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.