daughter joins in with us. We’ve made exercising a family affair!) This is a way of thinking that you can apply to everything, not just daily workouts. Even with my writing, I take what I can get during the day. Those minutes are precious and sometimes few, so I make sure they are rich with effort.

You can do this, too. Now, drop and give me twenty!

Or two. Just...whatever you can do.