Tuesday, March 08, 2011
Tonight was my gymís first Stride class. Iíve never done the Insanity videos, but Stride is supposed to be pretty similar. My gym describes it as ďa combination of high intensity cardio intervals and plyometric training designed to take your body to maximum fat burning and develop strength using your own body resistanceĒ. Iím ALL for fat burning and strength development and Iíve been pretty curious lately to see how Iíd do with Insanity. [I donít have the money for the DVDs; but ever since I really started amazing the crap outta myself with my physical abilities, Iíve wanted to push this and see just what Iím capable of.] I hadnít definitively decided to take the class until about half an hour beforehandÖI was pretty scared about how my knees would handle it, especially having googled the Insanity fit tests. The instructor assured me I could always jog or march in place if I couldnít do something or needed a break and she encouraged me to come. Ok, youíre on!
Oh. My. God. I have never, NEVER sweated so much in my life. Keep in mind that I sweat profusely (Iím normally so wet at the end of an hour that I look like some sort of sea beast) and am no stranger to dripping the excess bodily fluids that my sweat towel misses all over the floor. Holy crap, it was just pouring down my face blinding me--Iím gonna need me a scuba mask next week to prevent an accidental drowning.
Normally I have this real stubbornness about pushing myself too far. Just because I CAN do something, I DO it, even when Iím huffing, turning eggplant purple, and my heart rate monitor says Iím about 5 seconds away from needing the paddles. I know itís stupid but I think it stems from starting off so unfit and so limited in what I *could* do. Now I do whatever I can as long as it doesnít hurt to the point of alarm. Also, no matter how intense or easy my workout is, I normally always make sure I get my hour of cardio in. Not tonight. Tonight I was working so hard freakin hard, I felt absolutely no shame in jogging and marching cuz I KNEW I was still having a kickass workout; and when class ended, so did my cardio.
The best part is how unstoppable the class made me feel. I started off so scared of hurting my knees. As class progressed and they didnít hurt any worse than during kickboxing, I started to let go of my fear. The instructor had us doing some pretty explosive moves that I was pretty sure would hurt. Things that reminded me of a windmill: you start in a squat with your legs together, then burst up in the air, moving your legs out like youíre doing a jumping jack and moving your arms straight up and then around in a circle as you land. Mountain climbers (which I had to do slower to prevent painóbut I *could*/*did* do them). And the thing that made me feel like a force to be reckoned with: starting off with three little squats (legs apart) and then jumping up and pulling your knees as high as you could. Not to mention the ab work, which made me feel like I was gonna die but in this total ďI KNOW Iím doing something great for my body. Man, this sucks. Thanks for making me push myself!Ē kind of way.
And I did a ridoculous amount of ST. I was at the gym for 2 Ĺ hours.
Iím looking forward to be sore as s*** tomorrow. I ~will~ be a BAMF. Oh yes, I will.
Monday, March 07, 2011
Mission: Repeat your Mission TWO this weekend, adapted as best you can for the weekend.
(Original Mission: abs on 2-3 out of 4 days for 45-75 minutes total; do AT LEAST 100 minutes of dedicated cardio; find one small thing that motivates you and find a way to save it.)
Abs: MAJOR FAIL. Did maybe 5-10 minutes on Sunday only
Cardio: 120 minutes
Motivation: did Friday and Saturday, missed Sunday
This was NOT a good weekend. Friday's cardio kicked my azz to the point I didn't feel like I could scrape any ST out (plus I missed the new mission posting and didn't know what I was "supposed" to work out until late). When the backache I woke up with Saturday finally wore off, I was well into the "eff it" mentality that lasted me the rest of the weekend. Hi, depression! Hi, no self worth! I see you didn't abandon me after all. Only playing hide-and-seek, huh?
Sunday, March 06, 2011
Not in entirety. For the first time in my life, there are things about my body that I actually like. But the things I donít like, I hate with a fiercer passion than ever before.
For about 6-8 weeks, Iíve consistently been having fat and ugly days. You know, days where, even though youíre not any bigger (maybe youíre even smaller), you see a huge fat monster in the mirror; or where you can dress up, do your hair nice, put on makeup, and still look and feel fugly as hell. I thought it was because Iíd plateaued and then (right after finally losing a couple pounds) gained weight over my birthday. The fat and ugly days let up for a week or two but have been back this week. I canít stop obsessing over how much plastic surgery Iím going to need to not look like a totally disgusting, revolting she-beast of a blob. And how thereís no way that Iíll ever be able to afford plastic surgery, so I am, in essence, doomed to forever be trapped in this disappointment of a body.
See, when I started losing weight, I obviously knew I had stretch marks permanently scarring a massive majority of my body. I donít remember thinking too much about how weight loss would affect them, but whatever thought I spared certainly didnít include anticipating weight loss WORSENING their appearance. And I honestly thought thatóaside from the stretch marksó164 pounds post-weight loss would look the same way as 164 pounds pre-weight loss. Same basic weight distribution, same trouble areas, same shortcomings. I never thought that Iíd frickin sag; and although I was worried about loose skin, I convinced myself that I wouldnít have any because I couldnít bear the idea. But guess what? I was wrong on all accounts. I look measurably worse than I did last time I weighed this muchóand I HATED how I looked then. [I *literally* starved myself to get to this weight, threw up to maintain it, and only stopped because I couldnít maintain that level of self control.]
Growing up, I hated how fat I was and as a teenager always dreamt of wearing a bikini as motivation. Now Iíll never, ever be able to wear one, barring extensive plastic surgery. My torso is a ruined mess. My whole chest area is a wreck. My gut, which has always been a problem area, is not only still a problem area but is *covered* in hideous shiny stretch marks and wrinkly, stretched out skin. (To all those people that say ďRemember, you didnít gain the weight overnight and you canít lose it overnight eitherĒ, yeah, I pretty much DID gain it overnight, and my body ainít letting me forget it.) The worst part of all is the regret, sadness, and anger I feel at myself for the choices I made that led to my body-wrecking weight gain. Every time I look in the mirror, it reminds me of the very worst time of my life and the biggest, most life-altering mistakes I made that continue to cause me severe, unavoidable emotional pain. Seeing myself makes me want to simultaneously cry and kick my own ass. I made some really f***ing stupid decisions, in no small part because I was in such a bad place mentally, and I destroyed my body as a result.
I donít need a ďperfect bodyĒ. (I mean, Iíll admit that that desire has been a huge propelling impetus for weight loss for many, many years, and getting over it would probably take some work in and of itself.) I *do*, however, NEED to look in the mirror, after working so hard to change my body, and feel good about what I see. I need my reflection to trigger feelings of pride, not some screwed-up hybrid of pride and self-recrimination. I do feel just pride when I think about what Iíve accomplished.; when the mirrorís involved, though, itís a totally different story. I donít know how to deal with this.
Friday, March 04, 2011
Do you want to be fat? Do you seriously want to never fit into your new workout tank top thatís been in your dresser for 2 months, which youíve been waiting to wear until you shrink your back fat? Because if you keep eating peanut butter straight out of the jar like a crackhead thatís just scored, thatís whatís gonna happen. How many days has it been this week? 3? 4? You know better! You CANNOT keep doing this. You did so well yesterday staying away from it. You started today well, deciding to have a turkey sandwich instead of a PB&J. Deciding to add a teaspoon to your banana wouldíve been ok if youíd stopped *there*, but did you stop there? Noooo. You feel guilty while you do it because you know youíre gonna regret it--and you DO regret it--yet you continue doing it! STOP IT. RIGHT NOW. No peanut butter for at least a week. You need to learn some self-control before you open that damn jar again.
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