Can you say "foot in mouth"?

I had a delightful conversation with my boyfriend this morning. Here's the recap:

JP: What kind of workouts were you doing over the summer?

ME: Why?

JP: I saw some pictures of you and you looked really good. Skinny.

ME: So, does that mean I look fat now?

JP: No, I just think you should go back to whatever workouts you were doing then.

**Aside—I was in the middle of training for a triathlon, which included 5-6 workouts a week, sometimes twice a day.

ME: Thanks for ruining my day.

JP: I didn't mean anything bad. I just meant you looked good over the summer. Are you wearing bulkier clothes now?

ME: Grunt.

JP: You look stronger now. Really buff. Stronger than me.

ME: Aren't you late for work?

One plus pup

The last few weeks have been a bit of a challenge for me. I'm still been working out with my trainer, but those are about the only workouts I've done. Translated to: no cardio. This is actually really unusual for me because I enjoy running, especially in the early morning when no one's out. There's a reason for my cardio demise—I'm a mother! Sort of. I recently purchased a golden retriever puppy, Grace. She is an absolute delight! But since she's a puppy, I'm waking up several times throughout the night to take her out to the bathroom. My normally sleepless nights have become even more sleep-deprived. I'm not bothered by it though. She'll eventually get her routine down and then I won't be left with any excuses not to run. Hmm....I hope she remains a puppy forever!

Water is my friend

I had a nice run this morning. Nothing too crazy. Nothing too fast. And it felt good. The feeling didn't last long. When I was getting dressed for work, I pulled on a pair of pants and had to shimmy my way into them. Not good. Water diet from here on out.

Hmm...Maybe it's broken?

Every year, right before Thanksgiving, people start talking about their holiday weight gain. Some joke and say they're building their "winter coats" while others will describe delectable treats that contribute to their overindulging. For me, I never really bought into the idea of weight gain during the holidays. Probably because my weight never really changes—year round, I usually weigh about the same—and because I don't really like a lot of the traditional holiday foods. (Please note: It's actually quite frustrating that my weight doesn't change because who doesn't want to drop five, ten, or fifteen pounds, right?) Beginning on Wednesday of last week I made the conscious effort to curb my eating. I was focusing on veggies, minimal carbs, less salt—I was still hitting up the gym and running. So, imagine my surprise when I arrived at work this morning and weighed myself (my coworker and I have a weigh-in on Mondays). I weigh four pounds MORE than I did two weeks ago. What's up with that? I'm practically starving and yet, I weigh more. Yeah, I know that whole muscle weighs more than fat nonsense. But really? I'm annoyed. And I need a diet intervention ASAP.

Whoops!

It turns out my trainer knows a thing or two about this whole exercise bit. (Yes, I still have a trainer—can't afford to eat, but one-on-one training sessions are a must!) Yesterday during our session he kept telling me I was leaning over too much while doing squats with the kettlebell. Squatting is hard. Squatting with a 15-pound kettlebell that has to touch the ground each time is even harder. So when I would bend at the waist instead of going straight down, it felt a little better...at the time. Today, not so much. My back is aching and a I feel like an old maid. Luckily, I have happy hour plans which should ease my pain. Cheers!

Remember: The towel is your friend

I'll be the first to admit it—I'm a bit of a prude when it comes to certain things. One such being: the women's locker room at the gym. When I'm there, I like to get in, get out, and get on with my day, all while keeping my eyes down and with a blind eye. Other women...not so much. I find it so interesting (translate: disturbing) that some women can walk throughout the locker room naked and without a care in the world. Blowing drying one's hair in the nude—no biggie. Lotioning up from head to toe—eh, we've come across some dry. Yeah, yeah, I understand it's a locker room. People are showering and changing and it is all women, but still. Come on, how much does a towel weigh that a woman would opt out of wearing one while weighing herself?

It's on!

Well, it's official. I now have my very own personal trainer—at least for the time being. A friend of mine gave me the name and number to her trainer and I had my first session last night. I tend to get a little anxious when I start a new gym class or workout and apparently there was reason for concern...this trainer is tough! Not unbearable and he was very nice, but I can definitely see this is going to be a good challenge for me. I can't wait!

Is One-on-One the Way to Go?

I had my first and perhaps only personal training session this week (a free session is given to new clients of the gym). After failing my fitness test, I wasn't sure what to expect. Actually no, that's not true. I was expecting to be destroyed by the trainer. But that didn't happen, and I'm a little bummed by it. We did some basic weight machines and stretches and I felt good throughout the hour-long session. I did not feel like I was in "fair" shape as my fitness assessment concluded unless the trainer wasn't really pushing me as hard as she should have been. Whatever the case, I survived and I feel reinvigorated. And a little smug.

Friends of Fat

Last week I enrolled at a new gym and as a new member, I was given a free fitness analysis. I'm always a sucker for free things so, why not give it a try? This is basically how the meeting went.

Trainer: Your body composition (i.e., body fat) is too high. You're obese.

Me: Oh, bummer. But I work out a lot.

Trainer: You're doing the wrong types of workouts. You need a personal trainer.

Me: Oh, okay.

A lovely way to start the day, don't you think?

You got to dress for success

In lieu of working out this morning, I wore my running shoes to work. That counts for something, right? Yes, yes it does.

To tri or not to tri

So, I'm contemplating whether or not I should still do the triathlon I'm signed up for next month. It's an Olympic distance (1.5K swim, 40K bike, and 10K run) and it's down in D.C. Most of my teammates are registered and I know it would be fun to head out of town for a few days but I'm not sure if I'm ready. There is actually a sprint triathlon that same weekend, a little closer to home, that I may do instead. I just don't know...

Monday Morning Coming Down

Ever get those Monday blues? I 'm a little embarrassed to admit that the blues and I are old friends. Actually, more like constant enemies. So, to defeat today's battle I made sure to attend my boot camp class after work. And I love me some boot camp, so there should have been a silver lining at the end of my day. Not so much. I headed to class fairly tired but determined to get in a good workout. You know, something to save me from my funk. The thing with boot camp though is that it's taught by a few ex-marines who love to pick on you. Yell at you. Hit you. Uh, yeah. Sometimes they throw a few (harmless) punches. I guess it's meant to get you riled up. That doesn't work for me. 

In the middle of our push up set, one of the instructors came over and slapped my arm. And I mean slapped. It really hurt. He did it again. And again. Usually I'm okay taking the abuse but not today. I told him if he hit me again, I was leaving. And guess what—he stopped. I won the battle but my mood took a turn for the worse! Okay, so there may have been a tear or two rolling down my check but people could have mistaken it for sweat. Plus, I always get really red when I work out, so that could explain my flushed face. Yeah, that's it. Sweat and I was really hot.

Foe No More!

I conquered the pool…or at least today’s swim workout. As a member of a triathlon club in NY, each week I’m sent a schedule of swim, run, and bike workouts that I’m supposed to follow. *Supposed to* being the operative words. Up until a few weeks ago—before I decided to boycott training (bigger issue to be discussed later) —the run and bike portions were usually no biggie. The swim now, that’s my Achilles heel. It’s what distinguishes the triathletes from the duathletes—or so they say. (Who are “they”? Beats me.) Anyway, I’d take a quick gander at the swim schedule and do a ball-park, make-shift workout on my own. Hey, swimming is really hard. I survived the pool all these years by either not swimming or by doing the ever so popular doggy paddle. But that was the old me. Today I printed out the workout, put it in my plastic sheet protector and headed to the gym. After the first twenty minutes, I wanted to die. Or at least go and get lunch. But no. “Swim on” I kept telling myself. I’m not sure if it was the image of Starbuck frappuccinos dancing in my head or if, daresay, I’m actually improving, but drill after drill I plowed on. I actually started to feel pretty good once I got my rhythm down. I left the gym looking a bit of a fright and with a horrible case of goggle-eyes, but with a smile on my face. As a reward for my hard work, and because I forgot my lunch, I treated myself to a Subway sandwich. Eat fresh.

NYC half—mishap

Today was supposed to be a pretty big day for me—running wise. I was registered for the NYC half marathon and seeing that I'm training for the NY marathon this coming November, I really needed to get in a long run. But the universe was working against me. My boyfriend went to pick up our numbers yesterday but for some reason, the lady handling the registration wouldn't let him grab mine. This rarely happens. So, my next and only option was to pick up my number by 6am today. This sounds reasonable, right? Except instead of going to bed early like I planned, I met my boyfriend for a drink, which in turn led to two. Still optimistic that I would run in the morning, I set my alarm for 5:00am only to shut it off, fall back asleep, and wake up at 6:07am. Needless to say, I did not run. I spent the morning watching the race coverage on the news, feeling guilty minute by minute. What are you going to do? Hardcore training starts tomorrow. No excuses. 

Better late than never...

I’m a very goal-oriented person. I like to aim for something and push myself until I attain whatever it is that I’ve dreamt up. A few months ago, nay a few years ago, I decided I wanted to do a triathlon. It wasn’t until the beginning of the summer that I firmly decided I would start training for one. I joined a team, bought a bike and a whole lot of gear, and I was on my way. Last weekend I participated in my first race—sort of. The swim portion was canceled due to unsafe water conditions; it was replaced by a 1.5 mile run. No biggie. I’m a runner and have been so for years. During the 15.5 mile bike portion, it started to sprinkle. Then rain. Then thunder and lightning hit. Needless to say, these weren’t the optimal conditions for riding a bike. Regardless, I plowed through and was about to start the final run when I heard over the loud speaker that the race was canceled. Canceled? It was heartbreaking. My first triathlon turned into a duathlon that I couldn’t even finish. But that’s not the end of my tri days. I have another one coming up in September, and I know it couldn’t get any worse. Could it?