Warning: Sprinting causes orgasms...
This is the first time I heard this from a client but not the last. Exercise releases endorphins—runners high. A natural, on top of the world climax during & after the exercise is over.
When I was on my 80lb weight loss journey, I would be so amorous after training sessions my husband began to wonder what the hell I was doing with my trainer in those sessions.
Watch this quick video to see the post sprinting climax this client experienced:
I remember when I stepped on the scale after three months with my trainer and saw I had lost thirty pounds. I was ecstatic & flying high. I walked outta that gym feeling taller, prouder than I had in years.
I had lost THIRTY fucking pounds in three months after going years without seeing the scale budge.
I went to a dinner that night & my beloved bread basket came. I thought, ‘I just lost thirty pounds, I can have a piece.’ Then the waitress asked if I wanted anything to drink.
I thought for a second, then ordered a wine, I mean after all, deserved to treat myself, right? I went on to have more bread, more wine leading to more poor decisions that weren’t in line with my goal of still having fifty more pounds to lose.
My trainer was smart; he had me keep a food journal that he checked every time we met. This way we could prevent me from going on a bender & waiting until the scale goes up to find out.
His only rule was honesty. So I was fucked & not in a good way. I was going to have to write all this crap I just ingested in that damn food journal.
I saw him two days later & his eyes got huge. Then he looked at my 10-year-old-daughter, who was with me at that session & said “Hide your mother’s scale”. He announced from that point forward, I was not allowed to weigh myself, & when he weighed me he would not tell me the number.
He told me I was cocky, resting on the laurels of losing 30lbs, and couldn’t be all loosey goosey with my eating. I wouldn’t be allowed to use the scale as a partner in my indulgent crimes.
I now employ this with my clients who also rest on their laurels and use the scale as an excuse to go off the eating wagon. I tell them “If you are cocky about all the weight you’ve lost, then I’m going to hide that damn scale, and only I will know if you’ve lost anything!”
Click on this video to hear my client who was caught resting on her laurels...
I came to NYC to work for a production company three years ago. The limo picked me up & took me through the Lincoln Tunnel.
Little did I know that was yet another metaphor for my life. Going through the tunnel would lead me to a life I never imagined. Or maybe I did imagine it, i just never never imagined I’d act on it.
I remember feeling nervous excitement during that ride through the tunnel. I soaked it up knowing that as soon as I hit the end of the tunnel my life would never be the same.
I recently went through that same tunnel. All the feelings of my first time through came flooding back. The only difference is this time at the end of the tunnel was my home.
I found my way through the darkness & not only found the light, but also found my home. I realized the light waiting for me at the end of the tunnel was coming from inside me, not anything or anyone outside of me.
I am the light.
My true self has been waiting for me at the end of every dark tunnel I’ve ever been through.
The light always comes. This I promise you. The tunnel won’t last forever. Some are longer, some are shorter, but there’s always a light at the end. You are the light.
Run to your high beam brilliance.
Every morning since we moved to NYC from Arizona feels like I’m Nicolas Cage in the movie “Family Man”. Nothing is familiar even after 10 months of living here.
I wake up in a queen size bed, horns & sirens blaring outside that my noisy window a/c unit can’t even drown out.
I wait for my teen daughter to be done in our one bathroom before I can even pee. I go out to our dining room/living room/office to my hubby talking loud on a biz call and cook in a hot kitchen with no a/c toppling everything over in the cramped space.
My dog has to go outside which means I have to put on a bra, shoes & actual clothes since I train clients in my building who I run Into. I wait forever for her to pee since she still isn’t used to relieving herself publicly on the sidewalk.
No one is familiar even after 10 months. I see clients & think “You are very nice but where are all my Az BAMs?” I facetime my Az clients & hate the barrier of the phone between us wishing I could walk thru my Apple iPhone portal to give them a hug.
I somehow got myself elected as PA President of Beacon High school. I run board meetings hearing all the demands & think “Who are you people & what do you want from me?”
The one familiar person I knew here who actually wanted me to come here has declared “I am dead” to him. He’s correct: the Az Lis is dead.
NYC Lis has been resurrected in her place. Even though that friendship turned out to be toxic I still miss him. He was the only familiar person besides my family here.
There are times I feel so homesick for my former life, my tribe, that it physically hurts. I long for our small tight knit catholic school community who prayed for us & openly talked about God. I don’t hear the “G” word mentioned much & get the feeling it’s a taboo subject here.
I get into my via carpool service enduring smells & conversations I do not wish to have. I endure the subway & all its cattle car qualities complete with a myriad of distinct odors
I lug my laundry down to the basement hoping there is an open washer & dryer. There are times when I just break down & sob telling my family let’s go back home. Everything in NYC is harder, takes longer, is a fight.
Yet...I have no regrets.
As difficult as it is here, it would be much more difficult sittting in my 3,000 sq ft house with 5 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, letting my dog out to relieve herself in her spacious backyard complete with a pool, my central a/c, a kitchen the size of my entire nyc apt, driving my car around enjoying the solitude & lovely fresh new car scent, doing laundry in my own washing machine, waking up in my king size bed & lingering in my private jacuzzi tub.
The trade off of seeing all my familiar, loving people and keeping all the comforts of my former life would have been the nagging question that we would have been asking every day: “What would have happened if we had said yes to Beacon High school & moved to NYC?”
I’d be disappointed in myself that I chose to stay comfortable, that I chose convenience over challenge, that I chose to not grow.
So yes it’s fucking hard since I moved here but not nearly as hard as the regrets I’d have if we hadn’t moved.
“But it’s so hard to get up early & workout”
”But it’s so hard to pass up the wine”
”But it’s so hard to make time to exercise”
”But it’s so hard to____”
I could go on & on. But I’d rather ask you this “Is whatever you say is hard about getting fit & healthy harder than waking up everyday hating the way you look in pictures? Harder than having no energy? Harder than the way you feel inside? Harder than none of your clothes fitting? Harder than avoiding social events because of the way you look? Harder than being the heaviest person in the room? Harder than having sex with the lights on or at all? Harder than having your life shortened by high blood pressure, diabetes & heart disease?
For me exercising is hard. Eating healthy is hard. But not as hard as when I hated myself for weighing 226lbs.
Time to stop hating. Time to get the outside your inside always wanted. Time to love yourself. You are worth it.
I have a huge sweet tooth. In the beginning of my weight loss journey my trainer banished all sugar & sweet treats from my diet. He told me I was a sugar addict. I suggested just cutting back like a true addict. He said “NO SUGAR”. Not even fruit or fruit juices the first 3 months.
I had to learn self control, detox & clear my mind, body & soul from my sugar addiction. I had to stop turning to sugar to comfort me. I had to peel off not just the layers of fat but more importantly the layers inside. Real change happens inside first then you see it on the outside.
After 3 months I had lost 30lbs & 30 inches off my entire body by eating paleo & exercising 6 days a week. it was my daughter’s first communion which of course required a cake. I ordered very indulgent cake plus cookies from a popular bakery. Those were for our family & friends coming. The non paleo people. The people who made fun of my new found “caveman diet”. The people who said “paleo isn’t real food” which if they had educated themselves at all would have realized paleo is only real food.
My trainer made me my own paleo chocolate cake complete with frosting, the most important part. He gave me 3 slices; one for me, my husband & my daughter. He was smart. He knew willpower was a muscle you need to exercise & that muscle wasn’t strong enough yet to handle an entire cake in my home. He said my home needed to be my safe haven. You can’t eat what’s not there. So on the day of her celebration he handed me the container with 3 slices of cake. Everyone was making fun of my “cake” actually using air quotes to describe it.
My trainer's kind gesture got me through feeling deprived at my daughter’s special occasion & taught me I can actually be satiated with one slice of cake as opposed to the entire cake I used to eat. It’s a very dense rich cake that even I am not capable of eating more than a slice in one sitting. That slice of cake drew more attention than if Martha Stewart baked a cake. Everyone wanted to try a bite to see what “this paleo thing was all about”. They said “wow it actually looks good” & “it even has frosting?”
The same people who had inquired if I was getting a “real cake” were now standing there wolfing down their diabates sugar coma inducing cake AND cookies, yet they were badgering me to try a bite of the one small slice I was allocated.
I told them: hire Matt, pay your dues yourself & earn this fucking piece of “cake” like I have.
Enjoy your cake. You fucking earned it.
Raw & real entry from my personal diary during my two year transformation journey of shedding 80lbs & finally finding myself again.
HIIT leads to an incredible high....
New Yorkers love their pot. It's everywhere. In school bathrooms, subways, sidewalks, porch stoops, parks, the river, privacy of apartments. You can't walk down a street not smelling pot.
Its no wonder given the lifestyle.
I have seen my own clients get high on a daily basis. I get high on a daily basis. We get a HIIT once a day of our own endorphins. Best high ever.
It also goes the opposite way for me. Not working out makes me very depressed. It's my pot & Prozac all rolled into one HIIT.
One of the highlights of my week is teaching junior high students in my "Fit for Life" class.
I love watching the transformation of the lunches & snacks they bring to school.
In our first class they share all the processed food they bring to school. As the semester progresses they excitedly come in showing me their real, whole food. "Mrs. Ceizyk, look I have a protein, fat & carb in my lunch! Mrs. Ceizyk I get stomachaches now when I eat pizza! Mrs. Ceizyk I'm helping my Dad who is overweight make healthier choices!"
They begin to notice how different food makes them feel & change their eating accordingly. They learn that food really is medicine & fuel for their body.
They learn to indulge in treats that are truly worth it rather than mindlessly eating whatever's in front of them.
Athletes learn how to eat to optimize their performance. One of my students reached a record in his one mile run by changing his eating & his mindset before the track meet.
Another student came up to me on the last day beaming with pride about the 5lbs he lost.
Parents notice the changes in their children & thank me for setting them on the path to a longer, healthier life. These children are leading their parents by example. Asking them to stop buying junk food & giving them grocery lists with healthier options for the entire family.
If only every child had a chance to learn how to be fit for life...
My Dad is not a man of many words. When he does speak it's usually with very carefully selected words full of depth & meaning.
After I lost my 80lbs I went through a period where I was beating myself up over why I gained the weight in the first place. I used to be a swimsuit model for God's sake so how could I ever have let myself get to that point?
I was very scared of the weight coming back & kept looking back to try to make sense of it. Old Lisa kept reappearing. One day I told my Dad "It's as though I can see my old fat self in the rear view mirror."
My Dad said something so profound I have to share it because it has stayed with me. I even use it on my clients now. He said "That's why the front window is much larger than the rear view mirror. The rear view mirror is only to glance back every now & then. To serve as a reminder. The front window is for moving forward and the expansiveness of it serves as reminder of the endless possibilities that lie ahead."
Thank you Dad. XO
I can barely remember when three miles was a struggle.
This must be the time of year I decide to step out of my comfort zone and challenge myself.
Last year at this time I decided to train for a half marathon. I was filled with fear with every step I ran. Every mile represented a mile closer to 13.1 and that number filled me with fear, anxiety & buttreflies in my stomach.
I have never been a strong runner. I started training too soon before the marathon & looking back I didn't even train properly. Many other seasoned runners suggested I train more, become a stronger runner first.
The closer it got to the marathon I kept secretly hoping I would get injured or sick or come to my senses & chicken out.
I DID IT ANYWAY.
For me it wasn't about finishing in a certain time or keeping a certain pace or any other running related goal. I kept saying my goal was just to finish. That was a lie. I lied to myself & everyone & knew once that gun went off I would finish. I have never been the type not to finish what I start. My real goal, the one I didn't even admit to myself, was making it to the starting line, not the finishing line. It was about feeling the fear & doing it anyway.
I crossed that finish line battered & bruised mentally, physically & emotionally. I felt so fucking strong regardless of the pain. More alive than I had ever felt in my life.
I could have waited till I became a stronger runner to run that half marathon. But then I would have missed out on becoming a stronger person.
Make fitness a habit just like brushing your teeth.
Do you stop brushing your teeth just because you're on vacation? No! Do you stop brushing your teeth when life throws curve balls at you? No!
My goal for all clients is they won't feel good when they skip workouts or indulge too much.
When I first started on my weight loss journey I was shocked when my trainer had me workout on vacation! My family was not happy, but we all did it together.
We do HIIT in small hotel rooms, try out boutique gyms where we vacation, run outdoors enjoying new scenery, and workout on the beach or by the pool. Sometimes we wake up and want nothing to do with exercising on vacation but we do it anyway. Other times we indulge too much and feel so gross when we wake up that we can't wait to sweat it out.
Now it's just part of our routine no matter where we are or what's going on in our life.
If I don't get my workout I get the same gross fuzzy feeling in my mind and body that my teeth get when I don't brush them.
It's now officially a habit. Even if I wanted to I'd never be able to go back to my old way of living.
A client sent this to me while she was on vacation. True success story!