Seven Weeks Till Summer

The time to start has come … again. And frankly, I’m over with starting over, I’m done with not being done, and I’m finished with beginning … the redundancy makes me ill. Nevertheless, I find myself at the starting line once more.

Now, a little self-talk: enough with the defeatist attitude Erin, the life is greener anywhere but here bull***t, and the I’ve already lost before starting rhetoric must end this instant.

Ok. Better.

The deal is this: I readily accept fitness, I welcome tightness, and I want full body strength. I need health. I need energy and mental wellbeing. I need to feed my body good things and work it the way it was intended (i.e. more than a little and less than a lot). I must  push-on towards the muchiest version of myself.

I have 7 weeks until the first day of summer, enough time to pull it together for some intense (not gonna lie) shizzle (are people still izzle-ing? if not they should, because it’s awesome).

I must make this clear though – over the next few months you are going to hear a lot about getting ready for  bikini season. I do not want to be another voice among the many saying you are gross in less than an overcoat if you aren’t a certain size or heaven forbid you have certain unseemly textures to your skin. The whole thin-obsessed culture we live in is effing ridiculous.

Here’s the real deal – last week I wore a bikini to the beach, when I bent over to pick up sand toys or sunscreen-up my kid a decent fold of stretch-marked skin hung over my bottoms, also my thighs rub generously when I walk, and neither of these things make me unsuitable for bikini wearing. The only prerequisite for bikini wearing (or anything wearing really) is a body. I do not want my goals of fitness and health to be mistaken as goals of striving for an ideal body, which in my case would be a thinner body.

There are no ideal bodies.

There are only bodies.

Body confidence means being present and grateful in the body I have right this very moment, without making excuses or expecting more than what my current body offers to me. My body does not owe a standard of beauty to anyone, ever, without exception.

Seven weeks from now I plan to have a healthier body, I will not have a more valuable, lovable, or beautiful one.

I constructed eating and exercising guidelines, taking hints from all of my favorite health gurus (Tone It Up, Bob Harper, Paleo), as well as, listing specific dates between now and June 18th (my birthday) which will provide challenges for following said guidelines. JR suggested I do this, and like most every other suggestion she’s had for me over the tenure of our friendship, she has proved to be right once more. She also suggested I keep a journal of my progress. I will try.


In order to celebrate my body’s capacity for health and fitness we are re-releasing our Weekly Plan Printable updated in color and font with the same superior design including tear-away shopping list, 5 meal structure, water goal bubbles and workout section.

Until next time, keep hydrated.


CLICK HERE FOR PRINTABLE: two thirtysomethings weekly plan


Since I’m up early anyways

Since becoming a mommy I’ve had to make peace with some things. Namely, waking at the crack of dawn. I used to sit around, give my kid a snack, and pretend to still be asleep. But this left me feeling defeated and not so stellar in the parenting department. Plus it’s really hard to sleep through Sesame Street.

So when I’m on my game (which doesn’t always happen) I set my alarm and wake up before the kiddos. I get dressed in my work out clothes, sneak downstairs, and have a cuppa. Then I read, journal, and plan out my day. When the kids wake up, I grab them a snack and water bottle and put them in the stroller. And boom, Mommy’s getting it done. Off for a run and the day has just started.

When Dr. Husband is off for the day. I get to take off right away and enjoy the quiet morning all on my own. This morning was one of those mornings. So I laced up my shoes, grabbed my headphones (so I could check out Erin’s new playlist mentioned here), and had a wonderful solo run. Unfortunately, in my little Northern California town enjoying a playlist a little too loudly means you can’t hear the enraged biker who is shouting, “left, Left, LEFT!” until he almost hits you. Oops.

I snapped this while out on my run.  Get it done ladies, Get it done!