As we near the end of the year and enter into the holiday season, there seems to be too little time and a whole lot of obligations.  Our weekends start getting filled up and our weekdays become a time of overflowing with activities.  The days are short and dark and the weather never seems to cooperate with our needs.  There is so much planning and doing, helping and extending, but what are we doing for ourselves? 

The weekends are a time to recharge.  They are a time to enjoy the evenings without worrying about getting the kids off to school in the morning, no lunches to make, no early wake ups.  They are a time to stay out a little later without having to get up and get off to work before the sun has risen. 

I was sitting here, looking at my computer.  I kept thinking that I have so much to say but I just can’t seem to form it into the thoughts that would make sense in the written form.  My thoughts would begin in one direction and then move into a completely different direction.  I couldn’t seem to find a way to make sense of all the things going on right now. 

So often we look at the way someone looks or the way they act and we wish we could be like them.  We try to figure out what their secret to success is.  Well, there is no secret to success.  One size doesn't fit all.  If life were that simple we wouldn’t have to learn from our mistakes because people would have already made those mistakes.  Mistakes and all, we have to own who we are. 

The holidays are knocking at our doors, waiting for us to open up and fill our homes with decorations we never knew we needed or wanted.  Walking through the grocery stores we are bombarded with the constant reminder that it is time to start planning, buying, and scheduling all our holiday festivities.  I know it is only the middle of October.

My partner in all things life is gone, and yes I know I said it last week.  I want today to go by and this week to go by and this month to go by and then this 10 months to go by.  I want all this time to just disappear so that I can get my partner back.  Ok, I don’t really want to skip ahead 10 months, but I sort of do.   Dreading these 10 months has left me open to the idea that I don’t actually want to erase this time.

I spent this past weekend at a fitness and business summit in Seattle.  The three day summit had an all-star line up of fitness professionals that were willing to share inspiration and wisdom from their successes and failures in the fitness industry.  As I was driving home, I was overwhelmed with information.  My mind was racing over the many different points that stuck out, trying to retain those “ah-ha” moments.

I am competitive.  I know surprise surprise.  I hate to lose at anything and I want to win at everything.  Most of the time I think competition is great, I love the competition in tennis and basketball.  I love competing with myself in powerlifting, and I like competing with people who don’t even know I’m competing with them.  Is there a point when competition takes away from the activity?  I have seen both sides of competition and there have been times that the ugly side has shown its face.

For the most part, plateaus suck.  We set the goal, we work our asses off to accomplish it and then somewhere, somehow plateaus will come out of nowhere to make us second guess all our hard work.  They don’t really happen quiet like that, but they always seem to come when we are hungry for more and stop us in our tracks.  It’s almost a test to make sure we want it bad enough, or give us an excuse to take a step backwards.  

I was working out today and feeling great about my training.  My nutrition has been good this summer, my workouts have been challenging, I’m feeling strong and when I look at myself in the mirror the woman smiling back is someone I am proud to be.  And then, as I was finishing up my final set of back exercises, I realized I was waiting for the other foot to drop.  I realized I have been anticipating that moment when something terribly wrong will happen to me, you know, to “even” out these good feelings.