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It’s Working.

~ fitnessdammit ~ 1 Comment

Adages are old for a reason. Turns out universal truths are fairly spot on. At least I’ve found that to be the case when it comes to fitness. If you work hard and eat right, you’re going to see some positive results.

I’ve been at this whole fitness game for a few months now and I’m starting to see some major changes. Since my last (somewhat frustrating) “Results” post, things have really turned around. I’ve lost 13 pounds. And while I’ve still got a way to go on the scale, the real difference is in my body composition. I’ve lost fat and gained lean muscle. I’m smaller, faster, fitter. (Is that even a word? I hope so.)

Those fitness goals I devoted my second post to? I’m ticking them off one by one. I’ve shaved 30 seconds off my mile and have worn a bathing suit in public. While I’m not quite ready for a bikini contest, I now feel comfortable enough to walk around one of the chicest pools in town in a two piece.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I’ve conquered fitness fears I didn’t even know existed until I found myself doing them with ease and confidence – like becoming a regular on the free weights benches and navigating the circuit training area like a pro. I might be a disaster when it comes to step aerobics but I know six ways to Sunday using the TRX bands, how to load up a squat bar, and just recently blew my own mind by doing one-armed burpees. Whaaaaaaaaaaat?

And the real kicker? I didn’t flinch at my last weigh-in/measurements session when Trainer said “off with the tank top!” and broke out the fat calipers. Why? I knew there’d be less fat for him to pinch. And there was. When he did the math and delivered my results his exact words were, “Absolutely crushing it and doing it the right way!” It’s one thing to feel like you’re making progress but to have that progress validated by your favorite fitness guru is another thing entirely.

Which brings me to the Oscar speech portion of this entry where I thank the people who’ve helped make my success possible. In no particular order, because they all play a valuable role, I’d like to thank:

Trainer, for his brutal – but still kind – honesty, showing me the way and believing in me. He’s even started doing me a major solid when Gym Crush is nearby and I’m working out on my own by chatting me up and making me look good in front of him. Bonus!

Which brings me to Gym Crush. He may not know it but he has provided some serious motivation for getting my ass to the gym and working out like a champ when I’m there. My goodness, the man is perfection. *swoon

And last but certainly not least, my Gym BFF. She is my rock. Everyone should be so lucky to have a gym buddy like her. Not only is she my constant companion through brutal workouts and every type of fitness class you can imagine, she is my comic relief. She makes me nearly cry laughing as we plié and plank our way around the gym. (Seriously, she deserves own post and will have one soon so the world can learn all about our gym antics.)

So there you have it. A few of the keys to my success so far . I used to feel like the first image was an accurate depiction of what I looked like when I ran. But the pic that follows is actual proof of where I am now. And it feels pretty great.

little girl running meme    hb running

Stepping Up My Game

~ fitnessdammit ~ 1 Comment
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SPOILER ALERT: Sixth grade was the year I gave up on becoming a dancer. I couldn’t follow choreography then and I can’t follow it now.

When it comes to getting and staying fit, it’s important to know your strengths and weaknesses. Strengths for obvious reasons and weaknesses, presumably, so you’ll know where to focus on improvements. But I’ve learned recently there are some weaknesses that cannot be turned into strengths and should just be left well enough alone. For me, that weakness is Step Class. Yes, it’s still a thing and it’s still fairly popular in gyms across America.

The last time I attempted a step class was sometime in the mid-2000s and I’m pretty sure someone made a joke about 1994 calling and wanting its step class back. But despite people thinking it’s a thing of the past, it is very much alive and well. And it chose 2016 to come back to haunt me. You see, that first foray into Step was with my best friend and her mother and I thought we’d all be equally ok at this but I couldn’t have been more wrong. A friend who I’d never seen work out or dance and a woman with 30-ish years on me completely left me in the dust. Dust I’d managed to kick up by flailing about with no sense of direction for the whole miserable hour. While they were having a blast, I never got the hang of it and vowed to never, EVER, take another step class.

Cut to present day. A Tuesday to be exact. I had big plans to bust out some cardio and follow it up with arms and ab work. My gym BFF and I had just started up our treadmills when Trainer came by and begged us to go take a step class with him (he wasn’t teaching it, just wanted to try it out). Oh. Holy. NO. Memories of tripping over that black, green and purple step nearly made me trip on the tread. I had to hold onto the rails to steady myself. And you would think that, coupled with my sharp intake of breath and look of absolute horror, would have clearly conveyed my disinterest but no, he pressed on.

Trainer: Come on, it’ll be fun!

Me: But I am TERRIBLE at step class.

Trainer: So am I! We can hide in the back. Come ON. Let’s try something different!

I shot a look at Gym BFF who simply shrugged and said ok. Shit. Now what? How could I get out of this? I tried saying again how really, really awful I am and that I should probably just stick to what I know. But by then he’d talked a couple other folks into it and I caved under the peer pressure and followed along, hoping – praying – there would be safety in numbers.

There wasn’t. With mirrors on two walls and floor-to-ceiling windows on the other two walls (one looking outside, the other into a busy lobby) it didn’t matter that I was in the back. There was nowhere to hide. And if you were to guess that a Step Class instructor would be very excited about a handful of new students in class, you would be right. He was thrilled and very welcoming which put me at ease thinking he might actually take it easy on us. His sweet smile lulled me into a false sense of security as he started us off with a few simple moves and pleasant small talk.

Yeah, that only lasted about five minutes. Then I was lost for the next hour and ten minutes. He picked up the pace and started yelling words and combos I’d never heard before. Then I tried to concentrate on watching his feet to mimic his footsteps but he started moving around the room. With no step under his steps I spiraled quickly into a code red disaster. To make matters worse, he came over to try and help me which had the opposite effect. Standing directly in front of me yelling words that I didn’t understand while pointing at my feet wasn’t helping me correct my  mistakes, it was only drawing even more attention from the rest of the class that everything I was doing was wrong.

I tried to laugh off my missteps (I’ve had plenty of experience, being a total goon and all) and tell him I just wasn’t cut out for this sort of class but that I would keep trying and not to worry about me. Which seemed to work because he smiled, said “YESSSSS” and danced across the studio to focus on some other folks. Unfortunately, my break was short lived as I kept screwing up and he kept coming over to me. And the more he yelled words like “flamingo! horseshoe! revolving door!” in my face as I  stumbled over my own feet, the more panicked and trapped I felt. I was so painfully aware of my lack of coordination, grace and rhythm, but knew I couldn’t leave the class without making a scene and making a bigger fool of myself than I already had with the ridiculous flailing.

I was on the verge of tears but somehow managed to get through the rest of that horrible class by repeating the handful of moves I knew, staring at the clock and shutting down the instructor’s attempts to help by smiling and saying, “All I can do, man.” It was the longest and most humiliating hour and fifteen minutes of my life. I’ve flubbed a presentation in front of a room full of 150 people before and that paled in comparison to the anguish I felt just trying to survive that class.

Step Class just isn’t my thing. I truly admire and appreciate the hop-turn-grapevining gurus of the world but I have accepted that there are just some things I will never be good at. So if 1994 calls again asking for its step class back, I won’t hesitate to say, “It’s all yours, sweetheart.”

Gym Crushes

~ fitnessdammit ~ 1 Comment

Ah. Amour.

It is a wild and wonderful force that compels us to make grand gestures. Some noble. Some foolish. And some… exhausting.

I’m talking about gym crushes. Those guys or girls at your gym that motivate you to run a little faster on the treadmill or do an extra set of squats just so you can stay in the area where they’re working out a little longer. You also secretly hope they’re watching you and appreciating your hard work and dedication.

For me, a good gym crush is an important part of the recipe for fitness success. I’ve been around a while and tried several gyms in my day but no membership ever really stuck and I came to think that I just don’t like gyms. (When I said I was a reluctant gym rat I meant it with all my heart.) I just wasn’t one of “those” people. I preferred the freedom of exercising outside (emphasis on free). I also thought running and riding my bike on real pavement made me more hard core and legit.

Then I got a great deal on a fancy gym across the street from my office and signed up when all my work buddies did. It was a cool gym with even cooler people inside so to say I was intimidated when I started is a huge understatement. But then I saw “him.” Dreamy in an artsy way with black-rimmed glasses and an intellectual look about him, this guy was not your typical gym bro and I was immediately at ease (and a little bit in love).

As fate would have it, and much to my delight, we ended up on the same workout schedule. My heart soared every time I saw him and I knew I was going to have a great workout. Why? Because I was out to impress him – subtly, of course. On the treadmill, my form was graceful and my speed matched his, and I could hold planks forever if he was lifting nearby. It was the perfect set up and I got into wicked shape in just a few short months.

Now, you might be wondering, “Did you ever talk to him??” And the answer is, “God no.” I could never. First of all, I’m way too shy for that sort of thing. Second, it’s a little cliche to hit on people at the gym if you ask me. And third, I couldn’t risk bursting the bubble I’d created around him. If it turned out he had a really high pitched voice or said “uh” after every third word, my gym crush dreams would have been shattered. No way I was gonna let that happen.

And, turns out, fate wasn’t going to let that happen either. I got a job offer across town (closer to home) and I left the gym without ever saying a single word to him. Au revoir, mi amour. *sigh

Cut to a year later when my best friend/neighbor talked me into joining an even fancier gym because it was half a mile from where we lived and she was on a health kick. What’s funny is that as much as I’d scoffed at gyms in the past, I secretly coveted belonging to this one. It was the gem of gyms and membership carried an air of prestige. So, naturally, I was nervous to start, but having my best girls by my side helped me tackle my fears and enjoy the spoils of this magical place. And for about the first year I was there, the gym itself was my actual gym crush.

But of course it eventually began to lose its luster and I started to stall fitness-wise. I was going less frequently and had almost decided to quit it outright because it was ridiculous to spend that kind of money on something I wasn’t using.

Then I saw another “him.” A new gym crush! He was adorable! And for a month we were on the same schedule and it kicked me right back into gear. I got serious again and that’s when I started working with Trainer. But then gym crush disappeared. But I found a new one! Then he disappeared too. What was happening? Where were they going? Oh. Right. It was February. Silly girl. I should have known better. I’d fallen victim to the short-timers, the resolutioners. Damn it.

So I drifted along for a few weeks, lost in a sea of equipment without a gym crush, but managed to stay on track and do well with my training thanks to trusty Trainer.  And my dedication paid off because I eventually noticed someone who I think had been there all along. Distracted by the short-timers, I had somehow missed him. A quiet, gorgeous ginger who lifted near my favorite treadmill. He must have walked by me a million times before the day we made eye contact and I gotta say, for me, it was electric. How had I not seen him before?

Fortunately, he’s no short-timer. And we’re on the same schedule. But this one’s different. This is the gym crush to end all gym crushes. While he motivates me to go every day and give my workouts my all, he also makes me blush and makes my heart race every time I see him. And he has no idea. (Thank God.) I’m like a damn teenager now. It’s both thrilling and a little nauseating. You know, like love.

But I keep reminding myself it’s just a gym crush and to chill the F out. I’m the one who made these gym crush rules anyway. I just happened to find someone who fit the requirements to a T. He’s beautiful. He’s super fit. He’s quiet and keeps to himself so I have no way of knowing what his personality is like. And he’s way out of my league. Which is crucial to following my “no talking to gym crush ever” rule. The bubble shall remain intact.

The good news is that I am killing it at the gym these days. It is exhausting but I am going to destroy my fitness goals because I have never been so motivated in my life. And before anyone gets up in arms about me getting fit to impress a man, cool your jets because of course this isn’t about him. I am definitely doing all of this for me. But it never hurts to have some extra motivation to get yourself to the gym and put more effort into your workouts – and to do it all with a smile. Every little bit helps. Just sayin.

The Sleep Diet

~ fitnessdammit ~ 3 Comments

 

In order to lose 30 pounds by pool season (fitness goals 2 and 3), Trainer mapped out a workout regimen and put me on what he called a “conservative” calorie count of 1550 cals a day. At that rate (I started in January) I would lose 1.5 pounds per week and hit my goal in time for summer.

At first I thought, ok, 1550 isn’t so bad for a weight loss plan. In fact, it sounded almost decadent given that I’d worked with a trainer a few years back who had me on 1200 cals a day which made me think I was dying. Working out that hard and eating so little made me ravenous and a wee bit insane. Things got weird. I had to apologize to friends and coworkers when they caught me staring and drooling, and explain that everyone around me was turning into turkey legs, bowls of spaghetti and pieces of pie. You know… like in the old cartoons where two people are marooned on an island and they’re both starving so they imagine the other person is food and they end up chasing each other around with a knife and fork that appears out nowhere? Yeah. That.

So, clearly I was a bit nervous that might happen again but had high hopes the extra 350 cals a day would feel luxurious this time around. And they did. Sort of. For the first few days I found it was pretty easy to stay under 1550. Turns out managing calorie intake is a piece of cake (CAKE!) if you prepare all of your meals at home and avoid alcohol. Then the weekend came. Whoops.

“It’s ok,” Trainer said. “Think of your calories in three day increments. If you blow it one day, just make up for it with low cals the next couple of days so your total count works out overall for those days.”

Hmm… more math. But it sounds a little more forgiving and doable as I attempt to find some will power. It’s tough. When every calorie counts, you end up obsessing over everything you ingest and there’s a number in your head that climbs all day long as you get closer and closer to your limit.

One day I’d underestimated something I ate for lunch and by the time I had a snack and saw my mistake, I realized anything I ate for dinner – no matter how healthy – would put me over for the day. Oh no. Panic. Despair. What to do? I was trying so hard and thought I was being so good. Then I had a terrible thought. Brilliant. But terrible.

What if I take a sleeping pill when I get home from work? Then I could skip dinner and just go straight to bed! GENIUS!

Yep. That was an actual idea from my brain. Desperate times were calling for desperate measures and I’d been reduced to thinking I could knock out my hunger by knocking myself out. What had my world come to?

Fortunately, the more mature and wise part of me that wants to be healthy about losing weight didn’t let me to do that. So, instead, I had a ton of roasted vegetables and a small piece of grilled chicken for dinner and didn’t go to bed hungry. I did have a good laugh though because, come on, I almost invented a horribly unhealthy “sleep diet.”

And I’ve heard laughing burns like four calories a minute. But who’s counting?