Monday, November 2, 2009


On October 17th, our son Daniel married a wonderful young lady, Amanda Chambers. Friends and family came from near and far. Airport runs, dinners, entertaining, etc. kept me hopping. Once all my company left, I left on our annual trip with my daughters to the Mt. Dora Craft Show so I was still running like crazy. I just do not feel like I’ve rested in several weeks. Needless to say, I missed three days of Boot Camp and two days of personal training. On top of that, the stress got the best of me and my diet went out the door.

During our trip to Mt. Dora, tradition rules that we visit the Palma Maria restaurant in Casselberry, Florida. This restaurant is owned and run by the Rosinola family from my hometown of Tamaqua, Pa. When I was a little girl, the Palma Maria restaurant was right in front of my home and I used to walk through the back door into the kitchen to pick up food for our family. Then they moved to Florida and I stumbled upon them on one of my trips.

If you ever are up in Orlando and want a true Italian meal, go there. You will not be disappointed. The Rosinola’s bake their Italian bread so of course, you must have bread. On top of that, they make their own desserts and it would be rude to refuse the samples they bring to the table so to be kind, I end up tasting every dessert that they made. To be truthful, the peanut butter pie began calling my name the minute I opened the door! The main courses are to die for.

This past Tuesday was my first day back to exercising. I woke up early and did 20 minutes on the treadmill until my trainer, Oshun, arrived. The workout continued for an hour of sweating, heavy breathing, yelling and yes, crying. My body went from the floor to the elliptical machine to the floor to the ball to the spinning bike to the floor to the ball and more. At some point during my delirium, weights were strapped onto my wrist to add to the resistance of the exercises. My arms are like logs and I have my own natural weights but still she added more! “Don’t they shoot horses in this condition?”

Oshun pushed and pushed. During the stretching, my inner thighs screamed with pain but Oshun would not let up and continued to stretch my extremities to their limits. I silently begged for the time to pass quickly but didn’t dare ask if the time was up. I did not think I could lift my legs or arms one more time but I knew she would make me do it again if I dared to drop them so I pushed myself beyond my previous limits.

This day, Oshun taught and I learned a very powerful lesson. I will not miss more than one Boot Camp session or training session in a row, if ever. I paid the price for my lack of discipline.
Was Oshun too rough on me? No! If she had not done what she did by really pushing me extra hard, I would be tempted to miss again when stress got the best of me or I just didn’t feel like getting up. Was she too harsh in yelling at me? No! If she had said in a normal voice, “Come on Doris, just five more.” I would have said I couldn’t and stopped.
I think that trainers have their own different styles and you have to find one who fits you. I also think that the sign of a good trainer is that you absolutely despise them during the workout but realize that everything they put you through is because they care about you. Oshun is that trainer but she goes a step further by trying to open my eyes to my own emotional needs.
Perhaps the most important lesson that she is trying to teach me is to slowly retrain my brain that associates my obesity with unworthiness. Oshun proved her worth to me this first day back and I certainly want to prove to her, but more importantly, to myself that I am worth all of her efforts.

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