I can’t wait to tell you about it.

This week, thanks to the crazy DC weather and the wedding of dear friends Mike and Mel, I had my toes in sand and snow.
The beaches of Malibu, California… yes please. It was about 75 degrees and blissful.
My first DC snow, it was cold but beautiful. It took me twice as long to walk to work since I couldn’t help but instagram every five feet.

It’s a new year, and that means scores of folks are flooding the gym in an attempt to get healthy.

It’s a new year, and that means scores of Lululemon clad gym rats will be there to give them the side-eye for being a New Year’s Resolution athlete.

I won’t be one of them. And neither should you.

I suppose I could… as an avid devotee of Biker Barre in Eastern Market, I log in about an hour of ass-kicking workout a day. I walk a mile to and from work every day. I do ballet a few times a week. I run around the Lincoln memorial most Sundays. Shorter version: I work out.

This week I was huffing and puffing (gracefully?) through a Barre class. My muscles were burning, but I was keeping pace. Next to me, a new girl was rocking it out as best as she could. After our set, I looked over and gave her a thumbs up. Just that little but of camaraderie motivated me to push harder, to stand up straighter and to give max effort. After class she stopped me and said, “hey, thanks for the support. I haven’t been to the gym after I hurt my knee.” Something as simple as a word of encouragement can make the difference between a feeling intimidated and overwhelmed or welcomed and challenged.

I know exactly what it’s like to walk in to a gym—a little rusty, a little intimidated, a little less fit than you’d like. I know what it’s like to feel like one of the weakest in a workout class. But, I also know what it’s like to be one of the strongest.

My first class at Biker Barre was ug-ly. It was a Barre class… I figured, “I do ballet, I got this.” Yeah, no.

We started the class with three sets of eight push-ups. Fun fact: I couldn’t do one. ONE. After the push-ups came about two hours of planks. This was when I threw up in my mouth. We hadn’t even done one ballet plié—and I knew I was bested.

And then there was Spin. I can devote an entire blog to how spin has changed my life. And it has.

I was sore for three days after my first class. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment—but I kept with it. It took me four months to get up to where I’m at. I still struggle to do a push-up properly (I look like a flailing seal) but I show up.

So here’s my challenge to my fellow workout addicts. When you see the new folks in their shiny new sneakers and workout clothes—be a force of good. Don’t be the reason they don’t want to show up. Everyone starts at a different place, with different skills. Be the reason they want to push themselves harder.

Just like diets that can only start on Mondays, it seems that resolving to do such and such can only begin on January 1.

Being mercilessly Type-A means that things like resolutions just won’t do. I prefer goals. I need things that are non-negotiably concrete, analytical and easy to measure. I know, don’t you just want to invite me over for dinner?

But in the interest of sharing… here is a snapshot of some of the goals I’ve set for 2013.

• 260 workouts. That’s 5 days a week.
• To photograph and catalog my entire wardrobe (to encourage purposeful buying, and not impulsive “Oh, I want!” purchasing.)
• Max-out contributions to my 401k.
• Pay off final credit card debt by July.
• Continue sending letters (by mail!) and make sure that one a week goes to my Granny.
• Read 40 books– and not just fiction.

Do you make New Year’s resolutions? What are you resolving to change?

I spent a week in Texas for Christmas. Hijinks ensued.

(Clockwise and such)

My Granny is now back home after spending 6 extraordinarily scary months in the hospital. She’s in great spirits and my family is really blessed to have exceptional home-health workers that spoil her rotten and make her happy. One of the highlights of my vacation was taking Granny to the Trail of Lights, a festive light display along Lady Bird Lake. As I pushed her along in her wheelchair she was singing Jingle Bells. It was pretty much the best thing ever.

I like to think of my Dad as the Latino Norman Rockwell. The man loves a good tradition. Of course he has the rest of his family to contend with. A family of goofballs. About 10 minutes in to his “Let’s take embarrassing family photos in front of the tree” photo shoot– my siblings and I hijacked it and turn it into “Let’s make a sibling totem pole instead.”

50 Shades of Chicken. A gift from sister. It is exceptionally filthy.

My Christmas pudding pie. My nephew AJ. I look forward to maxing out my credit cards on that sweet face.

I am back in DC after a great trip to Rome.

What do you get the person who has everything? A giftcard to Starbucks of course.

But maybe also consider these gems from the world’s best in-flight shopping magazine, Skymall.

“Drunk Cat” painting. Because, obviously. Once commissioned a 4×8′ oil portrait of Jill wearing a Napoleonic uniform… Evan threatened divorce.

A human slingshot. What better way to break your collarbone? I blame Obamacare.

Affirmation box. But only for someone named Bob. Open it and it says affirmations like “you sure are sexy Bob.” Sure to be a family heirloom.

Cat Playground… because giving up on your dreams should also coordinate with your decor.

]]> http://stayupearly.com/?feed=rss2&p=1165 0 http://stayupearly.com/?p=1174 http://stayupearly.com/?p=1174#comments Wed, 21 Nov 2012 19:53:55 +0000 Christina http://stayupearly.com/?p=1174

I have a deep and un-ironic love for Cracker Barrel. It’s just so good. But that doesn’t mean I won’t laugh my ass off at their homey wares.

A peek at the last week of the campaign.

1. Found out I was getting sent to Chicago at 10am on Friday. My first thought? Holy moly, I need to go vote. Apparently I also broke election law snapping this pic. (Cue me scuttling off after being yelled at).

2. Obligatory airplane wing Instagram. You can find more of my Instagrammed life here.

3. In the lobby of the OFA office is an amazing (read: anxiety-inducing) countdown clock. It’s easy to picture an election that is a year away, or 6-months away… but now that I am down to the last 70 some-odd hours– I am feeling every second.

4. One of the most unexpected and joyful things I got to witness– at the start of the GOTV weekend one of the OFA staffers treated us to an amazing bagpipe performance including Scotland the Brave (here is what it sounds like). I managed to catch him over the Clear Eyes. Full Hearts. Can’t Lose poster– and it just seemed so fitting.

We’re down the very end, and it’s been an amazing little ride.

Cg