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

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.