Day 1 of Russell's Boot Camp
Goals: Lose 10 lbs and 2 inches from my waist
Gain respect for myself and have greater confidence in who I am.
The Devil brought cookies into our office today via his minion, Shirley, who is actually a very nice lab rep. Luckily, I escorted them (the cookies, not the Devil and Shirley) to the break room of my office so they could be devoured by the other women at work rather than taunting me from the corner of the lab. So far, so good. I haven't stepped into the break room yet, though...
No positive affirmations were directly uttered into the mirror this morning, as is my daily goal. I sort of muttered them under my breath as I was tying my shoes. "I will eat well today... I will work out after work as hard as I am capable." I'm hoping that gets me through lunchtime at least.
Food Journal: Protein shake for breakfast, a snack bag of carrot sticks and two deviled eggs for a snack. There may or may not have been a handful or two of potato chips. Hey, it's a vast improvement... Planned for lunch: an apple and pickles and peanut butter. Planned for dinner: I found this incredible recipe for corn fritters and chips and salsa. If it's any good, I'll post it. Oz. of H20 consumed thus far: 34. Not great, but it's only 1:00pm. I have lots of time to get to 120oz.
I have a scheduled appointment with Russ to work out after work. I'm excited to see if I survive.
I have a new job. Grin Eyecare in Olathe. It's basically incredible. Happy, happy, happy.
Also as a side note, "this week's love interest" mentioned in my last blog entry is now my wonderful fiance. Weird how stuff works out.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Well Hello Again.
This is not going to be a long post. Shocking as that statement may be, I'm a little under the weather and I have an early start tomorrow.
Due to my lack of lung capacity (the majority of it being taken up by a stubborn infestation of mucous), I haven't been to the gym in over a week. Nevertheless, it's Thanksgiving break anyway. Who wants to waste all that available family time sweating it out at the gym?? Actually, after falling off the proverbial wagon for nearly 3 months, I'm back on and with more determination than ever. Before today, I went 26 days without processed sugar and it was much easier than I had imagined. I'm down almost 10 pounds more making 35lbs in total...I think. Don't quote me on that one just yet.
Work stresses have made gym attendance a neccessity. Now that I'm quitting to go to school full-time to be a teacher, there seems to be a light at the end of the tunnel and I am moving forward, engines running full speed....almost. There are hiccoughs along the way that are creating a need for more breaks in this road trip than I had ever anticipated. I suppose that's what happens when one makes the correct decision.
My choices lately have been lazy ones. No scripture study, tired prayers, too much emphasis on this week's love interest...and I can feel that confidence and energy slipping from me. I am hoping to feel better by Saturday so that I can get to the gym and get myself psyched for the week. My friend Kat Davis and I are going to the temple tomorrow. I have nearly canceled-or at the very least prayed that she would do so-on several occasions. Luckily, I don't fall for the adversary's tricks that easily. I should hope that tomorrow will bring a more positive end.
This was not the most wonderful Thanksgiving holiday I've ever had. And shame on me for it.
Oh good. My Vicks is here. Heaven bless my little sisters!
Due to my lack of lung capacity (the majority of it being taken up by a stubborn infestation of mucous), I haven't been to the gym in over a week. Nevertheless, it's Thanksgiving break anyway. Who wants to waste all that available family time sweating it out at the gym?? Actually, after falling off the proverbial wagon for nearly 3 months, I'm back on and with more determination than ever. Before today, I went 26 days without processed sugar and it was much easier than I had imagined. I'm down almost 10 pounds more making 35lbs in total...I think. Don't quote me on that one just yet.
Work stresses have made gym attendance a neccessity. Now that I'm quitting to go to school full-time to be a teacher, there seems to be a light at the end of the tunnel and I am moving forward, engines running full speed....almost. There are hiccoughs along the way that are creating a need for more breaks in this road trip than I had ever anticipated. I suppose that's what happens when one makes the correct decision.
My choices lately have been lazy ones. No scripture study, tired prayers, too much emphasis on this week's love interest...and I can feel that confidence and energy slipping from me. I am hoping to feel better by Saturday so that I can get to the gym and get myself psyched for the week. My friend Kat Davis and I are going to the temple tomorrow. I have nearly canceled-or at the very least prayed that she would do so-on several occasions. Luckily, I don't fall for the adversary's tricks that easily. I should hope that tomorrow will bring a more positive end.
This was not the most wonderful Thanksgiving holiday I've ever had. And shame on me for it.
Oh good. My Vicks is here. Heaven bless my little sisters!
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Finding Peace in Sharp Utensils
I have purposely avoided adding another blog lately specifically because I hit a very hard wall and my frustration was pretty extreme. Several factors added to this. Some of them being increased edema, lack of a full night's sleep, the fact that I'm getting sick again... all very frustrating issues I haven't had problems with in a while. Oh well.
My goal has been a straight month at the gym without missing a day (except Sundays, obviously). I haven't made it a week yet. No worries, I tell myself. There's always next week... regardless, I've started jogging a bit. I can't express what a fantastic feeling it is to be able to jog. Granted, I don't get very far yet, but that's OK. I get further and further every week, and that's pretty liberating.
I bought all items I need for my very own batch of Veg Shred. Now I just need to find the hours it takes to chop it all up. I went to Whole Foods. That place is unbelievably expensive but horribly addicting. I met a really nice emo guy with gorgeous brown eyes (and a ring. Dang) who was extremely helpful. I really love it there. Less grocery store-ish, more a lifestyle, really. I'm trying a new recipe this week. Tortilla soup from the Your Wellness Connection website. I'll report on how it goes.
I love cooking. Last night I came home from a frustrating session of voice lessons (apparently my body isn't connecting making for a pretty crappy sound) and I was absolutely exhausted. I just wanted to pop something in the microwave and call it good. Instead, I made a batch of beef stir-fry over rice noodles. It took an hour and a half to make it what with all the chopping I had to do. It was incredible, really. I mean, the end result was pretty yum, but the middle part where I had to chop stuff up and season and try new flavors? Holy crap. This is the best hobby ever.
My goal has been a straight month at the gym without missing a day (except Sundays, obviously). I haven't made it a week yet. No worries, I tell myself. There's always next week... regardless, I've started jogging a bit. I can't express what a fantastic feeling it is to be able to jog. Granted, I don't get very far yet, but that's OK. I get further and further every week, and that's pretty liberating.
I bought all items I need for my very own batch of Veg Shred. Now I just need to find the hours it takes to chop it all up. I went to Whole Foods. That place is unbelievably expensive but horribly addicting. I met a really nice emo guy with gorgeous brown eyes (and a ring. Dang) who was extremely helpful. I really love it there. Less grocery store-ish, more a lifestyle, really. I'm trying a new recipe this week. Tortilla soup from the Your Wellness Connection website. I'll report on how it goes.
I love cooking. Last night I came home from a frustrating session of voice lessons (apparently my body isn't connecting making for a pretty crappy sound) and I was absolutely exhausted. I just wanted to pop something in the microwave and call it good. Instead, I made a batch of beef stir-fry over rice noodles. It took an hour and a half to make it what with all the chopping I had to do. It was incredible, really. I mean, the end result was pretty yum, but the middle part where I had to chop stuff up and season and try new flavors? Holy crap. This is the best hobby ever.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
And the Emmy goes to...
I love Saturdays. Saturdays are great ways to spend some quality time with your gym equipment without the pressure of a job breathing down your neck.
I went completely wheat-free yesterday. I gave up a hamburger bun AND even cake. I'm so impressed with myself.
Following now is a "Cast of Characters" who I observe on a regular basis. Those names posted are completely made up (unless otherwise stated) to fit the personalities of each individual. Enjoy.
Snobby Russian: I first met Snobby Russian in the locker room when I first started working out there. As I got dressed each morning, this thirty-something was almost always there applying make-up and fixing her hair in preparation for her workout. As if this fact alone wasn't enough to cause unavoidable looks of distaste to pour from my features, her thin, athletic frame was usually donned in a mini-skort and spandex tops. This woman probably has weighed less than 95 pounds her entire life...and most of that weight is up top.
Turns out her name is Olga, she has a 16 year-old daughter, she loves working out and cold weather and despises flying. She is actually ridiculously sweet with a thick Russian accent. Sometimes it's not so bad being wrong.
Hispanic Subject (HS): Most who have read my blog about the old man and Hispanic Subject are familiar with this character.
The Friends: The man and woman who drag Hispanic Subject along with them. They are two relatively fit individuals who I see much more often than HS.
The Fosters: A couple in their early-sixties who dress in matching colors and go through the exact routine every week: MWF- The circuit. T/R- The treadmills. They rarely speak to one another, though I'm sure they've been married long enough that they don't have to. Mrs. Foster seems nice. She asked me today if I thought one of the circuit machines was catching. She has a pretty smile.
Ben Affleck: Though most would probably argue with me, this twenty-something bears resemblance to his pseudo-namesake. He has a similar build and familiar facial features. It's not uncanny, but if you tilt your head and squint, you can see it.
Jogger: I was on the ArcTrainer the first time I saw him. I admire Jogger's dedication to a rigorous workout, but it's almost humorous to watch him kick his legs so far back that he nearly kicks his own backside...literally. This is only made more funny by the fact that he is going at a moderately slow pace. It
Preacher: He is the only one I have seen just once, and if I remember correctly it was on a Saturday, so perhaps that is the reason. I was on a machine next to him and within the thirty minutes we spent side-by-side, he pounded his chest a half a dozen times, said things like "Phew!" and "YEAH!" every few minutes, and occasionally put his arms out in front of him, palms up, and looked toward the ceiling. I can't imagine what was on his i-Pod but it must have been incredibly motivating to inspire such enthusiasm.
Mr. ___________: I can't quite think of a name to fit. He's my favorite. He's a quiet, 60-something, thin-framed, black man who arrives exactly at 7am everyday, walks the track for probably over an hour, and has befriended a few other track-walkers who join him whenever possible (though they rarely stay with him the whole time.) His pace is slow and easy, possibly reflecting his personality. There's no hurry to get anywhere (granted, he's walking in circles) and no one else to impress. He's amazing.
I went completely wheat-free yesterday. I gave up a hamburger bun AND even cake. I'm so impressed with myself.
Following now is a "Cast of Characters" who I observe on a regular basis. Those names posted are completely made up (unless otherwise stated) to fit the personalities of each individual. Enjoy.
Snobby Russian: I first met Snobby Russian in the locker room when I first started working out there. As I got dressed each morning, this thirty-something was almost always there applying make-up and fixing her hair in preparation for her workout. As if this fact alone wasn't enough to cause unavoidable looks of distaste to pour from my features, her thin, athletic frame was usually donned in a mini-skort and spandex tops. This woman probably has weighed less than 95 pounds her entire life...and most of that weight is up top.
Turns out her name is Olga, she has a 16 year-old daughter, she loves working out and cold weather and despises flying. She is actually ridiculously sweet with a thick Russian accent. Sometimes it's not so bad being wrong.
Hispanic Subject (HS): Most who have read my blog about the old man and Hispanic Subject are familiar with this character.
The Friends: The man and woman who drag Hispanic Subject along with them. They are two relatively fit individuals who I see much more often than HS.
The Fosters: A couple in their early-sixties who dress in matching colors and go through the exact routine every week: MWF- The circuit. T/R- The treadmills. They rarely speak to one another, though I'm sure they've been married long enough that they don't have to. Mrs. Foster seems nice. She asked me today if I thought one of the circuit machines was catching. She has a pretty smile.
Ben Affleck: Though most would probably argue with me, this twenty-something bears resemblance to his pseudo-namesake. He has a similar build and familiar facial features. It's not uncanny, but if you tilt your head and squint, you can see it.
Jogger: I was on the ArcTrainer the first time I saw him. I admire Jogger's dedication to a rigorous workout, but it's almost humorous to watch him kick his legs so far back that he nearly kicks his own backside...literally. This is only made more funny by the fact that he is going at a moderately slow pace. It
Preacher: He is the only one I have seen just once, and if I remember correctly it was on a Saturday, so perhaps that is the reason. I was on a machine next to him and within the thirty minutes we spent side-by-side, he pounded his chest a half a dozen times, said things like "Phew!" and "YEAH!" every few minutes, and occasionally put his arms out in front of him, palms up, and looked toward the ceiling. I can't imagine what was on his i-Pod but it must have been incredibly motivating to inspire such enthusiasm.
Mr. ___________: I can't quite think of a name to fit. He's my favorite. He's a quiet, 60-something, thin-framed, black man who arrives exactly at 7am everyday, walks the track for probably over an hour, and has befriended a few other track-walkers who join him whenever possible (though they rarely stay with him the whole time.) His pace is slow and easy, possibly reflecting his personality. There's no hurry to get anywhere (granted, he's walking in circles) and no one else to impress. He's amazing.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Torturing Depravities
I'm giving up wheat for Lent.
I'm not Catholic, but since I have friends who are, I'm joining their little Lent Club. I might have a shred of success if I have groupies who are torturing themselves with various depravities. One friend is giving up facebook.
I give her 78 hours.
Also on my Lent list (I am unfamiliar with the details of Lent, but I can't imagine giving up two vices is such a bad thing) is fast food. Fast, cheap, easy, and inherently evil. However, since saving money and good calories are both high on my list of To-DO's, I see no viable reason why they should remain a weekly routine. In the event that my friends want to go out, my only allowable choices will be sit-down restaurants that are a bit on the expensive side to deter frequent visits. Even then my food choices there will be planned out beforehand.
I didn't go to the gym this morning. I awoke to my roommate's alarm which meant it was too late to go. I'm thinking of hiring a conscience. This way I can text him/her and ask permission to eat sugar, wheat, etc.
Maybe if someone else tells me no, I'll listen.
I'm not Catholic, but since I have friends who are, I'm joining their little Lent Club. I might have a shred of success if I have groupies who are torturing themselves with various depravities. One friend is giving up facebook.
I give her 78 hours.
Also on my Lent list (I am unfamiliar with the details of Lent, but I can't imagine giving up two vices is such a bad thing) is fast food. Fast, cheap, easy, and inherently evil. However, since saving money and good calories are both high on my list of To-DO's, I see no viable reason why they should remain a weekly routine. In the event that my friends want to go out, my only allowable choices will be sit-down restaurants that are a bit on the expensive side to deter frequent visits. Even then my food choices there will be planned out beforehand.
I didn't go to the gym this morning. I awoke to my roommate's alarm which meant it was too late to go. I'm thinking of hiring a conscience. This way I can text him/her and ask permission to eat sugar, wheat, etc.
Maybe if someone else tells me no, I'll listen.
Friday, February 20, 2009
An Emotion Salad: hold the dressing.
Let me share with you how my day started...
I woke up a little groggy at 5:45am after almost 6 hours of sleep. As I get older I realize that 6 hours just doesn't carry me as far as it once did. Case in point, here I sit, alone in the quiet of my apartment, ready for bed at 9:47pm. It is a fitting end to today and one I am completely satisfied with. My usual "Let's go to the gym!" sensation was absent this morning and had been replaced with the emphatic call of a warm blanket and soft pillow. Ordinarily a choice between sleep and gym is an easy one. My love of routine beckons a dependable call, and I inevitably choose the workout. Last time I had a distinct prompting to stay home and sleep a bit more, I ignored it which resulted in a feeling I can only compare with what I imagine being trampled by a flock of mall shoppers must feel like.
So I skipped the gym. Strike one.
Then, I stepped on the scale. Strike two. (I'm up 2 pounds from last week. Crap.)
Next, I put on a shirt that used to fit me, but somehow didn't any longer. Strike three.
Finally, I decided to forgo the green smoothie for a protein bar. Strike four.
I'm fairly sure I should have called in sick at this point and stayed in bed (or maybe headed straight to the gym). Rarely do people survive four strikes in a 30 minute period.
Nevertheless, I went to work.
And I was productive. Go figure. Despite the memory of my small shirt, the realization that my scale must be lying to me, and the understanding that gym neglect twice in one week is unforgivable, I had a great day. This is no excuse for any of the aforementioned pitfalls to go uncorrected, however. I completely understand that my next green smoothie will have to be painfully healthier than normal and that I will eventually have to dig that shirt out of the trash, but I've concluded that guilt does not have to overrun daily functions, as it normally does, when perfection is not acheived. Today happened. It is what it is. Tomorrow is a brand new Saturday.
I love Saturdays.
I woke up a little groggy at 5:45am after almost 6 hours of sleep. As I get older I realize that 6 hours just doesn't carry me as far as it once did. Case in point, here I sit, alone in the quiet of my apartment, ready for bed at 9:47pm. It is a fitting end to today and one I am completely satisfied with. My usual "Let's go to the gym!" sensation was absent this morning and had been replaced with the emphatic call of a warm blanket and soft pillow. Ordinarily a choice between sleep and gym is an easy one. My love of routine beckons a dependable call, and I inevitably choose the workout. Last time I had a distinct prompting to stay home and sleep a bit more, I ignored it which resulted in a feeling I can only compare with what I imagine being trampled by a flock of mall shoppers must feel like.
So I skipped the gym. Strike one.
Then, I stepped on the scale. Strike two. (I'm up 2 pounds from last week. Crap.)
Next, I put on a shirt that used to fit me, but somehow didn't any longer. Strike three.
Finally, I decided to forgo the green smoothie for a protein bar. Strike four.
I'm fairly sure I should have called in sick at this point and stayed in bed (or maybe headed straight to the gym). Rarely do people survive four strikes in a 30 minute period.
Nevertheless, I went to work.
And I was productive. Go figure. Despite the memory of my small shirt, the realization that my scale must be lying to me, and the understanding that gym neglect twice in one week is unforgivable, I had a great day. This is no excuse for any of the aforementioned pitfalls to go uncorrected, however. I completely understand that my next green smoothie will have to be painfully healthier than normal and that I will eventually have to dig that shirt out of the trash, but I've concluded that guilt does not have to overrun daily functions, as it normally does, when perfection is not acheived. Today happened. It is what it is. Tomorrow is a brand new Saturday.
I love Saturdays.
Monday, February 16, 2009
For The Brave Souls With Long Attention Spans (or with nothing to do)
I seem to have the workout thing down. I enthusiastically hop out of bed every morning at 5:45-ish. I try really hard to be at the gym and working out by 6:30 so I can get in a full work out and feel like all the sweat was worth something. Still working on escaping chocolate cravings. I'm a girl and I have lots of chocolate-loving girlfriends, so it's been an uphill climb that isn't going so well. Meh. Ya win some, ya lose some, right?
I saw several document-worthy events as I battled the ArcTrainer. (I'm convinced these were early-Nazi torture tools) And even more as I moved on to the circuit and tried to push myself through 25 gruelling pounds on the weight machines (don't make fun. I'm a little wimpy). For some reason, the following made me giggle:
There is a guy who I see there on almost a daily basis. A somewhat-rounded twenty-something of Hispanic background, he is often accompanied by his two friends whom I can only assume are family members or caring (and relatively fit) friends who drag him out of bed every morning. He is one who seems to be under the impression that mere gym attendance-not vigorous use of the equipment itself-is all one needs in the quest for a "healthier you". (By the way, I have no intention of seeming judgemental here, as I believe anyone who has the motivation to get up and work out is praiseworthy. However, his level of dedication to the rigors of a morning workout are pertinent to this story...) I usually see him on the treadmill for several minutes following a jaunt around the track once or twice. He occasionally vests temporary interest in the weight machines.
I was trying to push through the remaining half of the circuit when I saw him in the weights area. Making sure he was in clear view of a perky, obviously-dedicated, young gym attendee (who happened to be female), this stalwart champion bravely strode up to the free weights and took a deep breath in preparation. (I will note here that the weights are set up so that the heaviest are on the bottom, the lightest at the top.) Looking over his options, he courageously grabbed hold of the second set from the top.
Keeping his eye on the conquest he was hoping to impress, he began lifting in quick succession. Sweat forming on his brow, I counted as he lifted each set to his chest as quickly as he could, eyes squeezed shut in concentration; ...four, five, si-...Five! Exhaling, he took a breath between reps before beginning again, this time making nearly seven reps with the eight-pound load...
Now for those who have lost interest and skimmed the above (those who haven't, I commend you. I'm frequently very wordy...), you can read this part. The following is what made me laugh.
Just before his second set of almost-seven was over, an older gentleman came over to scrutinize his free weight options. He had to have been almost sixty-five or older with thinning grey hair and an even thinner physique. He was dressed in a white wife-beater and gym shorts (black socks included and sweat band firmly in place on his forehead). With a swiftness and grace that can only be compared with sunflowers blowing in the ease of the spring winds, the older man stepped in front of my Hispanic subject, snatched the very lowest set of free weights, and easily walked away.
I can only imagine my subject's embarrassment as he noticed the slight chuckling of the girl he once sought out to impress. If I didn't know he was Mexican-ish, I would have thought he was a cherry.
I saw several document-worthy events as I battled the ArcTrainer. (I'm convinced these were early-Nazi torture tools) And even more as I moved on to the circuit and tried to push myself through 25 gruelling pounds on the weight machines (don't make fun. I'm a little wimpy). For some reason, the following made me giggle:
There is a guy who I see there on almost a daily basis. A somewhat-rounded twenty-something of Hispanic background, he is often accompanied by his two friends whom I can only assume are family members or caring (and relatively fit) friends who drag him out of bed every morning. He is one who seems to be under the impression that mere gym attendance-not vigorous use of the equipment itself-is all one needs in the quest for a "healthier you". (By the way, I have no intention of seeming judgemental here, as I believe anyone who has the motivation to get up and work out is praiseworthy. However, his level of dedication to the rigors of a morning workout are pertinent to this story...) I usually see him on the treadmill for several minutes following a jaunt around the track once or twice. He occasionally vests temporary interest in the weight machines.
I was trying to push through the remaining half of the circuit when I saw him in the weights area. Making sure he was in clear view of a perky, obviously-dedicated, young gym attendee (who happened to be female), this stalwart champion bravely strode up to the free weights and took a deep breath in preparation. (I will note here that the weights are set up so that the heaviest are on the bottom, the lightest at the top.) Looking over his options, he courageously grabbed hold of the second set from the top.
Keeping his eye on the conquest he was hoping to impress, he began lifting in quick succession. Sweat forming on his brow, I counted as he lifted each set to his chest as quickly as he could, eyes squeezed shut in concentration; ...four, five, si-...Five! Exhaling, he took a breath between reps before beginning again, this time making nearly seven reps with the eight-pound load...
Now for those who have lost interest and skimmed the above (those who haven't, I commend you. I'm frequently very wordy...), you can read this part. The following is what made me laugh.
Just before his second set of almost-seven was over, an older gentleman came over to scrutinize his free weight options. He had to have been almost sixty-five or older with thinning grey hair and an even thinner physique. He was dressed in a white wife-beater and gym shorts (black socks included and sweat band firmly in place on his forehead). With a swiftness and grace that can only be compared with sunflowers blowing in the ease of the spring winds, the older man stepped in front of my Hispanic subject, snatched the very lowest set of free weights, and easily walked away.
I can only imagine my subject's embarrassment as he noticed the slight chuckling of the girl he once sought out to impress. If I didn't know he was Mexican-ish, I would have thought he was a cherry.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)