Fear and the angry carrot

I have decided to set goals to help keep myself on track. The first on is a tough one. I've decided to run/walk the mini marathon in April. It gives me a couple of months, but one of the problems is that you have to keep a 15 minute mile for 13 miles. For many people this is not an issue. I'm five foot nothing. I have to struggle to keep a 17 minute mile. This is going to take some work. So today I set out for my group weight lifting class and figure since I have not been to the gym in two days, I needed to push myself. I used heavier weights. I felt the burn but sweated less. Go figure. After class, I felt like I could use some cardio so off to the cardio theater I went.

There was a terrible movie on so I concentrated on the workout and wished I had brought my headphones. I huffed and puffed and even jogged for 7 minutes briskly walking in between. 17 minute mile. I'm getting scared. I did a half mile cool down walk and felt the fear of failure breathing down my now sweat laden neck.

The next obstacle is eating better. This is going to be by far the hardest. I have tried to switch to lean cuisine for lunch and frankly it is just pissing me off. Someone told me to eat some carrots to help fill me. I swear god is laughing at me, because I found a mini carrot that was making a face at me. So I made him a hat.

Playing with my food always makes me feel better, but this is not gonna be easy.

Where the hell are we going?

Have you ever noticed that spin teachers talk about climbing hills and "digging in" to pass the guy in front of you? I want to throw my hands up and scream "WE ARE ON STATIONARY BIKES! I'M NOT GONNA CATCH HIM!" I might have, but I was panting too hard to speak, let alone scream.

What is with all the talk about cross winds and tail winds? I understand they are trying to paint a picture of pretending to bike outdoors, but frankly if I wanted to bike outdoors, I would, well, bike outdoors. As you can tell, last night's spinning class was a tough one for me. My legs strained to keep even the tiniest bit of resistance on the bike. I couldn't muster the will or strength to really give it my all. I could feel the half-pound pulled pork sandwich I ate for lunch punishing me as I pushed through imaginary hills and that finish line I would never reach.

As I walked out the instructor thanked me for coming with a warm and friendly smile. I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt and wanted to throw myself at his feet and confess that the last 20 minutes of class, I coasted. He probably would have told me the same thing I already knew. I didn't cheat him. I cheated me. I still left covered in sweat and with the same basic desire to crawl into a corner and cry, so I was assured that my class was not completely wasted but dammit, I need to get on my game.

Gumption and Punctuality

My high school English teacher Mr. Qualls would be so proud to hear me say that is sucks to be late. My husband lost his glasses before I was supposed to head off to my spinning class this morning. About 15 minutes before class, I basically had decided that I was not going. Voila. We find the glasses. My husband grins and says I can't use him as an excuse. I grab my water bottle, a towel and run out the door. I am still about 2 minutes late. Not huge, but I missed part of the warm up, which I have found is pretty important to me and I really didn't get to adjust my bike to the perfect settings. This meant my crotch went numb about half way through class.

Right about half way through class, I also notice something very important. I had given up. I felt weak and helpless and I wanted to go home. It took me almost 15 minutes to work myself up to staying with the class. Maybe it was the lack of warm up, maybe it was weak will, but I indeed gave up for 15 minutes.

I finished the class strong with my heart pounding in my throat and head and a sweat soaked t-shirt. I still shoulda been on time.

Walking and Weights

I have neglected my blogger responsibility, but still have kept on the exercise track. Yesterday I was on the treadmill while watching Welcome Home Roscoe Jenkins. Not my choice, it was what the gym had in the Cardio Theater. Three miles of walking and jogging and then I went home. I'm now toying with the idea of working my way into a mini-marathon, but I've got months to think about that. Perhaps I'll work treadmill in once a week, although I found it kind of boring and hard to stick with.

Today is was group power/weight lifting. I was late because I read the schedule wrong. This is the second time I have been late to this class. The worst part is that you need to collect materials so I was doing that as the class warmed up. Suck.

Right off the bat the squats hurt, even during warm up. During the actual leg section, I opted to leave the weights on the floor and my legs were still shaking. Last class I felt like I needed more weight on the bar. This class I was shaking with the slightest amount on the bar. It didn't help that there was a woman twice my age rocking twice as much weight right next to me. I wanted to push her down and scream "quit showing off granny!"

Let's face it, she coulda kicked my ass.

Pizza Hurts so Good

I blew off my spinning class with another bout of insomnia under my belt. My husband ordered pizza last night, which is not my weakness. However, the cheezy bread that came with it, that is another story.

I pounded what had to be a pound of cheese and dough and marinara sauce. Feeling stuffed, I went to bed and set my alarm for 5am, thinking I would grab an early spinning class. It took everything in me, but I dragged my butt out of bed and off I went to the gym. In a daze, I got half way to the wrong location. I hurried in because I didn't want to be late, but I didn't get much of a pre-warm up.

That may have been where I went terribly wrong. Apparently it was Metallica day, which means the typically kind instructor turns into a maniacal machine pushing you through ungodly hills. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy some good butt kickin metal, but he also played Creed. Seriously, if Nickelback was in the rotation, I would have left. There is only so much one person can take.

So I'm ready to start my day. This class didn't give me the vigor that I felt from Sunday's class, but it is still early and I made an awesome breakfast with turkey bacon and avocados. Yum.

Hate-o-meter

I am a chronic starter stopper. It's just me. Depending on how much time I let lapse between my attempts at fitness, my meter of hate for exercises varies.

I had my two days off so I knew I had to go to spinning today. It was a hard one. My husband remarked as I walked through the door with a drenched t-shirt and sopping wet hair that it must have been tough.

Endurance spinning challenged me with high resistance hills with interval sprints. The music was good, the instructor did what she could to keep our spirits high, she even blared my all time favorite Journey song. I hated the class all the way through. The hate-o-meter was blaring hard at a nine, quite possibly 10.

However, when I got in my car and started to drive away, I started feeling really great. My mood was happy and despite soaking through my towel onto the seat of my car with workout sweat, I was really ready to start the day. I guess the hardest classes to overcome reap the most benefit. The sandwiches I made for my husband and I with turkey bacon, egg, cheese, lettuce, tomato and avocado didn't hurt either.

Just the two of us

So instead of going to spinning today, I decided that my husband and I would do laps in our neighborhood. The problem lies with our difference in height. He is 6'4" and I am, well, not.

He likes to speed walk which add even more difficulty. Off we go, I'm doing mini sprints to keep up with him and I'm sweating like a horse (I have recently learned that pigs don't sweat.)

After a little more than a mile and a half, I am done. So I have showered and am blogging, while he goes and does two more laps.

I shoulda married a fat guy.

I'm a walkin in the rain

So I told myself that I would do 5 days a week. Generally the weekends would be my slack time. Due to some unfortunate insomnia, I didn't make it to classes on Wednesday and Thursday. Instead, I made a quiche with spiced ground turkey, corn, black beans and cheese. It was da biggity bomb, but did not get my happy ass to the gym.

I woke up at about 3am today and I thought I would catch an early spin class and get today's workout over with. I turned off my alarm so it wouldn't wake the husband. As I started to get out of bed, the most adorable kitteh in the world started head butting my face and purring. I grabbed her and snuggled her tightly.

The next thing I remember, I was dreaming about neighborhood kids bringing me chicken. I woke with a quick jerk. The clock read 7:45. Usually my husband wakes me when he gets out of bed at 6:30, but apparently not today.

That means I missed the class. The latest class offered is after I get off work today so I think I will be walking around my neighborhood for exercise, and it is supposed to rain. Crap.

All by myself

So last night I thought I would try working out at home with some weights using some of the techniques I had learned at group power a couple of days ago. I loading my mp3 player (no, I am not cool enough to own an ipod) with an hour and 10 minutes of music so I could time my workout. I felt like I was doing the same thing and I'm a little tight, but don't feel like I got the workout I do in group sessions. When I leave the gym, I look like I really abused myself. My hair is drenched with sweat, my shirt is completely wet and I have a general pissed off look about me. At home, it was a very light sweat and I don't feel like I worked as hard. Afterwards, my husband rewarded me with a pulled pork sandwich and mac and cheese.

So at home, it is an easier workout and I get treats at the end. Remind me why I pay membership at the gym? Oh yeah, I need someone to kick my ass unless I plan on keeping it at an unusally large size until I'm 90.

Kal-ee-mah! Kal-ee-mah!

I believe that is the correct chant for you Indiana Jones lovers. It was the only thing I could think of tonight at spinning class. I think my heart almost exploded. I imagine the instructor would have stood over my lifeless body holding my still beating heart and then strapping it back to the bike for a few more sprints. Tonight was brutal. Part of me can't help but wonder if the frozen veggie pack for lunch mixed with a potato salad snack could be to blame. Just not enough fuel? My right calf is still aching, but the workout made it feel better. I may baby it a bit now and then, but I swear if I cramped up, I would have fallen off that damn death machine. For dinner, I'm having Brussels sprouts and an egg white omlet. I crave weird things when I get so close to death. Perhaps I'll drink my water out of a humble carpenter's cup for good measure.

Just winging it

So not only did I refrain from exercise this weekend, I also went on a crazy food binge. This is just proof that I should not be alone with myself. This weekend was a food fest. We went to a birthday party and I consumed fried rice, teriyaki chicken, veggies and sushi. I went home and consumed half a bottle of wine.

The next morning I woke up ravenous and still brutally sore from Friday. I had cereal, sub sandwiches, potato chips and then I went and got a horendous order of chicken wings from BW3's. I refuse to tell you how many I consumed, but I looked like I was in a contest at the State Fair.

I woke up at 4:45 this morning and figured I should go to the 5:30 spinning class, but my cat wouldn't let me and by that I mean she was being undeniably cute. So needless to say, the plan is to go tonight after work. I have packed a gym bag and am feeling good about it. I doubt my office manager will show me her tummy and start to purr in an adorable way, so there goes that excuse.

You want me to lift what?

I got off work a little early today and decided to take in a little group power class. Basically weightlifting in numbers. I showed up late, which I seriously don't recommend just because you have to get materials like weights and steps and mats set up.

I used pretty light weights because, frankly, I didn't know what I was doing. The class seemed to move at a relatively quick pace and just as the muscle group we were working on was about to go kaput, we moved on. I think this might be a nice supplement to spinning.

I pulled into my parking lot at home and felt pretty good besides being a little weak and very sweaty. I started to walk to my apartment when I realized that the Mount Everest of stairs lie between me and my living room floor (where I had made plans to lay on my back and sigh for an hour before showering.) I seriously contimplated sitting down and screaming until my husband came to find me and carry me up the stairs. Squats apparently are not my friend. This is when I discovered I was not just a little weak, I was downright swaying.

I began moving up the stairs at the speed of smell chanting "gotta want it, gotta want it." My thighs began to tremble. My arms were useless blobs of jelly weighing me down and I tried to swing them forward to help crawl up the evil stairs. I blame my husband for insisting we live on the second floor. I plan on punishing him later tonight by asking if he thinks I've gained weight since we got married. Oh yeah, that is my kind of evil.

You Spin Me Right Round

I'm back on the spinning bandwagon. I have joined spinning classes before and I am quite familiar with the heart pounding, lung burning, ass aching experience. Each time I restart, getting back in is a little easier. Don't get me wrong, this morning there is a sore spot in the shape of a bicycle seat where the good lord split me and I'm walking like I've been riding a horse, but it is not the agonizing crotch numbing stroll through hell I recall the first time I took a spin class.



I actually really enjoyed the class, mainly because of the instructor. She had just gotten back from vacation and although she appeared to be the typical gorgeous gung-ho size nothing workout bunnies, her personality was anything but. She talked about loving big meals, drinking beer and pushing through the workout regardless. I think she understood that not everyone craves the "workout burn" and some of us are just trying to make it through the hour without fainting or projectile vomiting.



I was inspired by my buddies joining a four week boot camp to get into shape. They have also changed their eating habits in a dramatic fashion. I'm making an effort to stay away from certain foods, but let's face it, I'm a creature of habit, so I will have to take baby steps. "Walking like a cowboy" baby steps.