Anne Marie Miller

Author: Anne Marie Miller

  • Quite Possibly the Most Awkward Video Blog I’ve Ever Done

    It’s been a month since I started training with Brandon at Chadwick’s Fitness. We’ve trained twice a week now for four weeks, and next week we’ll evaluate my fitness level (and body composition…fun!) in comparison to the first time I stepped foot into the gym.

    And so, to keep my promise of updating you on how training is going, I thought I’d share a little visual proof.

    You’ll notice the video is sped up in many places. I should be clear that this is not to conserve time. Instead, it’s to speed up past every awkward position and face that I am making in quite possibly every single frame. (Note: for a good laugh, just pause it at any given moment and you will see what I’m talking about. Also…it’s a short video, but I do a little dance at the end. True story.)

    A few things I’ve learned this month:

    ___
    1. Consistency really does pay off. I don’t think I’ve lost much weight, if any, even though I am eating and journaling every bit of food I consume – however – I’ve definitely toned up a little bit.

    2. I now understand why guys flex in front of the mirrors. Not once in my life have I ever had a cut enough arm to flex and actually see a muscle. Confession: The other night as I was changing clothes in the bathroom, I decided to give my arm a little flex. HELLO, GUN SHOW!

    3. If it gets easier, you’re not any more in shape – you’re just not trying hard enough. Brandon asked me how I felt on Tuesday after I had just finished pushing The Prowler about 120 yards. The Prowler weighs a good 75 pounds on its own, and probably had another 50 pounds or so on it. My heart rate was spiking at 180 and I felt like I was about to throw up.

    I respond to him saying that honestly, I was a little frustrated. “Why is my heart rate still getting up so high so quickly? Why do I feel like it’s not getting any easier even though I’ve been giving it 100% for four weeks?”

    He replied to me simply asking, “What’s my job when you come in?”

    “To kick my butt.”

    “Every time, right?”

    “Yep.” (Gasp, clutch chest, lean on prowler, close eyes, gasp).

    “So, it’s never going to get easier. Each time you come in, we are only making it harder.”

    I’m not used to this concept. To be honest, most things in my life have come fairly easily. They’ve taken time, but things always seem to either work out, or make sense why they don’t work out. I’m not used to having to really fight for everything. Shifting that expectation has been good for me. This is where the physical training moves from just my heart and my muscles to my spirit and my mental strength.

    4. Don’t accidentally take medicine for severe colds before you work out. You will fall asleep no matter how hard you try and push through it.

    5. It has been totally, absolutely more than worth every ache and?nauseous?feeling and even saying no to eating pizza the other night. More than worth it.

    I know a few of you had set some healthy goals earlier in the month. How are you doing? How can I pray for your journey to a healthier life?

    _____

  • Congratulations & Gracias!

    Congrats!

    You guys and gals ARE the voices behind the conversations here on FlowerDust.net, and I just found out these conversations were nominated for the Collide Magazine Readers’ Choice Awards (theology/ministry blog) for the second year in a row. If you could take a moment and cast your vote, that would rock! There are only TWO women represented in the?nominees – myself and the beautiful Promise Tangeman (who is nominated under the Faith & Arts category.)

    You can vote by clicking the button below.?THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH!

    Speaking of thanks, I’d like to take a moment to thank the wonderful sponsors of FlowerDust.net.

    Rockbridge Seminary – You can earn your seminary degree online, and they even have a ministry diploma program if you don’t have an undergrad.

    Collision Media – If you’re looking for a friendly and functional website for your church, these are the guys to check out.

    Restoring the Soul – They get that ministry can be difficult and offer resources to help. Enjoy some?free audio downloads from Dallas Willard and Peter Scazzero.

    If you’re interested in being a sponsor of FlowerDust.net, please send an email to?[email protected]t and we’ll send you our partnership packet which includes statistics and demographics from Fall-Winter 2009.

    Check these guys out and tell ’em thanks for their help in supporting this blog!

    So…back to Readers’ Choice – As a reader here, what’s been your favorite post from FlowerDust.net?

    _____

  • A Quick Bit of Twitter Advice

    What to Retweet:

    RT @ThomasNelson: Several new titles were added for Thomas Nelson Book Review Bloggers http://www.bit.ly/5tmSsU

    What not to Retweet:

    RT @AnonyTwitter: RT@boogaboo123 // haha I know what you mean @elephant7 // ME TOO!

    Bottom line:

    • Retweet things that others will find useful.
    • Don’t Retweet conversations that make no sense to anyone else but the people involved. Use the @ feature instead to keep your conversations going and from cluttering up lists and groups.

    What Twitter tips do you have to pass along?

    —–
    HLG_Twitter_Fired


  • Not the Promise I was Hoping For (Oh, Crap!)

    This past weekend I had the chance to hang out with my friends from Women of Faith in Sacramento. I had some extra AAdvantage miles and Nashville had not seen the sun in years days. Just a couple of weeks ago, my doctor said my Vitamin D levels were half of what they should be (it happens every winter) and that I needed to get some sun.

    So, off to California I went.

    This is my third Women of Faith conference this year, and I typically sit in an area with some of the staff and crew. They’re so hospitable, they let me share in their snack bags they keep around in their section.

    Being on my diet, however, led me to a battle.

    Do I snack?

    Do I have even a little?

    I dig through the snack bag, looking for an answer.

    And I found one.

    Inside, they had SUGAR FREE Dove chocolates! Over the course of the two day event, I probably ate ten of those little guys. They tasted SO good and they’re practically guilt free.

    Something that’s whimsical about Dove’s chocolates are their “Promises.” You open up a Dove chocolate and you’re likely to read something like this.

    dove-promises

    Awww, how precious!

    Right?

    During one of the breaks, I decided to take a look at the wrappers from my sugar free Dove chocolates. They weren’t packaged like the regular ones, so I wondered if a “Promise” was printed somewhere on the outside.

    And indeed, it was.

    It was not, however, the promise I was hoping for.

    “Excess consumption may have a laxative effect.”

    Oh.

    Crap.

  • It Means Saying Yes

    We’ve all heard the statement “When you say yes to something, you’re saying no to something else.”

    What are you saying yes to? What are you saying no to?

    This Thanksgiving, I considered myself lucky. Why? I got punched in the face with a migraine and started coming down with the cold I now have. So didn’t get a chance to stuff my face.

    You see, I have no discipline when it comes to food and social eating. None.

    Part of my training for Ride:Well is eating healthier. I’m learning the food I eat is fuel. With each bite, I need to ask myself “what’s the return on this investment?”

    I started journaling my diet for my trainer, Brandon. He analyzed it and came back with a really feasible nutrition plan. Brandon took what I was already eating and showed me where I could substitute something healthier. There really aren’t a whole lot of changes.

    Except one…

    He emailed me the plan last night so I can start keeping track of it and I noticed something was missing.

    sacrifice

    Saying “yes, I want to be healthier” means saying “no, I don’t need all my snacks.”

    Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m still going to have the occasional brownie or mocha. But I am shifting my perspective of “I CAN’T have THIS” to “I AM HAVING this instead.”

    It’s not having a mindset of deprivation, because that will only frustrate you and stop you. It’s having a mindset of value, because then you’re understanding what something is worth.

    For me, it’s saying yes to healthier snacks so my body is fueled better.

    What is it in your life that you need to say yes to?

    *(btw, it doesn’t have to be food related…)

  • What Blogs Are You Reading?

    Google Reader is my RSS tool of choice, and when you press “P” it goes to the previous post and when you press “N” it goes to the next post. It helps when you’re scanning new blogs or just trying to keep up with what you’re reading.

    I don’t subscribe to many blogs, right now, around 100. And to be honest, I’ve been hitting “N” a lot more frequently than I’d like. It goes to show that Mr. Hyatt knew what he was talking about based on his Ten Mistakes of Blogging post, (of which, I do not score 100% on my own blog).

    The reasons I find I skip over posts are based on his rules that:

    • Your Post is Too Long (Yes, I realize my posts are too long. The caveat to making this work is to make your posts scannable. Can I get the gist by scanning it by making your points pop?)
    • You Don’t Create Catchy Headlines (Again, I can be guilty of this, opting for abstract over clear at times).
    • You Post Too Frequently

    All that to say, I am looking for some fresh blogs to read. Some well-written blogs. About anything. They can be about NASA for all I care, as long as they’re well written and interesting.

    What blogs are you reading that I should read? And most importantly – why?

  • My Bike Talks to Me. At Least When I’m on a Sleeping Pill.

    I grew up in really small towns.

    Circle Back, Texas: Population 4.

    McCamey, Texas: Population 2500.

    Veribest, Texas: Population 16

    These west Texas towns are mere dots lost on the maps, off rural roads and an hour away from a supermarket.

    The schools I attended were respectively small, and all of us were bussed in from the farms. Miles separated us. Playdates were only on birthdays.

    The tumbleweeds were friends. So were the stray cats. I even had an invisible best friend for a while. We?d talk about boys and ride our bikes down the dirt roads. Technically, they’re caliche roads, but nobody knows what caliche is unless you?re from west Texas.

    Imagine gravel but bigger and dirtier. That’s caliche.

    My bike was my savior. We didn’t have television, internet hadn’t been invented yet, so on sunny days, I’d take my purple bike out into the expansive caliche parking lots of the neighborhood churches. I?d pedal as hard and as fast as I could, allowing the wind to cool the unforgiving sun on my face.

    I was ten years old, which isn’t old enough for a real bike. To brake, you?d pedal backwards. Caliche didn’t hold much traction. You’d ride hard, brake, and slide out of control, hoping for the best. My hair smelled like the dusty wind and to this day I swear there are small bits of gravel embedded in my bones from the many tumbles I took, flying off the bike, sans helmet, and across the parking lots. Each burn and scrape a challenge to try again.

    Pedal hard.


    Brake hard.


    Skid.


    Land it.


    Success.

    ***
    I wasn’t afraid of falling. Of bleeding or the sun.? I never looked down, only ahead.

    As I became a teenager, I got a different bike. We moved to Abilene and I’d ride on the quiet streets of our neighborhood. They were paved. Smooth. And I could still pedal fast, racing the cars on the street running parallel to me.

    And then we moved to Dallas. Where we lived wasn’t safe. The bike disappeared.

    I became an adult.

    I stopped riding.

    (I stopped doing a lot of things).

    anne-jackson-ride-wellSixteen years later, I’ve committed to riding across the country in the summer.? I buckled down and bought a bike. A good bike.

    The next day, this last Sunday, I put on all my gear: a cushy pair of shorts, leg warmers, a helmet, a knit cap, two jersey shirts, a heart rate monitor, and began to pedal.

    The bike and I went down a safe road with a few small hills. There wasn’t a lot of traffic and there was plenty of room to move.

    I was shaky. My hands, unsteady, trying to remember how to keep balance. My fingers fumbled as I shifted gears as my brain tried to remember which side did what. Was it the left side that made the major changes and the right side to tweak? Oh crap. A hill. Click the gears. They stick. That can?t be right. I pedal up the hill. My legs won?t move. I hop off, and walk it to a turnaround.

    Downhill time.

    Maybe this will be easier.

    Gripping my brakes like my life depended on it, my bike and I flew down the hill with the cold wind burning my face. I needed more traction. I tried to shift down. Nothing happened. I really need to learn to use these gears. The hill I am on is a baby, maybe three hundred yards or so and not very steep. When I run in the morning, it’s my favorite.

    But going downhill on a bike? I’m terrified. I feel like I’m going ninety miles an hour. It’s probably closer to twenty. I think to the future. This is 300 yards. In six months, I’ll have miles and miles of downhill coasting.

    I can’t stay in a straight line.

    Where is the girl who embodied me twenty years ago? The girl who wasn’t afraid to eat gravel or bleed? Who didn’t care what her windblown hair or chapped face looked like?? The girl who pushed her pedals up and down until her legs became numb but she always believed she could go a little faster?

    She grew up.

    (Oh, little girl…you are still there somewhere. I’ve buried your spirit in a mess of insecurity, comfort, and safety.)

    It’s raining outside as I write this, it’s midnight, and I’m half asleep on a sleeping pill that is proving ineffective. My new bike sits in the corner of my living room. She and I have exchanged awkward glances all day.

    “Can I trust you??” I ask her.

    She remains silent.

    “You have so many parts. What if a spoke breaks? What if a brake breaks? What if my chain breaks? I don’t know how to nurse you back to health.”

    Silent, still.

    “Seriously, bike. You weigh less than my cat. How are you going to handle this trip??”

    “No,” she finally speaks. “How are you going to handle this trip?”

    Picture 1“What if you fall? What if you bleed? What if you don’t know what to do? What if you have to ask for help? What if you look like an idiot?”

    “Well, yes,” I say, ignoring her unrelenting stare. If she had arms, they’d be crossed.

    “So what if,” she snaps again. “That’s what you?re afraid of?”

    “Listen, bike. I’ve always been in control. If you knew my old bike, you’d know I didn’t need anyone then. My old bike would say that I have trust issues. I don’t trust you. I don’t trust me. I don’t really trust others right now. You?re making me want to start drinking again.”

    “Get over yourself.”

    “Why am I even talking with you? You?re a freaking bike. Bikes don’t talk.”

    “We don’t? I may be a bike, but the bike you had when you were ten made you feel fearless. I can do that too, if you?ll let me.”

    “Just don?t make me fall.”

    “Nice try. Everyone falls.”

    “Well, at least be there when I get up.”

    “I’ll be there.”

    Fearless. Risk. My ten-year-old heart was so much more secure, more confident than my thirty-year-old heart.

    Braver.

    One thing I am going to search for as we cross into the West Texas plains in June is the ghost of my ten-year-old spirit. I left her there without her bike, so she had no way of escaping.

    I need her.

    I need a lot of things.

    (I need people. I know that. My heart stops there. Does bike riding help remove those walls? Can you buy a sledgehammer when you buy your pedals?)

    I think the first step is admitting that.

    I’m still working on imagining what the next step will be.

    When it will come.

    Unexpected, probably.

    Painful, probably.

    But worth it.

    I hope.

    And when I have no trust, no courage, and no strength…hope I can always find.

    So, hope. Here’s to you.


    ——–

  • Are You Listening?

    I’ve said it a million times myself.

    “I want to give a voice to the people that don’t have one.”

    But after going to India a few months ago, it began to occur to me that my philosophy is completely off track.

    Everyone has a voice. Even the people who are the most overlooked.

    They have beautiful voices.

    Broken voices.

    Voices pleading for help.

    Voices singing with hope.

    Even their silence says something…

    The phrase “I want to give a voice to the people that don’t have one” has to go.

    It’s dehumanizing.

    THEY have a voice.

    The problem is WE don’t listen.

  • BOOK GIVEAWAY: Introvert or Extrovert?

    Every few years, I’ve taken the Meyer’s Brigg personality test. My standard result has been an INFJ (Introverted, iNtuitive, Feeling, Judging) which essentially means I find energy in solitude, think with my “gut” rather than facts, make decisions based on feelings instead of logic, and process information and events in an organized manner. If you really want to get a good feel for my personality, read this. It pretty much nails it.

    When you take the test, you get a number indicating how much you show those characteristics. For instance, I’ve tested as on the line for an introvert/extrovert, but am almost as high as one can go with iNtuitive and Feeling, and then I’m also “low” on the judging side — I can be disorganized when I’m stressed.

    Something I’ve learned over the last year is if you don’t know who you truly are, you can’t let a test tell you.

    Since the test has said, “you’re an introvert,” I believed it. But then I started getting really confused.

    After speaking engagements and interacting with people, I would be so amped up sometimes I couldn’t sleep. That’s not a characteristic of an introvert. I thought back to the week I spent alone in the San Juan islands and how, when I came back, I pretty much cried the whole time – not because I was sad about leaving, but because I was so depleted.

    I was having breakfast with a very wise friend the other day and she said, “Maybe you’re not an introvert. Maybe you’re an insecure extrovert and you use your need to be alone when you’re faced with a situation where you aren’t confident or sure of yourself.”

    Oh, snap.

    For me, I think she was dead on. I thought of a few different social events that I’ve declined because I knew there were these perceived “better than me” people in attendance.? Like faking sick, I called in “introverted” and said I was just trying to be healthy.

    Now, that’s just my story. By all means, if I am an extrovert it’s barely there…so, if anything, I am probably riding the line.

    My friend Adam McHugh recently released a book called Introverts in the Church, which I had the privlege to endorse. My thoughts on the book:

    “For the longest time, I’ve considered my wiring as an introvert a thorn in my side. After spending time engaging with others, I felt so empty and overwhelmed . . . and lonely. With my calling as an author and pastor requiring me to publicly speak and consult, I wondered if I misunderstood my place in this world. In Introverts in the Church, Adam brings a voice to those of us who often trade ours in for a little bit of respite. This is not only a needed resource for introverts; all leaders need to read Introverts in the Church for a better understanding of how introverts can lead, how they follow and how they refresh.”

    Adam has given us 10 copies of Introverts in the Church to giveaway. He’ll pick 10 random winners next Wednesday.

    All you have to do to enter is leave a comment and tell me if you’re introverted, extroverted, and how you think that affects your relationships in the church. Statistically speaking, introverts are a minority. Does it feel that way to you?