A quick update, sans pictures, because I'm getting ready for our company and I'm still very upset about the Ferguson grand jury non-decision.
1. I increased my gym time to 3X a week.
2. I got in an hour and a half of cardio yesterday, whoo hoo! I think two 45s will be better for me, because I was beat!
3. Down 3.0 and .3% body fat. I'm getting there.
Happy Thanksgiving to everyone I love and even those I don't. <3
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
A More AwesoME
Today was tough - ugh tough.
I had to take last Thursday as a snow day (because I couldn't get out of my driveway
and even had I been able to do so, the subdivision road hadn't been plowed enough for a Prius to get through). I imagined I would do a workout in my home gym to make up for it, but that was just my imagination.
Running away with me.
I managed to do some cardio over the weekend (thanks to my trusty treadmill), but didn't get my 1.5 hours a day in. That still seems like a lot to me - I need to start thinking of it like three thirties - I mean, it's not like I have anything else that absolutely has to be done!
Today was my first day back in the gym in a week, and I think Tom the Trainer took it personally because he kicked my butt. He's a fan of interval training, or supersets.
We sometimes do incline push ups, then step ups (five sets of either twenty five or he times me for what seems like an eternity), then planks and real push ups and squats, then lat pull downs, then twists and kicks, then punching bag, then bicep curls and tricep dips, then... well you get the picture. For 45 minutes straight.
And we don't do girly weights, either. I don't think he has a dumbbell in that gym that is less than 12 pounds. For the lat pulldowns we started at FIFTY. POUNDS. I told him this morning that his confidence in my ability to actually finish those sets (granted, he's helping on the fourth and fifth) inspires me to want to finish. It makes me feel this strong:
After the 45 minutes of weight training, Tom will set me up either on a treadmill or elliptical or bike, with instructions on how to do intervals. Today it was treadmill starting at 2 incline, then every minute increasing the incline up two more degrees, so at one minute going to 4, at two minutes to 6, and so on up to 12, then back down, then back up for thirty minutes. I managed to get to 12 twice and felt my heart was pounding out of my chest and thought I was going to puke, so I worked up and town to 10 for the remaining 30 minutes. Is that quitting?
I got into a bad habit toward the end of last year's racing days - I told myself it was okay to walk more than I had either planned or trained to do, and as a result I ended up with some pretty lousy times, even on 5Ks. I also ended up listening way too much to the quitter in my head (her name is Nikki), who disguises herself as a hedonist: "Go ahead and slow down, you deserve it, you've worked hard. Another hill? Baloney, let's walk. Life's short." It's hard to stop quitting once you start. That's not going to happen to me again.
Yes, I'm sore. In a good way. In a strong way. I love this feeling.
Stats: Down 2.0 pounds (notice a gain there from last week?) and up .3 in body fat percentage (wha?). I figured out how to use the calipers, but I want to practice a few more times before I start relying on it. Of course it's a higher number than my scale BF percentage which is a disincentive, but I shall persist.
Hm. And when I sat down to write this, I didn't think I'd have anything to say.
I had to take last Thursday as a snow day (because I couldn't get out of my driveway
and even had I been able to do so, the subdivision road hadn't been plowed enough for a Prius to get through). I imagined I would do a workout in my home gym to make up for it, but that was just my imagination.
Running away with me.
I managed to do some cardio over the weekend (thanks to my trusty treadmill), but didn't get my 1.5 hours a day in. That still seems like a lot to me - I need to start thinking of it like three thirties - I mean, it's not like I have anything else that absolutely has to be done!
Today was my first day back in the gym in a week, and I think Tom the Trainer took it personally because he kicked my butt. He's a fan of interval training, or supersets.
We sometimes do incline push ups, then step ups (five sets of either twenty five or he times me for what seems like an eternity), then planks and real push ups and squats, then lat pull downs, then twists and kicks, then punching bag, then bicep curls and tricep dips, then... well you get the picture. For 45 minutes straight.
And we don't do girly weights, either. I don't think he has a dumbbell in that gym that is less than 12 pounds. For the lat pulldowns we started at FIFTY. POUNDS. I told him this morning that his confidence in my ability to actually finish those sets (granted, he's helping on the fourth and fifth) inspires me to want to finish. It makes me feel this strong:
After the 45 minutes of weight training, Tom will set me up either on a treadmill or elliptical or bike, with instructions on how to do intervals. Today it was treadmill starting at 2 incline, then every minute increasing the incline up two more degrees, so at one minute going to 4, at two minutes to 6, and so on up to 12, then back down, then back up for thirty minutes. I managed to get to 12 twice and felt my heart was pounding out of my chest and thought I was going to puke, so I worked up and town to 10 for the remaining 30 minutes. Is that quitting?
I got into a bad habit toward the end of last year's racing days - I told myself it was okay to walk more than I had either planned or trained to do, and as a result I ended up with some pretty lousy times, even on 5Ks. I also ended up listening way too much to the quitter in my head (her name is Nikki), who disguises herself as a hedonist: "Go ahead and slow down, you deserve it, you've worked hard. Another hill? Baloney, let's walk. Life's short." It's hard to stop quitting once you start. That's not going to happen to me again.
Yes, I'm sore. In a good way. In a strong way. I love this feeling.
Stats: Down 2.0 pounds (notice a gain there from last week?) and up .3 in body fat percentage (wha?). I figured out how to use the calipers, but I want to practice a few more times before I start relying on it. Of course it's a higher number than my scale BF percentage which is a disincentive, but I shall persist.
Hm. And when I sat down to write this, I didn't think I'd have anything to say.
Thursday, November 13, 2014
Another Poem
B is for breasts, with which we're all born,
E is for entry wound, bruised and forlorn.
N 's for the needle that was stuck in my chest,
I is in biopsy, done on my left breast.
G is the good news I got on the phone,
N is for never skipping a mammogram.
I didn't say it was a GOOD poem.
E is for entry wound, bruised and forlorn.
N 's for the needle that was stuck in my chest,
I is in biopsy, done on my left breast.
 |
| Here are both of Chelsea's, you pervs. |
G is the good news I got on the phone,
N is for never skipping a mammogram.
I didn't say it was a GOOD poem.
Sunday, November 9, 2014
Getting Bigger
This is going to be a weird journey for me - at my most recent training session, Tom told me I needed to take my measurements. I assured him I had done so the week before I started with him. He then asked me whether I was flexed at the time.
In this new world of muscle mass I have entered, I am apparently supposed to take my arm and leg measurements flexed. And I'm not supposed to measure my thighs at their widest point, but at a few inches above the knee. I'm also supposed to end my love affair with the scale, because I may end up gaining some weight.
Tom (and all the literature and research I've consulted) assures me that the shape of my body will be changing, and I could end up weighing the same (OR MORE!) but wearing several sizes smaller because my body fat percentage will be lower, and I'll have more lean muscle mass.
Well, okay then.
I don't know about ditching the scale - we're dear old friends and go way, way, way back. Maybe I can cut back to just weighing myself once a week....(hey, I never claimed to have NO addictions)
So let's call Sunday the day. Today I am down 3 pounds and .5% body fat from last Sunday. I'll be redoing my measurements later - and I even got some calipers to double check the scale's call on my body fat percentage. Since the Vikings have a bye this week, maybe I'll learn how to use those, too.
In this new world of muscle mass I have entered, I am apparently supposed to take my arm and leg measurements flexed. And I'm not supposed to measure my thighs at their widest point, but at a few inches above the knee. I'm also supposed to end my love affair with the scale, because I may end up gaining some weight.
Tom (and all the literature and research I've consulted) assures me that the shape of my body will be changing, and I could end up weighing the same (OR MORE!) but wearing several sizes smaller because my body fat percentage will be lower, and I'll have more lean muscle mass.
Well, okay then.
I don't know about ditching the scale - we're dear old friends and go way, way, way back. Maybe I can cut back to just weighing myself once a week....(hey, I never claimed to have NO addictions)
So let's call Sunday the day. Today I am down 3 pounds and .5% body fat from last Sunday. I'll be redoing my measurements later - and I even got some calipers to double check the scale's call on my body fat percentage. Since the Vikings have a bye this week, maybe I'll learn how to use those, too.
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Why Not?
Yes, it's been a while, and there are many reasons for that, not the least of which is I had a very hard time getting motivated to do ANYTHING after finishing EMT school, my final, my NREMT exam and my practical exam. Seriously, my husband will tell you how I spent weeks on the couch playing Dungeon Gems and my old favorite, Jet Pack Joy Ride.
So I packed on a few pounds and let my fitness slide. You'd think after working like a dog to get 40 pounds off two years ago I'd be more careful. I certainly didn't want to blog about putting on some pounds and not running a race in a year. I just couldn't get going. Now part of this may have something to do with my generalized anxiety, which manifests as a desire to want to beat the living crap out of people I don't even know for the slightest transgression, but perhaps not. I mean, I'm medicated for that.
When I finally pulled myself off the couch to walk with a neighbor, we chatted about her personal trainer, and I decided it was time for me to hit the gym with someone who knew what they were doing. You may recall I attended barbell and aerobic classes at the Parks and Rec center for about a year, but I'm not wild about their fitness director or the generic nature of the classes, so I didn't want to go back there.
Instead, I signed up for personal training at this bare-bones gym in Redmond, with a super nice trainer who actually also won some fitness competitions so he knows what's what.
After a few sessions of training (and some serious post-exercise soreness), I started thinking about getting serious about my fitness - not just my weight but my actual fitness. What good is getting back into a size 8 if I'm still jiggly? I started doing some research on the issue, and came across some fantastic articles and images from fitness competitions.
Nuff said. What's more important than my health and fitness? I mean, if I'm going to outlive everyone I know without physically harming them in the process, I need to get on it (no, that's not really my goal, but why not?). So I sat down with my trainer, we worked out a plan for lifting, cardio and nutrition, and I train with him twice a week now, once more a week on my own, and shoot for ten hours of cardio a week to start.
There's no reason I can't get the body I want. I mean, I've never had a baby, I've never had any abdominal incisions of any kind, I don't smoke, don't do drugs and I'm pretty healthy overall. Now it's just a matter of getting stronger.
I'm shooting for something like this:
but with Ernestine's or Ruby's abs....
Why not? I'm willing to do the work - I've got the time. I don't need to can or garden all day every day.
So follow along as I use the blog to post my progress, at least before our New Zealand trip next year. I'm putting it out there not just for accountability, but to show I can do it. I WILL do it.
But I won't do that :
 |
| That's right, Barry - I have all the enhanced jetpacks. |
So I packed on a few pounds and let my fitness slide. You'd think after working like a dog to get 40 pounds off two years ago I'd be more careful. I certainly didn't want to blog about putting on some pounds and not running a race in a year. I just couldn't get going. Now part of this may have something to do with my generalized anxiety, which manifests as a desire to want to beat the living crap out of people I don't even know for the slightest transgression, but perhaps not. I mean, I'm medicated for that.
When I finally pulled myself off the couch to walk with a neighbor, we chatted about her personal trainer, and I decided it was time for me to hit the gym with someone who knew what they were doing. You may recall I attended barbell and aerobic classes at the Parks and Rec center for about a year, but I'm not wild about their fitness director or the generic nature of the classes, so I didn't want to go back there.
Instead, I signed up for personal training at this bare-bones gym in Redmond, with a super nice trainer who actually also won some fitness competitions so he knows what's what.
 |
| The LVAC it is not. But it's clean and roomy and has modern equipment - and the trainer, of course, is a great guy. |
After a few sessions of training (and some serious post-exercise soreness), I started thinking about getting serious about my fitness - not just my weight but my actual fitness. What good is getting back into a size 8 if I'm still jiggly? I started doing some research on the issue, and came across some fantastic articles and images from fitness competitions.
 |
| This is Ernestine Shepherd. She's 74 in this photo. |
 |
| These are the "Masters" competitors at a fitness model competition That means at least over 35. |
 |
| Ruby Carter-Pikes is 65 here. |
 |
| An Over-50 bikini competition |
Nuff said. What's more important than my health and fitness? I mean, if I'm going to outlive everyone I know without physically harming them in the process, I need to get on it (no, that's not really my goal, but why not?). So I sat down with my trainer, we worked out a plan for lifting, cardio and nutrition, and I train with him twice a week now, once more a week on my own, and shoot for ten hours of cardio a week to start.
There's no reason I can't get the body I want. I mean, I've never had a baby, I've never had any abdominal incisions of any kind, I don't smoke, don't do drugs and I'm pretty healthy overall. Now it's just a matter of getting stronger.
I'm shooting for something like this:
 |
| Tosca Reno - Over 50 |
but with Ernestine's or Ruby's abs....
Why not? I'm willing to do the work - I've got the time. I don't need to can or garden all day every day.
So follow along as I use the blog to post my progress, at least before our New Zealand trip next year. I'm putting it out there not just for accountability, but to show I can do it. I WILL do it.
But I won't do that :
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