I'm so tired that I literally almost left the house this morning without putting underwear on. Really. True Story. I exhausted worked my way through Bodypump (why does my whole body hurt soo much???) skipping the 20 minutes run I had also scheduled in, and was only too happy to also skip lunges and walk the track with one of the moms who needed advice on how to talk to her son's teacher (I told her: 1. Make sure you tell the teacher she doesn't know how to do her job, 2. Repeatedly mention that your child is gifted and needs special attention, 3. Recruit other moms to form a gang of righteous anger to "talk" to the teacher with you, and 4. Once you and the teacher talk, make sure you ignore every single thing the teacher said. It should go well).
I shower, get dressed, and realize that I left my school shoes out in the car. So I walk to the car barefoot, making sure to hit a few puddles that were camouflaged as sidewalk and splash water on my white dress, and see something on the ground near my car. At first I thought it was a bird. A big bird. A big bird that wasn't moving.
But no, it was my shoe. Yep, the shoe that I am wearing right now at school, was lying outside my car. In the rain. For two hours. It's soaking wet. So I walk, and one foot makes a squishy, sad sound as I walk down the hall as I make a squishy, sad face. It would be pretty pathetic if it wasn't so funny.
How much do you have to pay a masseuse to massage your butt? Seriously...anybody know? Is it extra?
Workout: BodyPump 60 minutes, Run- nope
Food:
Coffee and a donut (Wizards fault)
Carrots and hummus
Cereal
Diet Coke
Dinner?
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
Are you there God? It's me, Rachael...
So last night as I was shaving my cat I was thinking to myself that things really can't get much worse. (There really is nothing worse than having to shave a cat. Really. Nothing. Worse. Okay, maybe giving birth. But shaving the cat is a close second.)
But then I thought...Well, I could lose my awesome job. And all the people that I love could die in some heinous accident. And Mufasa could contract the black plague and I would have to kill her like Will Smith did to his dog in the horrible movie "I Am Legend" (Does anyone know why there are so many movies where dogs have to die? What does that say about us as a population? And I probably would just let Mufasa kill me because I don't think I could choke her to death.)
Alright, so I have it pretty good. My life is kinda awesome. But I was feeling pretty depressed about the state of the world and my bank account and knowing that there will never, ever be a fat-free ice cream that tastes good or a magic girdle or hairstyle that will make me look like Gisele Bunchen, not to mention the fact that "Everybody Loves Raymond" is all reruns. And I was driving to spinning, which is pretty much like driving to the dentist office knowing your going to have a root canal and have the cute, young dentist tell you that you're obese (duh) and you'd be such a cute girl if only you lost some weight (huh? True Story). And I was listening to really, really sad-angsty-no-one-understands-what-its-like-to-be-me-and-i-am-so-put-upon-the-world-is-a-vampire-music which just reinforces the big pity party I was throwing myself.
I was driving up Radio from Stillwater and it was so dark I had to turn on my brights. At the same time, I am talking to God, saying that if I hit a deer, seriously, my life is over, and I am just going to lay in the road until someone runs me over. Death would be better than this. There is not point in going on. I am done with the world. Blah Blah Blah.
And just as I turn on my brights, a deer dashes in front of my car. A Deer. Dashes. In Front. OF MY CAR. I saw the terror in her brown eyes, probably mirroring my own, and I could hear her heart pounding over my angsty music. Seriously. So I could hear God laughing at me and this is what she is saying: "Get your ass to spinning and quit complaining. Besides, it's raining, the road is wet and if you laid down it would totally ruin your new stretch pants".
So the moral of the story is that feeling sorry for yourself never gets you anywhere, God rarely empathizes with you and spinning is vital to life.
Who wants to do the Turkey Trot with me this year? Thanksgiving Day, downtown. Free shirt.
But then I thought...Well, I could lose my awesome job. And all the people that I love could die in some heinous accident. And Mufasa could contract the black plague and I would have to kill her like Will Smith did to his dog in the horrible movie "I Am Legend" (Does anyone know why there are so many movies where dogs have to die? What does that say about us as a population? And I probably would just let Mufasa kill me because I don't think I could choke her to death.)
Alright, so I have it pretty good. My life is kinda awesome. But I was feeling pretty depressed about the state of the world and my bank account and knowing that there will never, ever be a fat-free ice cream that tastes good or a magic girdle or hairstyle that will make me look like Gisele Bunchen, not to mention the fact that "Everybody Loves Raymond" is all reruns. And I was driving to spinning, which is pretty much like driving to the dentist office knowing your going to have a root canal and have the cute, young dentist tell you that you're obese (duh) and you'd be such a cute girl if only you lost some weight (huh? True Story). And I was listening to really, really sad-angsty-no-one-understands-what-its-like-to-be-me-and-i-am-so-put-upon-the-world-is-a-vampire-music which just reinforces the big pity party I was throwing myself.
I was driving up Radio from Stillwater and it was so dark I had to turn on my brights. At the same time, I am talking to God, saying that if I hit a deer, seriously, my life is over, and I am just going to lay in the road until someone runs me over. Death would be better than this. There is not point in going on. I am done with the world. Blah Blah Blah.
And just as I turn on my brights, a deer dashes in front of my car. A Deer. Dashes. In Front. OF MY CAR. I saw the terror in her brown eyes, probably mirroring my own, and I could hear her heart pounding over my angsty music. Seriously. So I could hear God laughing at me and this is what she is saying: "Get your ass to spinning and quit complaining. Besides, it's raining, the road is wet and if you laid down it would totally ruin your new stretch pants".
So the moral of the story is that feeling sorry for yourself never gets you anywhere, God rarely empathizes with you and spinning is vital to life.
Who wants to do the Turkey Trot with me this year? Thanksgiving Day, downtown. Free shirt.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Literary Terms
So I know that this has never happened to you, because you are perfect, but I haven't been wearing deodorant for two days. No, it wasn't because I didn't have any. I did buy some, at Target-the-most-awesome-store-in-the-world-and-how-do-they-get-it-to-smell-like-that?, but it was in the bag, in the car. I kept forgetting to grab it before heading into the gym. So I would be at the point in my grooming routine (who knew I groom? but it's true) where I would need to put on my deodorant and I would take out the empty Powder Fresh Ban container and roll it on and nothing would happen. Because it was empty. But I still did it. It's important to keep up appearances.
This morning was the morning that someone finally noticed. I mean, really, the kids at school aren't going to notice because they all smell anyway and are worried about their hair and their math homework. People at the gym smell too. But apparently, not as bad as I do. In BodyPump we start with a brief warm up and then the squat track. The squat track is a killer and also my favorite. I started sweating this morning during the squat track, as usual. (And I was wearing unwashed, but dry [and crusty], gym clothes- the same ones that I had worn to Tuesday's BodyPump. So the clothes already had a smell. I think its a kind of nice smell, familiar and summery and like the green film that covers a pond in the springtime. So I'm sweating, and the people on my left and on my right are slowly squatting away from me. The person behind me moved.
The next track is chest and then after that is the back track. Everyone is starting to mummer about a smell. One persons volunteers the idea that it must be the dumpster outside- except the windows aren't open. Someone in the back says that one of us must have stepped in dog poop, and looks at me accusingly. I can't smell anything, so I don't volunteer any guesses. At this point I don't even know that it's me. Then an old man passes out. The pregnant mom in the back is starting to gag. I start to smell something that vaguely reminds me of taco seasoning and curry and dead-marsh-smell, but I can't put my finger on where it is coming from. I look around, like everyone is doing, but there aren't any marshes in the gym that I know about.
By triceps, when I'm on my back on the mat and my head is by my armpits, I realize that it's me and my crusty clothes and my pretend deodorant. And I know why the villagers are starting to revolt. I stink and the smell is progressively getting worse as the room heats up. The smell is "cooking". As the triceps song ends, some of the moms are starting to eye me and take practice swings with their bars, cautiously advancing to my side of the room. The instructor has climbed atop her giant step (think step aerobics- we use them for lunges), turned the music off and points to me saying "IT'S YOU!". She climbs down and lights a torch. I look around for any possible exit. I'm kinda sad to be missing out on biceps because I totally rock at the set and I just increased my weight today, but I can tell that it will either be me dead on my mat and shoved in the corner, or me safe in the locker room, showering with my clothes on the get rid of the small as soon as possible.
I duck under grandpa, who was trying to take me from behind, shove the pregnant woman over and run out the back door, onto the track where I am trampled by a pack of cross country runners. I only have an arm fracture and a black eye.
(*Okay, so I totally hyperbolized the above story. But the majority of it happened the way that I said. Except for maybe the torches.)
This morning was the morning that someone finally noticed. I mean, really, the kids at school aren't going to notice because they all smell anyway and are worried about their hair and their math homework. People at the gym smell too. But apparently, not as bad as I do. In BodyPump we start with a brief warm up and then the squat track. The squat track is a killer and also my favorite. I started sweating this morning during the squat track, as usual. (And I was wearing unwashed, but dry [and crusty], gym clothes- the same ones that I had worn to Tuesday's BodyPump. So the clothes already had a smell. I think its a kind of nice smell, familiar and summery and like the green film that covers a pond in the springtime. So I'm sweating, and the people on my left and on my right are slowly squatting away from me. The person behind me moved.
The next track is chest and then after that is the back track. Everyone is starting to mummer about a smell. One persons volunteers the idea that it must be the dumpster outside- except the windows aren't open. Someone in the back says that one of us must have stepped in dog poop, and looks at me accusingly. I can't smell anything, so I don't volunteer any guesses. At this point I don't even know that it's me. Then an old man passes out. The pregnant mom in the back is starting to gag. I start to smell something that vaguely reminds me of taco seasoning and curry and dead-marsh-smell, but I can't put my finger on where it is coming from. I look around, like everyone is doing, but there aren't any marshes in the gym that I know about.
By triceps, when I'm on my back on the mat and my head is by my armpits, I realize that it's me and my crusty clothes and my pretend deodorant. And I know why the villagers are starting to revolt. I stink and the smell is progressively getting worse as the room heats up. The smell is "cooking". As the triceps song ends, some of the moms are starting to eye me and take practice swings with their bars, cautiously advancing to my side of the room. The instructor has climbed atop her giant step (think step aerobics- we use them for lunges), turned the music off and points to me saying "IT'S YOU!". She climbs down and lights a torch. I look around for any possible exit. I'm kinda sad to be missing out on biceps because I totally rock at the set and I just increased my weight today, but I can tell that it will either be me dead on my mat and shoved in the corner, or me safe in the locker room, showering with my clothes on the get rid of the small as soon as possible.
I duck under grandpa, who was trying to take me from behind, shove the pregnant woman over and run out the back door, onto the track where I am trampled by a pack of cross country runners. I only have an arm fracture and a black eye.
(*Okay, so I totally hyperbolized the above story. But the majority of it happened the way that I said. Except for maybe the torches.)
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
All the lovely people...
So I didn't workout this morning. Last night, after working all day at school and then heading over to Huntington in Coon Rapids for four hours, and stopping at the townhouse to feed the cats, I finally made it home at 9pm. I was dead on my feet. Plus, my ass muscles are so tight from all the squats and cycling and never-enough-stretching-yes-I-know-I-should-stretch-more-thank-you, that I easily rationalized sleeping in a little and skipping Wednesday spinning. Grim will probably throw a party.
You can see what kind mental state I was in. I still was dead when I woke up and it was easy to rationalize in my pleasure centered brain that I deserved a large Caribou Mint Condition with an extra shot of espresso and an everything bagel with onion and chive cream cheese from Bruggers for breakfast. I mean, not that I have to defend myself, but I didn't eat dinner last night and I am going to have cereal for lunch, so it's totally fine to splurge a little, right? Right. (Mom and Dad don't you dare say anything about this when I get home.)
So I order my coffee and I head over to the connected bagel place and order my bagel. The shop is filled with very fancy, shiny people (one guy was driving an Audi convertible and made a loud squeaking noise when he got out of his car and stepped ankle deep into a puddle. It was pretty funny). I'm waiting by the register for my bagel with three Martha Stewart look-alikes and two Tom Brokaws- all of whom are sort of snarling at me. The group are all looking me up and down because we are playing that fun suburban game called "Which-one-of-these-is-not-like-the-other-Which-one-of-these-does-not-belong?" And I totally stick out with my beat up Tevas and wet hair. Plus I'm fat and there aren't that many fat people in Perfectville. At least that I have seen. Maybe they keep them locked up. Or maybe I haven't discovered the fat part of Perfectville yet. I console myself with the fact that I totally could take them all, even if I just sit on them.
The girl comes over brandishing my bagel- and I can tell its my bagel because she is making eye contact with me. Now, this girl doesn't like me, and didn't like me when she took my order. Don't ask me how I could tell, I just could. And I can see in her eyes what she is about to do, and I am silently begging her with my now large puppy dog eyes, please-don't-do-it-please-don't-do-it...
and she yells, as loud as she can so that people in both Caribou and Bruggers can hear her, "EVERYTHING FAT FATTY BAGEL WITH EXTRA FAT FATTY REGULAR ONION AND CHIVE CREAM CHEESE FOR THE FAT GIRL". Everyone turns to stare at me because there is, of course, no one else in the entire world who would order something so disguesting. I hang my head and step forward, extending my hand. She holds the bagel with two fingers like it contains kryptonite, and drops it in my outstretched hand. One of the Martha gasps, she must have never seen anything so horrific before. Then the girl turns to Martha and says sweetly, "Fat free plain bagel without carbs with fat-free-carbless-tasteless-calorieless-cream cheese for someone who knows how to take care of themself". Martha takes it and turns to go. We lock eyes. I can't take it anymore.
I stick out my tongue at her. And leave.
You can see what kind mental state I was in. I still was dead when I woke up and it was easy to rationalize in my pleasure centered brain that I deserved a large Caribou Mint Condition with an extra shot of espresso and an everything bagel with onion and chive cream cheese from Bruggers for breakfast. I mean, not that I have to defend myself, but I didn't eat dinner last night and I am going to have cereal for lunch, so it's totally fine to splurge a little, right? Right. (Mom and Dad don't you dare say anything about this when I get home.)
So I order my coffee and I head over to the connected bagel place and order my bagel. The shop is filled with very fancy, shiny people (one guy was driving an Audi convertible and made a loud squeaking noise when he got out of his car and stepped ankle deep into a puddle. It was pretty funny). I'm waiting by the register for my bagel with three Martha Stewart look-alikes and two Tom Brokaws- all of whom are sort of snarling at me. The group are all looking me up and down because we are playing that fun suburban game called "Which-one-of-these-is-not-like-the-other-Which-one-of-these-does-not-belong?" And I totally stick out with my beat up Tevas and wet hair. Plus I'm fat and there aren't that many fat people in Perfectville. At least that I have seen. Maybe they keep them locked up. Or maybe I haven't discovered the fat part of Perfectville yet. I console myself with the fact that I totally could take them all, even if I just sit on them.
The girl comes over brandishing my bagel- and I can tell its my bagel because she is making eye contact with me. Now, this girl doesn't like me, and didn't like me when she took my order. Don't ask me how I could tell, I just could. And I can see in her eyes what she is about to do, and I am silently begging her with my now large puppy dog eyes, please-don't-do-it-please-don't-do-it...
and she yells, as loud as she can so that people in both Caribou and Bruggers can hear her, "EVERYTHING FAT FATTY BAGEL WITH EXTRA FAT FATTY REGULAR ONION AND CHIVE CREAM CHEESE FOR THE FAT GIRL". Everyone turns to stare at me because there is, of course, no one else in the entire world who would order something so disguesting. I hang my head and step forward, extending my hand. She holds the bagel with two fingers like it contains kryptonite, and drops it in my outstretched hand. One of the Martha gasps, she must have never seen anything so horrific before. Then the girl turns to Martha and says sweetly, "Fat free plain bagel without carbs with fat-free-carbless-tasteless-calorieless-cream cheese for someone who knows how to take care of themself". Martha takes it and turns to go. We lock eyes. I can't take it anymore.
I stick out my tongue at her. And leave.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Is it only Tuesday?
So today in Body Pump (lifting weights to music), sweat butt boy was behind me. This didn't bother me as much as the fact that he could not look me in the face and left-to-get-a-drink-from-the-drinking-fountain-every-time-I-came-anywhere-near-him-to-get-weights-or-try-to-make-eye-contact-with-him. I mean, geez, I wasn't going to get to close to him, I just wanted to make eye contact and point to my black pants, reassuring him that he won't have to see my sweaty butt again. Alas, I heard him asking for the St. Paul Y schedule at the desk- I don't think I'm ever going to see him again. Luckily, my black stretch pants held up under the strain of my behind- no sweat or holes, only white hair from my dog and some fuzz balls from the wash. I'm such a classy lady.
Body Pump was full today, but most of the ladies head home after class or hit the elliptical for their four-hour-high-intensity-workout-to-the-morning-talk-shows. Usually, the shower is not a problem. But as I meandered into the locker room I was hit with a wall of steam from the shower. No, I thought to myself. No. No. No. I walked toward the showers- and they were all full. &*%$! DON'T THEY KNOW THAT I AM BACK!!! I walked to my locker and grabbed my stuff, hoping that one of the ladies would be clearing out in the next ten seconds. As I walked toward the showers, something caught my eye. I turned. It was HER (you know, that woman who lives at the gym and does every machine and weighs eighty pounds and has perfect children named Jackson and Emmery). She had her towel, shampoo, etc. She locked eyes with me at twenty paces and stopped dead in her tracks. I turned fully towards her and straightened my back, making myself taller. There was going to be a throw down- Perfectville style. "Did I see that all the showers are full?" She spat. I nodded. She scowled. I scowled. A crowd of naked perfectville moms started to gather around us whispering "Is your money on the fat one or the one that looks like a ferret?". Someone in the back started to chant "Fight, Fight, Fight...". I dropped my stuff to free my hands, never breaking eye contact. She dropped her stuff and stepped towards me. I started to snarl picturing the fight scenes from Eclipse in my head (I heart you Jacob...) and then
all three showers shut off at the same time. We both looked towards the showers and then towards each other. She shrugged and bent down to pick up her stuff. I picked up my stuff. She graciously let me get into the first shower- so I didn't have to punch her in the head.
My shower was awesome. And long.
Workout: BodyPump 60 minutes
Food:
Frosted Mini Wheat's with Skim Milk
Carrots with Hummus
Leftover Pizza
Apple with natural PB
Dinner?
Body Pump was full today, but most of the ladies head home after class or hit the elliptical for their four-hour-high-intensity-workout-to-the-morning-talk-shows. Usually, the shower is not a problem. But as I meandered into the locker room I was hit with a wall of steam from the shower. No, I thought to myself. No. No. No. I walked toward the showers- and they were all full. &*%$! DON'T THEY KNOW THAT I AM BACK!!! I walked to my locker and grabbed my stuff, hoping that one of the ladies would be clearing out in the next ten seconds. As I walked toward the showers, something caught my eye. I turned. It was HER (you know, that woman who lives at the gym and does every machine and weighs eighty pounds and has perfect children named Jackson and Emmery). She had her towel, shampoo, etc. She locked eyes with me at twenty paces and stopped dead in her tracks. I turned fully towards her and straightened my back, making myself taller. There was going to be a throw down- Perfectville style. "Did I see that all the showers are full?" She spat. I nodded. She scowled. I scowled. A crowd of naked perfectville moms started to gather around us whispering "Is your money on the fat one or the one that looks like a ferret?". Someone in the back started to chant "Fight, Fight, Fight...". I dropped my stuff to free my hands, never breaking eye contact. She dropped her stuff and stepped towards me. I started to snarl picturing the fight scenes from Eclipse in my head (I heart you Jacob...) and then
all three showers shut off at the same time. We both looked towards the showers and then towards each other. She shrugged and bent down to pick up her stuff. I picked up my stuff. She graciously let me get into the first shower- so I didn't have to punch her in the head.
My shower was awesome. And long.
Workout: BodyPump 60 minutes
Food:
Frosted Mini Wheat's with Skim Milk
Carrots with Hummus
Leftover Pizza
Apple with natural PB
Dinner?
Monday, September 13, 2010
I'm BAAACCCKKKKK!
Well, for those of you dying from suspense, I did not lose or gain any weight this summer. The wedding came and passed and I did not die. Well, I almost died. But here I am, a new school year and the threat of another wedding looming on the horizon and I am still where I was when I started (for the most part- a moderate weight loss, but it might as well be nothing at all).
So I started with spinning this morning. I figured it wouldn't be too bad, and that Grim would go easy on me because, I mean, really, I am pretty fat. So he should either ignore me or take pity on me- those are the fat rules. People either pretend you don't exist or treat you like a sick puppy. But there is one more rule- the rule of HATE. Some (okay, the majority) HATE fat people and treat the like the fat is catching and the fat person should be burned alive in front of a cheering crowd in a football stadium before the big game.
Grim hates me. HATES. I put my bike in the back, in the dark but it is directly across the room from him. Every time he looks up, he sees me. And he seethes. He looked up and yelled, "Faster"...then he looked up and said "COME ON!!!"...and then he said "HHHAAARRRDDEEERRR!!!"...and this was my experience in spinning this morning. Every though my bike is 15 feet away from Grim, I was covered in his spit by the end of class. My ears were ringing from his screaming. My legs don't work. I've had to ask the director at school for the extra wheel chair and I have to give the students a dollar to roll me from class to class.
Also, one reason I love to go to the gym, and keeps me going, is my elaborate fantasy that every man in class has a secret crush on me. I mean, hey, I might not be the most svelte woman in the room (and I'm not even close- all the perfectville soccer moms are hot!hot!hot!) but I am young and funny and I have contact lenses now, so I am totally cuter then I used to be. Anyway, my favorite guy was on a bike next to me this morning. I worked my ass off just so that anytime he looked in the mirror to check his form and "accidentally" checked me out at the same time, I would look like a professional biker (which, no matter how hard I work, I never will). After the biking, we have a little stretching time. I purposely had my back to him, so when I stretched my glutes, he would have a great view. Not to brag, but in my little spandex pants (I won't even tell you how time consuming it is to get those things on) my butt looks pretty awesome. So as I was bending over, I snuck a peek at my guy and he was totally checking out my little toosh. He eyes were wide and he emitted a little startled cough. I knew it was from the shock at seeing such a cute behind and smiled to my self. Score! So after we had put our bikes away, and I had slowly made my way to the locker room (I was hoping that he would ask for my number, but he is probably waiting until it is closer to the weekend), I checked myself out in the locker room mirror. My eyes went wide and I emitted a startled cough. I had ... butt sweat. BUTT SWEAT. Yep, that's right, in my grey stretch pants, was a giant butt sweat mark. It even made its way to the front. I looked like I peed my pants. It was shaped like China and totally dark. There is no way, NO WAY that he could have missed it. Or that anyone else in class missed it, as I chatted with everyone about their weekends. So the lesson here is: he probably will never be asking me for my number, unless he likes sweaty women who look like Russian beet farmers, and I will never, ever wear grey stretch pants to spinning again. EVER.
Monday: Spinning 45 minutes
Food:
Frosted Mini Wheat (low fat and high in fiber- yay!)
Water
Carrots and Hummus
Chili
Apple with natural PB
Pizza with grandma
So I started with spinning this morning. I figured it wouldn't be too bad, and that Grim would go easy on me because, I mean, really, I am pretty fat. So he should either ignore me or take pity on me- those are the fat rules. People either pretend you don't exist or treat you like a sick puppy. But there is one more rule- the rule of HATE. Some (okay, the majority) HATE fat people and treat the like the fat is catching and the fat person should be burned alive in front of a cheering crowd in a football stadium before the big game.
Grim hates me. HATES. I put my bike in the back, in the dark but it is directly across the room from him. Every time he looks up, he sees me. And he seethes. He looked up and yelled, "Faster"...then he looked up and said "COME ON!!!"...and then he said "HHHAAARRRDDEEERRR!!!"...and this was my experience in spinning this morning. Every though my bike is 15 feet away from Grim, I was covered in his spit by the end of class. My ears were ringing from his screaming. My legs don't work. I've had to ask the director at school for the extra wheel chair and I have to give the students a dollar to roll me from class to class.
Also, one reason I love to go to the gym, and keeps me going, is my elaborate fantasy that every man in class has a secret crush on me. I mean, hey, I might not be the most svelte woman in the room (and I'm not even close- all the perfectville soccer moms are hot!hot!hot!) but I am young and funny and I have contact lenses now, so I am totally cuter then I used to be. Anyway, my favorite guy was on a bike next to me this morning. I worked my ass off just so that anytime he looked in the mirror to check his form and "accidentally" checked me out at the same time, I would look like a professional biker (which, no matter how hard I work, I never will). After the biking, we have a little stretching time. I purposely had my back to him, so when I stretched my glutes, he would have a great view. Not to brag, but in my little spandex pants (I won't even tell you how time consuming it is to get those things on) my butt looks pretty awesome. So as I was bending over, I snuck a peek at my guy and he was totally checking out my little toosh. He eyes were wide and he emitted a little startled cough. I knew it was from the shock at seeing such a cute behind and smiled to my self. Score! So after we had put our bikes away, and I had slowly made my way to the locker room (I was hoping that he would ask for my number, but he is probably waiting until it is closer to the weekend), I checked myself out in the locker room mirror. My eyes went wide and I emitted a startled cough. I had ... butt sweat. BUTT SWEAT. Yep, that's right, in my grey stretch pants, was a giant butt sweat mark. It even made its way to the front. I looked like I peed my pants. It was shaped like China and totally dark. There is no way, NO WAY that he could have missed it. Or that anyone else in class missed it, as I chatted with everyone about their weekends. So the lesson here is: he probably will never be asking me for my number, unless he likes sweaty women who look like Russian beet farmers, and I will never, ever wear grey stretch pants to spinning again. EVER.
Monday: Spinning 45 minutes
Food:
Frosted Mini Wheat (low fat and high in fiber- yay!)
Water
Carrots and Hummus
Chili
Apple with natural PB
Pizza with grandma
Monday, April 26, 2010
April 26th- Summer Dreams
I think we did something to make Grim very, very angry. Remember Grim, my spinning instructor? The one who must-have-at-sometime-been-in-the-army-and-now-confuses-soccer-moms-with-soldiers? I usually take a bike in the back, and this morning was no exception. I like the back of the workout room- it's dark, there's a fan, it's away from the mirrors, and most important- no one can see the tiny hole in the butt of my new workout pants showing my flowered Hanes! Anyway, I'm in the back, and I'm thinking to myself throughout the entire class..."His spit projectile is amazing". I mean, I had to wipe off my glasses at least twice!
Not that I'm complaining. I like being yelled at...it makes me feel like I'm doing something right. The tension on my bike was so tight that the tighter-thingy (technical, I know) wouldn't turn any further. It was like biking in mud. Glorious.
The swear was pouring. The lady next to me was crying. Grandpa fell off his bike sometime in the first five minutes, but we left him on the floor until class was over. By 6:15 he wasn't the only one kissing the wood.
I looked Grim in the eye as I was walking out after class...he bared his teeth. I think he likes me.
Exercise: 45 minutes spinning
Food:
Fruit and Veggies
Maybe a crust of bread
I'm on the prison diet
Not that I'm complaining. I like being yelled at...it makes me feel like I'm doing something right. The tension on my bike was so tight that the tighter-thingy (technical, I know) wouldn't turn any further. It was like biking in mud. Glorious.
The swear was pouring. The lady next to me was crying. Grandpa fell off his bike sometime in the first five minutes, but we left him on the floor until class was over. By 6:15 he wasn't the only one kissing the wood.
I looked Grim in the eye as I was walking out after class...he bared his teeth. I think he likes me.
Exercise: 45 minutes spinning
Food:
Fruit and Veggies
Maybe a crust of bread
I'm on the prison diet
Monday, April 5, 2010
April 5th- Women, Food and God
Last week was Spring Break, and for me, a complete break from reality. You know when you go on vacation and you periodically think about all the wonderful ways that you're going to change your life when you get back to the real world...well, that was me last week, especially concerning my diet. Here are some random thoughts that passed though my head during break...
1. I am not going to eat anymore carbs until Meghan's wedding, which, the horror, is in approximately 129 days.
2. I am not going to diet anymore, I love myself too much for that.
3. I am going to only eat cereal until Meghan's wedding, which, the horror, is in approximately 129 days.
4. I will eat sensibly until Meghan's wedding.
5. I will work out for at least two hours a day until Meghan's wedding.
6. I will do the raw foods diet until Meghan's wedding.
7. I am beautiful the way I am.
8. I need to change the way I am.
9. I am so much better than the stupid people who make me feel bad about my weight and appearance.
10. Why is my coping mechanism food? Can I switch that to drugs or alcohol?
11. Speaking of drugs, I heard meth is a fast way to lose some extra baggage. Hmm...
This is a little insight into my head. These thoughts flow through, all of them, all day long. I fluctuate from one extreme to another. And, not to promote Oprah or her magazine, I did read "Women, Food and God" this week and it changed my life...a little. I have to re-read it. But basically, it opened my eyes to my real issues instead of what I thought my issues were. Like, the past is in the past and can't hurt you anymore. And, you don't need to fix yourself- you're whole. Etc., etc., etc. I'm not really into the whole touchy-feely-lets-all-love-each-other-group-hug-stuff, but this book was really good, and I would recommend it to everyone.
Workout: Spinning 45 minutes
Food:
Cereal and milk
coffee with hazelnut creamer
2 clementines
1 banana
lettuce chicken wraps
1 fiber one bar
1. I am not going to eat anymore carbs until Meghan's wedding, which, the horror, is in approximately 129 days.
2. I am not going to diet anymore, I love myself too much for that.
3. I am going to only eat cereal until Meghan's wedding, which, the horror, is in approximately 129 days.
4. I will eat sensibly until Meghan's wedding.
5. I will work out for at least two hours a day until Meghan's wedding.
6. I will do the raw foods diet until Meghan's wedding.
7. I am beautiful the way I am.
8. I need to change the way I am.
9. I am so much better than the stupid people who make me feel bad about my weight and appearance.
10. Why is my coping mechanism food? Can I switch that to drugs or alcohol?
11. Speaking of drugs, I heard meth is a fast way to lose some extra baggage. Hmm...
This is a little insight into my head. These thoughts flow through, all of them, all day long. I fluctuate from one extreme to another. And, not to promote Oprah or her magazine, I did read "Women, Food and God" this week and it changed my life...a little. I have to re-read it. But basically, it opened my eyes to my real issues instead of what I thought my issues were. Like, the past is in the past and can't hurt you anymore. And, you don't need to fix yourself- you're whole. Etc., etc., etc. I'm not really into the whole touchy-feely-lets-all-love-each-other-group-hug-stuff, but this book was really good, and I would recommend it to everyone.
Workout: Spinning 45 minutes
Food:
Cereal and milk
coffee with hazelnut creamer
2 clementines
1 banana
lettuce chicken wraps
1 fiber one bar
Monday, March 22, 2010
March 22- Their Eyes Were Watching God
So, I've hit a plateau. The scale is now my enemy in every way. At night, laying in bed, I fantasize about ordering an air strike on all scales within a 100 mile radius. I imagine the scales as the Viet Cong, and myself as Forrest Gump, shooting scales left and right. The only problem is that I end up getting shot in the bum, laying up in the hospital, and eating ice cream. We all know what happens when I eat ice cream.
That, or ban all pictures of me that have anything but my foot or finger in them.
I add fitness classes- the scale stays the same. I eat less- the scale stays the same. I eat more- the scale stays the same. I don't eat- the scale stays the same. I sit on the couch the day- the scale stays the same. I'm naked- the scale stays the same. I'm wearing a winter jacket- the scale stays the same. I weigh myself with Mufasa- the scale stays the same. I go to a sweat lodge for a week long vacation and almost die- the scale stays the same.
I'm at the point where I am standing and shaking my fists at heaven and say, "WWWWHHHHYYYY????"
But this is the way it is. I can only keep doing what I'm doing, working hard and eating right, and hope that one day I'll get on the scale and have lost eighty pounds.
Workout: Spinning for 45 minutes
Food:
Coffee and ff creamer
Breakfast sandwich (low fat and vegetarian)
Banana and Water
Turkey sandwich with cheese, tortilla chips with salsa, orange
Fiber one bar
Chipolte (grandma's choice- I get it healthy with no cheese or sour cream)
That, or ban all pictures of me that have anything but my foot or finger in them.
I add fitness classes- the scale stays the same. I eat less- the scale stays the same. I eat more- the scale stays the same. I don't eat- the scale stays the same. I sit on the couch the day- the scale stays the same. I'm naked- the scale stays the same. I'm wearing a winter jacket- the scale stays the same. I weigh myself with Mufasa- the scale stays the same. I go to a sweat lodge for a week long vacation and almost die- the scale stays the same.
I'm at the point where I am standing and shaking my fists at heaven and say, "WWWWHHHHYYYY????"
But this is the way it is. I can only keep doing what I'm doing, working hard and eating right, and hope that one day I'll get on the scale and have lost eighty pounds.
Workout: Spinning for 45 minutes
Food:
Coffee and ff creamer
Breakfast sandwich (low fat and vegetarian)
Banana and Water
Turkey sandwich with cheese, tortilla chips with salsa, orange
Fiber one bar
Chipolte (grandma's choice- I get it healthy with no cheese or sour cream)
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
March 17- Happy St. Patty's Day!
In honor of St. Patty's Day, I would like to write an Ode to Potatoes- one of my favorite foods.
Oh, Potato
How do I love thee
Let me count the ways:
Mashed, tatored, mixed with cheese...
why do you have to be such a tease?
Baked and topped with sour cream-
add some chives, what a dream
Deep fried in a vat, dipped in ketchup
Lovin' that.
Dear and shy potato new
thank you for always being true.
I don't know if my Irish ancestors would agree with my poem, I'm pretty sure that eating potatoes everyday might make you hate them. Personally, my favorite potato is baked, topped with tater topping and sitting next to a grilled steak. Yum. Okay, I need to stop talking about food before I eat one of my students while daydreaming about a french silk blizzard or donuts...dooonnnuuutt (Homer Simpson and I have loads in common, like our love for beer, donuts, and drooling, as well as our ability to say completely inappropriate things at the right times)...Speaking of food, total pounds lost is 30. Yay for me.
Workout: Spinning
Food:
Low-fat breakfast sandwich and banana
Water
Turkey sandwich and two clementines
Diet coke
Veggie and black bean burrito, and skim milk
Oh, Potato
How do I love thee
Let me count the ways:
Mashed, tatored, mixed with cheese...
why do you have to be such a tease?
Baked and topped with sour cream-
add some chives, what a dream
Deep fried in a vat, dipped in ketchup
Lovin' that.
Dear and shy potato new
thank you for always being true.
I don't know if my Irish ancestors would agree with my poem, I'm pretty sure that eating potatoes everyday might make you hate them. Personally, my favorite potato is baked, topped with tater topping and sitting next to a grilled steak. Yum. Okay, I need to stop talking about food before I eat one of my students while daydreaming about a french silk blizzard or donuts...dooonnnuuutt (Homer Simpson and I have loads in common, like our love for beer, donuts, and drooling, as well as our ability to say completely inappropriate things at the right times)...Speaking of food, total pounds lost is 30. Yay for me.
Workout: Spinning
Food:
Low-fat breakfast sandwich and banana
Water
Turkey sandwich and two clementines
Diet coke
Veggie and black bean burrito, and skim milk
Monday, March 15, 2010
March 15- Leah's B-Day
Shout out to one of the coolest sisters around- love you Leah, and I can't wait to do P90X with ya...
Moving on, today as my underwear was slowing creeping up my ass in Spinning, it occured to me there are three types of fitness instructors:
#1- The "Aerobicizer"- This particular breed of trainer enjoys Reebok's, legwarmers, big hair and Journey. Her best friend is Denise Austin. She still thinks that neon tights are fashionable, frequently says "No pain, No gain" and has posters of Arnold (from the terminator) on her walls. She has been on the Grapefruit diet since 1986 but is still slightly pudgy from all those apple martinis.
#2- "The Sargent" - This particular breed of trainer barks commands at the top of his lungs, gets into your personal space, spits on your face and will not break eye contact with you- you have to lower your eyes first. Ex-military and proud of it. He will not let anyone into the studio after class has started, does not tolerate any weakness. If he could, he would pee a circle around the room to mark his territory. Do not cross him, say hi, smile or offer him a powerbar. Powerbars are for pussies.
#3- "The Teenager"- This particular breed of trainer is not, in fact, a teenager- she just thinks she is. She will wear clothing that is too revealing, gossip about her boyfriend, toss her hair and try to make you go out dancing with her. If your in her class for any length of time, she will start to talk about her upcoming trip to Cancun, where she travels twice a year. She will mention, repeatedly, that Juan always saves her a seat at the swim-up bar. Yay.
Can you guess which is my favorite? Happy Monday everybody.
Workout: Spin for 45 minutes, PX90 for 1 hour
Eat:
High Fiber Go Lean Cereal and skim milk
1 apple
1 pear
Lean Cuisine
Moving on, today as my underwear was slowing creeping up my ass in Spinning, it occured to me there are three types of fitness instructors:
#1- The "Aerobicizer"- This particular breed of trainer enjoys Reebok's, legwarmers, big hair and Journey. Her best friend is Denise Austin. She still thinks that neon tights are fashionable, frequently says "No pain, No gain" and has posters of Arnold (from the terminator) on her walls. She has been on the Grapefruit diet since 1986 but is still slightly pudgy from all those apple martinis.
#2- "The Sargent" - This particular breed of trainer barks commands at the top of his lungs, gets into your personal space, spits on your face and will not break eye contact with you- you have to lower your eyes first. Ex-military and proud of it. He will not let anyone into the studio after class has started, does not tolerate any weakness. If he could, he would pee a circle around the room to mark his territory. Do not cross him, say hi, smile or offer him a powerbar. Powerbars are for pussies.
#3- "The Teenager"- This particular breed of trainer is not, in fact, a teenager- she just thinks she is. She will wear clothing that is too revealing, gossip about her boyfriend, toss her hair and try to make you go out dancing with her. If your in her class for any length of time, she will start to talk about her upcoming trip to Cancun, where she travels twice a year. She will mention, repeatedly, that Juan always saves her a seat at the swim-up bar. Yay.
Can you guess which is my favorite? Happy Monday everybody.
Workout: Spin for 45 minutes, PX90 for 1 hour
Eat:
High Fiber Go Lean Cereal and skim milk
1 apple
1 pear
Lean Cuisine
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
March 9th- The Crucible
Well, here we are again. Two weeks ago I fell on the ice outside my front door letting my dog out (almost in a pee puddle-God was laughing at me) and twisted my back, hitting my head on the side-walk and knocking myself out. The neighbors found me four hours later, still unconscious, and immediately called the po-pos (police, for those of you that don't live in da'hood). I broke five vertebrae in my back, and my never walk again. Also, during a brain scan, the doctors found an inoperable tumor that will kill me in three blessed months. When I heard this news I was flooded with grateful relief. I could eat Hagan-Das and cheese again...I could sleep past four in the morning...I could don my green-terry-cloth-stretch-if-I-ever-left-the-house-in-these-I-would-be-shot-by-the-zoo-but-now-I'm-dying-so-people-will-pity-me-pants...I could die fat and happy...
Okay, this is a detailed and much-replayed fantasy. I did fall and twist my back. I have been in excruciating pain, barely able to sit down and stand up. Going to the bathroom took loads of extra time. I had to contact my "contact" and get some prescription meds without the prescription (thank God, and I sincerely mean this, for Mexico). I would rather have (almost) any other injury than a back injury.
What better excuse to not work out?
Today was my first day back to the gym. All the ladies welcomed my back with open arms, happy to see me and listen, repeatedly, to me complain about back injuries, ice, having a house without gutters, dogs and how stupid the Academy Awards continues to be. But alas, it wasn't all it could be. Waiting in the shadows of the gym...wait for it, wait for it...was one of my grade school teachers. A woman who remembers me as a child...Who didn't recognize me until after class, and then, because I am cursed, came to talk to me. She was wearing that face, you know the one-it starts with "Oh My God..." and ends with "...there is something SOOOO wrong with you, do you need the number of my therapist". Okay, it wasn't that bad. But I did have to tell her that I am allergic to every vitamin and mineral in existence and can only eat White Castle. Her look of horror was indescribable...
Workout: BodyPump 60 mins, Walking the dogs 45 mins
Food:
High fiber cereal, banana and skim milk
Stir fry with ww noodles and veggies, orange and water
Apple and almonds, DC
High fiber cereal, banana and skim milk
Okay, this is a detailed and much-replayed fantasy. I did fall and twist my back. I have been in excruciating pain, barely able to sit down and stand up. Going to the bathroom took loads of extra time. I had to contact my "contact" and get some prescription meds without the prescription (thank God, and I sincerely mean this, for Mexico). I would rather have (almost) any other injury than a back injury.
What better excuse to not work out?
Today was my first day back to the gym. All the ladies welcomed my back with open arms, happy to see me and listen, repeatedly, to me complain about back injuries, ice, having a house without gutters, dogs and how stupid the Academy Awards continues to be. But alas, it wasn't all it could be. Waiting in the shadows of the gym...wait for it, wait for it...was one of my grade school teachers. A woman who remembers me as a child...Who didn't recognize me until after class, and then, because I am cursed, came to talk to me. She was wearing that face, you know the one-it starts with "Oh My God..." and ends with "...there is something SOOOO wrong with you, do you need the number of my therapist". Okay, it wasn't that bad. But I did have to tell her that I am allergic to every vitamin and mineral in existence and can only eat White Castle. Her look of horror was indescribable...
Workout: BodyPump 60 mins, Walking the dogs 45 mins
Food:
High fiber cereal, banana and skim milk
Stir fry with ww noodles and veggies, orange and water
Apple and almonds, DC
High fiber cereal, banana and skim milk
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
February 24- Demian
Considering my job has been pretty soul-sucking lately, this is an appropriate title, don't you think? I do love this book (AP English rocks!) even with all the dark undertones.
Yes, I was going to post pictures yesterday. Buy I need a mental-health-nap more than I needed to update my blog. Spring break can't come fast enough, and if you see my picture in the paper, let me just say right now that it wasn't my fault. Temporary insanity. I won't be adding them today either, considering I left the house at 4:30am and I won't be back at home until after 8pm. Maybe Thursday or Friday.
Popularity at the gym has its downside. Today everyone saw me and asked me why I wasn't going to spinning. I felt a little guilty in my soul, I even lowered my head and refused to make eye-contact with anyone in the spinning room. Do I feel like I am betraying my bestest friends in the whole world? Well...maybe I wouldn't go that far but still...And I have to go to Friday Bodypump instead of Thursday, so I know there is going to be some tears shed.
Workout: 30 minutes on the bike and 20 minutes running (I found the key to liking running- lets just say it involves Justin Timberlake).
Food: The usual healthy crap
Yes, I was going to post pictures yesterday. Buy I need a mental-health-nap more than I needed to update my blog. Spring break can't come fast enough, and if you see my picture in the paper, let me just say right now that it wasn't my fault. Temporary insanity. I won't be adding them today either, considering I left the house at 4:30am and I won't be back at home until after 8pm. Maybe Thursday or Friday.
Popularity at the gym has its downside. Today everyone saw me and asked me why I wasn't going to spinning. I felt a little guilty in my soul, I even lowered my head and refused to make eye-contact with anyone in the spinning room. Do I feel like I am betraying my bestest friends in the whole world? Well...maybe I wouldn't go that far but still...And I have to go to Friday Bodypump instead of Thursday, so I know there is going to be some tears shed.
Workout: 30 minutes on the bike and 20 minutes running (I found the key to liking running- lets just say it involves Justin Timberlake).
Food: The usual healthy crap
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
February 23- Montana 1948
I think Wizard is either trying to kill me or see me cry. She is a math teacher, so her goal is to make students cry daily. Usually, she accomplishes this goal. We started training for the race in May a week early. I thought that this might mean that I could get another entire week of sleeping in until 5am, but alas, my ass was required at the gym. When I asked, Wizard just rolled her eyes. I think that she's starting to ignore everything I say because mostly I'm just whining which doesn't compute in her German mind...
I do have pictures of both the 5k and the Turkey Trot from Thanksgiving. I will hopefully be posting those tonight.
I can't believe I'm still pluggin' along.
Workout: Bodypump 50 minutes and running 30 minutes (did I used to think that this was a long time?)
Food:
Healthy crap I am sick of.
I do have pictures of both the 5k and the Turkey Trot from Thanksgiving. I will hopefully be posting those tonight.
I can't believe I'm still pluggin' along.
Workout: Bodypump 50 minutes and running 30 minutes (did I used to think that this was a long time?)
Food:
Healthy crap I am sick of.
Monday, February 22, 2010
February 22- The Things They Carried
So it has been a while since I have blogged. I did compete in the race, and although I didn't do well, I finished. I really wanted to run the entire race, but I kept falling on the ice and some of the snow was hard to run through (the sponsors didn't plow a trail for us runners). By-in-large, it was a disheartening experience. I expected a lot of myself and I wasn't able to deliver, which depressed me.
The week following the race I took off from the gym. As I said I was depressed with my performance and I wanted to give my body a break. I reevaluated.
Last week I went back to the gym. I was contemplating whether I wanted to do the next two races that I signed up for...and so far I have decided that I am going to compete. Sunday Wizard and I started our training for the duetelon, which is in May. We have a print out of a schedule that we are going to follow that leads right up the race. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't nervous. But here I go again.
The week following the race I took off from the gym. As I said I was depressed with my performance and I wanted to give my body a break. I reevaluated.
Last week I went back to the gym. I was contemplating whether I wanted to do the next two races that I signed up for...and so far I have decided that I am going to compete. Sunday Wizard and I started our training for the duetelon, which is in May. We have a print out of a schedule that we are going to follow that leads right up the race. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't nervous. But here I go again.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
February 4 - White Noise
If you haven't caught on yet, I am posting book titles as the names of my posts. See, reading my blog gives you a laugh, tips and books to read. I'm concerned about your mental, physical and emotional health.
The race is in two days. I am feeling a little scared and stressed about it. These are the fears racing through my mind: 1. What if I fall flat on my face? 2. What if I fart while I'm running and its really loud? 3. What if people laugh at me? 4. What if I'm the last one in the race? 5. What if I can't finish? 6. What if I can't run the whole race?
I mean, do people look at you and instantly know that you are a total fraud? That's how I feel, kind of. Like I don't belong. Which is totally bogus because I am totally an athlete now. I can lift a car over my head and throw it. I own muti-colored spandex and things with the Nike Swoosh. I can hop on the treadmill and run for thirty minutes (at a very slow speed but still an accomplishment). I can feel my biceps reemerging under layers of fat and see the muscles in my legs. I actually choose healthy foods sometimes instead of the crap I used to eat.
Wizard and I are really going to have to step up the training after this race for the duathilon in May. I'm going to have to run 6 miles. Insanity. I need to stay motivated...which, speaking of, I lost another two pounds. My body likes to purge the pounds in spurts.
The race is in two days. I am feeling a little scared and stressed about it. These are the fears racing through my mind: 1. What if I fall flat on my face? 2. What if I fart while I'm running and its really loud? 3. What if people laugh at me? 4. What if I'm the last one in the race? 5. What if I can't finish? 6. What if I can't run the whole race?
I mean, do people look at you and instantly know that you are a total fraud? That's how I feel, kind of. Like I don't belong. Which is totally bogus because I am totally an athlete now. I can lift a car over my head and throw it. I own muti-colored spandex and things with the Nike Swoosh. I can hop on the treadmill and run for thirty minutes (at a very slow speed but still an accomplishment). I can feel my biceps reemerging under layers of fat and see the muscles in my legs. I actually choose healthy foods sometimes instead of the crap I used to eat.
Wizard and I are really going to have to step up the training after this race for the duathilon in May. I'm going to have to run 6 miles. Insanity. I need to stay motivated...which, speaking of, I lost another two pounds. My body likes to purge the pounds in spurts.
Monday, February 1, 2010
February 1, 2010- The Bell Jar
So apparently I was wrong to get so annoyed at the New-Year's-Resolutionists because this morning I walked into spin class and there wasn't one bike left. That's right- not one bike! Even the broken bikes and the one-missing-a-wheel had old men propped up on them. Now, as-much-as-I-hate-admitting-to-anything-that-could-be-in-anyway-my-fault-because-I-am-always-right, I was five minutes late to spin class.
Don't set me on fire yet- I hate people who are late too! I was pulled over by Woodbury's finest this morning because I was speeding. Fifty in a forty zone (which, not to excuse speeding, but pleez! That isn't that fast and aren't there some real criminals to catch instead of me in my hot spandex pants racing to spinning because I'm late?). I was resolved to getting a damn ticket because this is the second time I've been pulled over in the new little green machine and I didn't even care that much because the police officer was totally delish with his long eye lashes and crew cut. Men in uniform- Yum. But I digress.
So I walk into spinning, with only a warning from the cute copper, and not even a written warning at that, and the room is packed! All my woodbury-soccer-mom-friends are making sad faces at me when I realize that there aren't any bikes! What kinda of crazy, ninja free world is this! All I have to say is good thing I didn't have my nunchucks...I was forced to the elliptical and infomercials. Boo.
Workout: 20 minutes on the elliptical (Hopefully I'll get a chance to head back to the Y tonight for a class)
Food:
Go Lean Crunch with skim milk
1 banana
4 clementines
1 fiber bar
1/2 subway turkey sandwich
2 diet cokes
Don't set me on fire yet- I hate people who are late too! I was pulled over by Woodbury's finest this morning because I was speeding. Fifty in a forty zone (which, not to excuse speeding, but pleez! That isn't that fast and aren't there some real criminals to catch instead of me in my hot spandex pants racing to spinning because I'm late?). I was resolved to getting a damn ticket because this is the second time I've been pulled over in the new little green machine and I didn't even care that much because the police officer was totally delish with his long eye lashes and crew cut. Men in uniform- Yum. But I digress.
So I walk into spinning, with only a warning from the cute copper, and not even a written warning at that, and the room is packed! All my woodbury-soccer-mom-friends are making sad faces at me when I realize that there aren't any bikes! What kinda of crazy, ninja free world is this! All I have to say is good thing I didn't have my nunchucks...I was forced to the elliptical and infomercials. Boo.
Workout: 20 minutes on the elliptical (Hopefully I'll get a chance to head back to the Y tonight for a class)
Food:
Go Lean Crunch with skim milk
1 banana
4 clementines
1 fiber bar
1/2 subway turkey sandwich
2 diet cokes
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
January 27- Catching Fire
In a little over a week I will be running my first 5k. Every time I think about the race it seems impossible that it could be so close. I am nervous, I don't know how I am going to do. Wizard, hardcore that she is, is planning to finish the race in under 30 minutes. I just want to run the entire race (3.2 miles) without stopping. I don't think that that is too lofty a goal...we'll soon find out.
Most of the new-years-revolutionists have dropped out of the classes at the gym. This makes me both happy and sad. Sad because people give up too easily, happy because I no longer have to get to the gym 15 minutes early just to get a spin bike. I can't believe how much better I feel and what great shape I am in because of my new exercise routine. I can't believe that I have only been going for about three months. I don't know how I survived before, or what I did with my time. Cuddled with the puppies more I guess. Now that I have made this a habit, I can't imagine not doing it.
Wizard seems to think the ladies at the Y are going to burn her at the stake because she is so unfriendly and because of her German accent. She is trying to win me to her side, I have made so many friends that she feels that I will abandon her for mob mentality.
Workout: Spin 45 minutes
Food:
Go Lean Crunch with Skim Milk
2 Bananas (snack)
2 fiber one bars (snack)
1 diet coke
leftover turkey, mashed potatoes, broccoli, cranberries and stuffing (lunch)
roast with potatoes, onions and carrots
Most of the new-years-revolutionists have dropped out of the classes at the gym. This makes me both happy and sad. Sad because people give up too easily, happy because I no longer have to get to the gym 15 minutes early just to get a spin bike. I can't believe how much better I feel and what great shape I am in because of my new exercise routine. I can't believe that I have only been going for about three months. I don't know how I survived before, or what I did with my time. Cuddled with the puppies more I guess. Now that I have made this a habit, I can't imagine not doing it.
Wizard seems to think the ladies at the Y are going to burn her at the stake because she is so unfriendly and because of her German accent. She is trying to win me to her side, I have made so many friends that she feels that I will abandon her for mob mentality.
Workout: Spin 45 minutes
Food:
Go Lean Crunch with Skim Milk
2 Bananas (snack)
2 fiber one bars (snack)
1 diet coke
leftover turkey, mashed potatoes, broccoli, cranberries and stuffing (lunch)
roast with potatoes, onions and carrots
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
January 26th- The Hunger Games
Isn't that (my title for today) an amazing name for a book considering that it is my life? I was just lamenting with the other teachers and staff this morning that I want to exercise an hour everyday and be able to eat whatever I want. Now, granted, I know that this is impossible and teenagers are the only ones who get to eat and drink whatever they want with no consequences but I still would like that to be true. Is that too much to ask? Of course.
On Saturday I woke up with a burning cough and throat. I was sure I had strep so I went to the Minute Clinic by my house to get on antibiotics. I didn't want to miss anymore school. Anyway, the doctor was a total douchebag! She basically told me to quit being a baby and suck it up! Me! Who never even goes to the doctor for anything (hello, I still got up and went to school when I had the H1N1 and the staff had to send me home!) I was sooooo piiissseeeddd. Apparently they don't like to test for strep unless you have been sick for more than three days. Yeah, the doctor was so busy at 8am at the Cub Minute Clinic that she couldn't take 30 seconds to swab my throat- she had to scold me for ten minutes before she could do that.
Things are good. I feel good. I love working out now. I was also told that I am the squat queen this morning- made my day! I still am getting used to the running thing. I like doing it at a slow pace...I don't like running to fast. So I'm not very good at it.
Workout: BodyPump 60mins and Running 30 mins (running the whole time)
Food:
2 bowls Go Lean Crunch (breakfast and lunch)
2 bananas
1 apple
2 fiber one bars
1 fanta and 1 diet coke
1 cup coffee with hazelnut creamer
dinner?
On Saturday I woke up with a burning cough and throat. I was sure I had strep so I went to the Minute Clinic by my house to get on antibiotics. I didn't want to miss anymore school. Anyway, the doctor was a total douchebag! She basically told me to quit being a baby and suck it up! Me! Who never even goes to the doctor for anything (hello, I still got up and went to school when I had the H1N1 and the staff had to send me home!) I was sooooo piiissseeeddd. Apparently they don't like to test for strep unless you have been sick for more than three days. Yeah, the doctor was so busy at 8am at the Cub Minute Clinic that she couldn't take 30 seconds to swab my throat- she had to scold me for ten minutes before she could do that.
Things are good. I feel good. I love working out now. I was also told that I am the squat queen this morning- made my day! I still am getting used to the running thing. I like doing it at a slow pace...I don't like running to fast. So I'm not very good at it.
Workout: BodyPump 60mins and Running 30 mins (running the whole time)
Food:
2 bowls Go Lean Crunch (breakfast and lunch)
2 bananas
1 apple
2 fiber one bars
1 fanta and 1 diet coke
1 cup coffee with hazelnut creamer
dinner?
Friday, January 22, 2010
January 22 - Sick Day
I actually ran thirty minutes today without stopping. Two miles in thirty minutes, which means I was running about at 15 minute mile. Pretty horrible time but I'm amazed at myself regardless. Thirty minutes. Two miles. I don't think I've ever run two miles before.
The only reason I'm not complaining about my body being sore from running is because I'm sick with a cold. My nose won't stop running, I'm slimeing the kids, my eyes and head ache, I didn't sleep last night because I couldn't breathe. Every time I cough I'm afraid that blood will come from my throat and/or I'm going to ralph. Hopefully, I've painted an accurate picture of my misery.
Workout: Running 30 minutes- Yay me.
Eating: The usual
The only reason I'm not complaining about my body being sore from running is because I'm sick with a cold. My nose won't stop running, I'm slimeing the kids, my eyes and head ache, I didn't sleep last night because I couldn't breathe. Every time I cough I'm afraid that blood will come from my throat and/or I'm going to ralph. Hopefully, I've painted an accurate picture of my misery.
Workout: Running 30 minutes- Yay me.
Eating: The usual
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