Follow Your Passion - The Fit Life is Born

It's been awhile since I posted a blog. I've been holding out for this one. It's taken some prep work! And then there were some unavoidable delays (i.e. trip to the emergency room, followed by some time off work). But now I'm ready.

This blog is to announce another new chapter of my life--The Fit Life. I have officially "given birth" (figuratively--it doesn't hurt so much that way) to a new fitness company called The Fit Life, LLC. And, I have once again given up my steady, 40-hour a week desk job to pursue my passion--fitness, health and nutrition.

This life is not new to me. I've done this before (only the first time I gave up a really high-paying federal government career and tried to make it in Washington D.C.--and later California--with a start-up company). But this time I'm entering into this new path with my own life being a bit more stable. I'm no longer living in one of the most expensive states in the country. I'm married to a wonderful husband who is very supportive of my new venture (and has good health insurance), and I'm a little older and a little wiser this time around.

This is not a decision I took lightly. I really had to examine my life and what brings me pleasure. I've come to realize that I am just not meant to sit at a desk. It's not the way I was made. I am happy when I'm active all day. I'm happy when I'm up early in the morning exercising as the sun comes up.

I studied for and passed my personal trainer certification test--which I had let lapse a few years back. I filled out the paperwork to establish The Fit Life as a limited liability company. I enrolled in a holistic nutrition program through the American College of Health Sciences so I can offer one-on-one counseling on holistic nutrition (I will add that service to my company in about a year). I designed my logo and got started on my website. I discussed my plan in detail with my husband. And finally, I officially resigned from my job at children services as of July 30th.



But there's still so much to do! I need to do more work on my website (www.thefitlife.us), keep blogging (The Fit Life, LLC blog will now focus much more on fitness. I'd also like to start a Fitness Q &A blog), market myself like crazy, get more equipment. The list goes on and on--as does the excitement.

I've secured my first official "gig" which is teaching fitness boot camps through the Bellbrook Sugarcreek Park District. Yeah! So exciting!

I've officially deemed August as "Marketing Month!" I will market my rear off! So to all my creative friends out there, I welcome any marketing ideas you have (the more creative, but inexpensive the better). To all my media friends out there, I am so not above asking for a favor! ;o)

How does the saying go? If you love your job, you'll never have to work a day in your life. So here's to putting your passion to work for you! Cheers! There's more to come!

Standing Room Only

When did it happen? I know it didn’t happen last night. Maybe I just noticed it last night, but I’m sure it’s been a gradual change. I got old. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a senior citizen yet, but I’m also not a young, hip adult anymore either.

Last night Mark and I went to see Tegan and Sara in concert. Tegan and Sara are an indie band starring identical twin sisters. The music is great—just my style. Mark introduced their music to me—and when he told me about the concert I pictured sitting at a table with a glass of wine listening to some nice, folksy music. I’m a morning person, so I typically don’t go to concerts—especially an hour away—during the week. But this seemed pretty mellow, so I thought, “Why not?”

When we arrived at the pavilion I realized the setting wasn’t quite what I had pictured. It was a fairly large pavilion—with no seats except for a balcony—and those seats were long gone. It was standing room only. By the end of the second opening band, I was in Hell. I had been standing a good part of the day because of a work event. My shoes were cute, but totally lacking any support. My heels hurt and back ached. Plus, I’m short. At 5’2” I couldn’t even see the stage. All I could see was the back of the person in front of me.

For awhile I took comfort on the edge of a bench I found along the wall. But after a few minutes, my tailbone was killing me from sitting on a hard surface! As I gazed around the room I watched all these hip youngsters with their stylish clothes and funky haircuts swaying to the music without a care in the world. That’s when it struck me—I’m old! I’m not a hip, 20-something, dressed in stylish clothes with a chic haircut. I’m 39-years-old, it’s past my bedtime, and I have a big event at work tomorrow that I need to be alert for.

When did this happen? When did I become an old fuddy-duddy who worries about work the next day? And what’s with all the aches and pains? I don’t want to be old yet. I want a hip haircut and a closet full of cool clothes. I want to sway to the music without a care in the world…don’t I?

Part of me does. Part of me was so envious of those young ladies. Part of me wanted to be back in college so I could do it all over again—maybe even do it a little differently—be a little more free.

Part of me doesn’t. I’ll be 40 this summer, and I’ve lived some pretty good adventures. I’ve run eight marathons, competed in numerous adventure races, and have experienced some adventures many would never dream of trying. I’ve lived in Washington, D.C. and California. I’ve owned my own company (not a profitable one, but mine nonetheless). And at 38 I met and married a wonderful man (it took me awhile—I’m very picky).

I’m a grown woman, and I’m not suppose to look like a girl anymore. And at 39, I still have a whole list of goals I plan to accomplish. When Tegan and Sara finally hit the stage, I managed to stand on my bench—despite the aches and pains—so I could see the stage and enjoy the music. I slept the whole way home and feel like road kill today. But that’s okay. My work event was a success, and all that’s on the agenda tonight is an easy run, then a glass of wine on the couch.