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)