Taxicab Confessions

So, I have a little confession to make. I didn't do the workout video on Day 6, yesterday, a.k.a. Easter Sunday. I took a 50-minute walk at a "Sammy trot" pace, I'd say about 4 mph if I'd been able to clock it on a treadmill. That's over 3 miles. I was still sore when I was done. I thought this definitely counted as a workout.

But then, I was tricked by my evil sister. You see, we had decided TOGETHER not to do the video, take a "rest day", and pick it back up today. But you know what she did? In the evening, after I was already showered and tucked into a 3-hour ironing marathon (yes, I save it all up for one shebang, so what? It's not procrastination - it's efficiency), I got a text from her saying she DID THE DVD!!! Jerkface! I felt tricked. Bamboozled, even. Also, I felt Guilty, with a capital G, for not doing my workout DVD when I probably should have, holiday or not. The 30-Day Shred isn't "The Sort-Of 30-Day Shred, With Time Off For Holidays". So what did I do to make up for it?

Today, I got up with The Hubs and we took Sam for a 45-minute walk. Then, after Hubsy went to work, I did Level One of my workout. And then, people, THEN:

I did Level Two.

Yes. You read that correctly. I did BOTH Level One and Level Two, back to back, with minimal groaning, and only a short period of catatonic-lying-on-the-floor-panting ("resting") afterward. Sammy was so frantic with worry at all the jumping around of TWO workout sessions, not to mention a collapsed mother, I had to hold a couch pillow between us to keep him from licking my skin off. Therefore, I'm counting today as TWO days, Day 6 and Day 7. I think it's only fair.

How many calories does ironing burn? I think I'll go back to that.


Frieeeday, Frieeeday, gettin' down on Frieeeday...

Day 4? Done. That was Thursday. Not much to talk about...didn't feel like doing it, but I did it. Yeah, that's right - I'm an adult. The Hubs? Not so much. He escaped off to work before I could force him into his workout gear, leaving me to struggle through 30 minutes of Jillian torture during the mid-afternoon slump, when any other normal person (read: toddler, but who am I kidding? I would love to be a toddler again) would be napping. It helped to put the TV on mute.

Day 5, the proverbial Friday, was much more difficult...not only was it a fabulous day outside, I didn't wake up until almost 11 am, which threw my whole day off. When Hubsy went to work (no workout done, of course), I did all my errands - post office, farm market, yarn store, library, grocery store - just to be outside in the awesome weather. Granted, yesterday's high was 54 (F, not C, this is Vermont), but compared to 34 and snow flurries like we had on Thursday, it felt like North Carolina in June. I didn't wear a coat, people! I also didn't get home until 7:30 pm, so after putting the groceries away, taking Sammy for his walk, and skimming all of my library books (I know, not necessary, but we were in procrastination mode at this point), it was 9:30 before I started on my workout.

Now, FN, you know I'm usually a morning workout person. You've hyped the evening workout in the past, but I'll admit, I was a skeptic. Until now. Holy energy, Batman! I had SO much more energy at 9:30 pm than 9:30 am! I think I'm your newest convert, Evening Workout! We'll see how today goes. And you know what day today is?

5 down, 25 to go.


Bring it

I love the accountability of another hot mama.
There are so many days like today where I have been on my feet for 10+ hours, running around, getting crap from doctors, getting belittled by hillbilly coworkers and all I want to do it go home, drink a stiff martini and go to bed. BUT NO.
The problem with that mentality is that is makes me feel even worse. I mean, for obvious reasons, feeling bad and then diving into a bottle of delicious Ketel One is dangerous. But compound that with the endorphin and adrenaline rush you get from physical exercise- I mean, going to the gym for even 20 minutes, makes me feel so so much better.
My day at work was fine, funny docs, good coworkers, it was all giggles for 8 hours, but dammit, the last two hours, with three other nurses who were foul mouthed and horrible, it was awful. My go to gut reaction is to bury me head in a pile of cheese like some fat ostrich, but instead, I had to do those mental gymnastics, those mind fucks that make you change your normal damaging way of thinking. Instead, I DID by vodka, but before I drank it, I went to the gym and even though it was something as simple as fast walking on the treadmill- the combination of intense calf pain and the best 'This American Life' I have heard in a while I was over my drama and my depression and anger and got the kick of endorphins I needed.
Sadly, I know no idea what I weigh and though i work in a hospital, it is a shitty hospital because I cannot find a god damn scale. I mean, COME ON!! So I am eating hummus and roasted red peppers and salad and fruit for my meals and hoping that weight ain't nothin' but a number-the real benefit is feeling good and working on my self with my best friend...and her dog...and her husband.
Day three- DONE.
I am worried about my trip to NYC this weekend- only because I will lose the dedicated work out time I am trying to make into a habit. Oh well- I guess i will bring sneakers and work out gear and keep you guys posted/


The Hubs is home. Sammy is overjoyed - his pack is once again complete. Having a mental age of about 2 means that the Samster has a toddler's idea of the permanence of things - when something's here, it's here forever, but if it's gone, it's gone forever. Ergo, whenever the Hubs comes back from an AF Reserve duty weekend, it's like Sam's dad is back from the dead - meaning his mom gets a brief reprieve from constant puppy-dogging. I had my lap to myself last night and actually got some knitting done.

In bigger news, Day Three's workout is DONE. The Hubs did it with me. Well, he was behind me the whole time, so I can't actually attest to how much he did, besides smack my butt while I was doing my squats and accuse me of "floppy" jumping jacks. He certainly bitched enough about having to do it - yet, was amazingly quiet for the duration, as opposed to my pretty much constant stream of expletives. I suspect he was trying too hard to breathe to be able to talk. Love you, Hubs.

Yes, people, I have made it 3 days in a row. This in itself is not a big deal, for me - I can make it to 3 days in a row of pretty much any activity. It's making it to 4 consecutive days that's the feat for me. For whatever reason, every exercise program I've attempted in the past has not lasted more than 3 days in a row, even with the best intentions.

It's not that I'm too tired, or I physically can't do it - I mean, I'm a fairly healthy (if overweight) 26-year-old with a history of participating in school sports, which clearly required practices more than 3 days in a row. No, it's not that I don't have the actual ability...it's more subtle than that. It's almost like, if I've given something 3 days, I feel like I've done enough of it - I just don't find it necessary to go to 4. It's like my brain says, "OK, you've given it your best shot, and you're still fat. On to something else now." This would be hard to explain to someone who's never been overweight, but I feel like my fellow fatties might get me on this one: no matter how pumped-up you can be for some new diet or regimen, once a certain amount of time goes by (for me, evidently, 3 days) without any evidence of the miracle result you pumped yourself up for, your brain just shuts the operation down. There's no more motivation to keep trying when you have nothing there to make you want to persevere.

I don't mean to sound like a sad sap, one of those overweight people who have just consigned themselves to be that way forever, because they've tried their entire lives to lose weight, without result. I haven't been trying my whole life - only the past 4 years. I wasn't fat when I was young, or in college. But I have gained 60 pounds in the last 4 years. Sixty. pounds. This corresponds with the date I got married, but also the time that I stopped walking around a college campus or to work, and started sitting at a desk job for 8 to 10 hours a day. But over those last 4 years, I have tried, and failed at, almost every diet program out there, even the clearly dangerous ones. I've taken Hydroxycut. I've done Fat Flush, the Best Life Diet, the Rice Diet, and bought a Wii Fit, which got used exactly 3 times. The only one I had marginal success with was Fat Flush - I lost 15 pounds, only to have gained it back by the end of the year. Even though I haven't been trying to lose weight my whole life, I know what failure feels like. It's a short jump from there to desperation. And an even shorter one to depression.

But this time, I'm going to make it to 4 days. I'm going to take off these 60 pounds. Because this time, I have something I didn't have before: a partner. This blog was FunnyNurse's idea, a way to keep each other updated about our joint progress. But it's more than that: it's a system of accountability. I got up this morning knowing I had to do my workout not just because I told myself I would, but because I told FN I would, and because I wanted to be able to post on here that I did it. I love you, FN, and we're in this together. And you know what else?

I've lost 2 pounds.

2 Down, 28 To Go

When I started my workout DVD yesterday morning, Sammy ran to hide in his crate. He goes there when he needs to feel safe. I may have already mentioned that he doesn't like exercise (except his daily walks - why do dogs like to walk so freaking much?), but he especially hates any activity that involves jumping around.

And this DVD involves LOTS of jumping around - jumping jacks, pretend jumping rope, and these torturous but ridiculous things Jillian calls "butt-kicks" - the idea being, I assume, to kick your own ass. But try as I might, the closest I can get to kicking myself in the rear is a sort of gimpy, flailing, running-in-place motion. While holding my boobs. If I could reach through that screen and ask that Natalie what sort of sports bra she's got on, I would - her jooblies hardly jooble, even when she's doing her butt-kicks, her heels perfectly striking her butt each time. Anita, the other "assistant" girl, and Jillian both have no boobs to speak of. I bet all their shirts fit them perfectly. Bitches. FunnyNurse, I know you get me.

Anyway...let's get back on track here. I thought Day Two was going to be worse than Day One - you know, with the whole being sore thing - but it wasn't. It actually felt kind of good to stretch my sore muscles and get them warm. I was sort of surprised, but it went by really fast - so fast, I felt the need for more exercise, and took Sammy on a 40-minute walk. Which he appreciated. And proved it, by pooping - twice. Thanks, Sam. Looooovvve yoooooouuuu...


Shred THIS, Jillian Michaels

The Challenge: a pound for pound smackdown
The Goal: Awesomeness in Lady Form
The Prize: um, we haven't decided yet...

You see (and I'm speaking to the proverbial "you", as I doubt anyone but FunnyNurse will actually be reading this), FN and I have been partners in crime since the good ol' days - you name it, we've probably done it together, and we've done it with style. Oh, yes. Tact, not so much. But definitely plenty of style.

Now we've teamed up to bring that style to a whole new ballgame: turning our lady lumps into lovely bumps. Wait...that makes it sound like we're trying to get knocked up...sorry, this is not that kind of blog. I'm talking about fitness here, people. Gettin' in shape!

My plan: 30 straight days of Jillian Michaels' "30-day Shred" DVD (not trying to plug any products here - it's literally the only workout DVD I own, and I'm still foggy on how it came to be in my possession) - every day, rain or shine, sore or not, happy or sad. Mostly sad, I'm sure. Jillian is one mean bitch. She's clearly a sadist.

Today was Day One.

Day One is always the hardest. I lacked motivation from the start; rolling out of that flannel-sheeted and down-comfortered bed was torture. Even the dog hid under the covers. Sammy's never been one for exercise or early rising. The Hubs is out of town and the blissful, snore-free quiet held me down until 9:30, an hour and a half after my alarm went off.

I slugged down to the kitchen and then came the decisions: coffee before workout? (Answer: no. It sucks your hydration and gives you a headache. Lesson learned.) Do I have to take the dog out first? (Answer: yes. Or he will bother the mess out of you during your workout.) Should I answer the phone if my parents call? (Answer: decidedly not. The reasons defy number.)

Then I couldn't find my handweights. Then I needed a glass of water after all that coffee. Then I wanted to vacuum the floor before I got down to do the abs part of the workout. I could have come up with a zillion reasons NOT to do my workout, not the least of which being I REALLY DIDN'T FEEL LIKE IT. But you know what?

I did it.

That's right - I DID IT!

And you know what? It felt great. It felt like I had done my homework for the day. I was scot-free to do whatever the hell else I wanted! So I took Sammy for a proper walk. And then I vacuumed the rest of the floor.

One down, 29 to go.

The Countdown Begins.....