Almost to the end of Week 1 of my personal fitness challenge. (Don’t ask me how many weeks there will be. I haven’t gotten there yet).
This week’s goals were:
- Add: green smoothies
- Subtract: soda
- Exercise: 3 times
All were a success, I am proud to report. It was surprisingly easy to get out of bed at 5a, even on Monday. This week was boxing, barre (PureBarre specifically), & spin (FlyWheel). Boxing was a lot of fun. There’s something very rewarding about getting out of bed on a Monday morning, then beating the shit out of something. My legs actually ended up being more sore than my arms. Maybe I don’t punch that hard? He had us doing squats in between rounds (8 rounds of 3 minutes with a 1 minute rest in between). Chase that with barre the following day and by Wednesday, I literally almost fell when I got out of bed. I caved and bought some biking shorts after having bruises on my “birthing bones” for days after the last class. It still hurt, but I bounced back a lot more quickly. I seriously have no idea how guys do it. They also have seat pads which I’ll ask for next time. There’s no such thing as too much padding. I thought briefly about not getting out of bed on Thursday for spin. Then I thought “You paid $50 for those damn shorts. Get your ass out of bed”. Thus, the bed was unassed.
Soda was remarkably easy to cut out. I haven’t cut out coffee or tea, but I limited myself to 2 coffee runs this week. I only went on my rest days. Otherwise, I drank a massive amount of water when I got to work. I also got some fizzy waters to stash in my desk. There’s no such thing as too much fizzy water. I made a smoothie as my afternoon snack all week. They ended up more like a slushie because I was using frozen fruit. Adding a banana seemed to help even out the texture / temperature. I tried to be mindful of what I ate for lunch, too. I’m not going to restrict myself on the weekends. I like the whole 80 / 20 principle. I also start new week counts on Monday because it’s just easier.
I weighed and measured myself last Sunday to give myself a baseline. I haven’t set a “goal weight” or measurements. It’s more just a way to track progress. If I see any change this week, it will be minimal. Frankly, if I had a “goal weight”, it would be about 15 lbs under what I am now. That’s wildly unrealistic and I know it. I actually lost about 7-8 lbs when I moved after breaking up with Boy. I’ve been at the weight I am now, give or take a few pounds, since mid-March. Hrm. Everyone’s body has an equilibrium (for lack of a better term) when it comes to weight. I’d say I’m right about where I need to be given my body composition. Since the rational part of my brain is in charge right now, I’m fine with that.
Next week’s goals are:
- Add: green smoothies, lean (mostly vegetarian) protein
- Subtract: soda, candy (Bye, bye Sour Patch Kids)
- Exercise: 3 times (I’m scheduled for barre, boxing, & hot yoga)
Watch what happens.
Y’all I have been having an awesome body week.
Last week was my first pole class. After much thought, I signed up for the 8 week series. I shoved all my excuses (“It’s too late. I don’t want to be in class that late!” “What if the other girls don’t like me?” “What if I’m the weakest one in class?”) to the side and signed up. There are all shapes, sizes, colors, and flavors. I can’t do a pull up, but I can stretch myself into shapes most people only dream of. I walked out smiling and that was the point. I still have a bruise on my knee from my first attempt at a spin. This week’s lesson is learning to properly walk in heels. Hilarity will ensue.
In that same span, Boy has decided to run a 5k. He gets a discount on his health insurance if he participates in some kind of fitness program. I thought “What the hell, I’ll come along”. We downloaded the Couch to 5k apps & have finished the first 2 workouts. Running for 60 seconds is way harder than it looks. Up a hill. In Georgia. In July. Now I see just how nuts my dad is for running marathons (Sidenote – he’s been home from the hospital for almost 2 months now. Woohoo!). We’ll get back sweating and panting with our various body parts screaming. Then once we’ve rehydrated and cooled off, it’s a case of “Fuck yeah! Go team! *high five*”. We’ll finish the program on the day of the race. Go team^2!
Lastly, I’m participating in Radical Self Love July on Instagram. It’s a set of suggestions from Gala Darling for things to post during the month. Day 1 was a ridiculous selfie (my soul cries a little when I write that down). Day 2 is post a picture of your idol and a brief explanation why. If you wish to follow my antics, I’m RetroIndieQueen. The bed head post day [July 25] will traumatize small children. You have been warned. If you want to join me on this month of insanity, search #radicalselflovejuly for the full list of ideas. All of this babbling brings me back to my opening line…
I haven’t once in the last week looked at myself in the mirror and thought “ew”. I’ll get dressed for work & think “Looking good, girlfriend”. I spent almost all of last week wearing heels to work after months of running around in flats. I can stash them in my desk and wear practical shoes to drive. Who knew?! I’ve tapped into some deeply buried part of me that was itching to be seen. I’m not a fade into the background kind of gal. Even before I had all the tattoos and a very distinctive personal style, the proverbial record player would screech when I walked into a room. Maybe it’s because I’m tall. Maybe it’s because I’m loud. Maybe it’s some unholy combination of the two with a dash of charm thrown in. My dad is the same way. You *know* when he walks in a room. I spent a long, long time trying to push that back. I didn’t want to be seen. I didn’t want to be heard. I was too embarrassed by all the broken pieces that people didn’t even know existed. I lay it all out on here because it’s one less thing to be dragging around. It’s a lot harder to look good in heels when you’re dragging dead weight behind you. Don’t even think about running while dragging all of that shit. I can’t remember the last time I went an entire week without finding something to pick at. I’m taking care of my body in ways I enjoy. I’m taking part in a larger project that will involve me making an ass of myself on the Internet. That nasty little voice isn’t being heard over the fabulousness that is my inner RuPaul. Lord knows Ru can outdo pretty much anything. I’ll let her take over for a little while. Nasty little voice can keep chilling the hell out in the corner.
P.S. Lipstick totally makes it look like you made an effort. Try it sometime.
An odd phenomenon has been happening in my head recently. Silence. Normally my brain runs a million miles an hour propelled by hamsters on steroids banging on pots and pans. Lately, especially when I’m trying to think about something work related, my brain goes quiet. I’m not necessarily complaining. It’s nice to have a little peace and quiet in there. It’s just jarring. I downloaded a meditation app over the weekend. I think it might actually be working. I’m on Day 3 out of 10. My brain has been more quiet in the past 5 days than probably the past 5 years. I’m not feeling the compulsive need to constantly be doing something. Yes, I have plenty to do, but I’m not in full on panic mode. There isn’t a damn thing I can do about the situation I’ve been presented with. I’ve done what I can. Now it’s up to someone else to do their part. Once they’ve done their part, it’s back to me. I know I’m 100% capable of mastering what’s been laid before me. I know my employee is 100% capable of mastering her part of the process once we have the proper programs and training. I trust my other 2 to keep their systems running without me babysitting them. There have been a few hiccups, as happens, but nothing that has sent me into one of my epic tail spins. I’ll take this as long as I can. There’s much to be said for staying steady with your boss’ boss’ boss asking about the progress of something “urgent”. All that said…
I made the decision recently to scale back my membership at the dance studio. I’ve been kicking myself for “wasting” classes since I renewed the membership in January. I currently have the 30 class / month membership. I called the studio and asked for my activity over the past 3 months. The most I’ve ever used is 14. There’s a lower level membership of 10 classes / month. That seems much more reasonable given my situation. Since I’ve been promoted, things have been far less predictable. Some days I can walk out at 430 on the nose, other days I’m pushing 6. I’ve also discovered the gym in my apartment complex. It doesn’t make much sense to beat myself up over something I love. Earlier today, I was close to texting a (dance teacher) friend of mine and saying “Tell me to grab the ladyballs & try out this technique class”. That doesn’t do anyone any good. My current studio is very squarely in the “recreation” category. The focus is on dance based fitness classes with minimal technique. While the other studio has fitness classes, their focus is more on technique, training, and aspiring professional dancers. As it stands right now, my life doesn’t allow me to consistently go to a class such that I could progress at the rate I want (read – impossibly high standards).
I’ve always been very sensitive to the fact I’m in dance limbo. I started when I was 13, much later than most dancers. I had to take an adult class for several years because I wasn’t at the same level as other dancers my age. I stayed hardcore into dance, progressed quickly, and then stagnated when I was 19. I didn’t take classes regularly again until I was 23. By that point, the technique I’d learned before was all but gone. I haven’t really improved since then. On the flip side, if someone began as an adult, they can devote more time and pick things up more quickly. I was insanely intimidated when I first walked into the training studio. Not only did I walk in late, I walked into a class of people who, as it were, outclassed me. It’s not much fun if I’m thinking “Holy crap, everyone is looking at me! I can’t do this! They’re all laughing! That 10 year old has better technique!”. In the end, it’s fairly simple. If it looks like fun, go for it. If I hate it, no one is going to make me go back. That’s not love, that’s self harm. I’ve had quite enough of that in my life thankyouverymuch.
Maybe that’s where all the hamsters went.