I just did things with a barbell that I didn't even know could be done. I also think I may have sweat out my entire left lung. Good thing, too, because I hear you don't really need those things and who needs to carry around the extra weight?
The good news, I discovered today, is I am back to my regular size since before I got my job in September. I am still reeling from the fact that in just a few short months, I nearly undid all the hard work that got me to the point of being able to run a 10k race and swim an entire mile without stopping, and getting hotter to boot. I mean, I knew I took a few liberties when the regular paycheck started coming in-eating out more often because I could, celebrating, not working out because I was tired after a full days' work (it's hard adjusting after 7 months of sleeping in, you know), but I also think that without my knowing it, my metabolism changed yet again without telling me. I mean, just because I am in my thirties DOES NOT give my metabolism the right to not communicate or give ample warning. How dare she. That bitch.
I'm feeling a bit saucy today. Perhaps it's the endorphins that got all riled up from my 1-hour Muscle Max class, or perhaps it's because I had another delightful evening with a good friend-good conversation and good food followed by good sleep. All my anxieties were addressed in the night-time meeting I had with my consciousness and though I am ever-conscious of the ways that I have to go down a certain path to acquire some goals of mine, I have some words and some friends that give me the rejuvenation that I need. And this nifty gym membership.
I forgot how great it is to feel challenged physically-this class reminded me of when I used to take Bikram yoga. That was a good work-out. I'm looking forward to getting back on track and seeing if I really CAN do a triathlon. It's a long way to go from now, I have a hard time finishing three miles at a decent speed in running, but I really still feel very certain that this is something I want to do for myself. Anyhoo, my thoughts have all dried up and I think it is because I am now hungry. Off to lunch!
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
A viable expression of the moment.
At the moment I am not full of bloggable thoughts so much as full of love and conviction. I am not so full of bloggable thoughts but I am full of the world and of family and of thankfulness and the strong desire to do laundry. I am full of the consternation of wonder, wonder as to the location of my office key-card, which disappeared not two hours ago and wonder as to the future of my love life and my closet. I am not so full of bloggable thoughts but I am full of desire to do well and succeed and to get to this ever-reachable point of financial security and ultimately full of the desire to detach from ever so many nasty petty thoughts that interject themselves into my brain betwixt happy and joyous and thankful. At this moment I am not so full of bloggable thoughts but I am full of faith and fantasy and the certainty that at the moment, I can see the forest for the trees and it is ever so lovely and I am full of the need, the drive, the necessity of bringing this beautiful forest into the vision and sight of those I love most dearly who are currently struggling with the need for a new prescription. I am full of food too, and muscles and fat and veins and blood and most assuredly blessed and infinite spirit that though I cannot touch or taste, is the thing that fills most completely and feels most strongly throughout the moments.
At this moment I am full of many things, many words, many thoughts, many hopes, many dreams and though it seems, outwardly, that I am passive and sitting still, I am full of movement and progression, and if you give me a cup, I'll give you your fill.
At this moment I am full of many things, many words, many thoughts, many hopes, many dreams and though it seems, outwardly, that I am passive and sitting still, I am full of movement and progression, and if you give me a cup, I'll give you your fill.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
It's all about the hummus....
I discovered recently that picking a personal trainer that fits you is as challenging and important as picking a therapist, or a boyfriend. Indeed folks, not any old person with an ego and a penchant for weightlifting will do. Because value systems and personalities are as varied as the snowflakes outside this nasty winter day, one must carefully observe and investigate prior to investing one's life savings.
Granted, I am not actually looking for a trainer at the moment. I merely took advantage of an opportunity for a *free* session at the gym I just joined. The gym at which I sit at this very moment, waiting for food to digest so that I can run three miles while watching either '80s music videos or the Saturday afternoon flick of the week on my treadmill.
Last week I embarked on a one-hour training session with a gentleman who insisted on me telling him my life story. I refused but he insisted. Finally I began to very plainly say that I was overweight, having some challenges with my esteem and wanting to change that, only when I began to speak, he interrupted me to relay his life story. It was one that revolved around the tragedy of a motorbike accident, which led to him losing his muscle mass and clients, it was meant to inspire me but instead left me asking, so what? But mostly because during the whole story he kept saying: "I know EXACTLY what you are going through.." He then proceeded to ask me what my diet was, when I told him about my fairly regular lunch meal of hummus and veggies, his eyes glazed over. "What is hummus?" he asked.
I almost fell out of my chair. I explained, "It's ground chick peas, garlic, lemon....wait, you never heard of it?" He hadn't. He unabashedly stated that if it was not something that was served at Applebee's or TGIFs then he wouldn't know. OMG. This is Chicago, folks, you can't throw a stone without hitting a restaurant that serves hummus. But he, a native Chicagoan, had never heard of it. Sigh. It went downhill from there. He measured my body parts, including my chest, insisting (albeit in a non-creepy way) it was necessary. Asked me my height-5'6-but he wrote down 5'7. Asked me my weight and exclaimed I was the exact same weight and height as his wife. You know, 5'7 and *** pounds. Exactly the same. He then told me his wife used to be over 200 pounds but he got her to lose weight....just like he could help me.
When we got to the work-out portion, he made me jump up and down for about 5 minutes to warm up. I wanted to kill him. I told him so. I think he thought it was because it was *hard* but after several men walked by smirking at my bouncy heaving chest, I really considered punching him in the face. He then had me weight-lifting-it was fun and moderately challenging. At the end, he asked me if it was a good work out and I told him the truth, that it was ok. I am a novice at weights and though I consider myself pretty athletic, by the end of this experience I was not entirely sure. He asked me if there was any way I could work his training into my budget, I flat out said no, and waited for the pain to come. The notorious, day-after-a-good-work-out pain, the I-can-barely-walk pain. It never came. I had some soreness, but nothing worth mentioning. I knew then that the gut-feeling I had was right-I AM athletic and strong, but this guy looked at me and saw my weight and assumed I was a lot weaker and out of shape than I am. The biggest problem with this guy is he didn't SEE me or HEAR me at all.
I ran into him 3 days later, and he asked if I was sore. I told the truth again. Not a bit. He smiled and said "Well, I'll have to get you back in and remedy that!" I didn't have the heart to tell him I would never ever use him as a trainer......but I know now that budget permitting, I am definitely going to be very selective next time around. And the first question I will ask any potential trainer is if they like hummus.
Granted, I am not actually looking for a trainer at the moment. I merely took advantage of an opportunity for a *free* session at the gym I just joined. The gym at which I sit at this very moment, waiting for food to digest so that I can run three miles while watching either '80s music videos or the Saturday afternoon flick of the week on my treadmill.
Last week I embarked on a one-hour training session with a gentleman who insisted on me telling him my life story. I refused but he insisted. Finally I began to very plainly say that I was overweight, having some challenges with my esteem and wanting to change that, only when I began to speak, he interrupted me to relay his life story. It was one that revolved around the tragedy of a motorbike accident, which led to him losing his muscle mass and clients, it was meant to inspire me but instead left me asking, so what? But mostly because during the whole story he kept saying: "I know EXACTLY what you are going through.." He then proceeded to ask me what my diet was, when I told him about my fairly regular lunch meal of hummus and veggies, his eyes glazed over. "What is hummus?" he asked.
I almost fell out of my chair. I explained, "It's ground chick peas, garlic, lemon....wait, you never heard of it?" He hadn't. He unabashedly stated that if it was not something that was served at Applebee's or TGIFs then he wouldn't know. OMG. This is Chicago, folks, you can't throw a stone without hitting a restaurant that serves hummus. But he, a native Chicagoan, had never heard of it. Sigh. It went downhill from there. He measured my body parts, including my chest, insisting (albeit in a non-creepy way) it was necessary. Asked me my height-5'6-but he wrote down 5'7. Asked me my weight and exclaimed I was the exact same weight and height as his wife. You know, 5'7 and *** pounds. Exactly the same. He then told me his wife used to be over 200 pounds but he got her to lose weight....just like he could help me.
When we got to the work-out portion, he made me jump up and down for about 5 minutes to warm up. I wanted to kill him. I told him so. I think he thought it was because it was *hard* but after several men walked by smirking at my bouncy heaving chest, I really considered punching him in the face. He then had me weight-lifting-it was fun and moderately challenging. At the end, he asked me if it was a good work out and I told him the truth, that it was ok. I am a novice at weights and though I consider myself pretty athletic, by the end of this experience I was not entirely sure. He asked me if there was any way I could work his training into my budget, I flat out said no, and waited for the pain to come. The notorious, day-after-a-good-work-out pain, the I-can-barely-walk pain. It never came. I had some soreness, but nothing worth mentioning. I knew then that the gut-feeling I had was right-I AM athletic and strong, but this guy looked at me and saw my weight and assumed I was a lot weaker and out of shape than I am. The biggest problem with this guy is he didn't SEE me or HEAR me at all.
I ran into him 3 days later, and he asked if I was sore. I told the truth again. Not a bit. He smiled and said "Well, I'll have to get you back in and remedy that!" I didn't have the heart to tell him I would never ever use him as a trainer......but I know now that budget permitting, I am definitely going to be very selective next time around. And the first question I will ask any potential trainer is if they like hummus.
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