Memorial WODs: You really can’t quit

So, the boyfriend has started the “leave body” fitness program. That’s when he hits the gym several weeks before he takes leave to look great going home - for the ladies. But I digress.

Anyway, anyway, we were talking about working out today and he tells me he came up with a Memorial WOD for a guy on his team who died earlier this year. He was pretty excited about it.

“No one wants to do it, though, because it’s too hard.”

I’ll do it, muffin, tell me what we’re working with.

Turns out, we were going to be working superhero-style - way more than I was used to.

1000m row

10 HSPU

20 Box jumps

40 Pull Ups

50 WB

70 Push Ups (I hope I interpreted that right)

90 Thrusters

1000m row

That doesn’t sound so bad (translated: famous last words, every time I've underestimated a workout, I've had my ass handed to me).

So, is that for time or can I take my time?

“For time.”

When I left work tonight, I was just going to go for a two-mile run and go home. I ended up at the crossfit gym so I could knock this out. For time. I’ve killed my body over lesser reasons, so having a “cause” was motivating. I've since met the family of the Soldier and it meant more than just a workout for me. Plus, it’s also kind of neat to share something with the boyfriend.

Thankfully, the gym was not that crowded. If there’s one thing that intimidates me, it’s working out in front of other people – by myself. But if I can make random karaoke youtube videos and share them on the interwebs … well, I don’t really have an excuse anymore.

Starting with the row, after about the first 400m, my arms started to protest and my elbows tried to lock. See, I don’t think I’ve done a row except to warm up and it’s pretty easy when you only do it for about two minutes. A thousand meters felt like forever and my arms were numb after. I pushed the handstand push ups after the box jumps. But not before attempting to sub regular push ups so I felt like I was following the workout.

My arms gave out and I plank-smacked my entire body into the floor.

Box jumps are not my favorite, but I have pretty strong legs and powered through those at a decent pace. I don’t understand how the others at the gym can do them so fast, they can’t possibly – actually, I can see they are not opening their hips at the top. Maybe that’s easier. So, about midway, I decided to try to do them as fast as I could. Third one in, my jump was a little shy of the top, my toes caught the edge and almost took out my knee caps when they hit the box. I defaulted back to the correct form I was taught by Master Phil. Screw how everyone else does them.

This is where I really wanted to quit. It’s not like anyone would know, right? I could make up a time and say I did it. Or claim injury. But I couldn’t, I was committed. 

Limping right along …

Handstand pushups are harder than you think. But for whatever reason, I was able to do all ten without falling on my face and breaking my neck. I’m wondering if I did them right. I decided it didn’t matter since I was done with them.

I was doing most of this in the back room at the gym, but for the pull-ups, I needed to go out to the bar. I can’t reach the bar on my own, not even with jumping. So, anytime I’ve done a WOD that includes pull ups, I have to make myself a booster which consists of a 24 inch box and two 10 pound plates – and I still hop. It’s only slightly embarrassing, but not as much as watching me actually do a pull-up. After 40 of those, I decided to swap out the pushups for back squats or I wasn’t going to be able to make it through the wall balls.

One thing I am most proud of is how strong my legs are. However, 70 back squats at 55# set my thighs and ass on fire. So, I pushed the wall balls back to do the thrusters first.

Bar only at 45# after the first 20.

Yes, I took a 20 second break after every 20 thrusters. At this point, I was afraid my arms would give out and I’d drop the bar on my head. Safety first.

Finally, I was on the last exercise – 50 wall balls. The first 25, surprisingly, went smooth. I had hit a zone and was knocking them out. Until I missed a beat in the song I was listening to, caught the ball wrong, and all eight pounds smacked me in the face. I wanted to punch someone and pee at the same time - it hurt. I’ll probably have a black eye. I made it through the next 25 and finished out another 1000m row.

Total time: just proud I finished it.

Kidding, I did it in 59:35.

Maybe there are those who can do it faster, but I’m not about wrecking myself (on purpose) to keep up. Right now, I’m sitting on the floor of the apartment. Not because I’m tired. As a matter of fact, I’m wide awake and hungry. I’d like to go to the kitchen and make some dinner. But I can't. My muscles have informed me that they expelled every bit of energy - plus my reserve - for my workout. So, I’ll probably just lay down right here and go to bed.

By the way: the boyfriend did it in, like, 19 minutes, so I heard. So, now I will try to do it again this weekend to see if I can shave 40 minutes off my time ...

They say you spend your new year how you spend your New Year's ...

(Editor's Note: this is now the EX-BOYFRIEND)

This is the first year I will spend New Year’s Eve alone.

Wow, that sounds like an invitation to a pity party of ONE. But it’s not. With the boyfriend deployed and my daughter with her dad for school, I’ve made plans with a cheap bottle of wine, the sci-fi channel and waiting in front of my computer in case my guy gets to call on skype.

So, yeah, I guess that does sound pretty sad when I put it that way.

It’s not like I couldn’t do something, it’s just the peeps I want to be with aren’t here. They are places where I can only reach them via cyber-tele-skypic technology. The chance of that happening is worth giving up a night out in some packed club, wearing a dress I barely fit into, paying a ridiculous cover charge for a tinseled paper hat and plastic shot cup of cheap, sparkling champagne watching everyone scramble for their New Year’s kiss (and hope they don’t get mono – just sayin’).

There’s an old superstition that says you will spend your new year how you spend your New Year’s. Is it true? I don’t know. I’ve had some questionable New Year’s experiences. 

A few years ago, I was dating a guy that convinced me to go to a party at one of his friends’ houses out in the country somewhere. “It’s just a small get-together with some of my best friends, it’ll be fun.” The night ended with a very serious redneck style beatdown and a gunfight complete with cops and our hostess getting knocked out. I had to be ‘covered’ as we rushed to the car to leave. And I instantly became single the following day. Imagine if I had spent the rest of that year dodging bullets.

One year, I watched my date make out with another chick on the dance floor of a club. I actually did have similar situations happen to me the rest of that year … hmmmm. Then again, it begs to ask what kind of guys I was attracting at the time.

There were two years I partied like a rockstar with my girlfriends and found myself in clubs every other weekend for the rest of those years watching everyone get crunk. Fun times.

New Year’s with my daughter happened only twice in a few years with the visitation agreement. But even when I wasn’t with her, my years were always filled with quality time with my gal. That was a win.

Last year, I rang in the New Year with my guy. Even though the first six months were spent with him, the last six months and the next four months he’s in another country. The year before that, we spent New Year’s in separate states, but ended up spending more and more time together through the new year. Another win.

 So, I guess you can say the superstition is circumstantial.

It’s about partying it up at the hottest spot in town, dressed to the nines in some outfit that cost two paychecks. It’s about making sure you get that kiss at midnight. Some would say it’s about not spending it alone while others insist it’s about making the same resolutions they break every year. It’s whatever you make it.

And if I want to make mine about cheap wine and waiting by my electronic communication workstation while watching B-rated sci-fi movies on TV, then that’s going to be my party. Yes, I do realize that I’ll be spending the bulk of 2012 waiting … waiting for my guy to come home, waiting for my girl to come visit, waiting for Breaking Dawn part 2 and waiting for Dec. 12, 2012 to see what the Mayans really meant.

Like I said, it’s circumstantial.

Vehicular aggravation

Since I paid my Jetta off earlier this summer, it's slowly started to need work done. This weekend, one of the engine cylinders decided to misfire and now it's in the shop needing a tune up. I can't complain, it's lasted eight years without one and pushes 10,000 between oil changes.

I know, I should get the oil changed every 3,000 miles, but Google said I could go for 10 - no prob. I'm sure Google advice is why my car is in the shop.

Anyway, while my car is getting repaired, I'm driving the boyfriend's Xterra - and I'm grateful for that option. The only three issues I have with his vehicle are:

1. The seat does not slide up and my legs aren't long enough to reach the gas pedal.
2. The car doors do not lock unless the remote is nowhere near the vehicle.
3. Randomly and without warning unlocking the car will set off the alarm.

I've learned to deal with all except the car doors not locking. Since the remote needed to be no where near the vehicle, I decided to leave it at home and use the key to lock and unlock the doors so that I knew it would stay locked and bad guys wouldn't sneak in the car and ambush me after dark like in the movies.

In theory this should have worked.

Well, today was the magical day that the alarm on the car decided to set itself off when I unlocked the door with the key - in the parking lot at work. I could not get it to shut off by putting the key in the ignition, locking and unlocking the door or by yelling random swear words and promising to punch it in the grill.

So there I was sitting in the driver's seat, flipping through the front of the owner's manual and in big, bold letters it states:
"Car alarm can only be deactivated by pressing the deactivate alarm button on REMOTE."

The remote that I left at home so the car would stay locked. Seriously, what company doesn't make a plan B for situations like this? Nissan. That's who.

After about what seemed like, oh, I don't know -FOREVER, the alarm finally shut itself off. I decided to let myself out of the car and planned on asking my friend for a ride home to get the remote. The minute I opened the door, the I set off the alarm again.

Really. There had to be a way to bypass this. And there was.

In the very back of the manual, the first place anyone would look, it stated that the alternative to using the remote to deactivate the alarm was to unlock the car from the passenger side door. It worked.

Guess I won't be leaving the remote home anymore. Thank you Nissan, for making things aggravatingly difficult.

What's your excuse?

Who has two thumbs and dislikes working out?

This girl. 

But I set a goal earlier this year to get into shape and I stuck to it.

The new year is fast approaching as well as everyone’s New Year’s resolutions – of which more than 98 percent of the population will be vowing to shed weight and get in shape. Almost more than half that number will start and give up and the rest will procrastinate until the following year, collecting extra pounds along the way to add to their resolutions. Then, before you know it, a few extra pounds have turned into more than seems possible to lose – which will depress and de-motivate even the best of us.

Well, I don’t believe in making empty promises to myself on a holiday. That’s like making a wish on your birthday candles and hoping it will come true. After so many of them, I still haven’t grown boobs, gotten taller or won the lottery. When I decided to finally work on my fitness, I just did it. It wasn’t easy, but wishing on birthdays, waiting for New Year’s to make a better me and praying everyone else fatter than me wasn’t working. So, I had to get to work.

Before I started, I had to realize a few things:

1. If I really wanted it, I would make time for it
2. Yes, I do have time in my day
3. There are no excuses
4. I wish people in workout videos looked like normal people I could identify with and not jacked superheroes (which has nothing to do with anything, just an observation)
5. I’m ready to start

Step one: Set your goal, be realistic

My goal was to look good for the boyfriend’s redeployment in a year. I wanted to have more defined arms, tone legs and butt; not necessarily lose weight. I also wanted to be able to take the stairs and not sound like I’m having an asthma attack when I get to the top.

Step two: Start small, be smart

I don’t like to work out because I get bored and with routine. I don’t have a lot of free time where I’m not sleeping or finding domestic chores to turn into procrastination techniques.  So, I started with Fit TV on demand, chose a series of three 10-minute workouts and did them in my living room. Abs, arms, legs, butt, and some type of cardio. Everyone has at least ten minutes a day - EVERYONE. No, I didn’t do all three everyday, those were the areas I wanted to work on, so I did one a day. It was a good start for me, but I knew I wasn’t going to see results at just ten minutes a day. I don’t care what workout program you use or what nifty fitness gadget you bought that says in just minutes a day, you can whittle your waistline and get rid of unwanted cellulite, it’s not going to happen. But you start small and work your way up. For me it was about getting used to allotting the time to work out.

Step three: “Next level” your workouts

It was time to challenge my body after a few weeks. I don’t like routine and neither will you – so add more minutes to your workout. After about a month of working up to 30 – 40 minute workouts in front of my television, I hit a plateau. I knew I was going to have to do something different to keep seeing results. So, I incorporated weight training and Crossfit into my daily workouts … and running. It’s hard work. That means more time allotted to working out per day. To be honest, most days I would rather slam both of my thumbs into a car door than workout; but once I started seeing my body transform, I was motivated to push myself harder and set new goals.

Step four: Re-evaluate your goals

When I started working out, it was so I would look awesome for the boyfriend’s return. But, a year is a long time for me to get up at 4am every morning to get to the gym - just for the man. Because, let’s face it, after the initial ‘wow,’ what else is there? So, I adopted a non-routine that motivates me to maintain the hard work I’ve put into my body and set new personal goals. What’s my goal now? To maintain a healthy and fit lifestyle. And look good in the clothes I own so I don’t have to spend money fitting a fluctuating ass size.

Step five: Don’t give up

The first few weeks were the hardest for me. Getting started and committing wasn’t easy. In a society where we all want instant gratification, not seeing immediate results can be almost demotivating – how can it be so hard to lose all the pounds that were so easy to pack on? It’s easy to want to give up after a few weeks when you see you’ve only lost a pound or two. Then you go to put on your pants one day and see there’s room where there wasn’t any before … it’s an awesome feeling. Commitment to your goal and discipline will pay off, but understand it will take time. 

Step five and a half: Eat smart

I retired from dieting a long time ago. I started eating smart instead. That meant subbing healthy foods in place of cupcakes, Pringles, frosting, Coke and pizza - staples in my diet. I started drinking more water. Diet sodas are just as bad for you as regular sodas, so don’t play games with yourself because the can says zero calories. Giving up pop was like coming off crack for me, but I did it and so can you. You have to realize that you won’t lose weight just by working out, especially if you’re still stuffing your face with fast food and other junk. It doesn’t mean you can’t eat that slice of cheesecake, drink an occasional soda or indulge in a "cheat" meal every now and then. Just moderate your intake. You have to eat, though, and make sure you are getting all your nutrients even if it means taking a multi-vitamin. A word of caution:  combining exercise with an eating disorder will probably kill you, so don’t do that because you want to see immediate results – it’s counterproductive. You can’t flaunt anything in a coffin. FYI.

It’s taken me a long time to get where I am today, and I came from weighing almost 200 pounds 13 years ago. It didn’t take me 13 years to lose the weight; it just took me that long to learn how to do it right. I’m proof that normal people can achieve personal fitness goals if they commit and work hard. So, stop making excuses and waiting for the New Year; start making progress - now. Kids, work and life are obstacles you put in your way to excuse a lack of motivation. I know, I’m a self-proclaimed queen of procrastination. Set your goal and work towards it. If my lazy ass can do it, you know you can.

PS: Thank you, Rachel and Erin, my workout buddies. Never mind that you're both genetically gifted, athletic individuals, it's still motivating to have a 5 a.m. suicide buddy and a 5K partner.

Disclaimer: Some excellent resources for working out: FitTv, Bodyrocktv.com, your local gym and crossfit box, and Fighter Diet on Facebook featuring Pauline Nordine of the Butt Bible workout. As with any workout or diet program, you want to consult with your physician first. My results are probably not typical and could be said to be under the average, but then, I’m not an athlete. Good luck. 

My first 5K

Saturday, I ran my first 5k. It was the 2-38 CAV 5K Turkey Trot/Shadow Run and I did it because I thought it would be neat to run alongside my boyfriend who was also running it at the same time with his people in Afghanistan. It would have been neat, if he actually ran it, but he didn’t because of an injury. By the time I found out, I had already committed to the run – so, part of the ‘neatness’ was gone - but I was kind of excited about it, honestly.

Let me say that I think a lot of things are neat and I do them impulsively – sometimes that’s a hit or miss for me like the time I decided to try handstand pushups on my own. Big miss. Running a 5K with no previous training and not running more than a mile or two at a time is not the smartest thing I ever did.

So, in preparation, the night before, I decided to try and do a practice run on the treadmill. 5K is roughly 3.2 miles. I wanted to find a good but fast enough pace that would allow me to make it through the run without stopping, puking, dropping dead or looking like I was about to do any of the above.

After about two miles, my lungs were on fire. I decided to do the third-point-two mile in the morning before the run.

Don’t ask about the logic on that one. It made sense at the time.

In the morning, I did the other 1.2 miles and some weight training and felt good about the upcoming run. That is, until I got to the location of the run and saw how many kids were participating. I’m not a competitive person, but there’s something about not being as fast or having as much energy as a 10 year old that’s an ego buster for me. Quietly in my mind, I made a deal with myself that even though I would not leave my run buddy Erin behind, but I was not going to let these kids beat me.

Every single one of them beat me, unless they were in a stroller.

Don’t get me wrong, I am proud because, for never having run a 5k, we ran the entire way except about .25 miles of it that included a steep incline – my legs were not hearing that one at all. But sometime before the race, I had verbally challenged a 10-year-old girl who not only beat me by a whole 15 minutes, she made sure to flash her medal in my face - continuously. If she wasn’t so adorable, that medal would have mysteriously made it to the top of the barn at the ranch where the run took place. There is no shame in my game, people.

I would like to officially thank my two South African friends – who kinda sorta said they would not leave Erin and me behind during the run - for taking off like bats out of Hades – they were like gazelles. Especially the professional runner who insisted she had not trained in months … once a runner, always a runner. It was actually quite impressive and now I have a new goal: to run a 10K – or at least two 5Ks.

But I do need to send a special shout out to my run buddy, Erin. Erin, thank you for keeping my pace, I know you could have done it faster, even after the red bull and vodkas the night before, because you are in way better shape than me. There’s another 5k in Temple Thanksgiving morning.

Wanna do it?

Dear Haters: A Letter

So, I've been writing on this semi-fictitious book for the last 6 months and made it through two chapters. I figure if I post a little bit at a time, it will motivate me to write more. It's the true – if not slightly exaggerated - story of my rise and fall to local fame - some things I'm proud of, some not so much - but entertaining nonetheless. The people in it are real as are the events although I’ve changed the names to protect certain people from having to take accountability for their actions like a real grown-up should.
 
Dear Haters,

You will be pleased to know that I am typing this with my middle finger.

It has come to my attention that although I no longer live in the vicinity of Dramaville, the mere fact that I still exist bothers every one of you to the point that I am still the focal point of your gossip. Maybe you haven’t figured it out, but the more you talk about me, the more famous I will become. By trying to tarnish my professional and personal reputation, you’ve vaulted me to a kind of rock star status.

I suppose a small thank you is in order, without all of your incessant gossip and slander, I wouldn’t be as popular as I am today. I’ve become a … local celebrity – if you will. I always wanted to be famous, but imagined achieving that notoriety from being an A-list actress – unfortunately, that didn’t quite work out. You’ve spun stories of my supposed misadventures, misdeeds and whorish shenanigans that probably would have exhausted me, or killed me, had I actually had to do all of it myself. You know, I’m not even geographically local anymore, yet I’m still relevant in your conversations – which kind of makes me more than a local celebrity – it makes me national. And that kind of makes me giggle.

So, without further ado, I should probably thank a few people personally.

Let me start by thanking my former BFF for altering and airing my dirty laundry. There’s discretion and then there’s diversion, and even though all my mistakes and poor choices were made well within my social and marital status (single), by using me to divert attention from your own selective morals and indiscretions you unwittingly helped launch my local popularity. Thank you and I hope you enjoyed my hand-me-downs, I blessed both of those married bastards for you.

To the best friend - you were always there for me until it was no longer socially advantageous for you to be – thank you for always saying you had my back. I had no idea that meant talking behind it, but I suppose if you didn’t, most of what was and is going around about me wouldn’t be enough for anyone to believe. You can sell a story like you can sell your virtue to those who don’t know any better. Keep living ‘la vida loca’ honey! It suits you like the pound of make-up you paint on every morning to try and hide what’s underneath.

Every celebrity has to have a stalker and I would be remiss in not mentioning mine. I’ve never met you personally, but somehow you know me … and befriended all my frenemies. You deluded yourself into thinking I cared but I was merely amused that you were so threatened by my existence you felt the need to join in the hate parade. But you played your part so well; even opened up fake Facebook accounts to fake-mail people – as me! Well played, sister, well played.

If you’re wondering why I decided to finally reply to the high school, mean girl bullying, it’s because I found a way to be cleverly witty about it – and I’m bored. The truth is, I don’t care what you think about me. I am happy, but clearly you all are not. So, please, feel free to say anything negative or degrading about me if it gives you the confidence to get through your day – and even your life - because mine is pretty good. Granted, it’s not as exciting as you have made it out to be, but it’s good enough that I’m not counting anyone else’s blessings but my own. I’d say that’s a win.

I realize this entire situation is my fault – somehow. I have a big mouth with no filter. At least you know what I really think and you heard it from me first, not everyone else. I suppose that’s the real difference between me, and all of you. No, I take that back. The real difference is that I’m a grown ass woman who left high school back in 1992 – where it belongs.

So, in the middle school dialogue that you can understand, I dedicate this to you – my h8rz.

Sincerely,
Chick who doesn’t give a shit anymore

PS: Not talking about you, rock star. Anyone who can own up to being a bitch and leave it in the past is respectful in my book. Literally.

Underboob extravaganza? Why, yes, men love it ...

(Editor's Note: this is now the EX-BOYFRIEND)

So, since the Boyfriend has been deployed, I have been putting together care packages to send him every month. I mostly fill them with fat boy treats, sports magazines, his fave shows and cleaning/hygiene products … plus a few other items of “sentimental” value. I also include specialty magazines and movies for pleasurable tension relief – better known as porn.

One day, the Boyfriend and I were talking and he requested a specific magazine: American Curves. He said it wasn’t a nude magazine, just chicks in lingerie and bikinis posing. Finding it was a bitch, but once I did, I could see why he liked it. I, however, immediately disliked it and would have rather picked up an issue of MILF or Teen 'V.' See, porn chicks are just on the side of skank that I don’t feel I have to compete. The girls in American Curves … were probably still skanks, just a more classy skank - and I just can't pull of 'skank,' just classy. 

But, I sent it, and a few others, with a warning: if any of those pages made it to the walls in his “room,” next to our photos, he would be looking for a new girlfriend. (No, I wasn’t serious … kinda maybe a little). Needless to say, he was stoked.

Well, the new issue came out a week ago and I bought it. The feature teased in big, bold letters on the cover made me sad for the truth of how simple man-brains really are. It was the UNDERBOOB EXTRAVAGANZA issue – pages and pages of underboob shots. Girls posing in the park, in the gym, by the pool and other public locations in bikinis, tank tops, half tops, jersey tops, any tops – cropped to showcase the cleavage peeking out from under their tops. And … it was a big deal.And ... it made me laugh. Hard. Out loud. In the bookstore.

Really, guys? C’mon. I don’t want to ruin a fantasy, but my underboobs are not sexy after a workout - that's not baby oil dripping down my abs from my boobs. It's boob sweat. I imagine the equivalent for chicks would be ball cleavage. Coming out of shorts, peeking out of ranger panties and – if they hung low enough – the back shot while standing over the toilet. Ew.  Okay, not exactly the same. But kinda funny and definitely NOT sexy at all.

You know, you have to wonder why guys want to see pages of that when they could just watch porn or look through a more graphic mag. It’s like guys trick themselves into thinking they’re seeing something they shouldn’t because it’s peeking out under a shirt? What kind of mind games are men playing with themselves? If you’re seeing it, it’s because someone wants you to. That’s why they took the photos and printed them in the magazine you are holding in your hands right now.

Can’t wait for the underbutt issue, because I know there will be one. I can imagine the excitement over several pages of butt/thigh cleavage. Can I even begin to tell dudes what goes on down there after a good workout or long, hot sweaty tanning session? But I bet I’ll buy that one for the Boyfriend, too.

I’m an awesome girlfriend.