Trying to Shake it Off

11 05 2010

If you didn’t know yet, I am taking yoga once a week.
Yoga’s always been good to me and I felt like I needed to mix up my fitness routine.

I guess the stresses of the past week* took its toll more than I expected… it was IMPOSSIBLE to unwind at class.
Typically, I get in the zone and am so focused that whatever was on my mind is replaced by keeping my shoulders down/staying aligned/not tipping over.
Not last night.
Holy crap, I was teetering all  over the place, using my shoulders as earrings and I was late to class.
Even during the apres workout relaxation my mind was a freight train; as it continued through the entire night, pretty much stopping between the hours of 430am and 630am.

I hate the feeling of not being able to “let go”.
During relaxation, I was going over things in my head… “The day is done, let it go.”, “You can not solve that problem until tomorrow.”, “Focus on your breathing” and the like.
No dice.
Plus, all this pent-up whateveritis isn’t doing my physce any favors.

Please to note: I can’t take long hot baths or drink or go on a rampage with a weapon. Well, technically, I guess I could, it’s just ill-advised.

*Friday: Trip to Erie with Annoyance, which takes a lot of energy to “be good”. Then when I took a nap, I got bit by a spider.
Saturday: Family party with legions of rude children** and overly-nosy/rude questions (“are you excited?”, “What do you mean you’re not having a theme for the room?”, “Just wait until…”, very unwelcome attempts at bump contact…) and a lot of energy to be good.
Sunday: Additional family interactivity including more “Just wait until…” Not to mention I had a severe bout of I-don’t-feel-good-itis and a hell of a lot of room-making-stretching-pain. Oh, and I’m onto the cousin who told their kid to touch my belly as much as possible and I do not like it. Oh and the expelled energy to “be good”.
Monday: Catch up all day from work I couldn’t do on Friday.

**The room (it was Steve’s cousin’s communion) was crowded (due to the extreme weather, we were all smooshed inside) and I was trapped between the end of a 8-foot table and an end table.
This 6-8 year old girl wedges herself between people and hops up on the sofa. No issue.
Then she decides she wants to see the fish tank that’s on the end table.
She’s trying to get over the arm of the sofa, meanwhile, she’s bumping into and kicking my arm.
I had had enough. “EXCUSE ME. Am I in your way?”
“Well first of all, this is a table, not a seat…”
“I want to see the fish.”
“You can see the fish from the sofa.”
And Steve gives me this did-you-just-yell-at-someone-else’s-child look.
So I tell him, “Do you want to switch seats and sit here and get kicked? No? Then I guess you have nothing to say.”

Just Venting

23 09 2009

Preface: Not looking for answers or sympathy, just need to vent. Besides,  I know the answer is “You can’t please all the people all of the time”

Did you hear that?

Did you hear that?

Let’s back this truck up to about two weeks ago.
Wait, no, spring…
Okay, so, in spring I was forced recommenced asked to run the office’s picnic.
September:  food procured, door prizes (I didn’t understand either) obtained , things to keep kids occupied (as per recommendation of planners past) purchased, beer chilled… I thought the party was a success. Plus, I came in [$0.92] under budget. Woot for me.
Receipts in hand, I get the fifth degree about how my budget was spent and on what and what was the cost per person… meanwhile, the conversation in the back of my head was something along the lines of, “If you gave me $X to spend and I spent $X and everyone had a good time and now it’s an issue, why did you give me a budget?”

Flash forward to this week.
Another hat I wear is Team Leader of the Fitness Force for our office. Basically, I just send information into corporate. It’s a cake gig. Har.
My team met the obligation for a company sponsored lunch.
I sent out the follow to my team:
“…It’s looking like we will be ordering in as teams will be on a conference call. Keeping in the spirit of the Fitness Force, I’m thinking we shouldn’t order a loaded pizza…”
Everyone agreed. Then I get the message from Corporate; in response to “what are we planning on doing?”:
We’re ordering out – pizza, I think….”
To which I reply:
That’s kind of funny because I told my team that we are specifically NOT ordering a pizza, being Fitness Force and all…”
So I propose to my team:
… is supposedly ordering pizza; to which I replied that it’s kind of defeating the purpose… anyway, so, it looks like we can order a pizza if we want.
Unless we’d like to buck the trend and show them how it’s done … figuring out what we can do for the price of a pizza.
Option 1) Get a pizza anyway
Option 2) See about ordering a “healthy” crust and veggies instead of processed meat
Option 3) I pick up some whole wheat pita pockets, lettuce, deli turkey/chicken, “healthy” cheese and some Italian dressing.”

Then, the dreaded REPLY ALL.
Option 3 sounds good… with a soup…
Option 3 with a mixed salad or a fresh fruit platter..

Whow. Hold your horses here.
First of all, the whole idea was simply to NOT have a pizza; and now I’m stuck with an entire spread?
Plus, enough pie [for 5] with delivery is about $20-25… and we’re looking at a full-custom lunch? I’m a savvy shopper, but really?

Pronoun does a REPLY ALL and says we could all chip in for sides. Mind you, this is the same person who didn’t know if they could bring chip and/or bowls for her side to the aforementioned picnic.
Co-Worker Who Never Worries About Money states to buy whatever and they’ll make up the difference. Mind you, this is the same person who chided my picnic for not having shrimp and/or sushi.

Crimeanitley people, can’t you just be happy with a free lunch?

No wonder no one wants to run ANYTHING here.

P.S. I’m totally #1 on Fitness Force, almost two trackers above everyone else.

Few Things Feel Better than Progess

16 09 2009

I can’t lie.
This past week-ish has just been beyond frustrating.
Things not going as expected, I’ve not doing things right (in others opinion), stress, stress, not being able to go the gym, nightmares, exhaustion… you get the idea.

Tuesday night is Arranged Gym Night with Trainer Cammie.
Trainer Cammie is AWESOME and she works me. She knows where the trouble spots are and she’s so very encouraging; something I don’t get too often.

Anyway, she met me last night with the usual, “What do you want to work on tonight?”
“You know what? I don’t care. I just want to be distracted for a bit… walking out with a sense of accomplishment would be just great.”
“Let’s go upstairs*.”
“Right on.”
So, we started with some Arnold Lifts.

As shown naw.

As shown naw.

We alternated with shoulder presses… I piped up, “I’ve been working on my arms and well, I’ve using 12lbs because 10 was too light, maybe we should bump up to 15…”
And Trainer Cammie is over at the tree picking up 15lb dumbbells.
There was no crying and fatigue really set in during the third set of 12 reps.

Back downstairs, we had fun with the Roman Chair (and now I’m beginning to see how the gym sounds like a giant orgy)

Can also be done with your legs at a 90 degree angle from hip

Can also be done with your legs at a 90 degree angle from hip

I’ve pumped through the exercises, still reeling from how I feel about becoming stronger, faster, confident…
“Look at you go, doing more than 10!”
“Oh yeah, I did more than 10! Not quite 13, but more than 11!”
“Holy crap girl!”

Sure, once I got back in the car I was agitated again… but, it wasn’t as bad as it was before… I think I just need to find a way to deal with what’s going on. Like S.Le.

*Upstairs at the gym is where the no-neckers hang out… 45lb empty bars, heavier weights, intimidation….

Please. Don’t. Not the Lunges! NOT THE LUNGES!!!

29 07 2009

It’s been about two weeks since I’ve gotten back into better habits such as: limiting the pasta intake, using the steamer, thinking about what goes in my pie hole, drinking much more water, going to the gym, playing Wii Fit…

While highly illogical, I always envision that I would work out at night and in the morning be so magically slim that I can’t wear pants to work because they’re too baggy.
See, here’s the thing too, I have a reverse body-image-problem… when I think of myself, I see me as Christmas 2007 Stephanie (when I felt like I looked decent) but when I see photos, I’m Photo-of-Which-We-Do-Not-Speak-of 2000 Stephanie.
We do not talk about the photo as I look like the seams of my clothes are going to pop open at any moment; I was in denial that I had to buy larger sized clothes.  I should have been buying size 12 or 14 and I was smooshing into an 8. So when I dropped down to an 8, I wrote on the back of the photo “Never Again” I put it on my mirror as a reminder.
Hell lot of good that did. Not that I’m a 12/14 today, in fact, these pants didn’t require wiggling to don, I’m just not close to Christmas 2007.

I know there’s a happy smaller Stephanie hidden in there, she’s probably hiding behind the ice cream… so, knowing I need help, I called… a personal trainer. Plus, how am I planning on hauling all of my stuff around Europe if I can’t do 10 push-ups?

Lament is due to set in around 2 hours as we go through the rigorous embarrassment of pinching my sides to get a BMI, taking the tape around the parts of my body I hate even thinking about and probably passing out on the treadmill.

It’s the right thing to do, I am disappointed that I let “Never Again” come back.

So, around 615pm EST, think of me if your quads start to hurt, for the trainer is probably making me do lunges AND I HATE LUNGES.

Confidence OR How I Chose to Ignore the Tag and Love My Shape

30 01 2009

A while ago, in a publication I can’t recall, there was an article that kind of hit home. It was about a woman who wasn’t happy with her weight/image and decided that she would “reward” herself for reaching milestones. It then occurred to her when she hit a wall, that she would probably not ever reach her “ultimate” goal. This resulted in her accepting who she was and being happy.  I always felt a bit envious of her.

Now, does this mean that I have given up on my non-resolution? Nay.
It does however mean that I realized that I am (much to my poutingness) not a size 4, am not svelte, am not ripped, etc.  and that PERHAPS, I should embrace my um, transition, phase AND STOP LYING TO MYSELF.

Intending to just go to Barnes and Noble to deplete a gift card, I found myself at Macy’s with an exchange card that Steve would never use (his words, not mine) with $20 on it.
Scouring the racks, I found a top that is patterned (gasp!), bright (gasp!) and as the gasping alludes, Very UnStephanieLike.
Figuring that I should also look for pants/jeans as the top only took up 1/4 of my card (who’s a power shopper?  I am…) I picked a pair of jeans off the rack in the “realistic” size and not the “denial” size.
In the dressing room, a ray of light came down (probably from the halogens in the ceiling, but whatever) and as I turned to face myself, I did a double take.
Is, is, is that, me?  me in clothes that fit?  Clothes that make me look like an adult? No tugging?  No lumping? An outfit to be proud of?
And at that point, I let the size tag blur.
Gliding to the counter, my retail $88 ensemble came in at at modest $28, with $8 actually coming out of my pocket.
Sure, I care about my size (as much as I try not to) but I also know that I am taking active steps to become a size where I will not have to pretend that the tag doesn’t say what it says it says. And today, I am more confident that I’ve been in a loooonnngg time.

The Truth About “The Bread Tree” and “Spaghetti Bush”

2 12 2008

In the last of a series of follow-up appointments to make sure the crazy hasn’t manifested, I mention to my Doc that I’m a bit concerned over the weight gain of late.

Doc: Exercise.
“I belong to the gym!  And granted I sluffed off due to a problem at the beginning of the month and then I got my tattoo re-colored… figured it wasn’t a good idea to sweat it up on the treadmill with an open back wound…”
*nods* “Well, I think you should be more conscience of ’empty foods’.”
“The big four: bread”
“And avoid processed foods.  To make it easy, if you can walk out into your yard, figuratively, and pull it from the ground, pluck it from a tree or hunt it, it’s okay to eat.  There is no ‘Bread Tree’ or ‘Spaghetti Bush’.”
“But there should be.”

So I brought two apples to work, I’ll have some salad for lunch (I heart salad anyway) and try to go easy on Taco Tuesday.

Dear Reader, what advise have you been given that you throw out the window or pass on?

Another Open Letter: Dear Fellow Gym Members (PT. 2)(or is it 3 now?)

13 09 2008

Dear Fellow Gym Members:
To whom it may concern and I’m talking to those of you who use the ENTIRE cardio machine for support.
You have the treadmill at at 90% incline, but you’re using the whole command center as a tether.
Really? You think you’re getting a workout?  How about this… why don’t you try a 20% incline, use the provided grips and don’t tear the face off the control panel.
You almost seem surprised that some of the cardio equipment is broken… I don’t get it.

Dear Fellow Gym Members:
While on the cardio equipment, please do not glare at me if I pant a bit while on the machine next to you.
Did you notice that I’m out of shape?
Of course you did, I saw you peek at my weight and skill level.
What you don’t know is that I will punch you in the face from my ArcTrainer.

Dear Loud Talking (cell phone or otherwise) Fellow Gym Members:
Apple made the iPod to only go so loud.  If I am listening to Slipknot and my Pod’s at max level and I can still hear your conversation about how you had a salad for lunch everyday this week, you have more of a problem then breaking a sweat.

Dear Gross Sweaty Fellow Gym Members:
Two things.
One: If you’re sweaty, that’s cool, but please, for the love of god, wipe down WHATEVER it is that you’re using.
Two: I sweat.  Don’t act like you don’t.  And stop looking away like “Ew, I can’t believe that woman is sweating.”  I’ll come over by you and do my post-workout stretching near you, making sure to exhale over my armpit in your general direction.

Thank You.

Gym Etiquette 101

6 08 2008

Melissa and I are tearing things up on the treadmills when this older gentleman takes roost at the mill to my right.
Shortly thereafter, we notice a repugnant smell.
“Bed of roses” is not even close.
We try not to gag as we round out the second mile.
I look over my shoulder and the man is sweating like two rats in a wool sock; very Flashdance-esque.
Finally he and his stench leave.
I look over at the treadmill.
It’s covered in sweat.  Stinky sweat.  And it’s creator is no where in sight.  (sometimes one needs to wander to find a spray bottle/wiping towel)

The man left his sweat all over the console, only to pool in the magazine/book holder.

I am so not kidding when I say that I almost threw up.


Keeping on Track: The Goal

23 07 2008

This Saturday marks the 3-weeks-to-go mark of The Plan.

Yesterday, I purchased some motivational material from Newport News.  What?  They were having a sale and I scoured for free shipping and 20% off coupons.
Hopefully, well, the idea is, I will get said items in the mail and they will motivate me to keep me on track.
I saw something and I’m like “Wow, I want to rock that.”  Add to Basket.

Yesterday was a successful day at the gym; I can tell because I’m achy today.  I reluctantly hopped on the scale and was pleased to find out that my water-weight-gain had fallen off and I was actually in better shape then I was before Aunt Flo.

What is my goal, you ask… well, as Melissa put it, I am in no way a lard-ass, but I have self-esteem issues due to my body.  Wait, that makes me female doesn’t it…  By the middle of August, I would like to see me in photos and not want to cry on the inside.  Oh, sure, I mean, I feel so much better then I did before, but I’m my own worst critic.
I’ll stop bitching now.

(p.s. he added a re-furbed nano to his order yesterday.  Cake and eating it too!)

Yes, I Got that Message too, Universe

16 07 2008

After the migraine passed (read: nap), I headed out to get some things.
Back at the truck, I notice it’s eight and I’m arguing with myself about going to the gym.
The “go to the gym” voice won.
I’m going through the weights and I’m on the weird-elliptical-incline-thing, trying to figure out how I can avoid doing the whole thirty minute cardio-fest.
I look up at one of the five televisions and there is a commercial on that is very very very closely related to The Goal I’m working towards.

Yes, Universe, I got the message.