Winter in Madison, Wisconsin wasn't for sissies.  It was out and out frigid and getting through it every year was something of a small miracle.  With such an unforgiving winter season, preventing things like frost bite was a preoccupation among parents of school age children and my mother was no different.  She was ever vigilant in protecting me and my little sister from the brutally cold weather as we made our way to and from school every day.  If we actually arrived at school without any of our extremities freezing off, my mother figured that she did her job and that's pretty much where her concern ended.

What my mother didn't quite understand is that when the merciless winter fell heavy upon Madison my sister and I walked amid a virtual sea of green and yellow.  Everyone (except for my mother) knew that this was Packers territory and practically everyone in the school proudly wore their Green Bay Packers jacket to hammer home this very point. 

As a concerned and semi-involved parent, my mother should have had, at the very least, a cursory understanding of the traits that define the average Green Bay Packers fan.  The steadfast loyalty, the resolute dedication, the deep rooted, almost obsessive love that these people hold for their team. And perhaps more importantly, from my viewpoint, the equally obsessive hatred that these folks harbor for their arch rival and division competitor; the Minnesota Vikings.  

Indeed, this profound animosity is, in large part, the glue that binds these people one to the other and defines their very existence.  It's what drives them to sit in a wide open stadium in the bitter cold and proudly wear yellowish-orange, triangular shaped hats on their otherwise bare heads that resemble great big slices of cheddar cheese. This alone should tell you that these folks aren't quite right.  Evidently, this escaped my mother. 

Drugs.  It had to be.  Looking back, the only thing that I can come up with is that my mother must have been taking some serious mind-altering drugs. Drugs that profoundly interfered with her perception, skewed her sense of reality, and caused her to make absolutely scary parenting decisions.  It's really the only explanation that I have for why an otherwise rational woman would send her two unsuspecting children out into what is clearly Green Bay territory in bright purple and yellow jackets with the word "VIKINGS" prominently plastered across the back. 

And if that wasn't enough, we also had equally subtle purple and yellow hats with "VIKINGS" screaming across our foreheads.  If she really, really  didn't like us, it would have been far less painful for her to take us to the edge of the street and shove us directly into the path of an oncoming bus and gotten it over with quickly.  But instead, my mother opted to take the slow and excessively painful route.  She would have done just as well had she painted big red bulls-eyes on our backs and handed us two little signs that read, "We are your enemy.  Please pelt us every single day with as many snowballs as you possibly can before we reach the safety of our school!"

The venomous fervor with which these kids assaulted us on a daily basis was totally mind boggling.  To this day, I don't have any idea how they managed to stockpile and unload so many snowballs upon every last inch of our person before we reached our school.  What's worse is that these kids rarely, if ever, missed.  The walk home wasn't any better and complaining to our mother actually did less than nothing.  

Never mind that I would have rather removed every stitch of clothing and walked naked to school in the blistering cold, my mother wouldn't hear any negative commentary about the purple jackets.  My mother proudly informed me, in no uncertain terms mind you, that these wonderful coats were on sale, that they kept us warm on our journey to and from school and that they were so durable that she couldn't see having to buy us another winter coat for a very, very, v-e-r-y long time and that it was not only a tremendously shrewd investment on her part but also a gift straight from God and didn't we know that there were freezing children somewhere in the world that would be eternally grateful to have these warm jackets that we so selfishly took for granted thankyouverymuch.   

Before I could ask for a freezing child's address, my mother went on and with a stern wag of her finger only inches from my nose advised that I should ignore anyone who made fun of my brilliant purple coat because they were probably just jealous anyway.  No, no.  Today, I can say with absolute confidence and one hundred percent certainty that they were not.  The collective sentiment hovered somewhere between mildly pissed and downright homicidal.

Thirty years later it's crystal clear to me why these particular coats were on sale. Anyone with even a passing understanding of football would very quickly realize that the rivalry between the Green Bay Packers and the Minnesota Vikings runs long and deep.  And it seems to me that if you live in one of these states (for 9 years) you ought to be aware of these significant matters because as I see it now, the only way that a parent would send a kid out into the searing cold wearing a Minnesota Vikings jacket with a matching Minnesota Vikings hat deep in Green Bay territory is if that particular parent harbored a secret and abiding death wish for that kid. 

Thanks a bunch mom . . .

For those of you who think that I fell off the face of the planet once again, be advised; you aren't that fortunate.  I still loom larger than ever and I don't see that changing in this lifetime.

To bring everyone up to speed, I've had a wonderfully busy summer training my fantastic clients, training myself, teaching, learning, pushing and growing.  This summer I got to attend the Senior Olympics and watch one of my clients snatch the gold medal in Archery and then turn right around and watch two others push themselves in triathlon. WOW!  What a fantastic time! 

Now, as summer fades into fall, it's time to reflect, take stock and make some decisions on where I want to go and what I want to accomplish moving forward for myself and for those that are interested in joining me.  On that point, I currently have approximately seven awesome women getting themselves mentally and physically prepared to compete in triathlons, duathlons, and dri-tris next summer.  Success is indeed contagious; amazing what people can inspire just by deciding to be something more.  Rebecca and Liz . . . you two really started something here!

What about me?  I've got something planned for next year too.  It's time for me to go to that next level; the process already started.  It begins in the mind and everything else naturally aligns itself toward the goal . . . I'll be sure to keep everyone as up to date as possible.

On a final note, in case any of you happen to be wondering . . . I AM indeed playing fantasy football again this year!  My mother and I had a magnificent time together following my team last season so every Sunday, root hard for Mama's Angels to WIN! 

So I purchased a new camera.  This is the very first picture that I snapped.  Remember little Molly?  Well, she's all grown up now . . .

I gotta say, I love the quality of the picture.  I did a lot of research before I settled on this camera and I am particularly proud of myself. I am excited about my brand new purchase.  What does this mean to all of you?  Not a single one of you is exempt . . .  SAY CHEESE!

P.S.  Watch out Lizzy . . . I am all over your next triathlon!

Last Sunday people gathered en masse in the quaint little town of Sylvania, Ohio to watch three hundred and ninety six women swim, bike and run.   And I was one of them.  Because among these three hundred and ninety six would-be triathletes was my client Liz and her daughter Fannie.

Out of my entire clientele, both past and present, I dare say that Liz was the very last person that I would expect to ever compete in a triathlon let alone actually enjoy it!  At the very beginning, to say that Liz wasn't thrilled with the whole concept of working out is a drastic understatement. 

She wasn't a big fan of pushing herself, she went to great lengths to avoid any sort of physical pain and she wasn't someone who necessarily enjoyed being uncomfortable.  For three solid years I chewed on this woman's ass to get her going and keep her going.  So, for her to voluntarily put herself way outside of her comfort zone and enter a triathlon, essentially a trifecta of misery, pain, and discomfort, of all things, was nothing short of jaw-dropping.  Stranger things have happened I suppose.  But not many.

Is Liz a natural athlete?  No.  Is she a swimmer?  Not even close.  Is she particularly adept at running? Not at all.  Can she bike?  Only if she really had to.  So right from the start, Liz could maybe pull off exactly one-third of a full-blown triathlon.  Did that stop her from entering?  NOPE! 

Armed with her own personal resolve and incredibly determined daughter, this proper, well-manicured champion of rest and relaxation jumped in stagnant lakes, biked until her rear end was numb and ran until her feet blistered.  If it rained, they trained.  If it was hot and humid, they trained.  If it was cold, they trained.  If it was windy, they trained.  Liz hit the gym with a renewed sense of determination and purpose; it was muscle and might that she sought and she aimed to get it this time.

After endless weeks of grueling training, the event was fast upon them.  These two awesome women swam 400 yards, biked 13 miles and then ran another 3 miles to the finish line. Exactly one hour and forty minutes after jumping into the water it was all over; they were officially triathletes.

I suppose that you never really know what you're truly made of until you give yourself the opportunity to find out.  I am glad that Liz and Fannie did. . . 

(Liz waving and riding the bike.  I love this picture.  Blow it up and take a look!)

Taken the moment they became bona fide triathletes.  Congratulations Liz and Fannie on a strong finish! 

Thank you both for the inspiration . . . .

For those of you who are concerned about my coffee consumption allow me to set the record straight right here and right now.  I admit that I have an undeniable love affair with this beverage and consume it around the clock all year round.  For me there is nothing better than hitting the gym floor in the morning, coffee in hand, for an intense, gut-busting training session.  Nothing in this world beats it.

And I must admit, many of my clients bring me coffee.  If I receive the offering after I've trained them, the coffee is a token of their genuine appreciation for an awesome workout.  And if said client brings me a coffee before we train, then it's outright ass-kissing.  I notice that I tend to get more pre-workout coffee on days that my clients train legs . . . go figure.  On these occasions, I smile politely in recognition of the kind gesture but two days hence these people cannot sit comfortably on the toity.  Sorry. ("Moderation?"  What's that?)

This evening I took a little test.  I discovered exactly how many cups of brewed coffee I would have to ingest before I keeled right over. 

The result:  95.25 cups of coffee in one sitting and I am history. 

The bottom line: Bringing me coffee will not kill me.  And as I slowly pull back those carbs . . . I'm gonna really need it so don't give it a second thought folks!

by it's cover so the old saying goes.  Yet so many of us do it and I am certainly no exception.  And if we really pay attention, the world is full of opportunities for us to continuously challenge ourselves and our perceptions. 

Perhaps many of you know Susan Boyle's story but for those of you that remain unaware, please take a few moments and watch the following video clip.  For me, it is not only moving and highly inspirational but moreover personifies the notion that every single one of us has something truly miraculous inside to share with the world and it's up to us to listen . . .    

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxPZh4AnWyk

The 2009 contest season is just barely underway and I am at it once again!  This past weekend my friend and colleague Jeff Vitale competed in the 2009 Flint/Mid-Michigan Natural.  I am honored that he trusted me enough to help him prepare and to assist him backstage. 

We had a wonderful time together dialing in his diet, getting his color just so and going into this thing totally prepared.  For me, that is the only way to do it.  Learn from past experience, get everything done ahead of time so that on the day of the competition, all you have to do is concentrate on giving it the very best that you have inside.  All I wanted him to think about was going out onto that stage, sticking every pose to the best of his ability and nailing his 90 second evening routine (which, by the way, he really did!); I had the rest covered.     

I must say that Jeff was an interesting case in terms of diet.  Honestly, I've never seen such a ridiculously fast-acting metabolism in my ENTIRE life!  He merely glances at a piece of cardio equipment and practically drops 10 pounds.  It's insane.  As the competition drew nearer I would tell him, "do ten minutes of cardio every other day."  And then after a couple of sessions he would diligently report his weight and I would say "FORGET IT! STOP! STOP! STOP!"  And this little dance of ours went on and on and on and on . . . and on . . .

Since he chews through calories like an industrial garbage disposal my biggest concern was to make sure that he didn't lose precious muscle during the carb cycling phase of his diet.  If we brought him in too fast, he would be small and flat.  This would not terribly impress the judges.  So, we kept his cardio to a bare minimum and manipulated his caloric intake accordingly. 

As the competition inched closer, I watched him like a hawk.  I felt like a psycho-stalker woman.  He would be out on the gym floor minding his own business and there I was lurking behind pieces of equipment to see what kind of pump he was getting. If I didn't like what I saw, we adjusted his diet.  And, dear reader, I am here to tell you that this went on for weeks.  I think that if I asked him to show me his abs one more time he would charge me a hefty fee . . . and I wouldn't blame him one iota!

Jeff's hard work did indeed pay off.  At the competition, he weighed in at 151 lbs which put him at the top end of the lightweight category.  Perfect.  At the end of the day, Jeff took 3rd place in the Men's Master's Division (over 35) and 1st PLACE in the Men's Open Lightweight Division!

Here's a picture that I snapped backstage with my cell phone.  I didn't have a decent camera back there with me so I can't offer you any more pictures.  Besides, even if I did, I was so obsessed with his color that I wouldn't haven taken shit for photos anyway.  However, I know that other people did take pictures so when I get a hold of them, I will go ahead and post them right here for your enjoyment!  Until then, feel free to read all about the event here.

Congratulations Jeff on a job extraordinarily well done!

Very shortly after mom passed away, my little sister and I decided that neither a funeral nor a traditional memorial service would provide the appropriate venue to really honor our mother's life.  So instead, we diligently set about planning a "Celebration of Life" event in my little sister's home.  An event totally and completely dedicated to capturing the beautiful expression that was Judith Kathryn Hardy. 

Ultimately, we wanted to create a space where all those who loved her could gather, commune, share, laugh, cry and ultimately say farewell. We had but one restriction -- only the very best of everything would do . . .

Our mother's favorite color was pink so the custom-made invitations sent to over 100 people were pink:

Orchids were our mother's favorite flower so we brought in pale pink orchids from Hawaii to adorn the buffet table:

   . . . and the coffee table in the living room:

Our mother enjoyed taking her grandsons to the butterfly house at the Detroit Zoo so we had a special mixture of seeds available for people to take and plant in the spring; a wildflower medley that will yield a colorful array of flowers that no butterfly can possibly resist:

Photographs of our mother lined the piano:

And occupied an entire table set up in the back:

We sifted through thousands of family photographs and compiled a fifteen minute DVD highlighting the many decades of our mother's life that played continuously throughout the event and well into the evening.  We had valet parking, two tables overflowing with gourmet food, fine wine and a guest list that included people that our mother truly loved and who truly loved her.  In short, we dotted every "i" and crossed every "t" . . .  one-thousand times over! 

And, at the end of the day, I am confident that my little sister and I fashioned a very special event that our mother would have really enjoyed.  It was classy, elegant, and extraordinarily well-attended.  Despite the treacherous weather, people came in from all over to celebrate her life.  Among those in attendance were Carol and Jackie; the organist and soloist from my father's church in Madison Wisconsin. 

Certainly, one of the things that I vividly recall from my childhood is Carol and Jackie practicing before church services every Sunday morning.  My mother loved music and would often sit in the sanctuary and listen to them rehearse.  If I really think about it, I can still hear the three of them giggling, laughing and carrying on as if sharing a delicious secret to which no one else in the world was privy.  Back then my mother loved to hear Jackie sing Amazing Grace; it was always one of her very favorite songs.  So as I sat there and listened to Carol play the piano and Jackie sing that all too familiar melody, this time in my mother's memory, I closed my eyes and was instantaneously taken back 30 years to a time when my life was really, really good and everything in my world made perfect sense.

Now, there are no words to express the emptiness.  There are no words to explain the heartache and there are absolutely no words to describe how much I will miss my mother in this life going forward.  But what I know for sure is that our goodbye here is only for a little while and I do take great solace in knowing that one fine day I shall be returned to her once again. 

We love you mom . . . for now . . . for always . . . forever . . .

  In Loving Memory of Judith Kathryn Hardy 1944-2009

Due to the recent death of my mother, I will be taking a brief hiatus from writing.  These past few months have been extraordinarily difficult and I am finding it quite a challenge to hold a coherent thought in my head. 

In addition to proof reading my mother's death certificate and making the appropriate arrangements for her cremation, my little sister and I are working hard to give my mother a befitting memorial for one loved more than words can define. Since it's the last thing that we will be able to give to our mother, we are making certain that she gets the very best.  No holds barred.

I am sure that I will write in the near future . . . when things settle down a bit and words can find me once again.  However, until then, I thank all of you for your heartfelt prayers and genuine words of love and support that come to me daily.  It is greatly and sincerely appreciated . . .