This one isn’t about muscles, lifting weights or flipping tyres.
I think I’m probably physically a little bit stronger than the average nearly-40 year old woman. Actually, maybe a bit more than that but as a Personal Trainer you’d hope that was the case! I do push-ups on my toes, really quite enjoy burpees, and love the part of the gym where all the buff blokes hang out grunting over the squat rack. But like I said this one isn’t about being physically strong.
One of the most important muscles you have isn’t exactly a muscle.
I posted on Facebook today about Sheryl Sandberg’s recent speech to Berkeley University students a couple of days about where she spoke for the first time publicly about her husband’s sudden death a little over 12 months ago. She spoke of her grief, how those dark early days are now a blur to her and how it sucks sometimes being a single mum. ‘Leaning-In’, she now admits, is a whole lot harder when you don’t have a significant other in your corner, helping and supporting you at home.
I’m a big believer in positive self-talk.
I know that sometimes it’s a lot easier said than done, but with a little bit of practice and quite a bit of perseverance it can soon become second nature – and could even change your life!
Who is in your head?
Who is talking to you?
Who are you listening to?
Dear Martha and Sebastian,
I am writing this to you on Mother’s Day 2016 because I want you to always know how deeply and truly you are loved. And because life is funny sometimes…funny peculiar, not funny ha-ha.
I long to watch you grow fully into awesome independent souls, whilst at the same time longing for you to never grow a second older.
I want to fight all your battles for you – today, tomorrow and for the rest of your days , but need you to be able to stand strong and firm, safe and sure of your own abilities.
I wrote last week in a newsletter (if you haven’t signed up yet, why on earth not? HERE it is, and HERE is how to get signed up) about the pitfalls of SOS (Shiny Object Syndrome) and the especially challenging areas that need to be successfully navigated in order to fully recover.
Contrary to popular belief, or at least a lot of men’s childish fantasies, attending an all-girls boarding school for my formative years didn’t involve spending any of my time checking out each other’s girl bits as we navigated our collective way through puberty. In fact I’m not sure I’ve intimately examined another woman’s labia or vulva, but I do know enough at the ripe old age of 39 and ¾’s to know absolutely that we are all made a little bit differently, while at the same time being made the same, if you know what I mean.
I was lucky enough to start working with Amy over a year ago now. When I met her, Amy had a two year old daughter called Ivy, and she had just finished five weeks of intense pelvic floor rehabilitation using a Power Plate at mishfit HQ. Back then I didn’t have a Power Plate Studio and so Amy travelled to see Mish in Northcote…and she then came to train with me working very specifically to build on her postnatal recovery. This is her story…
I’ve had this blog in my head for quite a while now. I’ve wondered whether it’s just because of my desire to indulge my shoe thing. And I do have a shoe thing.
I simply love shoes – boots, thongs, heels and runners – I love them all. Except wedges. I don’t really do wedges.
Whether we are literally looking at our physical reflection in the mirror or reflecting on our emotional health either way it’s not always an easy or comfortable experience.
Looking at our body reflected back at us all to often results in a myopic focus on our worst parts. We struggle to see ourselves in our whole and beautiful entirety. I am automatically drawn to my thighs, my cellulite and left-over-baby-tummy. I see my breasts that have seen better days and probably wouldn’t pass the pencil test any more. I don’t see my strong swimmer’s shoulders, developed back muscles or my defined waist.
“I’ve been training with Thea for just over a year now. I was diagnosed with a prolapse three years ago and went down the path of physiotherapy and was told I could do no more. The slight improvement that physiotherapy had given me was the best I could hope for and I should be grateful for the improvement I had achieved. My life would now be restricted to not lifting anything heavier than a sheet of paper and exercise was out of the question unless it was swimming or walking on flat surfaces.