Deck the Halls with OW OW OW OW. . .

Because I work for a college, I get TWO WEEKS OFF AT CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!!

I Snoopy Dance every time I think of it.

Because 2 weeks off is AWESOME.

Because I am OFF, I have time to drive all the way to the Island to work out with Gabe!

Let me explain something to those of you who do not live in South Texas.

One of the nice things about living here is that everything is 30 minutes away.  We have virtually no traffic.

Having lived in Los Angeles, San Francisco and Phoenix, I can tell you that the short commute is awesome.

Until you live here a few years. 

Then you realize that everything important is only 5 minutes away.

Five minutes to church.

Five minutes to work.

Five minutes to the grocery store.

Five minutes to V-Fit.

So going ALL THE WAY to the Island feels far. Really, really far.  Hell, I pack a lunch to travel to the other side of the freeway.

Today I went to work out with Gabe.

Good ol' Gabe.

Quiet, gentle Gabe.

First thing he makes me do?  Walk outs.  Then burpees.  Then more walkouts.  Then suicides, push ups, and more walkouts.  Oh yeah -- they have this big rope.  I think it's for mooring ships in hurricane force winds.  It's about 5 inches thick.  I have to take one rope in each hand, squat, and then whip the rope as hard as I can.  So fun.  For about 30 seconds.  Then it's pure agony.

Basically, Gabe hasn't changed a bit.

I can't wait to go to the Island tomorrow! 

Giving out my number. . . .

I have a new goal. 

Well, it's actually about a month old, but I've been too chickenshit to write it on the blog.

See, with the Challenge over, I need something to keep me moving.

I need something to keep me progressing.

I worked out a whole year before this last challenge.  I saw some pretty good results.  Slowly but surely, the weight was coming off.  Six months after my last baby was born -- June, 2008 --I went to the doctor and stepped on the scale.

It said X98.

I am going to pretend that you have no idea which integer the X represents.  I know that you know that it's a whole number between 1 and 3, but you are too polite to notice.  Thanks.  I appreciate it.  You know how Kirstie Alley lost a bunch of weight after dancing with the stars and told everyone she was 105 when she was really more like 140?  I totally get that.

When I started working out with V Fit in July 2010 I was at X77. In 2 years, I dropped 21 lbs.

By the time the last challenge started, I was down to X59. In 1 year of working out harder than I ever have in my life, I was down 18 lbs.

More importantly, of course, I had dropped blood pressure significantly, stabilized my blood sugar and was no longer considered pre-diabetic. I was also very strong and people started telling me how great I looked.

To some people, 18 lbs sounds like a lot of weight.  For me, it was less than 10% of my total body weight. 

When we started 2011's challenge, I wanted to have an impact.  I wanted to win dammit!

So I went to weightfuckingwatchers and worked out harder than before.

Ninety days after the challenge, I was at X44. I had lost 15 lbs.

Amazing the difference those annoying little 15 lbs made.

My clothes, which were getting baggy, simply did not fit anymore.  People who hadn't seen me in a long time really noticed a difference.  One friend thought I lost 100 lbs.  He wasn't trying to flatter me -- he's not that great a friend.

The fact is, since I'd seen him almost 4 years ago, I had lost 54 lbs.

But now the challenge is over. 

And I want to keep it up.

Not the weightfuckingwatchers part.  I'll be honest -- I quit WFW about a month after I started.  Because I hate it.  (Have I mentioned that before?).  I hated giving them $13 every week just so I could step on their fucking scales.  So I decided to step on my OWN fucking scale and pay myself $10.  I call it Date Watchers because when I meet my goal, we're getting a babysitter.

I do like the concept of losing 15 lbs though.

I like it kinda a lot.

But the thing is, I don't have a very public competition to motivate me.

Until now.

Here is the new goal:

By 2/1/12, I will be down to at least 229 by working out 5 or more times a week and eating at least 7 servings of fruits and vegetables a day.

I did it.  I said the number. 

Now everyone knows what I weigh.

I know you knew it already, but jeez.  Seeing it in writing, it looks so. . . .big.

Big in that 229 is still a big number. 

But 15 lbs is even bigger.   

Like a Virgin

If you've been reading my blog for any length of time, you know that I work out at V-Fit Studio.  You know that Gabe "The Silent Assassin" is my primary trainer and the studio is owned by Victor.

Handsome Victor.  Dreamy Victor. Victor the Giver. 

Vic the Basterd. 

Last week, Gabe wasn't feeling well, so I did my workout with Vic.  Vic, true to form, came up with a deceptively simple workout, then made me do 10 sets.  With suicides in between.  TEN sets.

Gabe only makes me do 5.

What the hell, it was only for a day.  Besides, Victor is funny, and he flirts, and he laughs at all my jokes.  It didn't hurt that bad. 

Then on Tuesday, Gabe is still not in, so Victor helps me again.  He gives me 10 lb weights and tells me what to do. 

I say "Actually, Gabe has me use 12 lbs on this one".

Victor smiles and says "trust me".

Uh oh.

Victor has an interesting new regimen. 

Low weight, high reps, no rest, many many many sets.

Many many MANY sets.

And no rest in between.

Whimper.

My arms are sore.  Not the pang of muscles pushed hard for a long time.  Not the sore that I get after Gabe puts me through my paces. 

My arms are sore as in I-have-never-worked-out-my-whole-life-and-I-think-I-overdid-it-my-first-time sore.  My muscles burned so much you could have lit a cigar with my shoulder. 

Haven't I been working out for OVER A YEAR?

Haven't I been doing things I could NEVER do before?  Like push ups from my toes, dips, walkouts and don't forget the Around-the-Fucking-Worlds.  Haven't I participated in TWELVE 5Ks?  Didn't I just WIN the CHALLENGE??????????????

Apparently, all that is behind me.

It would be OK if it was just for a day or two, while Gabe is out.

Apparently, Gabe is going to open the new facility on the Island.

Gabe got promoted.

Dammit. 

I mean, good for Gabe!  He deserves it!

So I get Victor.  Dreamy, Handsome, Sadistic Victor.

And I'm starting all over again.

Vic. And Gabe.  I know they are good looking, but DAMMIT!

My Intervention

After a killer-owie Leadership Workout on Saturday, a couple of fellow sufferers joined me for breakfast.

We spent much of the time gloating about how well we did on our stats that morning.  Victor did a mid-challenge weigh in.  As a group we lost over 50 lbs!  That's as much as last year's group did FOR THE WHOLE CHALLENGE! 

We're a little excited about it.

Excited enough to go to breakfast.

Not excited enough to get french toast though.  My breakfast had spinach in it.  Yeah.  I still wanna win.

One of my companions complimented me on my journey.  She also gave to to me straight.

"You have to get rid of the skort". 

The other girls nodded silently in agreement. 

"But I love my skort!  I can exercise without looking as if I've peed my pants!"

"I know", she said gently.  "I know you like it.  But it doesn't look good on you.  It's time to let it go."

I wanted to scream and cry and tell her she was wrong! wrong! wrong! wrong!  There is nothing wrong with the skort!  I can put it away anytime I want to.

But in my heart, I knew she was right.

The skort was a crutch.

How can I criticise other people's unfortunate fashion choices if I am going to continue to wear the skort? 

I would be living a lie.

Thanks to my good friends Mary, Rachel & Megan, I got the courage I needed to put the skorts -- all three of them -- in the Goodwill bag.

Goodbye dear friend!  *Sniff!*

And thank you!

The skort saw me through tire tosses



Suicides.  And burpees.



70's day

I'll never forget the day we danced

Good Thing It's Not About Looks. . .

Many people work out so they can look fitter, skinnier, prettier.

I have said all along that my goal is NOT about how I look, but how healthy I am.

What is important is good blood, fit joints and strength.

Not looks.

Good thing.  'Cause this ain't pretty.



Dips.  I am balancing on one heel and dipping my fat ass then pulling it back up.  Couldn't do these in High School.

Another year of AWESOME!

Today we began the SECOND ANNUAL LEADERSHIP FITNESS CHALLENGE!

The Leadership Fitness Challenge is where it all started for me.  One of my biggest pet peeves is people who say "This changed my life!".  So I am not going to say that.

I will say that this enriched my life.  With fitness, yes, but also with friends, challenges and new kinds of fun. 

This time, I am the leader for my College because our president has one of those schedules that makes you tired just to look at it.  He would do it, but I decided that I would be the leader this year because I KNOW I can make all the workouts and I really want to beat Spohn Hospital.  Not that I am competitive or anything.

I was looking at some shots from the very first LEADERSHIP FITNESS CHALLENGE.

This was after I fell off this damn thing but had to get up and pretend it didn't hurt.  Becasue I was embarassed.

Let's just say that I've come a long way.

Here's to a new year of awesome!  And to beating Spohn Hospital!

The real reason why I love Victor. . ..

I've written about Vic before.

He owns V-Fit -- the fitness studio where I work out.  The place where I was first able to do triceps curls and "real" push ups.  The place where I have been able to drop my blood pressure, blood sugar, and bra size.  The place where I have met wonderful friends who encourage me to try, fail and try again.

That's not why I love Vic.

Vic assigned me to work out with Gabe.  Gentle, kind Gabe who doesn't shout, doesn't sneer and doesn't take excuses.  We call Gabe the "Silent Assassin" because he very quietly kills you with his workouts.  I call him "Silent but Deadly".  Seriously -- he worked my back & shoulders two days ago.  I am still sore.  Did you know your armpits could hurt?  Despite the pain, Gabe has been a wonderful coach, mentor and friend.

That's not why I love Vic.

Vic is slightly hot looking.  If you like guys with perfectly tone bodies, chiseled bone structure, shiny black hair and the deepest, dreamiest brown eyes since Greg Afuso.  And he's mostly straight!  (Just kidding. He's all the way straight.)  (He is pretty Metro though.  I love Metro guys!)  On more than one occasion, friends of mine have seen Victor and come to me drooling.  "HE is your trainer!  OMG I want to work out with you!"  Of course they never show up, the cowards.

That's not why I love Vic.

It was yesterday that I realized exactly why I love him. 

Yesterday was the 5K I ran for June.  As you may know, I have run one 5K every month since October 2010.  Yesterday I finished my 9th.  Wow.  Nine.  That's a lot. 

That's not why I love Vic.

It was one of the most enjoyable 5K's I've run.  It was at sunrise on the beach.  Sounds romantic, right?  Sunrise in June is the only time you can run without getting heat stroke.  But it was still pretty frigging hot.

I haven't done a lot of running on the beach.  It's more challenging that running on the road.  For one thing, you have to scoot around to find sand that's not too soft.  We were kinda zig-zagging all over the place.  I am pretty sure we covered more than 3.1 miles.  Felt like 10. 

I was proud of myself becasue I ran the whole first half no problem.  At the turn around, I was running pretty close to the water.  By then my feet were sore and hot, but I still had more than a mile to go.  A wave came in and soaked my feet. 

I wasn't happy to have my expensive shoes all wet, but lemme tell ya -- that water felt GOOD!

I kept running in & out of the water, until my shoes got so waterlogged it was like running with 15 lb weights on my feet.  Gabe makes me run with 15 lbs weights on my feet, so I know what I am talking about.

It was the beach.  The water felt good.  My shoes were heavy.  I was going slow.

I figured "Fuggit -- I'm taking my shoes off".  So I did.

Running in bare feet in the soft South Texas surf felt WONDERFUL.

That's not why I love Vic.

I love him because he put on this 5K to help the victims of the Mississippi Floods.

He raised $800.

I realized yesterday that Vic is always doing that.  He set up a scholarship for students to attend Del Mar College. He raised money for Tsunami victims.  He participated in Toys for Tots. He hosted a run for Metro Ministries.  He finds ways to raise money for those in need.

I love Vic because Vic is a giver.

He's not rich yet.  He's still building his business.  But he's not waiting until he has "extra" money to give.  He gives now.    I met Vic when he donated his services for the Mayor's Fitness Challenge last summer. The retail cost of that challenge was over $2000, just for me. We had 13 people in that challenge. Vic -- who was just opening his business -- essentially gave us $26,000.00.

So not only did Vic give me a safe and comfortable place to become my best physical self, he gave me and my community thousands of dollars. 


Vic's business is growing.  He and Gabe are expanding into another location, they are increasing their clientele, and they are bringing new and exciting services to our community.  That's not an accident.  The great sales and self-actualization guru Zig Ziglar said "You can have everything you want in life as long as you help other people get what they want in life."  Vic is helping me get what I want in life.  I hope he earns MILLIONS.  Billions. 

In fact -- if you live in South Texas, check out V-Fit.  Take a couple of classes.

You will love Vic too.

My very first day working out with Vic

Just one of many successes since I started working out with V-Fit





Here We Go Again . . .

Kirstie is working out hard with DWTS and she's dropped a few dress sizes. 

Good for you Kirstie!

She says:  ". . . the other thing that’s really more significant to me — I mean, I love the whittling, I like being skinny — I’m really strong and really agile and it gave me a new life.”

How did it give you a new life K?

What exactly is different?  Your hair hasn't changed.  (You love your highlights, don't you?)

You've been skinny lots of times. 

Star Trek.
Cheers
Look Who's Talking
Parker Stevenson
Jenny Craig

You've been fat lots of times too:

Fat Actress
Veronica's Closet
Post Parker Stevenson
Post Jenny Craig

The problem is, when you are fat, you behave as if you are somehow unworthy.  You kvetch to Star and People and whoever will talk to you about how "disgusting" you feel and how "ashamed" you are. 

Kirstie -- YOU BANGED PARKER STEVENSON.  Do you know how many women would have LOVED to be in your shoes?  You have a life.  A really, really cool life.  You have a cool life when you are skinny and you have a cool life when you are fat. 

We love you both ways.

Now, in DWTS, you are working out and feeling great.  I am so happy for you.  But this is not the answer to your happy life!  If it is, you will be derailed at your first injury.  Then we have to look at more tabloid covers about how miserable you are.  Your happiness depends on you, not your dress size.

By all means, stay strong.  Stay agile.  But for God's sake -- KEEP YOUR LIFE.  (It's ok to ditch the highlights tho.)

 

Scared Grasshopper

Remember when I started working out with Vic and I got kinda cocky and I'm all "I am going to run a 5K every month for a year!" ?

And I have *cough* "run" one 5 K a month since October 2010.

It's been great!  I've had lots of fun, got lots of T-Shirts and have beat my best more than once. 

This month is different.

This month is the 36th Annual Beach to Bay relay marathon.

I heard you gasp.   Don't worry -- It's a RELAY marathon.  I am not going to run it by myself. 

And that's what scares me to DEATH. 

I am running with five other people.  Five awesome people.  Our team is called Victor's Grasshoppers.  Isn't that a stooopid name?  I couldn't think of any other names.  I just kinda think of Victor as Master Po -- only not blind.  And we are like David Carradine. . .without the auto-erotic asphyxiation.  We're going to wear vivid green shirts.  And pink skorts.  Well, I am wearing a pink skort.  Don't know about the other guys.

I'm running the shortest. . .I mean first leg. 

Fear #1: Five other, awesome people are going to have to make up time for me.

It is the largest relay marathon in the US.  NO OTHER PLACE in our country has a marathon relay this big. 

Fear #2: What if I am SO SLOW that my relay partner gives up and goes home?

It's so big, we have to take a shuttle to the race.

Fear #3: What if I am so slow I miss the shuttle back home?

I am "running" the beach leg. 

Fear #4:  What if I am so slow that the Sexy Seniors running club kicks sand in my face as they pass me?

The beach leg is short, but it's on sand.  So it's challenging.

Fear #5: What if I am SO SLOW that the race is over by the time I pass the baton?

This Saturday, if you see a sweaty, sandy, slow, scared runner wearing a green T-Shirt and a pink skort -- that will be me.

Nine (9) Months

I have been working out since July 10, 2010. 

That's nine (9) months of Vic.  Nine (9) months of sweating.  Grunting.  Swearing.  Nine (9) months of making a fool out of myself and then running to my keyboard so I could tell you about it.

Nine (9) months ago, I couldn't have carried  my 34 lb child almost a mile.  Saturday, I did just that -- at the Naval Air Station Corpus Christi Airshow. 

Nine (9) months ago, I couldn't buy a sports bra anywhere but the plus size section of Lane Bryant.  Yesterday I bought an XL off the rack at Kohl's.  (Still can't buy belts, but bras?  Oh yeah.  My girls are shrinking)

Nine (9) months ago, an afternoon of pruning trees would render me useless for three days.  Sunday, I didn't even break a sweat.

Nine (9) months ago I didn't know Vic.  Or Gabe.  Or Ricky (sigh).  Or Mary L or Laurie L or the Other Laurie or Maria or Dana or Dee-Ann or Jesse or Liz or Lee or Rene or Tim or any of the awesome people that are now my V-Fit friends.  That's the best part.

I'm still fat.  I'm just not as fat as I was nine (9) months ago.  And I am a whole lot fitter.

Nine (9) months.

An Update

Remember when I blogged my Revolutions and talked about how goals must be specific, written , blah blah blah?  Well, they must also be updated. 

So. 

March 1st.  First day of the last month of the quarter.  (If you are in business, that last sentence should make some sense).

My updates are in pretty purple type.

Educational:
I will take one class each session. Update:  I am taking Business Calculus.  I should be studying for it instead of blogging.  I secretly wish for violent stomach flu so I will have a legitimate reason for missing class.  Plus violent stomach flu always takes a few pounds off.

Social:
I don't have any social goals this year.  Update.  I still don't have any social goals this year. 

Spiritual:
I will read at least one book about my faith every quarter. Update:  I have one month to get this done.  I've read the last issue of the Liguorian, and South Texas Catholic.  But those are periodicals, so they don't count.

Physical:
I will work out at least 4 times each week.  Update:  Doing it.  I pushed a truck. 

I will include fruit and/or vegetables at each meal. Update:  Define vegetable.  I have some work to do here.

Financial:
We will pay off the goddamn Sallie Mae by 12/31/2012. Update:  On track.  We are coming to get you Bitch.


Remember I said:

Here's what I am not going to do:


Go on a diet.  Update:  we may have to rethink this one. 

Actually, I am not going to diet.  But I may decide to do weight watchers. Even though I fucking hate weight watchers.   (Weight Watchers says they are not a diet. Bullshit.  They tell you how to manipulate your food choices in order to lose weight.  That's called a diet.)  The fact is, weight fucking watchers works.  If you are disciplined and follow the plan. 

See, I think I am having trouble with my vegetables because I am not planning effectively.  Weight fucking watchers has a pre-made plan.  And really annoying meetings.  And literature featuring photos of 50ish year old women in bright clothes riding bikes with their No-Way-Is-He-Straight husbands.   IF I decide to go to weight fucking watchers, I need to change my attitude or it really won't work.  But that is easier said than done.  And the more I try to change my attitude about weightfuckingwatchers the more I fucking hate them. 

If I had an extra $500 a month, I'd go on Jenny-is-a-bad-hair-bitch-Craig.  Actually, if I had an extra $500, I'd give it to Vic because he has great hair, plus he deserves it. 

I don't have $500 to pay for Jenny-80's hair-Craig.

Maybe I can do it on my own! 

Yeah right.    If I could do it on my own, I wouldn't need to even think about joining weight-fuck-fuck-fuck-watchers.  But I do need to.  I need to do it for me.  I need to do it for Vic & Gabe.  Seriously. They have done amazing things for me so far.  But unless I can get control of my food choices, we're stuck where we are. 

I hate being stuck. 

New Goal:  Join fucking weight watchers.  And maybe quit swearing so much.

My Valentine to V-Fit

I went to the doctor today.

Not Dr. Jellyfinger, the other one. (Sorry Shawn.  I couldn't resist)

Since I last saw this doctor, I have lost 25 lbs and my blood pressure is way down. 

WOOOT!

THIS is the reason I have been doing this:



Yes, I am carrying a TIRE over my head.



And THIS:

 What rhymes with TRUCK?  Exactly. 

The doctor was very encouraged. 

Her: "Yeay YOU!  You've been exercising!"

Me: "I have!"

Her: "And watching what you eat!"

Me:  "ummmmm, no.  We're not there yet."

Her:  "OK. But we need to get there, OK?"

Me:  "Ummmmm. . . I pushed a truck."

So I am happy with this mini-victory.  So Happy Valentine's Day Vic, Gabe, Ricky & Mari!  (You haven't heard me mention Mari?  Sorry.  She's adorable.  But not in a Vic way.  So you can understand why I don't blog about her.  Heh.)

I pink-puffy-healthy-heart you guys!

Workout on the Chain Gang -- UPDATED

Just when I think Victor can't come up with anything more horrible than making me carry 30 lbs up and down a staircase, he surprises me with yet another twisted scheme to get me in shape.

Yesterday I put on my cute pink skort (which I will wear until it is in shreds), a clean white t-shirt and my workout shoes.  I went to V-Fit for my meeting with Gabe.

"Come with me" he said. 

I followed him through a doorway that I had always assumed was a storage closet.  The storage closet led to a dark passage, then to a concrete stairway.  We went down the stairs to another store room, then through a warehouse and ended up in what looked like my brother's garage --complete with broken guitars, old board games and non-working appliances.  Gabe raised the garage door and led me out to a side lot strewn with old tires, tools and other debris. 

If it wasn't Gabe, I might have feared for my safety.

I should have feared for my safety.

Gabe handed me a 15 lb medicine ball and told me to bounce it against the wall for 90 seconds.  I had to hit a spot 2 feet over my head.  It wasn't so bad for about 10 seconds.  Then it got harder.  It turned out to be challenging, but I didn't think it was worth coming all that way just so I could work my shoulders. 

Then Gabe handed me a car tire. 

Yep.  CAR TIRE.  It was made of black rubber and had GOODYEAR printed on the side.  It wasn't new, either. 

I had to swing the tire from side to side, bouncing it off the wall each pass.  Then I had to toss it behind my  head 15 times.  Then I had to carry it over my head and run laps.  My hands were filthy.

And car tires are HEAVY.

Then he handed me a sledge hammer.  Which is heavier than a car tire.

I had to run laps carrying the sledge hammer.  It sure made me feel sorry for all the brave firefighters (like  my friend Randy) who have to run with sledge hammers while wearing full protective gear.

Then I had to take the sledge hammer and hammer the side of a tractor tire.  Thank God I didn't have to LIFT the tractor tire.    Although I probably will soon. 

Where did Vic think of this workout?  Huntsville Prison? 

Next thing you know he's going to buy a chevette on blocks and make us drag it across the yard.  Or he's going to get a doberman and tie meat to my ass. 

Looks like I need to put some Johnny Cash in my i-pod.

*****UPDATE**********

Just in case you think I exaggerate:

Just When I think I'm a Badass. . . .

For about four months I have been coming to work every week regaling my colleagues about my hard workouts and how much Vic made me do this week.

I was starting to feel pretty proud of myself.

Which I shouldn't do. 

Inspired by my tales of glory, my friend Kathy decided to start preparing for a 5 K.  She has been doing the Couch to 5K plan.  Good for you! I said patronizingly as I whined about my own - really really hard - workout.

Saturday, Kathy & I participated in the American Heart Association Heart Walk.

It was PACKED! 

And Vic was there!  And Ricky!  And Gabe!  I was so excited.  I showed off my beautiful boys to my friend Kathy.  She rolled her eyes at me.  What else could she do?

The walk started.  SLOWLY.

The problem was, there were a lot of people there.  Like, a million.  And we were all trying to go around the "track" which wasn't a track at all, but the perimeter of Whataburger Field.  (Which is a gorgeous facility!  Come to Corpus Christi & Check it out -- it's awesome!).

So it was sort of a heart stroll.

Which is fine.  Many of the walkers were heart patients -- the whole point is activity, not speed.

But Kathy and I were there for a workout.

And the stroll wasn't working us.

So, as I happily chatted about Vic & Ricky & Gabe and how much they love me, Kathy started to walk fast.  Then she started to run.  Then she started to run fast.

I sort of kept up with her the first mile.

By the second mile,  she was no where to be found. 

And, believe it or not, I still wasn't getting much of a workout.

The event had Workout Stations where you could participate in other fitness activity.  Like Zumba!  And Step Classes!  And Vic had a station!   Yeay!  I can work out with Vic! And Ricky! And Gabe!

He did. 

And then I took a step class.

I got my workout.

A really really owie workout.

I shoulda stayed with Kathy.

What Fit People Really Think of Us. . .

Since I have been working out so much, I figured that I should start to run in 5K type races.

I HAD to participate in the American Diabetes Association's Dancing Thru Downtown event.  That was the finale of the V-Fit Leadership challenge.  I walked it.  It was about 3.5ish miles.  Didn't come in first, didn't come in last.  Wasn't any big deal, really.  I didn't even think of it as a 5K. 

This past weekend, I participated in the V-Fit 5K, benefiting Mission of Mercy.  In case you're wondering which one I am, I am the bright red one coming in dead last.

I am not disappointed that I came in last.  My goal was to finish.

I tried to stay as close as I could to the 2 lovely ladies ahead of me.  They are in their 60's, and they run 5K's all the time.  Before the first mile was up, I was eating their dust. 

I was also lapped pretty quickly by the mom pushing her 3 year old in the stroller.  She rocks.  She is in my age class, and she came in first.  (I came in second.  The moral is:  more people 40-45 need to run 5Ks).

We ran through a pretty neighborhood, down streets, through a park.  It was a lovely day.

Motorcycle cops were on had to ensure the traffic was clear, and also to ensure no one was hurt or injured along the way.  I tried to hitch a ride with one of them, but he wouldn't take me.  I am going to complain to the city.  What do we pay taxes for if our policemen won't even help us cheat in a 5K.

What was amazing to me was how others reacted to me.


Most of the runners are very fit, active people. Some are full on athletes.

No matter our fitness or experience, everyone was very supportive.

They were more than supportive.

They were genuinely pulling for me.

My friend Laurie (the one who Victor makes do really really crazy hard things), finished the race in about 30 minutes.  She is awesome.  She came to find me so she could help me run the last 1/4 mile or so.  She kept my energy up.

Tim, one of Vic's Super-Fit clients, ran with me to the finish line.  He was SO incredibly affirming.  He delivered me to the home stretch and cheered me as I ran up the hill to the finish line.

The finish line was on top of a hill.

Because Victor does things like that, the basterd.

Victor, who I love dearly despite the fact that I just called him a bad name, ran alongside me as I ran up the hill.

Everyone else was on the sidelines cheering.  They cheered for me as if they had bet money on me. 

I can't begin to describe the feeling.

I am pleased that I ran.  I am proud that I finished.  The best part, however, is the incredible feeling of support and solidarity I got from the other runners.

To my fat brothers & sisters:  I know that sometimes you don't like to tackle things like this because you feel weird being around all these gorgeous fit people.

I am here to tell you -- they want us there.  They want us to do well.  They are pulling for us.

I have 3 more runs to finish this year. 

By the last one, maybe I can cheer someone else on!

Tangible Proof that Fat is a Gift.

I worked out this week with my friend Mary & her gorgeous daughter Rachel. 

Want to be intimidated?  Work out with a 15 year old.

I told her that she must continue to work out regularly for the rest of her life.  Or she'd find herself size 24 and 44 years old writing a blog about how hard it is to do push ups.

Mary (her mom, my friend) is not a size 24.  I think she's an 8 now.  She's strong.

And when you are a strong size 8, guess what?

Victor makes you clap between push ups.  He makes you take 2 stairs at a time in the pit.  He makes you do burpees.

And that?  Is one reason why fat is a gift. 

I am going to make a Starbucks run for something yummy.

Because I know Victor will make me pay for this post.

Love  you Vic!  See you 3pmish, 'kay?

Bragging a little

I'm kinda proud of myself today.  Since I started V-Fit, I'm down about 15 lbs, and 9% body fat.  The 9% is the big deal.  According to the AMA, I have officially reduced my risk of diabetes, heart disease and stroke.  Yeay me.

But what make me REALLY proud of myself is that I did burpees today.  Burpees are these crazy exercises where you put your hands on this log thing, kick both your legs out into the push up position, then jump your legs back in and then jump up.  Then you have to do 19 more. 

They are very owie.  But I did 'em!

I also did something I never thought I'd do.  (No not that.  I do that all the time.  How do you think I have been happily married for almost 18 years?)

When I was first starting out, I met these really great girls who work out with Victor.  (Holla Maria & Laurie!)  They are cute, fit & strong. 

I remember watching Laurie squat jump with both feet onto a step.  I thought "No.  Fucking. Way."

(Mom, Phyllis & Nora -- don't bother e-mailing me about my language.  I know, I know.)

Today I SQUAT JUMPED WITH BOTH FEET ONTO A STEP!  

OMG!

When Laurie does it, she looks sleek & strong.  When I do it, I look like the Michelin Man's chubby little sister.  Who cares?  I did it!

So I'm bragging a little.

O To Be A Child Again. . .

Yesterday my 2 older boys stayed home from school.  They weren't sick or anything -- Joseph's pet jellyfish were being delivered yesterday, and they wanted to make sure to be home for delivery. 

Yeah, we have jellyfish for pets.

After the pets made it into their tank safely, I wanted to work out. 

I actually wanted to.  Weird, right?

We packed a bag full of toys & books and headed out to V-Fit.

The toys and books amused the boys for 25 seconds.

Hardly anyone was there, so it was OK for them to walk around a bit. I was doing jump squats.  Jump squats aren't my favorite.  Especially when I have to do 4 sets of 25.  Especially when the boys thought the squats looked like fun, so they decided to do it too. 

When I do jump squats, I jump-squat-grunt.  Sometimes I jump-grunt-squat. 

When my boys do jump squats, they jump-say WHEE-squat-giggle.Then they say "Look, I can go fast!" and do about 30 in quick succession with perfect form and don't sweat.

Then it was time to do these horrible things where I sit on the floor, balance on my butt, keep my feet 6 inches off the floor, and take a 4 lb medicine ball and weave it in a figure 8 around my legs.  When you do it right, it looks really, really smooth.  When you've had 3 C-Sections, it doesn't look quite so pretty. 

Plus, it's hard to keep everything in.  In other words, I go grunt-weave-pfft-grunt-weave-repeat.  The "pfft" part made my boys laugh hysterically.  Especially because I have always told them that going pfft is very rude.

Only Daddies go "pfft". 

Never mommies.

Next I did leg presses on the machine.  Luke wanted to sit on my lap, but I said no.

"Is it because it will make you fart again?" 

"No!  Just go play for 5 minutes, willya?"

Finally it was time to do the pit.  My boys love the pit.  They run down, say "Chase me Mama!" and scoot back up.  Over and over.  Laughing and giggling while I wheeze and huff.

"Mama - remember when you were playing with that ball and you farted?  That was funny!" said Joe, as if it happened years ago and not just 30 minutes ago.

Finally it was time to leave.

We see Victor on the way out.  Victor cut his hair short, which really brings out his big brown eyes, his lantern jaw and shows the sinewy muscles of his neck. Sigh.

Victor says "Hey!  How was the work out?!"

Luke says "Mama farted!"

That kid is lucky to still be alive.

V is for Victory

I admit it. After 5 weeks of going hard at boot camp, I expected certain results:

1. I thought I would have lost at least 25lbs by now. (apparently you have to diet AND exercise. Dammit!)

2. I thought I would build my endurance to a point where I am not beet red every time I work out. (My friend Mary was wearing a top at boot camp that was the EXACT SAME SHADE as my face. Only it was cute on her.)

3. I thought I would get used to the popé. (If you're in South Texas, you TOTALLY know what I'm talking about.)

4. I thought it would get easier. (it would, except Victor keeps making it HARDER)

5. I thought I would be cured of my ice cream addiction. (This was a total reach -- even Victor isn’t that good)

6. I thought my hips would shrink & my boobs would stay the same. . .instead of the other way around.


So I didn’t get exactly what I bargained for.

There are some benefits I didn’t bargain for:

1. I have met some awesome & fun fellow sufferers --I mean boot-campers.

2. I have met some awesome & fun clients of Victor -- these folks are TOTAL rock stars! (shout out to Maria!)

3. I ran after the 2 year old. . .and caught him!

4. Two girlfriends who I haven’t seen in a while told me I look great.

5. My husband likes to . . .wait -- that’s none of your business. But it’s AWESOME.

6. As I was doing my brutal step-back squats Ricky (AKA Leonardo DiCaprio) casually noticed that I am no longer holding onto the wall to support myself.

7. I can actually tuck a blouse into the size 22s. And the size 24s are getting roomy.


It’s still hurty. It’s still owie. I still stink when I am done. I am going to continue to beech and moan. A lot.

But I am on my way to VICTORY!

This? This is why people hate excercising.

I finished my 4th bootcamp yesterday.

Good results so far, not a lot of weight lost, but lost inches. (Yes, mostly from my boobs). My big win is I lost 3% body fat! Yeay!

But I am so sore I can barely reach the keyboard to whine about how hard it is.

When does it stop being so hurty?

Does it ever?

Hey fit people -- do you ENJOY this constant flu-like muscle ache brought about by strenuous exercise?

Personally, I prefer the self loathing nausea that comes with finishing off most of a cheesecake.

But I have 60 more days to go. I am not a quitter. Just a whiner.

Ow.

P.S. Victor? I'll be in on Tuesday. whimper