Summer Celebration

(This post appeared in the Strength Outside In Newsletter, May 30, 2017)

Memorial Day has passed. We are back at work with dreams of sun-drenched vacations dancing in our heads. It's been a rough few months since last November, and I think we deserve a special gift this year... a gift we can give ourselves without spending a dime.

I'm talking about a daily practice of enjoying our bodies for what they are and what they can do. No angst. No "how does my butt look in that photo?" No "I can't go to the pool because I don't want to put on a bathing suit." Can we have a go this year at having fun and not giving one little microscopic damn what strangers think of our bodies?

I, for one, will be working this summer on caring less, so much less, about cellulite and belly flab. And caring more about beach frisbee and sandpipers. First step? I am going to wear whatever makes me comfortable, whether that is a bikini, a one-piece, men's board shorts and a swim shirt, a sundress... or some combination of the above.

Enough. Life is too short for this. Your body is not the enemy. It's a quirky, magical, fantastic machine, and it makes you you. Please. Cut loose every bit of psychological energy you have ever wasted on picking your body apart, and put it back together in a wholistic, untethered appreciation for being alive. Free yourself to sit in the sand and build a ridiculously awful sand castle without a second thought about how you look.

Nobody who loves you cares about your cellulite, and you shouldn't either. If you are free of pain, celebrate. If you can run after your kids or take your dog for a walk, celebrate. If you have a day to spend with family or friends, doing nothing but enjoying sunshine and cocktails on a backyard deck, celebrate.

You all inspire me. Thank you for your daily comments and emails. You remind me how powerful and beautiful our bodies are... disabled, short, tall, chubby, slim, whatever. Every time I see you taking care of your bodies, freeing them and utilizing them instead of trying to strip them down, you make me stronger and more carefree, so thank you!

Here's to summer, and here's to you! And here's to our daily practice of having better things to do. 

Exercise Heals

As reported by NBC Nightly News, the Journal of the American Medical Association just confirmed what many cancer patients and survivors already knew, that exercise is the best cure for fatigue caused by cancer. 

The meta-analysis included 113 unique studies, covering 11,525 participants. Their results showed that "exercise and psychological interventions and the combination of both reduce cancer-related fatigue during and after cancer treatment... In contrast, pharmaceutical interventions do not improve cancer-related fatigue to the same magnitude."

Exercise heals. Our bodies are built to recover from moderate stressors. When we stress a muscle, we tear tiny muscle fibers, and they grow back stronger. When we challenge our heart and lungs, they recover more easily. When we conquer new challenges and bounce back effectively, we are able to set our sights higher and stretch our boundaries. 

This study is about cancer patients, but it holds true for all of us. If we move our bodies, we feel better, and when we feel better physically, life feels better overall. Simple as that. 

In the words of the doctor interviewed in the story, we "don't need to go run a marathon. This is about getting the public health recommendation of 150 minutes of exercise every week, and you can get that in multiple ways."

It's just a matter of getting our heart rates up for 25 minutes a day or one hour a couple of times a week. Walking, gardening, jogging, yoga, rollerskating, biking, lifting weights, dancing... options are endless. But the point is that using our bodies heals them. 

So what do you say we get out this weekend, and enjoy the fresh air and movement as much as we possibly can... to battle fatigue and depression and to improve sleep, appetite, and energy levels. Why not grab those benefits wherever we can find them?

3 Micro-Resolutions to Transform Your New Year

Most of you know that I'm no fan of New Year's Resolutions, so here is an antidote... my article for The Tennessean on 3 easily manageable micro-resolutions that could make a very real difference in 2017. The littlest things make the biggest difference in the long run. Let's give ourselves a break this new year and approach our bodies with a little kindness.

Happy New Year, you guys. Thank you for making this an incredible community of support and inspiration. I feel really blessed this New Year's Eve to be surrounded by such a killer group of human beings. Take care of yourselves tonight and into 2017!

2016: We May Not Have Slayed It, But We Survived It

A little holiday boost.

My article for The Tennessean, part 1 of 2

"2016 has been a heavy lift. In addition to the bruising political climate we’ve all just weathered, the year has been difficult or, at least, challenging for many of us, and some of us are understandably worse for wear.

"It can be difficult to remain buoyant after months of tireless perseverance. With the holidays approaching, we are expected to plaster giant smiles on our faces and ready ourselves for a brand spanking, shiny new year.

"I don’t know about you, but I have run out of steam. I have limited energy left for seasonal niceties and holiday baking, and I certainly don’t have the wherewithal to propel myself head first into next year with a pep in my step — not without taking a step back first..." More here...

Basics of Healing: 10 Easy Ways to Keep It Together

Ok guys, this has been a rough few weeks. 

I'm hearing it from my clients and friends. Those of us upset by the election have been in mourning, and the stress of Thanksgiving travel, booze, and food on top of it all sent quite a few of my people over the edge to destructive old patterns that make them feel worse instead of better. So in anticipation of the month of holiday distraction still to come, I thought it might be helpful to revisit 10 basics of healing that all of us can rely on to keep us sane and healthy through the new year. 

They might seem small, but I promise you that if you do one or more of them on a daily basis, they will make a huge difference in your ability to sleep, make healthy decisions about what to feed your body, and reduce nagging aches and pains.

1. Breakfast - high in fiber and protein if possible

2. Fresh air - get outside at least fifteen minutes a day

3. Fruit - eat some fruit midday to boost energy and curb appetite

4. Water - carry a bottle around with you and sip on it all day

5. Walk - even a 10 minute walk can lift your whole day

6. Bathe - hot water soothes the soul

7. Tea - caffeine free tea at night can decrease cravings

8. Stretch - at work, at home, any and every chance you get

9. Sleep - go to bed 30 minutes earlier. It will change your life.

10. Friends - your community is your support system. Make time for them.

Here's to waking up on January 1st, ready to handle whatever is headed our way in 2017. We need our bodies to be strong and limber so we can keep moving, keep working for good.

Reality Check: What We Value Matters. A Lot.

I came across an article last week about this image that was generated by graphic designer, Katherine Young, to highlight the stark difference between the messages girls are receiving from the media and the messages they should be receiving about what we value in them and what they should value in themselves and their peers. The image on the left is a real magazine cover, and the one on the right is Katherine's creation. The "model" featured in the second one is Olivia Hallisey, the 2015 Google Science Fair Grand Prize winner.

It's been a long time since I've been a teenager, but I remember seeing headlines like this and soaking them up like communion wine on broken bread. With messages like this front and center, it's no wonder girls get lost in beauty-centric culture and body dysmorphia before they ever make it out of middle school... and it's no wonder we did the same for generations before them.

An excerpt from Lightness of Body and Mind (page 158)...

     "Diets and fitness schemes mess us up because they are based on making us less of who we are. Don’t eat that food you love. Do this exercise you hate. The whole approach doesn’t make sense. It’s backward, and it starts in adolescence, the very first time we identify the thickening of our bodies as a defect rather than a source of power, as we ready ourselves for the challenges of adulthood.
     From there, we embark on a mission to shrink ourselves, to make our bodies smaller than they naturally are. We spend enormous energy controlling and depriving ourselves with no concept of how insane the pursuit has been from the very beginning. And then there is the backlash. All of that time and effort spent hacking away at our native bodies does nothing but send us ricocheting back to all the food we resented giving up in the first place. It backfires, and unnecessary, unwanted weight piles on.
     Enough already.
     Bodies are beautiful because of what they can do, not because of how tiny they are. It’s easy to forget what matters: the ability to bound up a flight of stairs to share good news, or the ability to stand outside on a cool, fall evening watching a storm roll in, with legs and strong abdominals to hold you up; clear vision to see dark clouds over a gray sky; ears to hear the scrape of leaves blowing on the sidewalk; the smell of rain on the horizon; and a chill on your skin."

The climb from one magazine cover to the other is steep, but for the first time in my lifetime, that climb is in motion. There is a conscious, purposeful movement afoot to value intelligence, vitality, and creativity over thigh gap and pouty lips. It's happening on Lenny Letter, in Taryn Brumfitt's film Embrace, and on social media around the world. 

Shame on designers and magazine editors who want to fill our pretty little heads with paper thin distractions, and power to any girl—or human being for that matter—using her or his smarts to get the job done and finding beauty in people of all shapes and sizes. It's up to us to shape our own values. Let's make some noise.

Softness - A Poem by Rosemary Wahtola Trommer

Love this...

Bless the softness of the body,
and bless how I have struggled so long
against being soft. I have tried to be hard,
to be firm, to be fit, to be thin, I have tried
to disappear. And after the hiking, the climbing,
the swimming, the crunching, the pushing
the lifting, the drive, comes
softness. Comes breathing,
the whole soft body breathing,
belly and chest and cheek and neck,
in and out, so softly, pure gift, with
no effort of my own. Comes softness.
My daughter this morning curls her small weight
into me and I try to make myself softer,
softer than that, soft enough
to embrace the growing miracle.
I have tried to be something other
than soft, and now, by grace, I am learning to soften,
to appreciate softening, oh beautiful
softness, oh softness I’ve hated,
I am learning to bless what is soft.        

- By Rosemary Wahtola Trommer  

Via First Sip

Fashion Freestyle

(This article originally appeared in the July/Aug issue of The East Nashvillian)

I've done a shit-ton of work on my body over the last few years, not muscle-building, weight-loss kind of work, but strengthening, supporting, and giving-myself-a-break kind of work. For most people, this sort of progress serves as an inspiration to dress that new body in beautiful, form-fitting clothes. But I find the simpler my relationship with my skin, the simpler I want to dress it.

Having worked as a personal trainer for the past 15 years, I live in yoga pants. I never acquired any kind of fashion sense — never had to and never could abide by putting anything structured on my body. Even a button- up flannel is a step too far.

Given all the money and time in the world to replace my current wardrobe with anything at all, I would fill it with jersey dresses, roll-top skirts, old jeans, and thin cotton T-shirts — the fashion equivalent of living in my pajamas.

If you throw some sunshine and a lazy afternoon into the mix, nakedness seems just as reasonable. Toss a towel my way, and I’m good to go. I don’t like things tightly wrapped around my ribs, constricting my ability to breathe, or fitted at the shoulder, reducing the full range of motion in my arms. In fact, sitting in the coffee shop writing this column, I found it absolutely necessary to surreptitiously remove my bra.

I’m a bit confused by these impulses to shed the trappings that could make my new body more obviously attractive to the outside world. I love a girly dress and can rock some wedges for an hour or two, but beyond that, keeping it together to appear even remotely fashionable on a daily basis leaves me exhausted.

Fashion should be about lightness, not restriction.

My closet, once a sparse, well-laid-out grid of shelves and rods, is now barely visible for piles of sweaters that don’t fit, dresses that make me squirm with discomfort, and shoes that make me feel 15 pounds heavier when I put them on. I don’t like any of it. And I don’t like anything I see in stores either.

I need help. I need a savior fashionista, who understands the intrinsic allure of organic cotton, to sweep in, take over, and tell me what to do.

I have no idea what I like, but I do know that I yearn for each and every item of clothing I wear to liberate my body; though I’m pretty sure this impulse leaves me looking like I’m wearing a potato sack half the time.

Maybe I’m alone in this. Maybe everyone else truly loves a pencil skirt with a nice, stiff, starched shirt and a tailored jacket on top. No question, there is power and elegance in that, but it’s not for me, at least not right now. I’ve done too much work on this body to lock it down in somebody else’s idea of beauty.

For me, beauty is freedom, and fashion should be about freedom, too, whatever form that might take from day-to-day and year-to-year. Does this clothing free me? That’s my new criteria, and if that question lands me in an old maxi dress with a cross-body bag and a pair of flip-flops, so be it. I’m sticking with what feels right until the impulse strikes to don something more magnificent, something new that lightens my step and lifts my spirits.

Where I will find clothes that make me feel that way is beyond me, but I do have faith that they exist somewhere out there. 

Somewhere, I hope, a magical designer is combining fluidity and form at an affordable price. Until I find that elusive clothing, my uniform may not be fancy, but at least it will allow me to move.
In the meantime, I’ll glam things up a bit by doing my toes — a hint of earth-bound adventure and romance, purple glitter or bust!

#ThisIsMyArsenal - Veggies and Puppies for the Win

As the world seemed to crumble around us last week, with signs of division, violence, and unpredictability everywhere, I turned to an old friend for comfort.

I went to Trader Joe's for a bag of caramel corn and a bakery box of gluten-free fudge cupcakes with buttercream icing. My husband was out of town, and after tearfully tucking my four year old—warm and safe—into bed each night, I settled down into a long-gone version of myself, a person who finds peace of mind in a pile of sweets before drifting off to sleep.

I woke up with sickness in my stomach each morning, unsure whether it was from the sugar or a tummy ache from the lives lost and looming fear for what's becoming of our country.

But this is a new week, and what I know is this: When I mistreat my body, I lose access to the power I have to heap love, compassion, and strength on whatever little corner of the world I can reach. When my body is sick and weak, I have less to offer. So I'm doing my part.

From now on, whenever I can muster the presence of mind, this is my arsenal...

And for more reinforcements... #ThisIsMyArsenal

What's in your arsenal? Tweet pics @strengthoutside of the things you love that keep you strong, or Instagram @strengthoutsidein.

Division and hatred will not win as long as we have puppies and watermelon, wine and beautiful nights with people we love on our side!

Broken Hearts and Broken Bodies

My heart is broken from the news in Orlando this past weekend, the 50 killed celebrating at Pulse and—the day before—the slaying of 22-year-old Christina Grimmie, a singer from The Voice, as she signed autographs for fans after a show.

My heart is broken from the loss of Deandre Kpana-Quamoh, an 18-year-old track star in my own neighborhood accidentally shot and killed at a party by some kids who thought it would be cool to bring out a gun. And my heart is broken by my friend's husband who took his own life a few weeks ago, fueled by anti-depressants and deep confusion.

My heart is broken alongside the hearts of millions of other Americans and people all over the world.

It's too many. It's too awful. It's too frequent and too routine.

My job is to help people take better care of their bodies, but that is a difficult thing to do when we are all walking around with broken hearts. So I can't write about fitness on this particular day. I can't write about wellness without acknowledging the cruelty and heartache that seems to wash over us in ever more frequent waves: shootings, violence, anger between neighbors, and unmitigated rage on the roads.

I don't understand. I don't know where it all began, but I do know that with all of this rage oozing up from underneath, it's too easy to get a gun—and too easy to walk into the line of fire while going about our daily lives.

There is no place in our homes for assault weapons, and there is no reason anyone with a history of violence or mental instability should be able to walk into any old store on any old day and buy a gun, especially one designed to obliterate huge numbers of human beings in mere seconds.

I probably shouldn't bring this up. It's probably not a good idea for my career. I wrote a post about guns and playdates a while back that went viral and was warned by several people that I should be careful associating myself with controversial issues like this if I want my book to have broad appeal. By speaking my mind, I will lose some people who might otherwise be interested in what I have to say about health and wellbeing. But this is a health issue, an urgent one, and I simple can't shut my mouth about it.

We can't take care of our bodies if we don't have living bodies to take care of, and we can't take care of our kids' bodies if they are riddled with bullets on campuses, street corners, and in nightclubs. We need our bodies, free of bullet holes, to breathe and move and rejoice.

Orlando Vigil in Nashville, TN 6/12/16
(via Nancy VanReece)

Today my heart is broken, but—just like I lean on long walks and fresh air when my body feels weighed down and broken—I see no option here, other than to lean on kindness, openheartedness, acceptance, love, generosity, and truth.

Truth being the word of the day. 

Truth. 91 Americans die every day from gun violence; 7 of them children. Truth. America's gun murder rate is 25 times higher than that of other developed countries. 

Truth. We need universal background checks, common sense gun law reform, limits on the sale of automatic and semi-automatic guns and ammo, and pervasive gun storage and safety education for people licensed to own and carry. Truth. We need to elect politicians who are willing to enact the laws we need to keep our families safe, and we need to categorically reject the representatives who won't. 

There is a groundswell of people working on this, and joining them has kept me sane through these tragedies piling up on top of the other. You can find more information here: Moms Demand Action or here, Everytown for Gun Safety.

Find your local chapter; donate to politicians who are brave enough to take a stand; and vote like your life depends on it, because it might. And then go home and tuck your kids into bed. Shield them until they can't be shielded any more from the heartbreak. Teach them to treat their own bodies and the bodies of everyone around them with loving kindness, and hope like hell that they don't end up at the wrong movie theater or in the wrong classroom at the wrong time.

May we all find a better way, someday somehow, to handle these fragile broken hearts of ours.