And then there is one of those days

Some days you have a solid workout. Hit your target reps. Increase your weights. Lose a few pounds on the scales. 

And then some days you take a 12 pound medicine ball to the face. 

Today, I took a 12 pound medicine ball to the face. My own fault, really. I was starting my second set of four in a four part circuit. I grabbed my 12 pound medicine ball and slammed it into the ground as hard as I could, and next thing I know I’m checking to be sure I have all my teeth and recovering my thankfully-still-in-tact glasses from the floor. 

Apparently I grabbed the wrong medicine ball. 

I’ve done ball slams a hundred times and never had the ball come up more than a few feet, so the fact that it bounced right back into my face was a shock. 

After the initial nausea, the sudden yet not fulfilled urge to vomit, and a few minutes making sure I wasn’t going to pass out; I collected my things and drove my damaged ego to urgent care. 

Turns out you don’t need stitches on the inside of your lip. Even though I split it wide open and spent the entire drive applying pressure to keep myself from swallowing a quarter of my own blood supply. Okay, that’s an exaggeration. 

The only thing that hurts more than my mouth is my pride. Well, these things happen. Won’t keep me from going back on Wednesday night.

Weigh-in: 180.8 (Curses weekend! I was 179.4 on Friday!) Jeans fit great, but I’ll be going through some extra lip gloss the next few days. 

P.s. It is impossible to get a good photo of the inside of a split lip without causing yourself extreme pain. 

I’m an MVP!

Humblebrag, my Saturday morning class loves me. Or at least they liked me enough to nominate me as this quarters MVP. I can’t express how shocked and humbled I am by this. I also got a good laugh out of it:


I was told that “quietly consisten” meant that I show up every week, on time, get my shit together, and push myself. I am anything. It quiet when I work out. Besides the f-bombs every other exercise, there’s also the grunting and yelling. But, hey, I have nothing but love and appreciation. For those who voted for me last week. 

Now I get to test out “laser wrap therapy” that will “burn 900 calories in a relaxing 45 minutes.” Don’t worry, I’ll let you all know how that works out for me!

Tough week, positivity

That dieting thing is up and it’s down. Something I’m coming to terms with, I will never have a good diet. They say this kind of change requires dedication, control, and time. Well, I hate it. It makes me unhappy, and the whole point of this experiment is to be happier. I’ve decided that instead of completely changing what I eat, I just need to change how I eat. Portion control will be key to this. We’re already better about eating at home instead of out, it’s just a matter of eating things at home I like rather than forcing myself to eat things I hate because “it’s healthier.”

DIAFscaleThe scale is not cooperating lately and it can just DIAF. So it’s gone up in the last week, but it hasn’t gone up a whole pound so it doesn’t count (granted it’s supposed to go down 2 pounds a week.) Part of this is going to be affected by previously mentioned conditions. I’m not strictly dieting, and I’m in this for endurance and muscle gain. While the scale says I haven’t lost weight, my belt holes tell a different story. (That and the annoying bunching of the waist of my jeans under the belt.)

Now for the really positive: I did barbell squats for real this time. My trainer pointed out that six months ago I had so little balance that I couldn’t get low into a sitting position without falling. Thankfully he had placed a bench beneath me for this very purpose, but to fall onto the bench and not be able to stand back up without help… it was a pretty terrible feeling deep down. Why was I doing this to myself? What was the point? I’m stronger and better than this…

Yesterday morning, I was able to squat, touch the bench, and stand back up with no issues. Three sets of 12. This is a pretty big deal for me. Next step is to do it with weight added O_oimg_1883

Weight in: 182.8 lbs  Jeans are a comfortable size 12 and my t-shirts look amazing.

You call that a diet?

I hold nothing back when it comes to what is the hardest part of this whole biggest loser thing: diet. My diet is bad. Bad is not a strong enough adjective. Fucking awful almost cuts it. Food is amazing. Food is wonderful. Food makes me happy. I am also pickier than a  Senior cheerleader at the high school dance.

If one more person tells me that “you can’t outrun a bad diet” I just may murder them. I love bad food, I hate good food, and I am surprisingly well versed in diet in relation to weight loss and body transformation. I know that what I am putting into my body is, in many cases, the wrong choice. Reminding me does us no good. Helping me find alternatives is helpful.

While I type this, I suppose it’s fair to mention that beer and ipadI’ve blown my calorie count for the day and the beer I’m drinking is not helping.

I’ve nailed down breakfast. Either a jar of Peanut Butter Chocolate Overnight Oats, or something simple like whole wheat toast and a couple of slices of bacon. The oats I make in three-day batches and they are tasty, 220 calories, and if my kid gets a hold of them it’s not that big of a deal. Toast is easy enough, and bacon I bake a pound at a time and freeze. Toss a couple of slices in the microwave for 20 seconds and your golden. The key, for me of the parenting type, is to be in and out of the kitchen in less than a minute. Otherwise the toddler decides the kitchen is a super cool place to play.

Breakfast is easy (and at least I’m having breakfast now!)

Lunch, is another matter. Days at home with the toddler I can usually eat when he goes down for a nap. Lately it’s been an egg white sandwich on whole wheat toast with a slice of mild cheddar and bacon. All in, about 365 calories. Sometimes I’m lucky enough to have some dinner leftovers, which is usually some sort of chicken thing. Work days I’m lucky if I get to eat anything other than a yogurt cup.

Dinner consists mostly of chicken. So much chicken. Pinterest is our friend, yay for garlic and brown sugar chicken. The struggle is finding something to go with the chicken. I hate vegetables. Guys, you can’t save me, don’t bother making suggestions. Green vegetables are the worst. They taste like grass (yes, I know what a lawn taste like, don’t ask) and can’t be redeemed. Non-green vegetables (Carrots!) taste amazing with brown sugar, or honey, or lots of butter, or… wait that fucking doesn’t help anything. If a person hates vegetables, and is trying to eat healthier, what does one have with all that chicken? The answer is red potatoes. 

Here is the difficult part: work. I work at a very popular pizza joint (18 years Madison’s Most Popular Pizza as voted on by Madison Magazine Readers). They are very kind to us and supply us with free food throughout the day/night. I love pizza. I love our pizza. I would eat a lot of pizza. I have been very good lately and have been avoiding the free pizza (I didn’t on Tuesday and it was the best fucking slice of pizza I have had in my life.) The days I work are a constant struggle with temptation. The last few weeks I’ve made sure to bring a yogurt cup to get me through a shift. Thankfully, my hatred of vegetables has helped in that they like to give us a lot of free pizzas with lots of vegetables on them and instead of picking them off, I just turn my nose up like some kind of pizza snob. (The answer is Pepperoni, BTW).

I always have a good week (last week) followed by a not-so-good-week (It’s only Thursday?) I figure if I can at least maintain that then I’ll get somewhere. Eventually.

So you can’t outrun a bad diet, but I’ll keep on trying.

Wednesday weigh-in 182.0lbs. These size 12 Rockstar jeans are looking pretty sweet right now.

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Fuck.

Talk about demoralizing

Last week was all about being motivated by others, this week lets focus on being demoralized by others.

When I see strong women at the gym, it motivates me to be like them. They are my role models. Sometimes I feel like a creeper, it’s just that they are awesome. This isn’t about being demoralized by Wonder Woman’s half-sister. No, this is about the cheaters.

Every week we have a challenge that we have to do in our classes. Completing a challenge gains us a point towards our weekly goals. Have a bad weigh-in? Just make sure you get the challenge point and it won’t be so bad. I like the challenges. They engage me, give me a goal, feeds a competitive spirit. The first week it was how many meters can we row in two minutes. Weeks two and four were finding recipes and articles online. Week three was how many floors can you get on a stair-stepper in two minutes. This week… I didn’t fail per se, but it wasn’t good.

This week was a two-part challenge. How many push-ups can you do in one minute, followed by how long can you hold a plank. Now as long as you do the challenge you get the point. Do one push-up and hold a plank for a couple of seconds and you get the point. Great. Okay. I can do this. I’m not bad at push-ups…. oh… did I mention you can’t do modified push-ups? Well you can’t, so fuck me. Fine. What ever. I’ve been seeing a trainer since August and doing this program for four full weeks, I’m sure I can do one fucking standard push-up.

Spoiler alert: I CAN’T.

We partner off and I’m going second. I’m counting my partner’s push-ups and I’m looking around and what the ever-living hell is happening?  These aren’t push-ups. These are an abomination of an idea of a push-up. One woman had 48 push-ups, because apparently just stirring the air a bit counts. Another woman, who at least managed to bend her elbows at about 170°, well she got 42 push-ups.

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Same went for planks.

 

planking

Most of the ladies claimed to hold a plank for well over two minutes. What they looked like was a cat in heat. I wanted to bitch slap their asses right out of the class, and the trainer doesn’t even call them on it! I keep looking at him, waiting, and he says NOTHING.

Then it’s my round and I go for a push-up and I literally get stuck trying to push back up and then fall. I spend the entire minute, my elbows collapsing, failing at doing one fucking push-up. I try to do the shoulder shrugging version of the push-up that the other women are all doing and the trainer CALLS ME ON IT! He wants to see just one solid push-up from me. He KNOWS I CAN DO IT. He finally lets me get away with going about half-way down and back up and gives me credit for one push-up, but it isn’t a real credit. Not in my mind it’s not. I didn’t touch my nose to the floor. I didn’t get myself back up. It’s a fake point damn it!

I planked like a champ though. No ass in the air planks for this girl. I got me a solid 1 minute 24 seconds of proper form plank. This is a big deal. In August I was lucky to get 30 seconds. A few weeks ago I could BARELY pull off a minute. Damn near 90 seconds is a solid win. And I did it the right way.

best i could.gifWhat I tell myself is that the trainer leading tonight’s class actually gives a shit about me and my progress. He has a vested interest in it as I pay him to kick my ass once a week. I tell myself that he’s written the others off as lost causes and he wants me to do things the right way. But to give them credit for completing the challenge, in my book that’s bullshit. Because of the way I think it had thrown my mental state off for the rest of class.

Weigh-in 184.8 lbs (Are you kidding me? Exact same weigh-in as last Wednesday?)

The tale of the accidental motivator (or don’t be that person)

The first thing they really pushed about this whole Biggest Loser program is that you can make friends and socialize. That’s great and all. Finding people you can partner with and use to motivate each other is great. As social as I am outside of the gym, I am far less so than at the gym. I’m there for one thing: to get fit. I will chat with my teammates, I will help motivate everyone, but I am not there to socialize and make friends.

Case in point:

Circuit training is hard. That’s why we do it. HIIT style circuits suck balls but are totally worth the effort. So when the trainer is counting down the last 10 seconds of the interval and starts repeating himself at four, you can bet your ass someone isn’t paying attention. Look up to see two of the older ladies have completely stopped working out and are standing around deep in conversation. So the trainer is repeating FOUR
for about 10 seconds in an attempt to get them to realize that they are actually creating more work and effort for everyone else and since I’m stuck in burpee hell I am milliseconds away from walking over and hitting them with their own talkerdumbbells. When they finally pay attention, one of them has the audacity to say “What? We were talking.”

OFFS.

This is why I don’t socialize at the gym. Maybe before class. Maybe after class. Definitely not during. It’s far too distracting.

Another case in point:

pay attention.gif

People who are so distracted that they don’t pay attention to what the trainer is saying. If you ask me what the exercise is, there is a very good chance that I will lie to you. We’ve all paid a lot of money to be apart of that program and we expect to see results. I am not going to see results if I have to spend 15-20 seconds of my workout time explaining what the exercise is. It’s going to piss me the fuck off and I’m going to tell you the wrong thing so that it will hopefully humiliate you into doing your damn job and paying attention!

These people motivate me to NOT BE LIKE THEM.

Finally:

If you are going to be either of these people, aside from the fact that you are motivating people to be nothing like you; I swear to go I had better not hear you complain about not making any progress. You only get back what you put in. If you don’t put in any effort you aren’t getting shit out of it. We’re here to work, lose weight, gain strength, and be healthier people; not to make your new best friend.

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Week four complete. Today’s weigh-in 184.4 lbs. Down 2.2 lbs overall. Still climbing the hill.

Accountability is for the birds 

Holding yourself accountable is the most difficult part of any lifestyle adjustment. Three weeks in and I am barely holding onto the diet changes. I start strong on Monday and by Thursday I’m just over it. Over the “healthy” snacks, the low-calorie dinner, and the salads. Just looking at lettuce makes me want to have a beer.

I type this as I mentally repeat “I will go to the gym at 8 a. m.” There is no reason I can’t go. My husband is taking the child to his mom for the day, I don’t work until 10, and I’m going to be up at 7 anyways. Most likely I will have a beer while I play XBox, have trouble sleeping, and decide I’m too tired and it’s too much effort to put on clothes and drive my lazy ass the five minutes it’ll take to get there.

Lets face it, getting there is the hardest part. Anyone will tell you that. What keeps me accountable is spending money and making appointments. I know that adding at least one more day at the gym to my routine will make a world of difference, but since it’s not a scheduled appointment that is paid for, it’s easy to just not do it.

So what will keep me accountable and get my lazy ass to the gym on non-scheduled days? I’m still working that part out. If I figure it out, I will let you know.

Saturday’s weigh-in, the last day of week three: 186.6 lbs. Well that’s a familiar number.

Originally I wrote this Monday evening, on my phone. I didn’t get a chance to read through it, edit, and spell check so I held off posting. It’s 10:21 p.m. on Tuesday night and my husband is playing Heroes of the Storm with our friends. No one asked me to play and they filled up the group, so it seems like a good time to revisit and edit the post. 

I did, in fact make it to the gym. Got there at about 8:15 a.m. and did a 30 minute interval run (90 seconds walking at 3.3 mph and 90 seconds running at 5 mph). It was easier than I thought and I’m really glad I made it. Weigh-in this morning was 184.6 lbs. Hurray!