Bam...

My alarm goes off this morning (this is really for Saturday. I'm living in the past) and I am ready to greet the world with a smack of the snooze button. Ain't nobody gonna tell me to wake up before I want to. Nine minutes later, I roll out of bed and prep for Pilates. I arrive to the gym a little earlier than expected. Maybe I could have hit snooze one more time.

No sign of Nadine the Liar. I'm kind of bummed about that. I was looking forward to mildly mocking her. She seems fun. I am pleasantly surprised, however, to find that Grant and his friend Catherine are joining myself and Megan for Pilates today! Acting like I know it all, I try to brief them on the type of mat they'll want to use and how awesome Kiki is and how hard Pilates is. Leave it to me to act like an expert in something that I am in no way, shape, or form an expert in. To really keep up my appearance of being an expert, I plant myself in the front row.

Kiki is as cheerful as ever; a quality I have come to expect from anyone who leads a class at the gym. And seeing as I'm in a butt-kicking mood, I do well. Plus I'm trying to show off how awesome I am to Grant and Catherine. My flexibility still isn't where I want it to be, but it's definitely getting there.

I have to say, being in a group exercise class reminds me a lot of elementary school gym class. Filing in, sitting in our rows, going through exercises (including the butterfly and what Ms. Hoiser called 'jaws'). Just a bunch of people doing whatever the teacher says.

We end the class with a side plank aka the bane of my existence. This thing is so hard for me to do. I don't really have the arm strength and I definitely don't have the core strength to remain suspended in the air. It's a good thing this is not 1692 because these moves would surely get someone to be accused of being a witch. They seemingly defy the laws of physics. 

Post class, while Grant and Catherine and I are debriefing from class, Kiki approaches and tells us she loved having us in class and she tells me she always loves it when I come. Praise be to Jehovah. I am liked by a teacher. My dreams are coming true left and right. I'm gaining some celebrity with my blog and I'm liked by my Pilates teacher. As a person who craves validation, this is awesome.

Partly because I'm feeling super jazzed and partly because I know I should, I go downstairs to do ten minutes on the elliptical machine. Guys, my day cannot be awful. About five minutes in, I realize that I don't notice the burn as much as when I started. I'm gaining endurance! 

True, I'm sweaty, but it's a sexy-sweaty

So, all things considered, it was an awesome workout day. You too can feel awesome all the time like me. Just get off your lazy butt and join a gym. And tell that gym about my blog. And tell your friends about my blog. And tell strangers on the street about my blog.

Invasion...

This post is super back dated. But deal with it. I was prepping for a hurricane.

For the first time in my entire life, I go to the gym on a Friday night. I spent most of the day focusing on the fact that I had no plans for the weekend and so I decided I would just suck it up and go. I show up and plan on just doing some swimming. I do have plans to go to a movie later, but for now, I really want to get the exercise on because I missed Wednesday.

Upon my arrival, I'm bummed because there are other people in the pool. I hate when people are in my pool. And I'm more pissed when people are in my lane like this weirdo is today. Reluctantly, I enter the pool and use the middle lane. 

I'm feeling pretty ambitious today, so I decide to try for another half mile in the pool. I don't know what my personal record for swimming distance is, but I'm guessing a half mile is it. I swam across a lake at camp when I was a kid, but they didn't really tell me how far that was. They had safety kayaks to rescue people, if need be, but there was no way I was going to do that. I was a fat kid and I probably would have capsized the kayak had I actually needed to be rescued. So I stuck it out and swam the whole way across. I remember feeling really proud of myself.

Much like I feel proud of my six laps of freestyle that I complete in a very rhythmic manner, swallowing water only twice. As I swap to the kickboard, I glance over at the other lane. This guy has just been doing lap after lap and shows no sign of slowing down. Good for you, dude. But keep it to yourself. You keep flinging water into my face with each stroke and it's really getting annoying. Plus you're in my lane and I already kind of hate you and don't more of a reason to pelt you with a pool noodle.

Halfway through my kickboard laps, worst thing in the world happens. A gaggle of children burst in to the pool room yelling and screaming and then begin leaping in to the pool. Hell to the no. This is my Friday night and I am not letting twenty six-year-olds ruin my swim. They're splashing everywhere and causing choppy waters and I end up choking several times as I do my backstroke laps. I hate children.

After my swim and some relaxing time in the steam room (which is a mandated child-free zone thank goodness) I head upstairs and complain to Carla. I come to find out that once a month on Fridays it's Kid's Night. Whoever came up with this idea should be fired. Carla tells me her son is going trick-or-treating dressed as a ninja turtle so I tell her she should go as April. She likes that idea. Just call me costume planner from now on.

Bravery...

Today is a Pilates day and I have convinced Cousin Joe (we're not really cousins, but we used to tell everyone in college that we were and everyone believed us) to come to Pilates with me. So I get home from work and put together my workout stuff really quickly and we leave for the gym, because he has to sign up for a visitor's pass. When we get to the gym, Carla is there as cheerful as ever and she helps Joe sign up for a visitor's pass.

While he's doing that, Justin takes advantage of my vulnerability and chastises me for skipping CX Works to go to Texas Roadhouse on Wednesday night. And his reprimand really holds some weight because he has been so kind and encouraging and helpful. I really feel like I've let him down. So I burst into tears and he laughs at me. What a jerk.

Joe's finally got his pass and we go downstairs to the locker room and change. Joe puts on a Planet Fitness shirt and I come to find out that he has just joined Planet Fitness and will not be joining the Beverly Athletic Club. I would never have invited him had I known. Now I'm going to be embarrassed to be seen with him. I decide to deal with it and I show him all that he is missing out on by being a Planet Fitness member.

We then head up to the studio. Apparently, there is no class before Pilates as the room is dark and empty so we head right in to claim some spots. A very kind woman (I find out later that her name is Nadine or 'Nadine the Liar' which I'll explain later) encourages us to sit up front. I tell her that the front is so intimidating but she says that if we're up front, Kiki will use us more and help correct our positions. I ask if Kiki is for sure going to be there today and she ensures me that Kiki will be.

And that is my problem. I trust people. In fact, I am too trusting. Because Kiki is not there, today. It's Beth. It could be worse because I actually do like Beth. She's really funny and she does a really good job explaining what I should be feeling while I do a particular exercise. But I make Nadine feel awful because she also told Joe he would get a free BAC shirt because Kiki hates it when people where Planet Fitness shirts. No luck, Cousin Joe.

We start the workout and practically the entire time, Joe is whispering snarky comments to me that make me laugh. 'I want a danish', 'I'm not going to do that', 'we are getting burritos after this'. Joe, zip it! I can't work my abs right when I'm practically peeing myself from laughter. And to make matters worse, one of the women in the class lets one rip and I'm torn between bursting out laughing and running over to her and hugging her to say thank you for being brave enough to not hold it in. I admire this woman.

At the end of class the rest of the room claps for themselves. And I still don't. I introduce Joe to Megan (my coworker) and we talk a little bit about the class. Some things are still hard for me. I don't have the flexibility to extend my leg to the ceiling without bending at the knee. Beth tells me it will come, as she passes by and heads into the actual Pilates studio. 

We do decide we want burritos, so we head to Chipotle for dinner to reward ourselves for our good workout. Well, Joe wasn't really great at Pilates so he probably was just eating to make himself feel better, but that's what happens when you join Planet Fitness.

Consumption...

Who's bad? I'm bad. I do not go to the gym today. I seriously consider it and up until an hour and a half before my class starts I'm convinced I'll be going. But then I get a text that a birthday dinner is happening at Texas Roadhouse for some friends and there is no way I can pass that up.

But I don't forgo exercise all together. As soon as I find out I will be going to dinner instead of the gym I pop in my yoga DVD and sweat in preparation. And it's a tough workout to get through. My calf makes a lot of the stretching hurt. But it's a good hurt, because I know it's working this awful knot out.

I'm also not that jazzed to be doing this workout. I don't put in the same amount of effort that I usually do, but I stick it out and force myself to finish. I even try my hand at yelling at the TV. Instructor: "Twist up. Woo feel that unbelievable stretch. I think I just adjusted my back." Snarky me: "Shut up, you idiot. You say that every time." 

So yeah, I shirk going to the gym in favor of consuming a ridiculous amount of calories. Bad decision on the surface, but it was also to celebrate the birth of friends and spend some time with fun people, so a win in terms of my mental stability. And I don't go completely overboard. I choose to save enough for lunch tomorrow instead of eating it all in one sitting. I even limit myself to two of the DELICIOUS rolls and cinnamon butter they have.

In my past life (meaning before I started this whole gym/workout thing) I would have eaten probably 5 rolls, an appetizer and my entire pulled pork dinner and felt miserable afterwards. So I'm proud of myself for having self control and guess what?! I felt like I ate enough to hold me over. That was always my problem. I didn't want to stop because I liked the taste of things and I never felt the need to bring home leftovers. But the new me loves leftovers. Get used to it.

Band-Aid...

Ladies and gentlemen, I am amazing. Today after work, I go home and spend a little bit of time watching TV and have a little dinner before I meet my friend Grant at the gym. I know I still have my calf injury, but I'm determined to not let it slow my progress. I spend most of my time after work stretching and massaging my calf anyway, so I don't expect there to be a problem.

Taylor is at the front desk when I come in. So she and I chat for a bit before Grant shows up. She asks if I'm going to a class tonight and I say no because of my injury and whatnot. But she tells me I should still go because the classes are for all fitness levels. Thanks, Taylor, but I've already got a plan for tonight and a spontaneous class doesn't fit in. Plus, I have to be home in time to watch the season premiere of Happy Endings.

Grant FINALLY shows up and we head downstairs to do some cardio. He opts of a treadmill, I choose a bike. I would have done an elliptical, but everything was taken and I didn't feel like throwing my weight around (both in the sense of actual size and the fact that I am the most important member of the gym) and forcing someone off of their machine. Plus, I haven't done the bike in a while and my calf prefers it when I'm sitting.

After just over 15 minutes on the bike (I decided to go for 3 miles because I was so close) I head to the weight room. I do a couple of arm and back and chest exercises. Grant meanders in after his time on the treadmill and we briefly comment on all the mirrors and the tendency people have to ogle themselves. People need to stop doing that. It makes me want to kick them.

Off to the pool where I do a couple of laps of each. Justin pops in and asks if I did the foam rollers he recommended for my calf. I said I was planning on doing it after and he said I was supposed to do it before and after. Whoops. He also calls me out for the band-aid I have placed at the top of my lane. It fell off and I didn't feel like getting out of the pool simply to throw it away. I can do that when I'm done swimming.

Grant and I head for the steam room, which I'm strangely looking forward to, simply because I'm convinced it will fix my muscle issue. I set the timer for about five minutes. It is definitely easier to stay in the steam room when someone is there to talk with you. I get distracted and hardly focus on the fact that I am slowly dying of oxygen deprivation. 

About a minute before our time is up, 2 other gentlemen come in to the steam room. Two or even three people is okay in the steam room. Four makes me feel a little claustrophobic. Plus one of the guys says, "You guys weren't in the pool for very long." No. We weren't. But who are you, anyway? Not everyone can swim two miles after working out on both a bike and on weights. Shut your mouth.

On my way out of the gym, I have Fun Taylor make me a smoothie and tell her she has to watch Happy Endings. We're practically best friends already.

Knot...

I wake up this morning with an awful feeling in my left leg. It's in the calf/shin area and it kills. I have no idea what's wrong but it lessens as the day goes on, so I don't really think anything of it (side note: I've also had wicked chafing on my inner left thigh, an awful side effect of being a fat person who decides to start exercising). I mention it to my coworker and she tells me I should probably not do Zumba tonight. Negative. I WILL be doing Zumba. I missed the last 2 weeks and I've been looking forward to Zumba all weekend. Especially since I had to miss yesterday's gym time because I went after the gym closed.

So, against her advice, I go to Zumba and meet up with my best friend Rachel. We're a little early so we chat outside that class and pity the people who are currently in the studio doing a class that I won't be ready for for at least three months. We also talk about going to a Body Combat class.

When the class ends, I head in and take my spot right in the front row. I'm not going to be shoved to the back, this time. I am going to shine and everyone will be jealous of me and my smooth hips. Before we start, Best Friend Rachel makes me promise not to mock her for having no rhythm and guarantees me that she will sweat more than I will. Challenge accepted.

As class starts, I fall into a groove. Moves come back to me and I'm feeling the burn, which is really great. But about 10 minutes in, my left leg starts hurting and my whole back feels like its cramping. Why does this happen to me? I take it easy when I have to and I stretch after each song, but it still doesn't feel super great. I am thankful for every song that is slower that involves less moving.

At the end of class, I'm so relieved I could cry. And I totally win the more sweat contest. I could ring out my shirt and collect s fair amount of sweat. And Best Friend Rachel is not struggling in the rhythm department.

I decide that I need to do some swimming in order to cool myself down and so I head to the pool . I can only do a total of ten lengths before I have to call it a day. I decide that the steam room may be the perfect thing for me, since I was feeling so tense in Zumba. I go in for six minutes and come out feeling a little better.

But then I stumble. From the gym, on my smartphone, I order Domino's Pizza to pick up on my way home. There should be a law against ordering junk food while inside a gym. Now, I used to get Domino's fairly frequently. So frequently, in fact, that the employees of Domino's greet me by street address when I arrive to pick up my pizza. Talk about embarrassing. 

While I did take one step back, I would say that I took two steps forward. Before when I would order Domino's, I would have no problem consuming an entire pizza, and then some, in one sitting. Tonight, I limit myself to two slices and now I basically have a week's worth of lunches.

I also figure out that I have a wicked bad knot in my calf muscle, and that is why my leg has been hurting. I attempt to massage it out before going to bed by resting it on a metal water bottle and on my bed post. It kills, but I know I have to keep doing it if I want to get rid of the knot faster. 

I just posted a picture of me in my underwear on the internet. I'm such a rebel.

So if anyone has any suggestions of how to get a knot out of a calf muscle or if anyone wants to help me by massaging it, let me know. 

Late...

So my alarm goes off at 8:00, but I'm still tired so I reset it for fifteen minutes later and go back to bed. Then I wake up at 8:45 and realize I set my weekday alarm instead of my weekend alarm. I have a quick shower and get dressed and race to the gym. Thank goodness Pilates always starts late. I look like a mess and I haven't even started my workout.

As I wait, I'm watching the end of CX Works, the class I went to on Wednesday. I am NOT jealous of the people currently suffering through this class. It's a tough workout. And, in possibly the most bizarre workout tradition, people clap for themselves at the end of it. I pride myself on the fact that I have never clapped for myself after finishing a workout and I don't plan on starting any time soon.

I head in to the studio, select my spot, and do some pre-stretching. Taylor says hi to me, and I enthusiastically respond with my own salutations. But that pleasant exchange is shor lived because some lady sets up her mat insanely close to mine. Honestly woman, I have long arms and sometimes we have to fully extend them out sideways. Back off. It's not like the studio is particularly crowded, today. 

To counteract this negative, I finally am not the only man in class. Two other guys who were both in CX Works (how on earth do you do two classes in a row?) have been convinced by Kiki to stay for Pilates. This does little beyond making me feel less self conscious, but since that's the main thing I struggle with, I welcome their presence.

It's a fairly standard Pilates workout, but a large portion of it features moves where my legs are supposed go up over my head, which is not something I can do at this present moment in time. When these moments happen, I try my best to get my legs that high, but the best I can do is almost vertical, which is tragically pathetic. 

My ability to do this has disintegrated

This used to be something I could do as a kid, and it's mildly depressing that I've lost that ability. I also used to be able to fit into a laundry basket and slide down the stairs. Tragically that is no longer a skill I possess either. Oh well. Life goes on. On the plus side, I have noticed that I can do significantly more reps of certain exercises and that I'm even able to successfully do things I wasn't able to do before. All after only five total times at Pilates.

I know I need to focus on these victories otherwise it will be easier to be discouraged and stop going. And I have to say, another big plus aside from the physical changes and overall physical wellness, I'm happier than I have been in a long time. Consistently so. Just ask Fit Andrew.

To top it all off, at the end of the class, Kiki tells me I did a good job. And validation is all I long for in this world, so that feels great. I wave to Justin on my way out of the gym, but Skinny Matt is nowhere to be seen. Hopefully he can survive without a greeting from me. But I like to think all of the employees at the gym feel extra great when I greet them. That's why I keep going. To brighten other people's days. 

Twice...

My plan is to go to Pilates after work so I pack up all my workout gear and head to work. Pilates doesn't start until 5:30, but I prefer to be prepared in case something comes up. But, I get all the way to work and realize that I have left my mat at home. Not the end of the world because they have mats at the gym, but still, totally not ideal.

I've also made plans to workout with another friend after Pilates around 8 o'clock. So in theory, I'll be going to the gym twice in one day. IN. ONE. DAY. Yeah, crazy I know, but apparently I can't get enough. The gym is like drugs. The only thing I've been this obsessed about is cookie dough, and heavens knows that was not a healthy habit. I'm addicted to fitness.

Work ends and I drive home. And I get home around 4:50. That leaves me forty minutes until Pilates starts. Holy crap I think I planned ahead too much. I have to now waste time at home before I go. So, I check my email, read Yahoo news, amuse myself with reddit and squeeze in (or out) a last minute poop. Then I grab my mat and head to Pilates.

I meet Megan at the gym but I have to run downstairs and change and when I come back up, everyone is already in the room with spots chosen so I have to plant myself in the worst possible location: smack dab in front of the door. Thank goodness everyone walking past is going to be able to look in and see my chubby self sweating and struggling through this class.

It's another new teacher, today. But Beth is great because she's kind of self deprecating and brings great humor to the class. She also starts off by giving everyone permission to rest when they need to, which makes me feel reassured. I'm still embarrassed to drop a pose simply because my muscles aren't strong enough, but I shouldn't expect to be really great at Pilates after only four classes.

After class, I change and on my way out I run into Justin. We chat for a few minutes and he chastises me for using the calf machine because I'm working out one of the smallest muscles in my body. My response is that I have no idea what I'm doing. And then he drops a pearl of wisdom. "There are two types of people that need personal trainers: those with the motivation who have no idea what to do, and those who know what to do but have no motivation." So if you are one of those types of people, join a gym and get a personal trainer.

I say goodbye to Carla and tell her that I might be back later tonight. At home I relax on the couch and watch TV, deciding I will not be going back to the gym. But my last episode of Don't Trust the B in Apartment 23 ends right at 8:00 and so I force myself to return to the gym and hit the pool.

I'm bound and determined to swim at least half a mile, tonight. I check the info board on my way in to see how many lengths of the pool I have to do. 1 mile is 82 lengths of the pool, so that means I have to do 41 lengths to reach my goal of half a mile. I do 12 lengths of freestyle, 10 using the kick board, 10 of backstroke, 6 more of freestyle, 2 more with the kickboard, and finally 2 more of backstroke. Essentially I feel like jelly when I'm done.

Yes, yes I am.

I chill in the steam room for a good 6 minutes (progress!) where I meet a very interesting individual who used to be a body-builder, but an injury forced him to stop training and he's just started coming back to the gym. I prefer silence when I'm in the presence of strangers in a steam room, but if you feel the need to talk, more power to you.

Death...

I've decided to go to a class alone. As in, without a friend accompanying me. This came at the recommendation of Justin. Somehow he can get me to do things I would never choose to do by myself. That's probably why he's good at what he does. So the class I have been encouraged to attend is a half hour of intense working out focusing on core but with arms and legs in there, too. I am terrified. I feel self-conscious when I do an exercise video in the privacy of my own home and now I have to do a class that I've only ever seen in-shape people do and in I'll walk, some fat person who is going to struggle the entire time.

When I get to the gym, I enthusiastically greet Carla, and express my feelings of nervousness. "You'll have fun!" she tells me. Oh really, Carla? Have you ever done this class? I'll probably hate it and believe me, I will let you know that I hate it. But it's hard to actually be even remotely upset when she's so friendly and trying to be encouraging.

I change and come back up the stairs (those awful, horrible stairs) and head towards the workout studio. There are no joke, probably 25 people outside of the room. Kill me now, because to have to exercise with these people will be inhumane torture. Oh well. I strike up a conversation with a particularly friendly looking woman and ask if the class is always this busy. "No, this is really unusual," she responds. Great. Leave it to the horrible laws of inconvenient coincidences to have me come to a class on the random day when it's actually busy. Screw you, universe!

And boy do I feel the crowdedness when we actually go into the room. I try to find a spot where I can remain somewhat hidden (not easy when you're 6'4" and fat) but all of these spots are taken almost immediately by people who really should not be embarrassed about how they look. There should be some kind of rule about that, similar to the rules about requiring seats be available on trains to seniors or persons with disabilities. Please reserve concealed areas of the workout studio for overweight persons. Slap that on a sign and you could make millions. 

Also, this is my first class that requires me to actually pick up equipment. And I have no idea what to grab. Thank goodness Justin is there and he tells me to grab an orange resistance band with handles and a five pound plate and a mat. So I do. I can't even begin to express how nervous I am. It's not like they're going to ask me to demonstrate everything at the front of the room, but I'm still incredibly nervous for this next half hour.

Praise the lord they start by playing One Direction. Because I am beautiful and I don't know it and that's what makes me beautiful. But not while we're doing crunches and leg extensions. I guarantee that I am not beautiful while this is happening. As the class progresses, I'm happy that I'm kind of keeping up and not feeling discouraged when I have to take a brief rest. I push myself and I don't quit. Even when we do squats. While raising the weight over our heads. And my arms are crying. I didn't know arms could cry.

It's at the end where things start to fall apart. We swap to a lot of stuff in the plank position that I can't do. I have to drop my knees to even remain in the plank position while everyone else is successfully doing one armed planks. But, I'm not ashamed (nor is it particularly edgy for me to say) that these people are in better shape than me and should be able to do things better. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is growth.

Class is over. I've survived. Yes, I have left a puddle of sweat on the floor, but they clean in here, right? The instructors tell everyone not to lift, but they encourage everyone to do some cardio. I almost laugh out loud. But then I think, 'Why not? Push yourself, Sam.' Though that's kind of a lie. I never actually think my name to myself when I am in thought.

I go downstairs, determined to do my fifteen minutes on the elliptical. I start, and Ke$ha keeps me going for about two minutes before I adjust my expected workout time down to ten minutes. And then I decide to stop at the five minute mark. I worked hard, so I'll reward myself with a shorter elliptical workout.

Referral...

Today at work, I do a full plank for 30 seconds. Two of them, in fact. On the floor on my toes for a minute, total. I'm amazing. I literally couldn't do that a week ago. So see, everyone? Exercising works! 

After my incredibly victorious day at work, I come home and find out that Fit Andrew would like to come to the gym, as well. I'm always excited when other people are interested in trying out my gym. I love even a slight prospect at getting five bucks off my monthly membership fee. Andrew has a little trouble locating his other tennis shoe while getting ready, but after I dramatically search and happen to find it, we're off.

Crap on a stick, Carla isn't at the desk tonight. Oh well, I'll save my greeting for another day. We come in and get set up with a visitor's pass for Andrew and then head down to the cardio room. We make for the elliptical machines. I work out for fifteen minutes next to Fit Andrew, saying a silent prayer asking God to please make him fall off or at least stumble. But no, he just takes off and doesn't ever stop. I, on the other hand, sweat and burn and in an event that I can only describe as magic, drop my iPod off of the machine and it rips my headphones out of my ears. So I do my last 4 minutes without it.

After I finish my fifteen minutes and awkwardly reach for my iPod without getting smacked in the face by Andrew's elliptical, I move on to the weight room. It's a leg day, and leg days are rough. I start on the calf machine, which I have now mastered. In fact, I'm pretty sure people are watching me to figure out how I do it and do it while looking amazing. On to thighs, then hamstrings, then glutes, because I want a nice butt.

Then Andrew and I decide we will do some swimming. Skinny Matt happens to be at the gym, too, and after quick introductions and talk about the earthquake that happened (yes, earthquake) Andrew and I head to the pool.

Seriously, it was about this dramatic

It is in the pool where I get to feel physically superior to Andrew. Now don't get me wrong, he's a good swimmer, but when it comes to using a boogie board and just kicking, I win. Small victory, I know, but a victory nonetheless.

After swimming, it's adventure time. Once again, I attempt to use the steam room. I'm feeling a little braver because I'll have company and therefore conversation to distract me from my suffocating. And Matt also happens to be in there and offers the advice of grabbing a cup of ice water before heading in. I only stay in for about 5 minutes, but it's a comfortable five minutes and I could have stayed longer if I wanted. Is it easier to use the steam room if you're more in-shape?

On my way out, I make a point to introduce myself to the woman at the front desk. After all, she was very helpful with Andrew's visitor's pass. Her name is Taylor and she is so pleasant. I'm telling you, it's these wonderful employees of the gym that make it so easy to keep coming back. It's almost like they're my friends or something weird like that.

Milestone...

Today marks the longest amount of time I have ever consistently exercised. One month and 4 days. So apparently this whole gym then blog thing really works. So if I fail, I can blame my lack of readers. And you don't want that on your conscience, do you? So share the blog and follow it.

After work (where I neglected to plank despite getting a call from Jane) I head out to dinner with a couple of great friends. I still had a free entree and dessert coupon for Not Your Average Joe's, so we go and use it up. I have a DELICIOUS sirloin wedge salad and end with a great dessert of Peanut Butter Ice Cream Pie. And then I have to go to the gym.

Apparently eating that much for dinner doesn't make a huge difference in tonight's workout. As I enter the gym Carla (who is often at the front desk when I come in) greets me by name. And to adhere to my policy of being honest and truthful, I only know her name because I asked Matt. It seemed unfair for her to continually greet me by name and not return the favor, so the next time I go to the gym, she will get a very enthusiastic personal greeting from me. 

Now, because of my training sessions with Justin, I am convicted to use that awful elliptical machine. So I hop on that, first, and go for a full fifteen minutes. As usual, I am crazy sweating the whole time and I'm very grateful when my fifteen minutes are up. I repeat the flapping move that I learned on Thursday and then head into the weight room.

I've said it before and I will say it again. Weight rooms have always intimidated me. I have never seen a single person who is not buff beyond belief in a weight room. Today is only slightly out of the norm. There are several buff guys walking around, examining themselves in the mirrors (something I never understood and continue to be confused by)  and an older woman lifting weights and making me feel exceptionally weak. But one of the guys walking around is apparently working on legs and every exercise he does causes him to look like he is about to cry. At least I'll be entertained during my lifting.

I'm working the upper body, today, so I do some back and chest exercises. I have to say, I've gotten really good at actually engaging the proper muscle groups when I use these machines, which causes me to experience a little more muscle soreness, but I kind of like feeling sore after doing a workout.

Before I leave, I decide that I am going to try the virtual bike game thing that CJ tried to get me to do on my very first day. After setting up a profile, I log in and try a basic course. It's only a mile long, so I won't feel like I've committed to a really long workout. Basically, I get to ride a bike around a track and I have to turn the handle bars to stay on the track and I pass other riders, as well. And you know what? I have fun. Are you happy, CJ?! I HAD FUN! So much so, in fact, that I do a second track before I go home for the night. I may have to do it again.

Redemption...

I wake up for Pilates and immediately want to go right back to bed. I hate Pilates, I hate waking up, and I hate everyone. That's a lot of hate for one morning. Begrudgingly I roll out of bed and stumble down the hall to my shower. Why doesn't showering burn a million calories? And why doesn't sleeping, for that matter?

I head out the door with my yoga mat in it's new straps and get to the gym. I wave at Skinny Matt and head down to change and then back up to the studio. I am put through the torture of watching the end of CXWorks, which is a class that Justin suggested I go to. I absolutely do not want to do that, after watching the end of this class.

I enter the studio and pick a spot against the wall. Great, another new instructor. Hopefully I don't hate this one. But Megan assures me that Kiki is awesome. So I stretch out and prepare for the worst. We start in a seated position and do a whole series of roll down, sit up types of move and I am encouraged to discover that I can actually perform a sit up without assistance. But that encouragement is short lived, because eventually I have to lift my legs and attempt to do things that I know I will not be able to do. Like swoop my legs around in a circle. Nope, not going to happen.

But, refreshingly, Kiki is great at motivation and provides modifications without me having to ask her. The other thing, and it's really small but makes a huge difference, is she starts with the lowest difficulty and provides ways to make it more difficult if you feel strong enough. So I don't feel like some weak person who has to downgrade my moves. I feel like a person who has a goal that I may be able to get to, someday.

At one point, we're sitting with our legs outstretched and we're supposed to be sitting straight and tall. She comes around to make sure people are in good form and comes over to me. I'm prepared to receive a compliment, but all she does is say "More straight" and puts her hand on my back to show me where I should be lengthening my spine. Suddenly, it becomes difficult to sit up. As in, hard to sit... on the ground... not lifting weights. I'm literally working muscles BY SITTING.

At the end of class, I'm not nearly as sweaty as I usually am, but I definitely feel like I worked my muscles more than I ever have in Pilates. Take note, Pilates teachers: if you are a more interactive teacher, I get more out of your workouts. Don't make me give you a bad grade.

Vomit...

Today is a rough day. Stuff just goes wrong. I don't realize I hit someone and the next thing I know, he's honking and motioning for me to pull over and telling the police I was fleeing the scene of an accident. That would be false. I didn't think there was an accident for me to flee from. Nonetheless, I get a citation for fleeing the scene and now have to appear in court. Honestly, this is stupid. If I had known I hit him, I would have stopped. And it's basically over a transfer of paint. No body damage whatsoever. I hate everything. So here's a picture of me with cake.

Aren't my coworkers the best?

I hope that this rage will filter in to my workout, tonight. I have my second session with Justin. I get to the gym around quarter of seven and change and head to that god-forsaken elliptical. Honestly, I feel like setting things on fire. But all that burns is my thighs because I suck it up and use the machine. I do it for 12 and a half minutes, two and a half over my requirement because I'm such an overachiever. Then Justin comes and finds me and we start the evenings workout.

We walk to the training room and I do the squat side-shuffle (sounds like a dance move, huh?) as a warm up. Then he takes me to the end of these long ropes. I've seen this before... I'm going to die. Basically, I'm supposed to raise and lower the ends of the ropes rapidly, so as to create a wave that travels down the length of the ropes. Justin tells me I'm going to do a set of 20, 30, and finally 40. In between these sets, I'm supposed to do a minute of squats. Kill me now.

I've tried to develop an attitude of conquering what is in front of me and not thinking about the long term, but I am ready to simply crumble into a heap of laziness at the thought of what the next 5ish minutes will hold. But I plug through, only because I have Justin telling me I'm not allowed to stop. When I finish, I think to myself, 'Wow, great workout. Good thing I'm done.' No such luck. I now have to do more squats.

Squats are my least favorite thing ever. But I told him I wanted to work on my butt, so I guess I have to do them. And boy are they painful. Then we go down the hall to the cardio room, where they also have a couple of trapeze machines. At least that's what they make me think of. Who knows what they're actually called.

I then have to do some arm thing that I can only describe as a chest clap. Like a clap in front of me with my arms stretched out, pulling on the weights as I bring my hands together. Like flying from a vertical position, if you will. Right about here, I feel like I may puke. I know someone who says it's awesome if you vomit during a workout because it means you're really pushing yourself. I am not of that opinion, right now. The last thing I want to do is puke. I am really regretting my decision to stress-eat greasy food for lunch.

I finish the flapping and do some planking, which is also really hard. I thought I knew how to do these things, but I find that I've been engaging all the wrong muscle groups and now have to re-learn how to do it correctly. Which leads to crazy sweating and fatigued arms. I can't help but feel whiny as I'm explaining this to Justin, because I'm sure it comes across as my stalling, which he totally calls me out for. Yes, occasionally I stall, but sometimes I honestly want to make sure I'm feeling it in the right place.

After the workout, he's very encouraging and wants me to think about continuing with the personal training, which I am absolutely in favor of doing. It's really helpful to have someone so closely involved to hold me accountable. 

Birthday...

Exciting things happen in my life, today. For one, I turn 26. It seems to be a lot easier to turn 26 than it did to turn 25. Far less dramatic. And for my birthday, my coworkers surprise me with chinese food for lunch, a homemade chocolate cake, and fun gifts including straps for my yoga mat! Let me say again how awesome it feels to have so many people on my side and supporting me. It makes me feel really good and that my goals are totally and completely able to be accomplished.

This cake is the ice cream cake my family got me over the weekend.

Work cake pictures will come as soon as I receive them.

I drive home from work with a bunch of leftovers and arrive in my apartment to find Fit Andrew doing school work in his loft. Crazy lame. I tell him about my awesome day and he tells me about his rather uneventful one. Then, I watch an episode of Parks and Recreation and do yoga.

I only do an abbreviated version of yoga because I have a friend coming over before I go out to celebrate my birthday, but I still feel super great, afterwards. I attempt to convince him to come to the gym with me, but he doesn't have a change of clothes. So we play Mario Kart instead. The problem is, Joe is awful at Mario Kart, so that doesn't last long. But, while we're playing, I get a call from a number I don't immediately recognize, so I answer the phone. Who should be on the other end but Matt (previously referred to as Skinny Matt) calling to wish me a happy birthday!

Honestly, the Beverly Athl--... Anonymous Gym is really impressing me. They are really supportive and awesome. Yes, I hate to be approached while I'm working out, but I appreciate that this staff seems to all be on board with my goals and my process to reach them. It's those little bits of encouragement that make it bearable.

Pouty...

After a very standard day at work that featured a very difficult 1-minute plank, I drive home to my freezing cold apartment. I contemplate doing some cleaning, but I decide it would be much better to sit around and play MarioKart Wii. Who doesn't prefer video games to housework?

After losing and getting very angry, I decide I should probably clean. But cleaning morphs into removing the A/C unit in my room, which is obnoxiously heavy. And then I have to carry to to the storage room. Bam, cardio and weightlifting done for the day. I then realize that I have to wash my gym clothes, which have not been washed since Saturday and are foul. I throw them in the wash, now realizing that they will not nearly be done in time for a trip to the gym, tonight.

I decide to voice my decision to not go to the gym, and I am met with boos and hisses from my roommate, who tells me I really should go. And it's true, I should. But I really don't want to go in a shirt that is too snug and shorts that may give everyone an eyeful of things that I do not feel comfortable sharing with the world. Especially since I'm not being paid for it.

So, I do yoga, instead. After a series of days (3 total) of not doing anything remotely resembling exercise unless you count lifting a fork in the same motion as one would do bicep curls, I'm amazed by how difficult things are. If there was ever motivation to do yoga consistently, it's the fact that it sucks to start up again after a break.

I sweat a lot and I'm super whiny about the whole thing. If only I had remembered to wash my clothes before I found myself in this position, I would not be acting like such a baby. It all boils down to me being the reason that I can't go to the gym. What a life lesson that is. I am responsible for my own behavior. 

*As a general note, each blog post is made the day after the events in the post. For example, today is October 10th (my birthday, for those who are interested), but the content of the post happened on October 9th. Confusing, I know, but I'm pretty sure you can deal with it.

Food...

So my family is here for an early birthday weekend and what happens? We spend most of our time eating. Yes, I go to Pilates on Saturday, but, as evidenced by my last blog post, it was awful. And I'm not even eating well. Family visits always seem to be meals punctuated with intervals of inactivity.

We do spend part of our time walking around Bearskin Neck in Rockport, but it's a very leisurely pace and isn't really exertion of any kind. And I don't get recognized on the street, so there's another huge disappointment. But, we do take some hilarious photos with a cutout of my little sister because she couldn't come along on the trip, so that's good for several laughs.

Here we are at Target!

After walking around for a while, it's time to take my parents back to the airport. On our way, we stop at Taco Bell for some food, where I stuff my face with deliciousness. I'll be paying for this later, so I don't really feel bad. But then we have to say goodbye, which no one ever likes, but it always seems to hit my mom pretty hard. Both mom and dad tell me how proud they are of me and what I'm doing and it makes me excited to keep going with this whole gym thing. I love getting attention and this is a great way to do it because it actually helps me be more healthy.

After we drop them off, sister, brother-in-law and I drive down to IKEA for a furniture shopping excursion. Now this is a workout. IKEA is huge and all you are supposed to do is walk around. Plus I exercise my ability to want something I can't presently afford and I'm sure I burn some calories feeling sorry for myself. But I do come away with two feather pillows and a meal of swedish meat balls, so it's not a complete loss. 

Honesty...

As established in the last blog post, I am not a person who excels at patience. And today that was painfully obvious to me. Today was my second time at Pilates. Justin, my personal trainer (yes, it feels incredibly weird to make reference to anyone as my personal trainer) told me that I had to keep going to Pilates, because a strong core is the foundation to any healthy individual. So I go today and this is the first day where I have felt like a complete failure.

Yes, it felt awesome to join and make little steps towards my goals, but in class today it feels like I have gone backwards. Poses are hard or impossible for me to do. I have no idea how to modify them so that I'm still working muscles even though I may not be going to the same extremes as everyone else. Do I expect extra-special treatment because I'm the only fat person in the class? No. But I do expect the instructor to take an extra three seconds to explain how to lower the intensity. I can't be the only person who needs that.

This class is full of new motions and I find myself struggling to keep up and on the verge of tears when I realize that some of the poses aren't possible for me to do at this stage (grown men can cry, this is the 21st century). It's not as simple as, 'I'm not strong enough to do more than 3 of these'. It's 'I physically cannot swing my legs over my head and raise my pelvis off of the mat.'

I guess I expect to be able to do more after almost a month of consistent physical activity. And maybe it's that I'm still sore from my personal training session or that the instructor was different and had never had a fat person in her class before. Who knows, but I definitely leave the gym in a sour mood.

I know this post is slightly more on the downer side of the spectrum, but I don't think it would be truly reflective of my experiences if I didn't occasionally tell everyone who reads (whoever you may be) that sometimes this sucks. Don't worry, this isn't going to derail me. I'm still going to get off my butt and schlep it on down to the gym on Monday (I'm choosing to take Sunday off in order to spend some time with my visiting parents) but hopefully this does let you know that despite feeling crappy, I know that ultimately this is the best thing I could be doing for myself and one day of a foul mood isn't going to make me quit.

I will never go backwards.

So because this post was more on the serious side of things, here's a joke:

What's black and white, black and white, black and white?

A penguin rolling down a hill.

If you don't like it, I don't care.

Patience...

So I freak out most of the day because I have my very first personal training session at the Beverly Athletic Club. Oops. I mean my anonymous gym. I am hella nervous (And no, I'm not ashamed that I used 'hella' in this post because I do what I want). The hours seem to drag as 7:00 approaches. I come home from work to a wonderful surprise. In an incredible act of kindness, I receive an early birthday present from a great friend. She has bought me my very own yoga mat. And she bought me an extra long one because I'm so tall. I can't wait to use it at Pilates on Saturday. I'm going to be the coolest person there. So let me say again, Thank You KP!

After that pleasant distraction, I clean some more because I'm incredibly antsy and I have nothing else to do. After what seems like days of waiting, I check the clock. It's only 5:45 and I have to wait another hour before I leave. Patience has never been a gift of mine, and today I am painfully aware of how not patient I am. I constantly pace through the house and fidget and squirm. Does that count as physical exertion?

I head over to the gym around 6:50 to meet my trainer at 7:00. I come in and none other than CJ is in the office. He cheerfully greets me and we have a brief conversation about my life. He is incredibly encouraging and kind and I start to feel guilty about judging him when I started at the gym. Plus, he makes reference to my blog so I'm pretty sure he's read it and I am thoroughly embarrassed. So CJ, if you're reading this, hopefully you've picked up on my sarcastic sense of humor and no that I tend to over-exaggerate. If not, I don't really know what to tell you.

I quickly change and come back upstairs to meet Justin, my trainer. I expected to have a trainer that was in good physical shape, but it's still my instant gut reaction to compare myself and feel inferior. We sit down and chat about what my goals are and I tell him the three main areas I want to work on are the Boobs, Belly, and Butt. The three B's, if you will. And you will, because I wrote them.

We talk for about half an hour and then he says we're going to go downstairs and he's going to kick my butt. Verbatim. Kill me now. We head to the cardio room first and where would he have me start but on the elliptical machine. I kind of hate you already, Justin. But at least he only makes me do five minutes and did I really think he wouldn't push me more than I would push myself? No. 

Then we go to the training room and he has me do push-ups, and side step with a band around my ankles. I can't do a real push-up to save my life, so he has me do standing push-ups, which are apparently also something I'm not incredibly good at. I alternate between those and the side steps, which are surprisingly difficult and my legs and butt really feel the burn after traveling maybe 10 yards.

After that, I get to take out my frustration by chucking a 20 pound exercise ball at the ground a total of 40 times. I'm convinced Justin miscounts at one point and I probably end up doing more like 43. Not that I'm bitter or anything. Then, I lay on my back on the floor and bridge it up to end the session. Surprisingly, I don't want to punch him in the face, but that may be because I barely have the strength to raise my arms above my waist. 

For those of you who don't know, this is 'bridge'. Minus those awful jeans.

Because we talked for the first half hour, he graciously offers to do another free half hour session next week, where he can kick my butt all over again. Why would I say no? This is what I signed up for. So I have another session to look forward to, next week. On my way home, I could cry because I have to strain to turn my steering wheel. Thanks a lot, Justin.

Inches...

I've been getting lazy with my juicing and have been eating more meals, which is depressing considering I only have a week left and should be able to suck it up and stick it out. So at work, I insist on planking for a full minute again. And I do 20 lunges for the 10 pieces of mail we get. And I do some glute squeezing just for the heck of it. Hey, every little bit helps, right?

So I get home from work and have made plans to do some cleaning in preparation for the arrival of my parents on Friday. It's some rough cleaning. There's a lot to be done. I work up a little bit of a sweat, but not enough to consider it a full workout. After cleaning, I do yoga for twenty minutes. As I continue to do it, I notice my ability has increased quite a bit. Poses that I used to struggle to hold, I don't have to worry about. Make no mistake, it's still hard, but I have more energy to commit to the difficult stuff instead of wasting it on the stuff that should be easy.

By the end, I'm good and sweaty; a feeling I've come to enjoy. I pack my gym bag (thanks Trusty Target Bag) and head to the gym for a dip in the pool. I arrive at the gym and change into my swimsuit. I decide I'm avoiding the weight room and doing lower impact things because I have a session with a personal trainer tomorrow and I'm sure to get my butt kicked.

I do a total of 30 lengths of the pool, which I don't think is even half a mile. I can't help but feel sad and pathetic, like the plants that are placed throughout the pool area. My arms burn and my legs burn and I think I may not have the strength to lift my head out of the water each and every time I submerge myself. At the conclusion of my swim, I once again thank the powers that be that I was the only person in the pool because the last thing I need is to feel like someone is watching me. 

Honestly, could a living thing look more depressed?

I do go into the steam room, again. This time I have the power to set the timer myself. I settle on 6 minutes, thinking I'll perform better when there is an ultimate and finite goal. I go inside and sit down and feel pretty bad-ass as the steam starts to full the room. 'This vapor form of water ain't got nothin' on me,' I think to myself in the most humble of internal narratives. I last a good while, too. I'm not sure at what point things head south, but I am suddenly aware of needing to constantly blink and I can't decide if I can't see because of the steam or if it's because I'm going to pass out. I decide to play it safe and leave. As I exit, I glance at the timer. I was 30 seconds away from my goal. So close.

I have noticed some physical change since this whole journey began. I have more space in the legs of my jeans. What a coworker once described as skinny jeans are fairly baggy in the leg. I have actual shoulder muscles and notice a difference between flexing and not flexing. I'm really glad I started this and I'm really excited to finish it. Plus, wouldn't it be kind of awesome if at the end of my journey I decided to become a personal trainer?

Burn...

I have to admit, I'm really enjoying this whole 'working out' thing. I am constantly and consistently forcing my coworkers to adhere to our Office Wellness program, and I get excited when I get to take 30 seconds to do planking. Today is no different, though Megan and I decide we'll be bold and plank for a full minute. Unfortunately, 45 seconds in to our planking, a customer stops in and ruins everything. So we do a 45 second plank and then a 30 second plank.

When I get home from work, Fit Andrew and I finish Resident Evil and then I start my yoga for the day. The yoga mat really does help. It gives me traction when I enter some of the more difficult poses. The planking at work is having an effect on my home yoga sessions because I can do the full 9 count plank without lowering to my knees like I used to have to do.

After the completion of my regular 20 minute workout, I decide to be a little adventurous and try the 12 minute 'Red Hot Core' workout. It's only an extra 12 minutes and I'm feeling super fit, so I tell myself this will be fine. Not the case. It's like Pilates day all over again. These exercises are ridiculous and make me realize that I do not have a whole lot of core strength.

One of the workouts I'm supposed to do is to lay on my back and alternate leg extensions. It is at this exact moment that I fully understand what it means to "work muscles I didn't even know I had". I feel the burn right under my sternum and it is quite the burn.

I'm even sweatier than usual after finishing the extra workout, but I still feel really awesome. I shower and after reflecting for 2 minutes on how much it sucks to shower and still be sweating when you're done, I clean for the rest of the night.

Shake...

I get home from work and my fit roommate is exercising. Gee, thanks for being so fit and still exercising and making me feel incredibly lazy. You're lucky you're so encouraging with my journey towards fitness or I'd want to kick you into a wall. Plus, it gives me good perspective that even fit people struggle and sweat while exercising, so I take it back. Keep up the good work Fit Andrew.

I have plans to go to Zumba with some friends later, but I still want to get in my yoga for the day. Fit Andrew has graciously bequeathed one of his old yoga mats to me, which makes a surprising difference in my workout. I don't fret about my sweat hitting the mat, I don't have to worry about getting crumbs on my back, and I don't slip around on the carpet when I do bridge pose. 

I leave for the gym as soon as I'm done with yoga and meet up with Christine and Lisa. Much like my Pilates experience, I'm the only male in the class and I'm the only person who has no experience with Zumba. This should be fun. After a brief explanation about what will be happening for the next hour, the instructor starts the music.

Let me take this opportunity to say, I have found my calling and my calling is Zumba. Zumba combines my need to workout with my desire to constantly bust a move. And I am REALLY good at busting a move. Many people are surprised to learn that I'm such a good dancer, but it's one of my favorite pastimes. The music is pumping and I'm jumping around, working my hips and flailing my arms in a very controlled way. I am oh so seductive. And 10 minutes in I am oh so sweaty. 

I mean, look at me go. I'm amazing.

Throughout the class, I do find myself having to modify the moves so that I don't keel over, but I surprise myself with my ability to keep up and have fun while exercising. The instructor comments on what a vocal class we are, and I credit myself for that. If anyone wants to do Zumba, I will absolutely go with you and you will absolutely have a blast. 

As the class winds down, we do a final stretching dance. This is the most fun I've ever had at a workout. One of the other members of the class, who must be a regular, tells my friends and me that we should come to the Sunday one too, because we made the class so much more enjoyable. You bet lady. You will see me there.

Forty...

Today I take part in my first ever group exercise class: Pilates. After showering and working up the nerve to drive to the gym, I stand outside the studio and shake because I am so nervous. People are going to see me trying to do the exact same thing as them and the class won't be able to happen because everyone will be laughing at my feeble attempts to raise my feet over my head.

My thoughts are intensely more cynical because I am watching the end of another group exercise class in which people are doing some crazy muscular workouts. I want to cry because I feel so bad for these people and I know I'm going to be in that same position in a matter of moments. I am slightly encouraged because my coworker who has experience in pilates is here and tells me that they tend to have the lights off during the class. Praise be to Jehovah.

The class before mine finally ends, almost 10 minutes of pure torture late. I walk in to the studio, grab a mat (Ew. It's used. Who knows if this has ever been cleaned) and hide in the back of the room. Most of the other people in the class have brought their own mats and I see that all of them are stretching before the class begins. A pre-workout workout, I guess. So I cave to the pressures of the rest of the students and stretch out my sore muscles.

The instructor fiddles with her iPod and shuts off the fans before she finally begins the class. She's playing the most god-awful elevator music versions of top 40 hits from probably 5 years ago. She gives a brief introduction and we start. 3 minutes later, I want to quit, and all I've been doing is sitting upright on a mat and pointing my toes. And this is supposed to be a 45 minute class. Ever since I joined this gym, I have had more near death experiences than I care to think about, and today, it looks like, will be no different.

I kind of always assumed Pilates was more of a workout for women, and the composition of the class would suggest the same. I am the only male in the room, and a majority of the women, save for 3, are over the age of forty. And apparently all of them are in much better shape than I am. This is one of the HARDEST workouts I've ever had to do. So much of it focuses on core strength. The instructor asks us to lay on our backs, swing our feet up over our heads, and bring our legs down in wide circles. No. No lady instructor, I will not be doing that. I will try, but I know I will fail.

Stop that. Stop it right now.

This woman is doing things that, in my opinion, defy both the laws of physics and of biology. I had no idea a body could do things like that, and I watched women's gymnastics during the Olympics. It's incredibly impressive, but I'm only halfway through and my muscles start to ache. I just keep pushing, taking breaks when I need them.

We end the class in 'first position,' and I can only assume that means the Pilates version of ballet first position, but I really have no idea. I dry off with my towel and contemplate offering to mop the floor where I was stationed because I'm sure it's disgusting over there. I put my mat away and the instructor tells me 'Good job.' 'Thanks,' I mutter in reply. I decide she's very impressed that I kept going, even though she was probably very aware that I was having a hard time and she wanted to encourage me.

I go home and take my second shower of the day before noon, and spend the rest of the day attempting to recover. If I'm feeling up to it, I'll go again next Saturday.