The Anti-Fit

As we all know, and my sources can verify, the average person gains between 5 and 10lbs during the holiday season. I know the stuffing balls, turkey slices, honeybaked ham, pumpkin pies, cornish game hens lathered in butter, yeast rolls, cheese plates, and desserts, desserts, desserts coupled with the feeling of abandon that usually accompany this time of year can pile on the pounds. Not so for me. At this time of year the biggest problem I have comes not from overeating, but usually from drinking too much.

I've tried to identify a few key reasons this may be the case. Here we go:

1. I'm Irish. Duh! I know that's not a true excuse, but I have to say that until you've been to Ireland and seen how much of the cultre is centered around the pub and drinking, you don't really know how second nature it is to us all. I have may thoughts on why this is so (a depressed nation, downtrodden for decades, a penchant for keeping emotions in tight check, a young population with historically few opportunities etc. etc) which I will espouse upon at some other time, but honestly, it really is a cultural thing. I grew up drinking. To quote Oscar Wilde: "Work is the curse of the drinking class". So true, so true.

2. San Francisco is a drinking city. It's true. It just is. And why not? We have awesome bars, great restaurants, and again a young population. A young population with disposable income.

3. Working at my company is like working at MTV Spring Break  sometimes. Seriously. Now, you kids with your Silicon Valley foosball tables and photo booths and skateboard ramps. You think you know something about partying? My company, which is NOT in  the tech industry, (I'm going to give you a hint, but if we were playing "Taboo" right now I'd totally be out. I bring this up because last time we played Taboo, the H/BF's cousin, who is a college professor and scary smart got frustrated when his wife couldn't get the answer with the clues "Actor" and "Bald", so he resorted to "Spruce Bilious", which is now all I will ever be able to think of Bruce Willis as. But I digress. Anyway, Hint: sounds like "endurance" and the industry is universally hated.) could really show you all some things. This past Friday was our Annual Employee Christmas Holiday party. I kid you not when I say there are numerous locations in the city we're no longer allowed at. But that's sort of what happens when you kick off your Holiday party at 9:30am with mimosas and shots of tequila. By the time the buses had all arrived at the venue with our 400+ employees, quite a few people were well on their way to being full of good cheer and a level of friendliness that would be considered inappropriate at some orgies. Then the booze flowed freely until 5:00pm, where we moved on to the all expenses paid "After-Party", because apparently we're shooting for the one day where we'll reach a "FlashForward" level of blackout and the entire company will lose the exact same amount of time and see the future or something. And this year was tame. Really. This is a company who, in a belt-tightening move installed a fully stocked bar in every office to cut down on our Happy Hour costs.

So, anyway!  at our Holiday party I was speaking to our "Wellness Coordinator" (of course we have a wellness guy whose entire job is to effectively try to counteract the rest of the culture a little bit. That's just smart planning right there) about how working out is such a departure for me and one of the things I'm really enjoying is the feeling that even if I do everything else wrong on a particular day, if I've worked out, I've taken the time to do something good for myself. And it's true. Even with this season of overindulgence, the days I make it to a workout are better than the days I don't.

Plus, there's always January, right?!

I'm back baby! I'm back!!!

OK, so I must say that even though the two week hiatus killed me, I have noticed two benefits to not starting completely from scratch with the working out thing:
1. My pain level has never ratcheted back up to the levels that I had when I began. Now, let me reiterate, when I began I frequently looked like this in-between and during workouts (only, you know, without the jaunty scarf/camo bandage, because that would have required me moving my arms) :

2. It actually seems like maybe it's not taking me as long to get back into the swing of things. I can already see improvements when getting back to some of the moves that are painful/impossible (i.e) burpees, pushups, jogging, squat thrusts, kettle bell lifts and on and on ad nauseum.

Truly though, the biggest boon of working out and the thing that drags me out of bed on rainy and cold  mornings  is the feeling of virtuosity. Don't underestimate it. Everyone loves feeling self-righteous and like a badass, right? No? Just me? Just me then. But seriously, the feeling of being somebody who "works out" (even a measly three times a week) is something I'm very enthralled with. It's the possibility that I can be a better me. That maybe, buried under the layers of stuffing balls and cheese and Milk Duds, my body and my strength can surprise me. Can be shaped into something I'm proud of, something strong and lean and muscular. Something I may still need to do the post-wash jeans dance for, but something that's nonetheless strong and healthy.

I've spent a ton of my life worrying about "weight". I know, I know; alert the media

Breaking news.....

but honestly, as I've gotten older, I've just grown weary of beating up on myself. Life is hard enough, you know? We're all doing the best we can with what we can. Sometimes the best you can do is a Filet-O-Fish. And I'm not going to launch into a diatribe about how we're bombarded with unrealistic images of what a female body should look like (but even Tom Ford, (btw, ahhh, so beautiful Tom Ford. DO WANT!), in this great NPR interview http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=121405891 talks about how we're all evolving to look like post-human people, basically because we can now with surgery and eventually we'll all be like beautiful cars, but who wants to be with a beautiful car?) because really, at the end of the day we should all just be kinder to ourselves. Whether that means mac and cheese to you, or whether it means "nothing tastes as good as skinny feels" (which, HELLO? Crock of shit. Um, steak, veggies, fish, chicken, dessert! It's all amazing!), we all encounter enough hardness in the everyday world what with routines and relationships and jobs and kids and pets and bosses and Big Brother coming back three times a week and whew! If you can't show yourself a little love in there it's not much of a life.

I myself used to come down firmly on the mac and cheese side of life, but I've discovered that balancing it with a little genuine feel-goodedness about lifting and pushing and sweating and kicking makes it all even better, which is a shock. (My initial thought was makes it all even "cheesier", which is apropos given my ham-handed imagery (see what I did there?!?! Thanks! I'm here all week! Don't forget to tip your server) and overuse of thoughts within thoughts, but you know what? It's my blog. I can ramble away!)

Anyway, in desperately searching for an ending here before I derail myself even further, working out = guilt-free McDonalds Filet-O-Fish and feeling of awesomeness (different from the McFeeling the FoF will produce)
And also, working out + genetics =

Able to eat Filet-O-Fish nonstop

Oh, it's all so much....*exhausted sigh*.....(Now with more CAPS LOCK!).......

Wow! So this is daunting. Picking up in December when my last blog post was in October. So, um, what have I been up to? Here's a brief synopsis:
Being crazed at work, traveling for work, traveling for Thanksgiving, stuffing myself full of food and wine and good cheer and tidings of expanded waistlines and not exactly comfort or joy.

November was a terrible month for working out due to my travel schedule which had me out of town for two weeks in a row. Again, yes of course you can work out if you're not in town, but my ALL-OR-NOTHING mentality doesn't process that too well. That's been a challenge for me with everything in my life, so not sure why it would be different with working out, but let me tell you that first day back after a two week hiatus nearly killed me. I can honestly say it was the closest I've ever come to throwing up in class, and everything seemed EXTRA HARD, when in reality it was just the fact that building up a fitness level is so easily undone. Even my (pathetic) sit-ups were impossible; mere weeks before they'd seemed like a nice chance to have a seat during a grueling workout.

So now, on top of battling my holiday-infused waistline, I'm also battling to get back to the very mediocre level of fitness I was at pre-two week layoff. Such is the cruelty of working out. For every step forward, every day you sit on your butt and don't try to improve upon it is a swift slide backwards. I could make some lame analogy about how everything in life is like that and it's a great lesson to learn in relation to your physicality, and as Jane Fonda used to say......blah, blah, blah, but in reality it's all very demoralizing. It does not at all feed into our FASTERFASTERNOWNOW mentality. I mean, everything in life is unbelievably easy with all the technology we have nowadays. Think about it - you can be on your iPhone trading stocks while blogging and getting a recipe for a simple paella and then hear a song you don't know but are intrigued by. In the olden days, we luddites would have to debase ourselves by walking up to friends and strangers alike and attempting to hum the tune to a song we didn't know. Then began the endless guessing game and the never-ending frustration. We must have looked a little homeless and crazy, wandering around, hugging ourselves and humming the same 15 seconds of the hook we remembered while saying "I think it was something something dogbone. No? You don't know it?" Now, you kids don't know what off-key humming even sounds like anymore. You just hold up your iPhone and SHAZAM!, your phone tells you everything you ever wanted to know about the song, and by the way, I've just downloaded it for you too. No, no, you're welcome! Don't even mention it.

Hence the jarring shift that comes from working out after decades and decades of doing nothing. NO instant results. As a matter of fact, it's essentially been the opposite. I've actually gained weight since I started working out. And don't tell me about how muscle weighs more than fat. Yeah, got it. I'm pretty sure my muscle won't squeeze over the top of my jeans like this. And in reality, I'm not one of those girls who ties everything to a number on a scale, but when clothes fit in different ways than they did before (both on the good and bad end of that spectrum), I tend to notice. So tell me then how this math works:
No exercise  + eating pretty much whatever = Less than ideal
Some exercise  + eating pretty much whatever three months later = Less than ideal plus some

See? NO FAIR! Everything else is so easy I want three workouts a week to be enough to get me fit and healthy, and I've just got to face it that for me (and most people actually), it won't be. I need to step it up and make it to every bootcamp and then supplement with some additional exercise. I need to not see working out three days a week as a license to eat everything I feel like. I need to remember how hard it was for me to go back after those two weeks and essentially feel like I was starting all over again.

On the other hand I also need to remember how my arms feel sleeker and more defined, how my push-ups are getting better, how I feel really accomplished when I complete a class and I'm covered in sweat, how we laugh as we stretch out to "The King of Pain" or how maybe, just maybe, it actually means something to put a little effort into taking care of myself and it may be better when I get there and know that I earned it. You know, the victory of finally learning what that song you were humming is seemed a little sweeter when you had to do more than push a button and get all the answers. I think Jane Fonda said that.

Workout One-Day Week in review - Week 5

Oops!! This workout week (and by week, I mean "Monday") brought to you by the Bay Bridge FAIL. I worked out on Monday. It was actually pretty good. I managed consistent 30-second sprints, I did some complicated kettle-bell lifting, I may have completed an actual push-up (I sort of blacked out, so I'm not sure, but I was still in plank position and my arms were wobbling when I came to, so I think I did it), I gave the old abs a good once-over and I felt sweaty and inspired coming away. Then the Bay Bridge CRUMBLED INTO THE BAY on Tuesday, Well, not really, but my confidence level is such that I feel it's only a matter of time. Fear of dying while going to workout (oh, the irony! And no makeup and yoga pants? Not the final look anyone would choose for oneself I'm sure) aside, the Bay Bridge has yet to reopen. This means that I have not worked out since Monday. Now, sure, all you sensible people are saying "But, you could work out in the city! There's a gym about 75 paces from your front door. A gym you've been a dues paying member of for nigh on 7 years now! Just work out there! Just walk home from work even! That's a 4 mile hike. Lots of it uphill!! Do it!" And to all you sensible people, I say SHUT IT! My workout regimen now consists of boot camp and feeling bad about not going to bootcamp when I skip it. That is all I can handle, people.

So, effectively this week was a total bust workout-wise. Here is a partial list of things I did get accomplished though:

• Took Miss Corolla to the mechanic and had her interior door handles fixed. Both the driver and passenger side door handles broke off. About a year ago now. And let me tell you, just getting in the car and opening the door with a handle instead of the complicated hand-out-the-window routine is a JOY. A sheer joy, people. I also fixed her brake lights, which "I swear, officer, I had no idea they were out! Or that license plate light! Who knew?"
  I don't know why, but doing something like taking my car in seems the very epitome of grown-up responsibility to me. I get the same feeling from buying stamps and having them on hand when somebody needs one.
  
• Made it through those two Netflix movies we've had sitting there since 08/04/09.
  Boy, that "Man on Wire" was a nailbiter, huh? I mean, even though the guy was sitting there narrating, so you know he didn't plunge to his death or or anything, it was crazy tense. And what a character. Totally "bat-sheet-crazee" as the French would say, but tres entertaining. And, by the way, does he have family money? How was this 20-something guy flying all over the world with his tightrope and entourage? Good flick.
  "25th Hour", a Spike Lee joint was meh. Good to see A-Paq with dark hair again, but really more of a mood piece than anything else. I was hoping for a little more resolution. And isn't Philip Seymour Hoffman just so greasy in everything? Yes, great thespian and all that, but he just looks like he always has halitosis and a proclivity to touch himself inappropriately mid-sentence. Also, Ed Norton.
  
• Finally left Etsy feedback on my recently received item.
  My first Etsy purchase was fraught with drama. The package didn't initially arrive, and the tracking said it made it to NY and then it disappeared. Then the seller was mid-move, so I emailed and didn't get an immediate response and figured I'd just been ROBBED BY THE INTERNETZ. Of course, everything worked out in the end and I absolutely love my little bird necklace. Her shop is temporarily closed, but please do go check out Joanna Rutter's work here for major cuteness if you're going through a big avian love affair like I am. A+++, will do business again.
  
• Bathed my dog and bought all manner of pet supplies at the pet-store, including Advantage, which, holy shit, you want $65 for?
  Leland does not like getting a bath. He stands there and shivers, all while looking up at you in a very resigned manner and with a face that says "Ladies and gentlemen, I implore you!". It's heartbreaking.  Then the head to tail shaking for 30 minutes thereafter is quite the production too. So, that's actually an accomplishment when we get him clean. Who knew he had a pink belly?
  
• Organized and made reservations for a group of us to attend this.
  Now, sure, making restaurant reservations is not that complicated but let me tell you, I had to first get everyone to agree to a plan, commit to a time, and actually follow through on going. Then it was sold out, so I ended up on the wait list, and had to call twice to get in. I'm exhausted and I haven't even had to get all Top Chef on anything yet.

Now, here is a partial list of things other people did that make my list (and yours) look completely ridiculous and made me sad:

• Obama salutes fallen soldiers
  Look, I understand this was just a gesture. A small one at that, but one of the things that truly resonated with me about Obama on the campaign trail was I really felt that he never portrayed himself as having all the answers. I liked how he held us all responsible for the State of America in his inaugural speech, and didn't make it seem like he knew how to change everything. At the end of the day, this was 18 families (out of thousands more, I know) that will not have their loved ones with them for Thanksgiving, for another Christmas, and I've got to imagine that at least one of those families is wondering what it was all for. To have the President acknowledge their loss and salute those soldiers in the pre-dawn whipping wind hopefully lends an air of dignity to their sacrifice and lets their loved ones know they mattered. That they still mater. To hear the President acknowledge that this affects his thoughts about sending 40,000 more troops to Afghanistan makes me feel heartened that we're seeing a real person who doesn't always know the right way to proceed, but will pause and consider before moving forward.
  
• A 15 year old speaks up and grows up faster than she should have to
  The utter tragedy of the Richmond High gang rape has been covered by many people far more eloquently than I ever could, but hearing school officials say things like "We'll redouble our efforts to ensure that this kind of behavior will not be tolerated." and hearing the Aunt of one of the suspects say "There is no way in hell I will see my nephew blamed in this because he is black." is just so indescribably wrong that it leaves me reeling. Seeing the 15 year old friend of the victim slam the school districtin the video above like she did hopefully means that the community is rallying around  starting a groundswell to eradicate crimes like this in Richmond, and everywhere else.

• Matthew Weiner created and writes for Mad Men
  Oh that Matthew Weiner! He's awesome. Mad Men is magic. If you're not watching it, you're missing out.

They're now saying the bridge will be closed over the weekend, so we'll see how next week goes. Until then, Happy Halloween!!

Eau de Icy/Hot

I managed to get back on that horse this morning and haul myself out of bed for a workout. I had a big weekend this past Saturday (yes, I crammed an entire weekend into Saturday.), and Sunday was spent lying around examining some bad choices made on Saturday (drinking Sauvignon Blanc at an outdoor festival? switching to Chardonnay when the Sauvignon Blanc ran out? not eating anything other than Mac & Cheese all day? (that one not such a bad choice, as it turns out), continuing to post-party after Treasure Island? Trying to jump rope in my  kitchen at 9:00pm? Really, self? Really? We should so know better.) and generally feeling lethargic and gross. By 10:00pm Sunday it just didn't seem feasible that I'd be able to get out of bed at 5:40am and go work out. It was not feasible, as it turns out. It seems I missed a quite horrific workout too. The words "pyramids" and "military" were thrown around in this morning's post-mortem. So, it seems like bad decision Saturday was maybe followed up by good-decision Monday after all.

My guilt at not working out on Monday was somewhat assuaged by this weird pain in my knee. Weird in that I would go to stand up, and my right leg would basically just bend backwards at the knee, sending approximately a kajillion volts of pain through my body. Weird, huh?  Anyway, this has been a sporadic problem ever since, which is definitely not good when you're stepping off the train and (hypothetically, H/BF!) trying to return the smile of a not-unattractive male, but instead of smiling, your leg shoots backwards in an ungainly fashion and you grimace in pain, all while mouthing some words rated for mature content, violence and some sexual situations.

I don't think there's anything seriously wrong with my knee (OMG! I so tore my PCL!! OMG! Probably liquid bone syndrome!!) but it's just brought home to me that if I had started working out years ago I'd probably be through this painful period right now. All the aches and pains that come along with using muscle groups never accessed before would probably now be a thing of the past, or I'd at least have a better grasp of what's "normal" for me, and what should have me rushing to see the liquid bone syndrome specialist.

As it turns out, my knee held all through my workout this morning, which is a blessing and a curse when you can't see through the sheets of sweat running down your face, and can't effectively wipe them because you're wearing boxing gloves. Another brutal workout. We did plenty of boxing and then got to "rest" with an extended abs session. So now my right shoulder hurts when I do anything too physical. You know, like pull up my jeans, or reach across my body, or carry my purse. At least when I wasn't working out, nothing hurt. When nothing hurt I felt youthful and able-bodied, and maybe a little mushy around the edges. Now I feel decrepit and sore and, hey! you kids get the hell off my lawn! But please pass the Icy/Hot before you go.

Shaq knows!

Says it all really....

Umm, yeah. Did not work out on Monday. Tomorrow is Wednesday and once more into the breach, dear friends.....

Workout Week in Review: Week 4*

You know, I don't think I've ever actually seen a "Rocky" movie all the way through, but whenever I try to search for something that adequately expresses the way I feel on a Friday with another week of working out behind me, the theme song involuntarily starts in my head and images like this seem to sum it up better than I ever could:

I look like this after every workout. Minus the flag. And the..oh you get it.

Seriously, somehing about the sweat, the beaten down but victorious aura, and the slightly brain-damaged look just encapsulate the agony that is working out better than any lengthy diatribe could. But get ready for a lengthy diatribe anyway.

I must say, Week 4* was my week *pats self on back* . I mean, I OWNED those stupid workouts this week. I don't know if it was the time off last week, or the fact that I've been at this now for a whole month (and a few days, but let's not get technical), or the fact that Dmitri told me when I first met him that I'd be able to do a push-up within a month, but this week saw a return to extreme soreness after each workout, gallons of sweat and steam exuded and marginal noticeable improvements.

Today a whopping 6 of us showed up. Showed up and were "beaten by the fitness stick" as Kelly put it. Ouch. I won't bore you with the details but just imagine much gnashing of teeth, rending of limbs and wailing. Not to mention the other 5 girls (ba dum bum! Thank you! I'm here all week folks!...). Seriously, it was yet another circuit involving pain and burpees and weighted squats and push presses and sprints and weighted lunges and kettle bells and then...hopscotch. That's right! They've destroyed jump rope for me, and now they're slowly working their way through all of my other childhood enjoyments. What's next? Hula hoops? Affixing Care Bears in a weight belt around me? Making me stay in a consistent squat by putting me in an ALF costume? When does it end?

    What you didn't know is that ALF had GREAT glutes

Anyway, I figured I'd start my circuit with hopscotch, because IT'S HOPSCOTCH! I mean, I did this for hours as a child. And then I'd go and jump rope all the way home. How hard can it be? Well, not so hard. The first time through on one leg. Moderately harder the second and third, and by the fourth you're just weeping for the 8 year old self who hopscotched the day away with nary a care or aching hamstring in the world. There's a scene in this epically underrated cinematic masterpiece , where Zac Efron (le sigh) has just been transported back into his significantly hotter 17 year old self's body (sorry Matt Per. We had some good times. We'll always have "The Whole Nine Yards", where, by the way, Bruce Willis was much hotter than you also. Sowwy! Guess that's your lot), and he's flying around the basketball court and jumping and being all athletic and he stops and comments "We are all in such good shape". Well, you said a mouthful mister. I know my 8 year old self would have been ashamed to see me stopping before each turn, panting like a wildebeest, and, the horror, completely missing the ring I was supposed to land in sometimes. Now, in my defense, hopscotch is played in squares and these were circles we were supposed to be hopping through, but all the same, small consolation, no?

On a positive note, from there I surprised myself by doing some complicated lifting of weights while in a plank position, having "perfect form" on my squats when a kettlebell was forcing me lower to the ground than I ever wanted to go, not falling while sprinting, and being told my burpees were "looking better". This was a good week.

Grade for  Week 4* : You know, I'm just going to go ahead and put it out there. An A. That's right. I aced it this week. Showed up every day, pushed myself, saw some improvements (back fat possibly diminishing? Maybe? Becoming overall less mushy? Possibly.), was achy like nobody's business (because the pain means I'm doing it right! Lactic acid buildup FTW!) and also, my level of complaining while working out has maybe gotten a little better.

Good job, Leah! Now go forth and enjoy date night with H/BF tonight, listen to music and drink wine on Treasure Island tomorrow and maybe get a little "Where the Wild things Are" in there for good measure. You all do the same! Or, you know, your version of a fun weekend.

Storm of the century, Eye of the tiger......

How about that rain yesterday, huh? As I was walking to BART in the downpour and then sitting at my desk with soaked feet and a bad attitude, I was secretly plotting my absence from boot camp today. I mean, no way this torrential downpour would be over by this morning, right? Might as well all settle in for a long wet spell!! And while we all enjoy a good Rocky montage with him running through the rain and drinking raw eggs, I think we all agree that's for people of a far heartier constitution than myself. I just got a pedicure for Christ's sake!!

So, it was with a tear in my eye and bitterness in my heart that I woke up at 3:00am this morning to no comforting plinking of rain outside my window. Still no rain at 5:40. Annoying. I dressed and hied myself over to Berkeley. Today's class also featured a small group, allowing me to immediately feel morally superior to all of the people who didn't make it to class, and isn't that the main point of exercise? To win? Even if the winning is accomplished by virtue of people NOT doing something. Just by showing up, I'm already ahead. And when you still can't do a full push-up, you take whatever small slice of the victory pie you can. Here, read this; She gets it.

This morning's workout was kind of surreal. Because there were so few of us, we were able to work out in the little studio where all of the equipment/torture devices are stored. It's basically a cute little innocuous looking barn from the outside, but inside it's filled with all kinds of weird stuff and has ropes and chains and weight bags (?!? ummm, boxing bags maybe? Weight bags seems wrong. Oh, wait; Lord Google informs me it is indeed a "boxing bag".One of these things.) hanging from the ceiling.

Which is all great and very gym-like. Until you have 10 profusely sweating people in there. Combine that with the frigid air coming in from outside and all of a sudden you're in a humid little barn with eddies of steam and sweat rising and swirling, giving a very "Gorillas in the Mist" like feeling. No? Was I alone in that comparison? See, this is yet another screwed up part about exercise. Your body just takes over. Now, I've heard a ton of people like this side-effect. Quiet the mind and all that. It is very primal, being able to hear your heart pounding in your ears as you try not to throw up or pass out,  I'll give it that. And I can see the allure, but when your mind has enjoyed a lifetime of reading and being hyperactive and very imaginative, your body taking over sometimes causes you to go all kinds of weird places. As I lay there doing ab work (so much ab work. So hard. So sob-inducing), looking at the pretty grey paint on the ceiling and the hooks and ropes and various trinkets and whatnots dangling above, as my breath streamed all around me and dawn was just breaking (or maybe my vision was tunneling due to the abs workout. My God, the abs) I immediately thought of Victorian London and darkened alleys where Jack the Ripper lies in wait. My body's working so hard just to keep me alive, my mind is roaming all over the place thinking about whether I'd be able to fight off Jack the Ripper now that I've been lifting weights? MESSED UP, right!?!?! What do you think about when you work out?

Working out in Ye Olde London

But hey, at least it's not raining anymore! And Week 4* is almost done. I WIN!

It's been a week already? Really?.....

Like sands through the hourglass...I can't believe it's been a whole week since I last posted. Since my last boot camp class. Since, well, since last Monday. Where did it go? I'll tell you where. It went on a very delayed, very early flight to Shreveport, LA. Then it went to a hotel/casino in Bossier City, LA where I ate fried chicken and  gumbo and fell asleep without spending a dime in the casino, which just felt wrong. From there, next stop was a client meeting in Minden, LA, then a 4 hour road trip to yet another casino/hotel in Baton Rouge. Another blown opportunity to spend money gambling. It's like I don't even want to help LA recover economically. Then a dinner of crawfish etouffee accompanied by the worlds dirtiest martini, so briny it shrivelled my tastebuds to nothing and prevented me from drinking further with the hordes of Gator fans in town for the LSU v FL game (a quick aside: Southerners really know how to obsess over, lose their collective shit for, support a football team. Our meeting on Friday morning entailed us driving past the LSU campus. The campus that was already a hive of tailgating and pep-rallying and general good-timing. At 8:30am. A FULL DAY before the game was even due to start. Everybody at the jobsite we went to inspect was wearing purple and fervently praying that Tim Tebow wouldn't be allowed to play the next day, you know, because they were concerned for his future health, not because they're scared of Jesus Tebow and his ability to walk on water or anything.) Next stop; New Orleans and a hotel that was just a hotel, but conveniently located next to Harrah's (nope! still no gambling). Two successful meetings later we were ready for some wine and dinner at NOLA, where I enjoyed some chargrilled oysters and shrimp and grits. All delicious, yet all rendered less enjoyable by the ear-splitting decibels in the restaurant. Why for so noisy, Emeril? Now, before I mention how we also had lunch at Acme Oyster House and I had the most disgusting, fat-laden thing on the menu, and proceeded to hover over my plate and devour it like I was in prison, I'd like to state for the record that I worked out on Thursday. That's right. A solid showing that left me covered in sweat and feeling virtuous. These career women! We really can do it all! I even worked some lunges and squats in there. Because I'm nothing if not dedicated to my fitness regimen. And fatty deliciousness. Ahem.

So, in light of delayed flights, and time zone differences, and client meetings, and three hotels and four cities in three days, and boo fries and oysters slathered in cheese-oops!, I'm declaring the Workout Week In Review: Week 4, canceled and moved to this week. This will now become "Week 4*" (and I didn't even need Marc Ecko to help make that decision).

Week 4 arrived early this morning and brought with it a whole new challenge-TOTAL DARKNESS. At first I thought this would be good because they wouldn't be able to see my tears, but mentally the extra darkness took a toll for some reason. I mean, I know it's early, but now it's early, dark and cold? That just seems so arduous. Also, this morning we did three sets of everything on our circuit, but we stayed at one station for all three sets, which is different to how we usually do it. Again, there were murmurings of how that seemed even harder than normal, because let me tell you, that first set of push-presses is no big deal, but by the time you've interspersed them with weighted squats and you're on round three of push-presses, your (and by "your" I mean "my") arms are quivering in a way you didn't know was possible. It's as if your entire arm has liquified internally and all that's keeping you going is the desire to not give that bastard "House" an idea for a show. (Not that he actually chooses the ideas or writes the show or anything, but you take whatever motivation comes to you when you're trying to re-solidify your arms. Did I mention it was dark? And cold?)

I didn't really plan ahead, and so my last station was ab-work. Whew! Glad that's done. Now I'll go pick up my water bottle and..... CRAP, do more ab work with the group. Gross, gross, gross. Then we were done. It was light out, and I got to my car and actually thought to myself (WARNING: dangerous and bad mataphors ahead) "Wow. You know, this whole dark to light and cold to hot thing really works as a metaphor for working out. You start in darkness and oh, today's Columbus Day and that was a voyage of discovery and......" Then,  all of a sudden the car became filled with the most incredibly sweet smell of my life and I thought "Ahhhh, working out hasn't actually rendered me retarded; I'm having a stroke. That explains everything". I quickly self-performed the three tests indicating a stroke, think I passed and then sailed home, thanks to no traffic whatsoever. Enjoy your day off Government and State Employees! And  lo, Week 4* has begun.

How lazy is she??.......

Well, so lazy I totally flaked on posting my "Workout Week in Review: Week 3" on Friday. Here's what it would have said: Monday we ran. That was unpleasant. Wednesday we boxed. That was unpleasant. Friday I didn't make it to bootcamp, so, for anyone keeping track, with three weeks of bootcamp under my belt, there have been 2 where I've missed one day. Stellar record!! And feeling guilty about it is almost as good as actually exercising, right? I must clarify and say that it wasn't sheer laziness this time. I was down with the sickness last week, people. It was bad. About yearly I get a flare-up of diverticulitis (me and Grace Slick and John Cleese apparently! Thank you, Wiki! No more hiding in shame for me.), and wow. Just wow. The searing and blinding pain, the inability to stand up straight, the nausea, the total loss of appetite (let's silver lining this!) and resulting weakness all contributed to my inability to get up at 5:40 and even contemplate doing crunches. Or you know, walking.

I've had diverticulosis for years now, and have flirted with some holistic ways of lessening flare-ups as recommended by my nutritionist. For me, going gluten free has always helped me feel better. Less bloated. Less blah. Just better. BUT I have to say, that when you're gluten-free you miss out on a lot of good stuff.

So bad. So good.. And, bread? I'll miss you most of all.  

Anyway, this latest flare-up was actually good in a way because it reminded me that while sandwiches may be OH SO GOOD, working out and then eating a vat of mayonnaise on bread/pizza/cheeseburgers/burritos the size of my head just won't work for me. Or probably anyone for that matter, but especially me. So, in a way, this was a good wake-up call that while exercising will definitely help, eating right has to be a component too. BO-RING, but true and I was fighting it. Believe me, noone more fervently hoped that I'd be the one person who could exercise three times a week while eating a cheesecake and see the lbs fall off as I toned.  Fortuitously, last Wednesday a Whole Foods opened in my neighborhood (btw, I'm all for healthcare for everyone, and I saw that jackass Whole Foods CEO compare universal healthcare to giving people free access to wine and having them all buy the $300 bottle instead of the $7 bottle, just because it's available. That makes sense. Yeah, like people would really be like "Hmmm. Heart surgery sounds good. BECAUSE I CAN! mwah hah hah". But anyway, my point is, he's a douchehat obviously, but..... fresh produce! Delightful hot food items! Cheeses as far as the eye can see! Gluten-free produce for aisles. I wish I could quit you WF, but I'm in the throes of a deep and powerful crush right now so, no boycott for me. If someone else could boycott on my behalf, that'd be great) so the eating right has been made more convenient (again, LAZY people. So lazy. Do not underestimate me) and I'm committing to going Gluten-Free again and increasing fruit and veggies and protein and blah de blah de blah.

This morning I did manage to get back on track and get up at 5:40 in the freezing cold and walk 20 miles uphill in the snow with no shoes....and, oh no, wait....that wasn't me. This morning's workout (only 10 of us showed up-I already win, right?) consisted of warmups and then 4 times around a circuit with all kinds of fresh hell built in. I got trapped and disoriented in my sweater at one point when I was trying to take it off, and I thought I'd just been raptured. Being in heaven with a bunch of goody-two-shoes sounded better than doing any more squat thrusts with weights. I'm hopeful one day soon that won't be the case anymore.

Anyway, we finish our circuit and I was appalled to see we still had 20 minutes left. I know you can see this one coming, but I'd just like to point out that we had TWENTY straight minutes of ab work. Ab work that left us all crying, (by "us all" I mean me), had some people leaving mid-way, had Dmitri even exclaiming that Kelly was killing us, had us joking about throwing up. Yes, that's what my life has come to. I joke about throwing up from physical exertion now. Never saw that one coming.

In review, week 3 gets a solid C again. Week 4 is off to a good start, but I'm traveling for work and will miss both Wednesday and Friday so I've committed to working out on the road. You know, running up 5 flights of stairs 10 times as Dmitri told me. Basic stuff like that. EASY.

Also, a play at home portion: H/BF seems to be coming down with a cold. I forced him to stay home this morning. What do you think about working out when sick? Push through the pain/sneezes/hacking cough, or give your body time to recover? You tell me!

The dew is off the rose....

L. is our dog. He's a wonderful little dog. He's a little chihuahua/terrier mix.

Go ahead and die with the cuteness!

His interests include: snuggling, long walks off leash, barking ferociously at anyone who dares to walk on our block (anywhere on it), treats, lounging, sleeping and trying to make friends with the cat. He's pretty great with voice recall and making cute little sighing noises that make you want to pick him up and just eat him to pieces....Oh NOM, NOM, NOM delightful canine!

      Awwwwwwwwwww!

Things he is not interested in include, but are not limited to: other dogs, TV and HOLDING IT UNTIL WE TELL HIM IT'S MORNING AND TIME TO GO OUTSIDE NOW.

We're lucky enough to live in a place in San Francisco that has a huge backyard, so while we initially tried to freeze him out when he starts in with the whining at dark o'clock, we've had to learn the hard way that he usually won't just hold it, and we get up in the freezing cold and let him out back where he does what he needs to and then scampers back to the warmth of the floor, his dog bed, OK, FINE! our bed. He sleeps in our bed. I am not made of wood, people! The face! The ears! The smooshy sighs. Come on! Sadly, it appears our dog has a bladder the size of a mandarin orange segment. Now, on a night when we're not getting up at 5:40 to work out this is usually not a problem. A 5 minute interruption and everyone goes back to sleep.

This morning it didn't go down that way. We all ended up waking up at approximately 5:00 and then H/BF couldn't go back to sleep. At least it seemed like that from all the sighing, thrashing, turning and fidgeting that then kept ME awake. I believe I've referenced my affinity for sleeping before, so let me assure you that by the time the alarm went off, I was less than well pleased. Of course, being the mature, responsible adult that I am, I got out of bed and wished dear H/BF all the best for a wonderful day, while skipping to my car.

Anyway, that very lengthy diversion was all meant to culminate in this extremely obvious point:

WORKING OUT IS HARD.

For the past two weeks I've been coasting on the novelty of doing something new, using muscles I've never used before, fancying myself an "exerciser" now, but I've got to say, this week it's just been hitting me that this really is going to have to be a lifestyle thing and a commitment. It's not a fad. It's not dependent on what else is going on. It's not always going to be exciting or strange. It's hard. It's hard to get up when you've had too much wine the night before/deal with a dog who's got your wrapped around his paw. It's hard to box for an hour straight in the early morning light. It's hard to do ab work when you're lying in a pool of your own sweat. It's hard to keep trying at  push-ups although you STILL can't do a full one (getting closer, I can feel it). Hard to do some footwork exercises like I'm in the 49ers training camp, although I'm the only 49er with the motor skills of a stroke victim. It's all hard, but you know what? Maybe that's OK. It's getting easier all the time. Never easy, but easier.

And it's going to be hard for that dog to live with being crated at night until he learns to hold it, too.

Personal Best!

So, these are the results they talk about, huh? How you see things improving and some things get easier? Well, today it all came together for me. That's right! Today, I made it home in 47 minutes. A new record! The traffic crossing the bridge can be a killer. Today it wasn't. Oh, and how was my workout you ask? Well that sort of sucked.


On Friday evening I was stricken with some food poisoning/ebola virus that resulted in a lot of.... shall we say, um, unpleasantness best not discussed. Anyway, my stomach has been a little iffy ever since (sore and nauseous and whatnot), and you know what's good for that? Drinking wine and watching two episodes of Mad Men (Oh, Jon Hammmmmmmmm. You so dreamy!) followed by the Ken Burns series on the National Parks until I suddenly realized I needed to be up in about 6 hours for a workout. Back when H/BF was just the BF, he once sent me an email that ended with "URAQT", and I was very perplexed. Stumped, I sat there wondering what it meant, until I finally asked a friend for help decoding it. When she explained it to me she said "I guess that's why he didn't say "URASMARTT". True. True.


So, this morning's workout started with a Bataan Death March , bracing jog to the basketball courts "near" where we work out. I hate to run. Hate it. Few things make me feel more self-conscious and ungainly. I just feel like I LOOK like I don't know what I'm doing when I run. Where should my hands be? Why does my breathing sound like I'm in an iron lung? Why do my feet pound like that? Ugh. Unpleasant all around. BUT, nonetheless I made it all the way to the basketball courts. Whew!! Now that's done, I can catch my brea....Oh, start jumping rope right away? Faster? Oh, alright. Then squats, lunges, pushups and rinse and repeat.


From there we moved on to "Suicides". Do you know what a "suicide" is? Well, let my good friends at wiki answers enlighten you: Suicide sprints are simply running from one line to another and on each sequential run the lines get further apart. For example, on a football field, start at the end zone. To complete one pass, run to the 10 yard line, touch it, and run back. For the next pass, run from the end zone to the 20-yard line and back. For the next pass, go to the 30-yard line.... And so on. The lines can, in reality, be as far apart or close as necessary.


The reason they are called suicide sprints (or just "suicides") are because you end up doing several sets and you quickly want to stop or even "die".


Oh, wiki answers. Bravo! No truer words have ever been spoken. I can't even imagine attempting this on a football field.

I don't wear a watch to boot camp and it's mainly because I wouldn't be able to recover from the crushing disappointment of knowing that even with all this accomplished, we were approximately 30 minutes away from being done. We still had a circuit to do. With weights. And push-ups while lifting weights (Fail on the lifting, but I maintained a good plank pose, so you know, progress!), and jumping on a big weight ball, and push presses, and some fancy bastardized sit-ups, and some ab stuff, and then some more suicides (which were actually looking like the best option at this point because at least we weren't hauling a weight around) and then some other fancy shoulder lifts while squatting. Oh, and let's do all this three times. Because I guess the first two times you can still see through the sheets of sweat pouring down your face.  Can't have that!

For the finale we did some more ab work. My fave!! And then of course, we had to jog back. Have you ever been so tired that you sort of welcomed the idea of getting hit by a car just so you could lie down in the ambulance? Well, I sure haven't! Never even crossed my mind. Nope. And I most certainly did not go to Google images and search "jogging: can't go on" or "jogging collapse". Not me. (BTW, did you know Sarkozy collapsed while jogging? He's apparently hogging all the good google images on that one)

The Workout Week in Review: Week 2

Another week down! I missed today's session because I'm house-sitting/teen-chauffeuring this weekend. I was supposed to head to the house yesterday after work and be there through Sunday, so yesterday I packed up my laundry (Ah! Washer/dryer access. Can anything be sweeter to an apartment dweller?), my little overnight bag and my swimsuit and was ready to begin my weekend of luxury in someone else's house. Well, plans changed and I wasn't needed last night after all, so I got a bonus night at home with H/BF. Yay!

Now, of course, with this plan change, I would have very easily been able to get up and go to boot camp this morning. Did I? No. No, I did not. Here are some potential reasons why I couldn't make it this morning. Which do you think applies?:
A. I stayed up late watching crappy TV with some white wine (btw, "FlashForward"? Don't mind if I do!)
B. I'm lazy and had planned on not going, so I didn't
C. All of my gym clothes were in my laundry bag and smelled like something had died in them (the stench of pain and grim determination never comes out on the first try)
D. All of the above.

If you chose D. All of the above, gold star for you! So, you know, epic fail on that front. But, in some good news, the house I'm staying at has a pool, tennis courts and a gym (?!?! I KNOW! w00t! w00t!),so my horrible guilt at flaking on boot camp this morning can be assuaged somewhat by me getting some exercise in this weekend, and I'll be redoubling my efforts on Monday morning.

So, to sum up, Week 2 contained the following:

• My first sort of push-up (on my knees)
• Two good workouts
• One missed workout
• One oil change and car service
• Slight movement on the scale 
• Less crippling muscle pain after workouts
• A lot of TV watching. A LOT.

Meh. Not an epic week by any means, but onwards and upwards, chin up, journey of a thousand miles etc. etc.

Grade for Week 2: C
Leah shows some promise, but needs to apply herself more.

Other applications....

This morning was the first morning that it really killed me to get out of bed. The alarm went off, the H/BF got up, the dog got up ("OMG!OMG!OMG! Movement! We're all going someplace aren't we? I don't know where, but I see shoes! Yes! Yes! This is great! Greatest thing ever! wag.wag.wag. Let's go. Let's go! Let's go!!) and I laid there and moaned. Then I rolled over and moaned. Then I got up and started getting dressed/brushing my teeth etc. in a very scowly manner. Even the dog focused all of his attention on the H/BF as he knew I was a non-starter this morning. BUT! I got up and got dressed etc. and made my way to class. What made me do that instead of rolling over and going back to sleep? I don't know how to adequately explain it other than saying sometimes something switches in my brain and something just becomes non-optional for me. I simply have to go to class. There's no way around it.

Today we were boxing again, which: it's not a circuit with weights, so- Yay, but; it is still really hard and my whole left side is super tight and sore from Monday's workout, so- Ow. Oh, and as an aside, today was the first day that everyone else was complaining about being sore also, and let me tell you, nothing has ever sounded sweeter to me than the sound of those moans when we had to do lunges today. What can I say? I revel in our shared misery.

Anyway, my point being that today was another really tough workout (oh, really Leah? Hmmm! Shocking! Like I'm waiting for them to get to the hugging puppies workout or something. I definitely heard something about that one), but the thing I like about boot camp is that there's constantly somone checking in and urging you forward. You really can keep going when you hear it's just "30 more seconds!" (which, by the way, they so lie about and squeeze you for an extra 15 at the end. I'm on to you!), or "1 more minute. Push it.", or, the sweetest and best word in the English language: "TIME".

So, while I wasn't thinking about what an effort it is to breathe I was thinking about other applications where it'd be awesome to have your own personal boot-camp going.

1. Work - How awesome would it be to have someone standing behind you motivating you to get off the internet and pick up the phone? To work through that inbox and not just reply to the personal emails? To deal with all the boring aspects of your job that you'll always get to "tomorrow"? You know, ALLEGEDLY.  If you're you. I personally crank out top-quality product at all times, but maybe one of you would benefit from having your own personal Dmitri yelling "keep your chin down", and "just one more minute! Speed it up!"

2. Dating - It's been a while, but from what I can recall, dating can sometimes feel like a workout. All that talking and being "on" and pretending you're interested in getting to know the other person and blah blah blah. Wouldn't it be nice if you had a little voice in your head coaching you "Just one more minute of talking. Aaaaand, TIME! Now switch!", or reminding you "Come on, you're either in this or you're not. Work it!" I'm steering clear of the other instances where "Go for it! Keep going!" might apply.

3. Grocery store  -When that jackass with 22 items steps into the 15-items-or less aisle and holds everyone up, don't discount the value of having had someone demonstrate a perfect upper-cut and making you practice it until you nearly punch yourself in the face from fatigue.

4. Babysitting - Knowing how to jump rope really fast will COMPLETELY impress that toddler.

After nearly two weeks of bootcamp (oooh! check me out!), here are a few things I've taken away that apply across the board:

You can do anything knowing that it won't last forever. And nothing lasts forever. Not even situps.

You're probably not as lame as you think.

Everybody hurts.

Everything can be modified to work for you.

Making time for yourself takes time.

Change happens slowly sometimes, but things always do change.

5:45am is ALWAYS going to be really early.

A hot shower is one of life's greatest pleasures.

Sweating is stinky and gross, but oddly rewarding.

Oh, and in other news, it turns out that if you're going to pour something other than engine oil into your car, power steering fluid is maybe not the direst choice. As a matter of fact, it may clean some other gunk and buildup out of your engine! BUT, as my mechanic informed me, (Holla, Neil!), it is a corrosive so you want to get it out of there as quickly as possible. So, now you know kids!

On getting up early...

Let me preface this by saying that if you could get in shape while you slept I would be rocking Jennifer Aniston's rig after a mere weekend of effort. To elaborate: I could be on the Olympic Sleeping Team, I could sleep professionally, I LOVES me some bed. Generally the saddest part of any day for me is when the alarm goes off. Which is good, you know, because it gets the disappointment right out of the way.

Anyway, when I undertook this plan to work out I figured the getting up early would be the killer. Luckily, that has proven not to be the case, because once I make it to Berkeley, the killer workouts begin and all thoughts of anything are erased by my muscles screaming loudly and frequently. After an hour of squats, crunches, side tosses, mountain climbers, burpees, cute little moves where you squat with an 8lb ball and then have to hoist said 8lb ball up a wall and on and on, I'm rarely fantasizing about getting back in bed again. I just want to make it to a shower and weep silently.

Enter my chariot; Miss Corolla.

Isn't she a beaut!?!

 She is the shining vessel that transports me to and from the city for these fitness jaunts, and let me tell you, she's been getting quite the workout herself!! I usually drive my car every other week for street parking, so it's been refreshing to get her out there and really see what she can do. As all responsible car owners do, I change her oil every 3,000 miles or so. Only problem being, because I drive her so infrequently, who really pays attention to when the 3,000 miles will be up? So, this morning, just to be safe I decided to give her an extra little top-up on the oil front. You know, just until I can take her in for a full oil change. I always keep a liter of oil in my car just in case. So I checked the oil, it was a little low and I topped it off. Tossed the oil can in the back (so fastidious about keeping my car pristine) and proceeded home. I park without issue this morning and then.....and then....disaster struck as I casually glanced at the empty oil container in the back seat. Now, believe me, such is the level of utter retardation that I am loathe to even type this, but it turns out I just topped my engine off with something VERY MUCH NOT oil. Yeah, at 7:30 this morning, legs shaking, sweat dripping, I poured power steering fluid in my engine.

So, now I give you the list of things I never thought I'd have to Google before I started working out:

How can I tell if I gave myslf a hernia?
How to fix broken abs
Ice or heat?
When will my engine seize up and die?

Please be OK Miss Corolla!!! Currently working on getting her to triage and having everything cleaned.

The Workout Week in Review: Week 1

Today marks my first complete week of boot camp! Yes, three measly workouts, but to me it feels pretty much like this:

We are the champions...of the wooooooorld!

The week in review:

Number of times I worked out: 3
Number of times I worked out every other week of my life recently: 0
Excellent!! 100% improvement right out of the gate. Go team!

Total number of hours worked out: 3 -but at HIGH INTENSITY! Oh, the intensity.
Felt like: 75 hours, at least
Total number of hours spent watching TV: 9 (not counting weekends)
Felt like: 5 minutes. Seriously, 11:00pm already? But what happens to the people in the little box? They're still up! They have interesting things to tell me!

Number of days I was late to work due to working out: 3
Number of days I was late to work due to laziness: 2
Oops!

Number of times I said "Oh, sweet Jesus", rolled my eyes or said "I caaaaaaan't": Innumerable
Number of times I sucked it up and tried anyway: EVERY damn time
w00t w00t!! Effort FTW!

Number of times I had someone say something encouraging to get me through: Approx 45
Number of times I got sick of people pushing me: 0
I really need someone to push me (see: blog title), but do it in a way that doesn't make me feel like I'm not the boss of me (a whole other post for another day) , and honestly everyone I've worked out with this week,  and not just the trainers, have been great at that.

Worst exercise ever: Um, ALL OF THEM! But really, my own personal nemesis is anything core related. And these classes are all about the core. Oy.
Best exercise ever: I love yoga, but haven't taken a class in forever. I hope my new fitness regimen will eventually lead to me taking yoga between bootcamp workouts. As far as my favorite thing from bootcamp this week, I actually really enjoyed the boxing. That surpised me as it was certainly something I never would have done by myself.

Things I did this week that I have never done before: burpees, sumo kettlebell lifts, jumping squats, box step-ups, box step-up burpees, boxing, half a pushup, push presses, bicep curls, muay thai situps, dive bombs, squat lunges, jumping lunges, lifting 2 12lb weights at the same time, getting up at 5:30 to work out, mainlining Tiger Balm, using Icy/Hot patches, going to Sports Basement and buying actual workout gear etc.etc.
All in all, this week has been full of firsts, and I certainly didn't manage to execute any of the moves above with grace or aplomb, or even good form in most cases (although my squat is getting there and my push press is good!)  but I tried everything and surprised myself a few times.

Total number of lbs that just melted off the scale: 0
Disappointment about that: 0-1%. Sure, I'd love to immediately drop 2lbs a week, but honestly, I really just feel amazing that I made it without vomiting or collapsing or injuring myself. Plus, it may be totally psychosomatic, but I've convinced myself my muffin top is already deflating a smidge.

Total number of times H/BF got up and worked out also: 3
Yay!! Yay!! I'm inspirational. My husband/boyfriend (same guy occupies both spots-just FYI. Jesus, people. Get it out of the gutter) started running this week also, which is great! And just to clarify, we're never going to be one of those couples who sit around with empty 5-hour energy bottles strewn about as we discuss the "runner's high". But I digress! H/BF also gets a shout-out for working out. Bonus points for me coming home to find the bed made 2/3 days. Yay! Best H/BF ever! And super-fit to boot. 

Grade for Week 1: Solid B++
I showed for every class, I attempted everything, I showed (miniscule) improvement by the weeks end and I sweated my ass off!

Walk this Way.

"Thank you all for coming. My name is Leah and I haven't used any Tiger Balm in 24 hours, although I gotta be honest...I don't know if I can make it through another night without the stuff, man. I need it. I need it bad".

This morning was my second boot camp class (please, please, no applause!). The reason that would be applause-worthy is because last Thursday after my initial session with Dmitri I woke up and could not walk. COULD NOT WALK.  I could not raise my hands to my head to shampoo my hair, I could not turn my head, and who knew brushing your teeth could be such an exercise in agony, what with all that back and forth, back and forth, up and down, up and down business? I was in bad shape. I mean, now, I'm no fitness pro or anything, but even I could tell that seemed like a big step backwards. This feeling that one more step would cause my hamstring to snap like a twig, that my back was broken, that my shoulders were dislocated, that my abs were being crushed to death by the layers of fat on them because something is just squeezing and squeezing and MAKE IT STOP. This continued through Friday. Saturday was a little better, and by Sunday I was able to walk without an obvious limp again. I was even able to get in and out of chairs unassisted! Progress!! Mad progress! Just in time for Monday's first boot camp.

I was very nervous about this group class. Fear of what it would be like basically transported me back to high school where my P.E class consisted of 2 girls and the entire soccer team, so that we ended up playing soccer for the entire year, and the other girl and I basically played the goalposts, as we stood around looking bored and squealing any time a ball came near us. I didn't want to be the last one rounding the corner on my knees from a run as everyone else finished up (with their still-perfect makeup and lightly glistening faces), I didn't want to be the one to drop my weights in front of everyone when my arms gave out, I didn't want to be the one to not be able to do a pushup as everyone looked on and laughed, I didn't want to be the goalpost because I coudln't do anything else, and above all that I didn't want to vomit from the exertion. I'm glad to report that none of those things happened (I still couldn't do a pushup but nobody laughed).

We started off with some cardio and resistance training, and I felt like I held my own on that. Then came the circuit training. The circuit training involved weights, and squats, and box steps and snow angels, and kettlebells and pushups, and on and on and all of it very fast. So fast. Oh, so fast. The good news was, as I had counted on, Kelly and Dmitri monitored me pretty closely for form and so I avoided knocking myself or anyone else out with a dumbbell and really, you can do anything for 30 seconds at a time (that's what she said). After the bell rang to signal the end of that I patted myself on the back for not vomiting, picked up my car keys and thought "Wow! It's so true about all those endorphins they mention when you exercise. I feel AH-MAZING! I am best worker-outer-ever. Will probably solve world peace today. Are my pants looser already? Ooh, this is SUCH a rush! Maybe I'll be one of those addicted-to-exercise people soon and wait, what's this now? What are all those mats laid out for? What's this talk of "working on abs" amidst protests? What do you mean I need to do 50 leg kicks on each side and bicycle kicks and curls all kind of other evilness? Jesus, I thought we only had 5 minutes left, has time slowed down this much? I can't go on. This was a mistake. This is all Taylor Swift's fault. I hate these guys. Why is this girl next to me breathing like that? What the fuck is that bird chirping for? How is the world such a cold and bleak place? I'm dying. Good! I want to die. I have nothing left to live for...Oh, we're done? OK then."

Thought workout was done

Workout was not done.

Anyway, after Monday I wised up and started in with the Icy/Hot patches and ibuprofen and Tuesday I was actually moving around under my own steam, although my butt cheeks were still beyond sore. In a way, I figured it was a good pain and maybe meant my ass was motivating itself to pick itself up and begin the slow crawl back up my thighs (charming image I know, but who knew your butt was supposed to be a separate and distinct part of your body?)

The wonderful thing about Phoenix is that they change up the workouts all the time, so you can never get comfortable. Today was actually a solid hour of boxing. With real gloves and hitting pads on people's hands and stuff. All very "Rocky" and I didn't hit anyone in the face or anything! Win!! Also puke free today and long may it continue.

Have decided against posting measurements and weight on this blog, because HELLO...NOSEY! but today Dmitri mentioned that my squat was already looking much better and more flexible (boy, if I had a nickel!) and I really will do my best to keep this honest. This is a non-optional project for me through December and then I'll reevaluate and see where I'm at fitness-wise and if I notice any body changes. In the meantime though, two classes in, I can say I'm cautiously optimistic that my days of being the goalpost may be drawing to a close. That feels good.

Oh, sweet Jesus! Sweet, Sweet Jesus.

I know I mentioned photos and details would be posted last Wednesday after my first workout, but Wednesday got away from me and then the next day I would have posted if I'd been able to a.) lift my arms enough to hold a camera, b.) type, and let's not forget c.) haul myself from my seated position to stand for pictures.

HO-LEE SHIT! This is going to be hard. So hard.

I made it to Berkeley with plenty of time to spare on Wednesday morning and sat outside Phoenix Gym, (nothing like sitting in a car across from somebody's house on a quiet street at 7:00am to make you feel like a complete stalker)  where I was to meet Dmitri for my assessment/orientation/personal training session prior to starting boot camp on Monday. As anyone who has started an exercise program knows, that first step is a hard one. Sitting in the car and psyching myself up to walk into some big unknown felt like its own little victory. Which was good, because the rest of the session was like my own personal hellfest.

I chose Phoenix Gym because I've read Kelly's blog for a while, and really liked her story (not sporty at all, not athletic or desiring to be so, never worked out, started running one day to try to lose some baby weight and lo, some 7 years later she's running her own gym), her approach (cupcakes are not the enemy, food is awesome, getting fit is better than getting skinny, working out is hard but rewarding and anyone can do it), and maybe most importantly, her humor and irreverance.  I figured that even though it's located in Berkeley, it may be a better fit for what I need to motivate me. That is somebody to push me, challenge me, pay attention to my form and progress, and throw a few f-words in there while making me laugh about it all.

Don't look like they're on day release from Satan, do they?

So, I met Dmitri while Kelly finished up the 6:30 bootcamp class and we started off with a gentle jog around the block as he asked me where I was at physically (ground zero), and told me a little about their setup. All was going well until he gradually started picking up the pace (while maintaining a conversation with me of course. My responses consisted mainly of panting). The gate back to the studio was then in view and as I go for it he tells me to sprint with him to the end of the block, all the while yelling at me to "keep up! keep up!". Um, yeah, not so much. Then when I reached the end of the block (a good half block behind him), he turns around and insists we jog back. Around this time I was plotting how long I could be polite before faking a heart attack and doing the only sprinting I would be happy to do, back to my car.

That was just the initial warmup as it turns out. From there, for the next hour he made me jump rope, get on a rowing machine, do push ups (yeah, good luck with that one Dmitri! Joke's on you!! It's nice and cool down here on the floor which I'm pressed to, and my arms can barely hold a pint glass steady, so thinking they can support my entire body weight will not fly. What do you mean, keep trying? AAAAAAAAAAGH. No. No. Do not want!), do things called a "push press" that involves lifting weights OVER MY HEAD AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN until my arms turned to quivering limbs and I prayed for the sweet embrace of death as the 8lb weights threatened to crush my skull, then some more weights stuff, then some kettle bell exercises, squats, lunges, sit-ups, sit-ups with weights, ab-curls, fetal position curls, ritualistic sacrifices and probably some other stuff as well (I've blocked a lot of it out in self-preservation).

After that, I filled in some paperwork (could barely hold the pen and I think I may have spelled my own name incorrectly), rambled incoherently about wanting to get fit, which class I'd like to take, and then stumbled out of there on very, very shaky legs with a chipper "See you Monday!!"

You could barely hear the evil cackling in my wake.

Let me say it again, THIS IS GOING TO BE HARD.

The Who, The What, The Why and The How

The Who:
The aforementioned Lazy Leah. I'm xxxxty-two. I live in San Francisco with my husband, dog, cat and a shitload of hipsters. I eat out a lot. I watch TV a lot. I drink now and again, moderately, OK, Jesus a lot. Probably a lot. (Like, not "alcoholic" a lot. San Francisco is the third drinkiest city in America. Don't judge me! It's geography.)
I do not do a lot of the following: exercise, eat right, get enough sleep, drink enough water or take very good care of this mortal coil.

The What:
This blog is going to be my chronicle of how I plan on changing most of that (I'll probably still eat out and drink a lot). I've never, ever been athletic, a regular exerciser, fit, or even felt particularly healthy. I'd like to turn that around. I'd like to commit to getting in shape and see measurable results and an improvement in my whole life.

The Why:
Just time. My life is kind of in flux and I feel like I'm ready for something to get really obsessed about. My health seems slightly more worthwhile (and less likely to land me in jail) than my current devotion to Zac Efron in 17 Again.

 Oh, sweet baby Jesus!

While it may sound like total bullshit and trite as hell, it's also about a bigger thing than just getting healthy. On some level, I've been vaguely dissatisfied with my life forever. Something could always be better, bigger, brighter. I grew up overseas and wanted a 19-year olds ephemeral version of "more", so I was fortunate enough to be able to move to California. I got a job but hated where I lived, hated what I did for a living (you know it's hard out there for a pimp), hated feeling in-between two cultures. Then that got better and I felt more at home here. Then I got a job I liked. Then I moved to San Francisco and fell in love. With the city. With a boy. As Lifetime as it sounds, I was very in love with my life (Meredith Baxter Birney stars in "Everything's great!: From East Bay lame to San Fran game"). But still.

Still. That "but" was always there. Because while I've genuinely worked hard to make myself happy (sure there were rough patches here and there but I AM happy), I have always truly been lazy. I've never really pushed myself to an uncomfortable point for anything. What could be a more clear indication of that than feeling like the very thereness of you, your body, your solidity that carries all the rest of you around is sluggish and underappreciated and neglected?

So, this got me thinking that getting this body in shape and fit will be a way of honoring how the rest of my life has gotten "in shape", because I know I have so much to be thankful for and I want to be present for it all. As the great Patton Oswalt said, I don't want to drop dead because I stapled three sheets of paper together.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5pNtDt0JQTM


The How: (which involves a lot of !!!! and BOLD and italics)

Believe me, while I wish I could say this was going to be accomplished by picturing unicorns naked (and by unicorns, I mean Zac Efron of course), I'm going to go the traditional route. Working out and shit. I have my first personal training session set up for next Wednesday at 7:30am.
Did I mention I'm lazy? 7:30am!!!!!. You know, because actually exercising after not doing it in....ohhhhh... EVER isn't enough of a challenge.
Oh, and because getting up early and exercising would be too easy  for someone as lazy as me, did I mention I'll also be DRIVING TO BERKELEY to do it? You know, 30 minutes away? That Berkeley.
But, see now that I've gone to all the trouble (15 mins, and 7 of that was looking for the lazy cat) of setting up this here blog and telling you fine people, person myself about it on the internetz, I'm going to do this.

Brutally honest measurements, weight and pictures will be posted on Wednesday as the "before". There, that just scared even me away.