100...

Happy 100, everyone. Indeed it's true, this is my 100th post (technically number 101 but I don't count the post where I informed you all of changes to the site). Those of you who were kind enough to wait almost a month for a new post will hopefully not find yourselves disappointed. I will attempt to explain my lack of post with the following word: expectation.

To remain true to one of my goals with this blog of being honest, I look at this 100th post as a significant milestone. I was hoping to have it be a milestone that coincided with a fitness milestone like a post for every pound lost, but instead I was left being convinced I wouldn't have anything exciting to share. At one point or another, throughout the month of June, I broke every single bullet point of my contract. I made bad choices that led to me being convinced I had failed. I was so convinced of my failure that I let what was a significant achievement (more to come on that) be overshadowed by my bad attitude. I even yelled at Justin for scolding me about it.

In what appears to be a recurring theme of the blog, I declare my intent to not get hung up on whatever short comings I decide I have and to focus on the fact that however slowly, I am still on my way towards reaching a goal. This declaration is far easier to type than it is to practice and I will need to constantly remind myself of this intention, but I can say with absolute sincerity that I will try.

Now that that slightly depressing crap is out of the way, let me recap the last month for you. Ladies and gentlemen, in the month of June I lost 12 pounds. As of July 2nd I weigh 359 pounds which brings my total weight loss to 52 pounds. 52 pounds! Now, when I found this out I was mad because I thought it should be more. Who knows why I couldn't just realize that 12 pounds in a month is amazing. It was hard work that really ended up paying off. But brains are stupid and I spent the remainder of the session being grumpy and pissy and Justin kind of yelled at me for it. And then I cried the whole way home. Legit. Sobbed like a crazy person you occasionally see when you drive.

Since then, my gym attendance has been spotty, at best. I accidentally slept through a 6:15am training session and that ruined the entire rest of my day. I was so mad at myself because I was actually looking forward to a morning work out. But I stupidly set my alarm for 6:25 because apparently it's best to set an alarm for 10 minutes after you're supposed to be somewhere.

My new obsession when it comes to working out is Body Combat. This class apparently burns an average of over 700 calories in a 55 minute class. And let me tell you, I believe it. From my experience, it's great for back muscles and core muscles and shoulder muscles. I don't notice legs as much, but that may be because instead of hopping around like I'm supposed to do, I tend to sort of bob in place. But basically watch out for me now. I could totally kick your ass.

Which brings us to today, a day where I find myself continually re-motivated by people telling me I need to post again. A time where motivation is easier to find with encouragement from friends, peers and coworkers. A moment where I'm pleased with my progress up to this point and excited about where I will go in the future. Do I claim today or do I let it become a waste? That's my decision and I'm going to choose change my life.

Hatred...

I hate exercising. There, I said it. I love the feeling afterwards, but I would be willing to do almost anything else to achieve the same results, if I could. Unless it involved snakes. No snakes. I head to the gym early after a brief visit with my wonderful sister and absolutely adorable nephew. Upon arriving, I unload my crap in the locker room, change in to my workout wear, and hop on the first treadmill I can find that is positioned in such a way that I can't see myself. And then I do my half hour of cardio.

I may have mentioned it before (it's almost scary how easy it is to forget what things I have written about), but I'm using an app called 'Couch to 5K' and it is supposed to give me sample workouts that will eventually lead up to me being able to run a 5K. This very much surpasses my goal of being able to run a mile without stopping and it keeps track of when I should be walking and when I should be running which makes it really easy. Truth be told, I enjoy the running part minus the being out of breath and getting sweaty, and when I'm rocking out to the new Selena Gomez, it's easy to ignore those things that I dislike.

After my half hour workout (a total of 2.2 miles and a mile in just over thirteen minutes) Justin takes me to the gym, where we're going to do some circuit-type training. I have to do thirty seconds of high knees, ten seconds of some weird crunch position rotation things, ten seconds of single leg crunches on both legs, and ten squats with thirty seconds of rest between the end of the squats and starting the circuit again. This is when I know I hate exercise.

All exercise makes me do is realize my limitations. I can't run this long or far, I can't move this fast, I can't lift this much, I'm not strong enough to do this or that. Exercise can ruin your self esteem. For me it's like I'm constantly being told (by non-actual voices) that I can't do something. I know not a single person who would enjoy that. Instead of the much healthier 'look at all that I can do' way of looking at it, I can't ignore my inabilities. And it's hard to keep pushing myself with that knowledge.

I don't hide my displeasure from Justin, who does his best to be encouraging by telling me I did a really good job at the end. I'm willing to admit that I did a good job because I finished, but if you put me in a line up with a random selection of other gym goers, I'd be at the bottom. Plus it didn't feel great. Feeling tired and hot and out of breath sucks.

Next I have to do squats and presses with a kettle bell. Have I mentioned I hate exercise? And then, I have to do bicep curls and oblique twists. Keep in mind, this is only a half hour session that we're squeezing this all in. But a half hour walk/jog combined with a half hour training session means an hour total of exercise. That's more than nothing and that's good.

Just so all of you readers know, I never feel good immediately after exercising. In fact, I often feel awful. Depending on how hard I've worked I can sometimes feel nauseated and dizzy. The more time that passes, the better I feel. If anyone else is starting to exercise, I guess I just don't want you to get discouraged because you don't instantly feel great. And it is difficult to remain positive when you can't necessarily see the change. At least that's how I feel. But back I'll go for another day. At 6:00am. Because I work tomorrow.

Contract...

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the contract that I will be adhering to for the next thirty days. Feel free to take on the same or similar challenge (in fact, tell me about it if you do, because that could be fun) but I expect all of you to support me through this endeavor. If you are around me and see me making a bad decision, yell at me. I will not be upset. Thanks.

My intent is to be more deliberate about exercise and to really make use of the next thirty days. Complaining about not doing as well as I would like (plus the extra push from Justin) has made me decide to actually change my plan going forward. We'll call this a jumping off point, not the only way I will live for the rest of my life.

The purpose of including a "to the best of my ability" is not to give myself an out. It's to make legitimate space for a legitimate distraction, i.e. a family member dying. It's for things that are out of my control, not for things like laziness.

Personal Contract

For the next thirty days (ending July 6, 2013) I commit to uphold the rules outlined below to the best of my ability:

I.                    Food

a.       No food shall be consumed between the hours of 8:00pm and 7:00am. Meals shall be eaten during regular meal hours.

b.      Two snacks are permissible during the day, in between meals (one in the morning, one in the afternoon).

c.       The only acceptable place to consume meals is at a table. Food may not be consumed at a desk, on a couch, or in a bed.

d.      A maximum of one meal per week may be consumed at a restaurant.

e.      Food choices will be at least remotely healthy and unprocessed, and no more than one bread item may be consumed, including any sort of bun or roll in any given meal, including at restaurants.

f.        The only snacks that may be consumed are those which have been grown and occur naturally in nature.

g.       The only beverages that may be consumed are water and milk. Soda, coffee, and alcohol are not to be consumed.

II.                  Exercise

a.       Exercise is to occur seven days a week with at least a half hour of exercise performed each day.

b.      Of the pre-established seven days of exercise, a minimum of five days must occur at the gym and should factor in two scheduled personal training sessions and three classes.

c.       Exercise outside of the gym can include walks, tennis, beach volleyball, bike rides, swimming, rowing, gymnastics, etc.

d.      Work must not interfere with the gym. If work is scheduled during the evening, the gym must happen in the morning.

e.      If watching television, exercise must be performed during commercial breaks.

Challenge...

Considering I didn't make it to the gym over the weekend and neglected to do the same on Monday night (though I did do some exercise at home, including a 1.75 mile walk) I really feel the need to make up for lost work out time. Plus it's been a million and a half years since I swam (that's not even a slight exaggeration) and with all the hot weather lately, I've had a hankering to get in the pool. Side note: what the heck kind of word is 'hankering'?

I head over about forty five minutes before my scheduled training session, knowing that time will be sucked up by changing into and out of my swimsuit and what not. Apparently there's a water aerobics class that is about to start because there are old people as far as the eye can see. That and the number of available lanes have been cut down to three and I have to wait because all three are filled. I don't know if I left enough time in my schedule to wait for a lane to become available. It's made even worse by the face that one of the lanes is taken up by a man who has no business swimming because he is awful at it.

So I sit and I sulk. I've become very good at sulking, lately. I like to think it makes me look intimidating and I will maybe scare someone out of one of the lanes if I look angry enough. The problem is I can never maintain my sulkiness because a wonderful pleasant woman (after making three laps in the pool) asks if I'm waiting for a lane. I am, I reply, my scowl instantly morphing into a giant smile. She offers me her lane because all she has left to do is stretch on the stairs in the pool and her lane melds with the stairs. Thank you so much! That's so kind of you.Truthfully, I am a giant softy at heart. There's no way I can actually continue to be mean.

I should probably even take back that nasty thing I said about the gentleman who can't swim, because I didn't exactly look like an expert my first time back in the pool in several months. Eventually I find my rhythm and can at least survive. I even lap the other two that are in the pool, making me feel like an exceptionally good swimmer.

Let me tell you why swimming is annoying and why I have so much respect for swimmers. Swimming is, near as I can tell, the only form of exercise where you are actively holding your breath while you are exerting energy. In all of my now vast experience with exercise, breathing is a huge part of it. There is a rhythm to breathing in swimming, but it's not as simple as breath in during eccentric movements and exhale during concentric movements (yes, I had to look that up, so what?). 

After the pool, I head to the cardio room to do my session and wait for Justin to retrieve me. We do more bench presses, and step ups (a first for my sessions) and I have to do all my hovering from the floor. During the rotation, I find myself getting into an argument with Justin about him being kind of sneaky. It all starts because he has swapped our Tuesday time to 7:00 instead of 6:30. Not a big deal, but I made an offhand comment about it and he got a little defensive. Then, when I'm doing the bench pressing he is several numbers ahead of me in reps. I only counted seven and he thinks I'm on eight. That, to me, sounds like a ploy to make me think I'm doing better than I actually am. Is this a thing? Do trainer's do this? Does he also pretend I've been planking for a minute when it's only been thirty seconds and that's why I have such a hard time planking for a full minute when I'm at home?! It's a conspiracy, similar to what happens whenever I take art classes. I always think I'm doing an amazing job when I'm in the art room, but if I take it home, it's like my talent was not aware that it was supposed to come with me.

Somehow, after our debate about this issue and me insisting that I get a full half hour I end up on Justin's "Drop-kick list" which actually exists. Go ahead and try to lift me up and drop kick me. I would be quite impressed. We end with curl presses and side hovers (which are more awful than regular hovers) and Justin challenging me to give him one full month where I go to the gym five days a week between sessions and classes. He seems to think it will be my best month ever. We'll see how that actually turns out. By the way, Thursday is a measurement day.

Natural...

For some unknown reason, I have committed to attend a 5:45am workout class taught by Taylor. The class in question? Body Pump. During this class, you apparently do as much as 800 reps during a single hour-long class. And that's what I have foolishly decided to try at 5:45 in the morning. Apparently I felt like I needed to be punished for some unknown mistake that I made during the preceding week.

I did have to clear my decision with Justin the night before, as I would have training that night, as well. I didn't know if I was even going to be allowed to do such a thing. But he said that was fine and so here I am, at 5:30 in the morning, on my way to the gym, wondering aloud, 'What on earth is wrong with me?' I don't come up with an answer before I walk in to the studio, which is insanely crowded.

Thank goodness Taylor is here for my first time at Body Pump. I have no idea what I need or what weights to use, but thankfully she grabs it all and puts the weights on and tells me to have fun. Fun. Yeah, right. The hour long workout is full of bicep curls, dead lifts, overhead presses, tricep dips, push ups, and crunches. And it hurts. The push ups and the tricep dips are the most difficult for me. By the end of the workout, however, I do actually think I enjoyed myself. At least enough to go back and try it again.

I have to say, I feel pretty good for the rest of the day. Just the right amount of sore to make me feel like I really did something that is effective. It carries me all the way through to my personal training session with Justin. And then talk about feeling fit. I do more push ups, jumping jacks, squats, crunches, planking, and kettle bell swings. Though it takes me a little bit of practice to actually be able to do the kettle bell swings correctly. I have this awful tendency to use my lower back instead of my butt.

I've complained about it before and I'll complain about it again. Our bodies should naturally do things that right way. I shouldn't be able to lift with my back instead of my legs. I should naturally do kettle bell swings using my butt! My core should naturally automatically be engaged! These are now the things that I must make my habits.

Also, I gave Joe the opportunity to redeem himself for the watery smoothie he made me on Tuesday. Success. It was the perfect consistency. So great job, Joe! And check out the Photo Progress section of the blog. You should be just as pleased as I am with what you find.

40...

For those of you who closely follow along, you may notice that I am re-using a blog title. While technically true, it's not the same because I used actual numbers instead of spelling it out. And you'll understand why momentarily.

So my last post was a little depressing. I don't apologize because that was how I was feeling and you should never apologize for feeling a certain way. Unless you take it out inappropriately on those around you. Then you should apologize with flowers and chocolate. But after the gym, I had some cool off time and now I'm ready to get back into it. Tonight's visit proves to be a bit more abbreviated than is typical, but I still think I do a good job.

I skip cardio altogether because my shins have started to hurt and I want to give them a day of rest in hopes that I don't develop shin splints. It's my attempt to be responsible. I do my standard warm up though, and I can see why people swear by elliptical machines. Talk about low impact. My shins don't feel a thing.

After my warm up, I semi-pathetically attempt to do some lifting by myself. I refuse to do bench pressing without a spotter because (and feel free to call me crazy for this) I am terrified of death. Or at least death at the gym under some piece of equipment. And if you aren't, something is wrong with you. I do some tricep pulls or pushes or whatever (I still don't know what they are called) and some extensions to work my core. I voluntarily (yes, voluntarily) do some wall sits, and I even get in some awesome rowing. Side note: I am extremely please at my ability to use the row machine. It's a little known fact that I wanted to be a part of a rowing crew when I entered college.

There's a new guy who works at the front desk and his name is Joe. I preface my smoothie order by telling Joe that I am quite judgmental when it comes to the consistency of my smoothie. I hate it when they are super watery, but too thick isn't good either. So Joe makes my smoothie, and Joe fails. It's too thick, and I ruin his night by telling him. But you know? Constructive criticism builds character. I told Marlee her smoothies were too watery and I got a free replacement smoothie that she made quite well. Maybe Joe will aspire to be better. The only two people who have gotten the smoothie right every time are Ellie and Carla.

I leave the gym and head to Target because I need to grab a couple of things, including some groceries. Now the weather is getting warmer and I don't really have too many pairs of shorts so I think I'll head over to the clothing department and just see what they have. It is very difficult to find the sizes that I need at clothing stores so my hopes are not too high. I see a lovely red pair of shorts that I really wish I could fit into, but alas, they do not have my size. Against all reason I decide to try them on anyways. I also grab a v-neck for good measure. Maybe I'll luck out and have a brand new outfit.

Dressing rooms can be a scary place for a fat person. They are places that ruin self esteem and make people feel like failures. Ladies and gentlemen, today is not one of those days. I fit into a size 40 waist pair of shorts. This is down from the 44 that I used to wear back in the day (before the gym) and down from the 42 I wore in January. Down a whole size! Celebration ensues. They are a little tight, but the point is I was able to button them and not look completely ridiculous. It is a good day. And I may even be taking a picture of myself in them and posting it on here so that all of you can tell me how amazing I look. 

Reflections...

In less than four months I will have been trying to do this whole gym weight loss thing for a year. A full year. It's very momentous. I have never been able to stick with something for this long. It's also very easy to look at the past 8 months as time wasted. Not because I haven't made progress, because I have. But because I haven't made enough progress, in my opinion. So the following entry is a selfish one. It's a reminder to myself why I am doing this and it's helpful for me to write it down so I can occasionally check back in and remind myself of my reasons for doing this, however trivial they may seem to those of you who are reading.

Two weeks ago I visited my parents in Minnesota. It was an awesome time and I was really happy to be back, but on my inevitably uncomfortable three-hour plane rides, I had a lot of time to think. Thinking is a dangerous thing because it leads to ideas and for me, often leads to being self-critical. Let me just say that if you've never been fat, you have no idea how awful it is for a fat person to be on an airplane. No one wants to sit next to you. You enter the plane and as you walk past aisles of people who are already seated (I have never had the privilege of being the first person on an airplane) you can almost hear people thinking "please don't be seated next to me". Not that I blame them. Airplanes are already small and claustrophobic so who would want to sit next to the biggest person on the plane? I hope no one else has to be the cause of the look on someone's face when they realize that I am sharing their aisle on a plane. So that's reason number 1. I want to fly without being embarrassed.

I started this thing in the fall and continued it through the winter. Now as spring is almost over and summer is fast approaching, all I can think about is how I don't ever go to the beach. That sucks. The beach sounds like it would be fun, in theory, but it's scary to take off your shirt knowing that people will stare, comment behind your back, maybe even make fun of you to your face. Because people can be mean. I would love to play frisbee with my shirt off or heaven forbid get a tan! Reason number 2: beach activities.

I love roller coasters and I want to be able to wait in line and sit in the front row without the fear that the harness won't come down enough for me to safely ride. I don't want to be a headline in a newspaper reading 'fat person dies after being thrown from roller coaster'. May seem a little morbid, but I won't apologize for what I don't want. I want to be able to spend a day in a water park. I want to go to a backyard BBQ and sit in a chair without it sinking all the way into the ground. I want to be invited to play a pickup game of soccer or football (not that I like either, but I am in no physical shape to do so). I want to go boating and water skiing without stressing out a motor. I want go to family reunions without people commenting on how big I am. I want to fit comfortably in the back seat of a car (width wise, anyways). I want to be able to confidently ask for a phone number. I want to be able to go clothes shopping at a regular clothing store. I want to scuba dive. I want to skydive. I want to run a marathon (I really do). I want to compete on The Amazing Race. I want to compete on Wipeout. I want to be a platform diver. I want to be a hip hop dancer.

I can claim that it's because I want to be healthy and it is, but it's because I want to enjoy everything I possibly can and I don't think I can do that with my physical state being where it is. That is why I'm doing this. And that's why I woke up at 5:45am to go to the gym TWICE last week. That's why I continue to go. That's why I subject myself to awful (and yet awesome) half hour training sessions. That's why I've started jogging (and oh my gosh do I hate it). That's why I try to make good choices about what I eat, even though I often cave and eat bad things in massive quantities.

In my training sessions tonight, Justin told me I need to stop being afraid of success. I may have already written about him saying this (he does repeat it quite frequently) but he is right, to an extent. I can want all of the things that I listed, but there is an element of fear when it comes to success. I don't want to succeed only to fail at maintaining my weight. I don't want to succeed and have my ideas about what skinny is like to not be true. It's far easier to avoid disappointment if I never get to the my goal where those expectations have a chance of not being met. Maybe that's why I never actually finished a single book I started writing. It was far easier to think I had a great book buried somewhere in my brain but choose not to write it down than to write one and find out that in actuality it was quite awful. 

Today is the day I stop being afraid of success. Who knows what I'll achieve as a result, but it will be spectacular, if to no one else but myself. Maybe I'll even become a motivational speaker or a personal trainer.

Perspective...

I wake up this morning incredibly sore, especially my inner and outer thighs. I know yesterday was my leg day but this isn't usually how I feel when I wake up. I'll take that as an encouragement that I'm doing something right. Oddly enough, soreness is encouragement. Though please don't misunderstand me and think that I'm saying soreness is pleasant. It is far from pleasant. My entire day is spent hobbling from location to location and trying to move as little as possible because my muscles hurt so bad.

By the time 6:00 rolls around and Fit Andrew and I leave for the gym, my muscles have loosened up and it doesn't take too much effort to walk. Though the stairs at the gym still give me a bit of a workout. The thing I'm dreading the most is the warm up. The cross trainer is a terror on your legs, in terms of the burning and working of muscles. And on sore muscles? I can only imagine what that's like and it looks something like the first twenty minutes of Saving Private Ryan (cheesy joke alert post cheesy joke).

I have to start out slow, unfortunately. Though, truth be told, that's the whole point of a warm up. You gradually work up to where you need to be for the subsequent workout (boy I sound like a fitness genius right now). It is slower than usual, however; a sign of my fatigue. I get through two songs that puts my warm up right at eight minutes. After a quick wipe down of the machine, WHICH EVERYONE SHOULD DO, I run into Justin on his way to retrieve me.

We start with pull downs, tricep pushes and one minute hovers. The hovers are really killing me, today. My abs are sore and I start to feel like I'm losing control of my muscles. That proves that they work. If you ever doubted, shame on you. You should have to do hovers as a punishment.

Here's my one complaint about weight lifting: The whole business of have to consciously use the muscles you're supposed to use is bogus. The moves should just automatically work the correct muscles. I don't like it when Justin has to tell me to be sure to pull my shoulder blades together as I do the pull downs. Shouldn't that just be what happens? I think it should.

We move on to a machine in the cardio room and try to do another pull down exercise, but I am too tall. I had no idea you could be too tall to do an exercise. But I guess at six foot four, it really is quite possible. So instead I have to do a half squat row. Squats are not nice to do when your quads are in pain to begin with. It is especially not nice when you have to maintain a half squat while doing a row. My back feels tight, my legs hurt, my neck starts to get a little sore, it's a generally awful experience. But I have been doing a great job, if I do say so myself, of not voicing those complaints during the training session. Apart from the intial "you're awful", "I hate you", or, "you're so mean."

We end with single tricep pushes (I guess it's an arm heavy day) and Justin then makes me go to a half hour CX Works class. This class is an intense half hour of strength exercise and core exercise and squatting and lunging and planking and hovering and it's awful and wonderful all at the same time. When you do this class it is very apparent from minute one that you are working your muscles. Basically it extended my personal training session by half an hour and amped up the intensity by about fifty. Simply because it's so fast paced.

It really does feel good to be getting back into the habit of making it to the gym. We'll see if I say the same thing tomorrow, considering I will yet again be to the gym at 6:00am, but I have a feeling that I will. It just feels good to know that I'm doing something that's good for me, regardless of how I feel in the moment. That's why I hope that Justin or Kiki or any other instructor doesn't only take my 'during' reaction as how I really feel. I love it all.

Miracle...

To be completely honest, I have found it very difficult to get back into the swing of things ever since my personal training sessions ended. Maybe it's because I have no obligatory appointment to make and it now rests solely on my shoulders to make it to the gym, but I just haven't been as thrilled about exercise, lately. And this makes what I am about to tell you that much more amazing.

This morning I randomly began the day with $20 in my pocket. I never carry cash because it's so easy for me to spend. I know the whatever I do with the cash I have on hand won't directly affect my bank account and so I often make foolish decisions with that cash. This morning is no exception. On my way out the door I decide to go to the convenience store that is next door to my house and purchase two $10 scratch cards. What did I tell you? I make foolish decisions with my cash.

I drive to work with these tickets sitting in my front seat, listening to the radio and contemplating the day I have ahead of me. I tend to get very reflective when I'm driving by myself. I pull in to the parking lot and enter the office, tickets in hand. I spend a few minutes busying myself with checking voicemails and emails, sorting through some paperwork, and wishing I was still back in bed asleep before I finally decide to see what I didn't win. And this is what I find:

That's ten $50 wins, baby

I am so stunned, I can hardly believe it. Please note that I am in NO WAY ADVOCATING lottery tickets. They are a huge waste of money and you will rarely win anything. That being said, occasionally luck is on your side and you win $500. Oh what I could do with this money! And then I realize what I must do. I must purchase additional personal training sessions. And that's exactly what I do. After work I go to the gym and use that $500 towards the purchase of sixteen additional personal training sessions with Justin. And then I go to Target and edit my availability so that I always have Tuesdays and Thursdays off to do my personal training for the next eight weeks, because I am not going to do what I did last time and not take full advantage of this opportunity to be trained. I can't have a blog about losing weight and working out if I only work out once a week.

I also do yoga when I get home, because now that I'm re-committing myself to exercise (for what seems like the eighth or ninth time) I'm going to recommit myself in every facet of my life. It's an exciting twenty minute yoga workout because: I do my 'runner's lunge' without my knee on the ground,  I do my planks on my toes instead of my knees, and I am actually able to lower myself to the ground slowly instead of simply dropping face down to the floor like a buttered piece of toast.

I even grocery shop and buy Tupperware so that I can make myself some salads to bring to work instead of eating unhealthy food off of the food truck, and I buy new gym shoes. Guys, life is awesome. I'm so excited about what will happen during the next two months, provided I can keep this motivation up. I hope you'll enjoy reading about it as much as I'll enjoy telling you about it. 

Twice...

Let me begin by saying I did not forget about you, nor did I fall off the wagon. Though, if I did fall off, my hope is that my family would press on because heaven's knows I'd end up getting diphtheria or typhoid fever and we wouldn't make it to Oregon. At any rate, the past several days have been incredibly busy and my blogging about my experiences took a back seat. But I'm back up and ready to go.

My not so triumphant return to Pilates was Thursday the 11th. Having not been to Pilates since January, I expected things to be completely miserable the entire time. I was surprised to find that it was only about half the time. We begin with planking and are shown a four minute routine that is really easy to do at home. Honestly, it's only four minutes long and I think I can convince myself to suffer through four minutes a day. Maybe I'll actually do it. It's fun to see some people I haven't seen in a while, almost like a Pilates homecoming. 

The joy stops there. I'm instantly thrown back into the hectic Pilates workout and this particular workout features many moves that are incredibly difficult. And many of these moves feature the dreaded Pilates ring. That resistance ring that is placed either between your thighs or your ankles and makes the world seem like an awful place. The tragedy of the whole situation is that a lot of the moves we do with the ring are the same move we normally do. The ring simply makes them more difficult (which is the point, I guess). That doesn't make it any easier.

After Pilates class on Thursday, I have Saturday Pilates to look forward to. Ashley, a friend of mine I met while in college (she designed costumes for two shows that I was in) will be joining me and I am really excited. I have also decided that I will be attending the spin class at 7:30 on Saturday. Surprisingly, when my alarm goes off at 6:45, I'm ready to go and enthusiastically get my stuff together. I have mildly forced Fit Andrew to come with me to spin class I'm excited to have someone to suffer through class with me. Friends make it easier.

Spin is tough, but good. It's a class that I definitely enjoy more each time I go. Andrew isn't all to jazzed about it, but what can I do about that? I have to run him home before Pilates class starts (because carpooling seemed to be a great idea). I get the start time of Pilates wrong and end up having to waste some time doing nothing but playing games on my iPhone for twenty minutes.

Ashley arrives and I, being the wonderful person that I am, make her sit in the very front row. She's a trooper during the entire class (which somehow seems more difficult than Thursday's). More than once we laugh about the things we have to do, which I choose to take as a sign that she's enjoying herself. There are also two other gentlemen taking the class and it's a nice change of pace to not be the only male in class.

After class (which Ashley totally did enjoy) I head home because I have plans to go into Boston and see Jurassic Park in 3D. Which is amazing. I spend the rest of the day feeling really awesome because I not only spent some time with friends seeing an awesome movie, but I went to two classes in one day. I am a machine.

Final...

I guess everything ends at some point. Whether it's good or bad, nothing lasts forever, unless it's a Nokia phone. And I'd like to think that I'm pretty good at dealing with change. Sure I cried like a baby when I "graduated" from middle school, but that sadness lasted for only 15 minutes post ceremony. For some reason, the knowledge that I'm headed to my last personal training session feels equal parts terrifying and sad. Will I be able to push myself now that I won't have Justin encouraging me throughout the entire workout? Will I even feel the need to go to the gym without a scheduled appointment making me go?

I guess these are questions that only time can answer. Right now, I have to change and warm up. It's kind of busy tonight, and I'm forced to warm up next to a young woman who is really booking it on that cross trainer. My only hope is that I look half as intense as she does. While I'm confident that I have graduated beyond being somebody that people are amused to watch on any exercise machine, I'm a far cry from being someone that people look at with admiration. Seven and a half minutes, one Rihanna song and one Imagine Dragons song later, I am warmed up and ready for whatever Justin has to throw at me.

Or so I think. Instead of heading to any of our usual zones to workout, we go right back to the cardio machines and hop on a treadmill. Tabata has returned. For those of you who are unaware, Tabata is apparently one of the most effective ways to burn fat. It's a method of training that is comprised of longer high-intensity intervals with short periods of rest in between. For example, we start on the treadmill with the incline at max (15) and the speed at 3.5 mph. Twenty seconds on, ten seconds standing still. I repeat this eight times. In case you were wondering, yes, my life is awful.

After the treadmill (keep in mind, I've just been walking and I am already really sweaty) we move on to squat thrusts. The thrusting part is surprisingly challenging, even with only ten or fifteen pound weights. Truthfully I have no idea how heavy they are. All I can think about is how I would like to punch Justin in the face. My arms are the worst and all the while I'm on the verge of tears, all Justin says is, 'Don't stop, no resting. Get ready. Don't quit. You can't quit." There's a difference between quitting and feeling like my arms will fall off if I do one more thrust.

But maybe his goal was to make me mad because my rage fuels my muscles and I go through the whole way. It may be slow, but I make it through all eight sets. Then we move on to rowing. Twenty seconds on, ten off. My shirt keeps getting caught on the back of the row machine while I row, and it's really obnoxious. My lower back starts to feel it on the second set, and I have six more sets that I have to do. Awesome.

I make it through (truth be told, I kind of enjoy rowing) and we move on to the bike. The stupid exercise bike. I notice that I am sporting a sweat bra in the mirror. I have sweated through in apparently all the right places to perfectly outline my breasts. Yippee. 

See it? Terrible.

I have to decide not to care because I have this biking thing to do. I am on the bike simulator that has an actual course that mandates that I steer while I ride. I've heard the expression about muscles screaming but this is the first time I have actually experienced it. My thighs hurt so badly. Each pedal motion feels like it could be my last. I don't want to die on an exercise bike with a sweat bra. What an unglamorous way to go. Once again, I want gifts at my feet. Thankfully, I finish the mile long course in seven sets instead of eight and don't have to do another one.

For the final exercise of the evening, we head to the training room to do the ropes. I've never done eight sets on the ropes before and every time I've done the ropes it hasn't been after twenty five minutes of intense working out. This could be bad. Every set is comprised of slamming both arms at the same time. I feel it in my back, I feel it in my arms, I feel it in my legs, I feel it everywhere. I'm not personally bothered by cursing, but the amount of expletives going through my head seem excessive, even to me. Thanks Justin. Way to make my last session completely awful.

Sixteen sessions have been completed. I now have experience with personal training. Would I do it again? Absolutely. However awful I feel during a workout pales in comparison to the way I feel afterwards. The sense of accomplishment and the feeling of sore muscles are totally worth whatever pain or frustration I feel in the moment. I'm going to do more sessions and if you feel like you're lacking motivation, I highly recommend it. I have to resume finding and maintaining my motivation outside of these mandatory training sessions if I want to succeed (which, to be clear, I do).

Stereotypes...

The expiration of my training sessions is drawing closer and closer. It's been quite an experience, let me tell you. Full of ups and downs and experiences and knowledge. Much like life. Earth shattering comparison, I know. For my second to last training session, I'm as pumped as ever. Justin is running a little bit behind schedule, but I have no where super important to be, so I'm not bothered. And let me take this opportunity to say that Justin is amazingly punctual. This is the first time I have had to wait in my entire 16 sessions. I really appreciate a person who is respectful enough to be on time.

It ends up working for my benefit as I was a little detained doing what every body has to do at some point. At least I know I'm eating enough fiber. I take my extra time and get a full warm up in before we begin the workout. First up is a weighted squat. I've never done these before. A part of me is terrified that I'm going to collapse and be crushed by this bar that I have over my shoulders. I complete fifteen reps without much to complain about, except that my shoulders somewhat hurt from the hyperextension. I alternate with push ups.

But here's where things get a bit exciting. There is no bar involved in these push ups. No sir (or ma'am). These are on the floor girly push ups with my knees on the ground. Before we go further, yes, I understand that what I have just said is sexist. I fully believe that women can do push ups just as well as men. In fact, I complain to Justin about that fact the I'm so excited to be able to do girly push ups and he tells me that most of his male clients do them from the knees and most of his female clients do them from their toes. Slap that stereotype right in the face. It's simply a tool to describe the form that I use with my push ups. Get over it. But I do twelve of them, and it's an accomplishment that I am determined to celebrate.

Before I can finish my weighted squats, I go through two modifications so that I am as comfortable as I can be (we settle on holding a kettlebell at my sternum) while I'm doing squats. Each set of push ups is difficult, but I get it done, because I can not be stopped. After I do three sets for each, we head in to the gym for the next exercise. I'm entering the very room where I almost died the week before. And you know what I have to do? The same thing. Well, an edited version. Instead of going back and forth twice, I only have to go once. And I have 90 seconds for each time. Whatever is leftover I get to use as a break. I push that thing four times and each time I get it done in right around 15 seconds. That's 75 seconds of rest, which feels incredibly necessary.

It's very satisfying to redeem myself by succeeding at something that seemed impossible the week before. Incredibly thrilling, even. And that high remains as I do my core exercises and end with twenty solid minutes on the cross trainer. I feel successful at the end and that is a feeling that makes me want to keep going. I conquered something that was hard. I struggled but I finished. The outlook is very grim when you struggle and fail, but to finish is to keep clinging to the motivation that I have. Tomorrow I have a follow up doctor's appointment and I am excited to share my progress with my doctor. It gives me a chance to brag, which I clearly love to do.

Success...

There comes a time when you have to buck up and face your problems head on and that day is today. After my horrendous performance on Saturday, the last thing I want to do is walk in to the gym and have to suffer through the lecture that I'm expecting and completely deserve. Thank goodness Fit Andrew decides to go at the same time that I do and that I have someone to distract me on the drive over. Believe it or not, the five minute drive is plenty of time to psych myself out with thoughts of the horror of what tonight could bring.

The nice thing about under performing last time (if there could possibly be a silver lining to it) is that I am incredibly motivated to kick-butt. This means I go faster on the cross trainer. I lip-synch in an outrageously animated way to the new Fall Out Boy single. I become unnecessarily outraged over the design decisions being made on HGTV. This is SPARTA!

When I'm finished, Justin and I head in to the weight room and conveniently enter a state of denial, each refusing to reference the awful Saturday. I start by alternating single leg presses and push-ups; 60 presses on each leg, 20 push ups, 50 presses on each leg, 20 pushups, all the way down to 10 leg presses per leg. I only have to do five sets of push ups because I don't know the reason why. Maybe it's generosity, maybe the workout was always designed that way. Maybe my arms would fall off if I did any more. 

I do take the down time while Justin is counting my leg presses as an opportunity to apologize to him for Saturday. He's receptive but claims it's unnecessary. I just want to make sure he knows that I value what he's doing for me and even though I know he's getting paid, he wants to see me succeed. I'm really quite eloquent and Justin get's slightly teary-eyed. Just kidding, I babble like an idiot and no crying happens. Except by my legs because 420 leg presses is a lot of leg presses.

Then we move on to the core exercises, which will need to be somewhat self motivated because my half hour is almost up. Justin shows me the two exercises and watches me do a set of each, all the while telling me to stop stalling and just keep going. Then he's gone and the challenge becomes forcing myself to keep up with the same pacing when the only person I have to answer to is my own inner coach. And my own inner coach seems to think it would be better to stop and rest for a while. But that coach is ignored by my own personal desire to succeed and I consider the remaining sets that I do to be an incredible victory. Am I back to where I was or where I should be? No. But I worked and pushed myself. Only good can come out of this.

It's taken me six, almost seven months to fully grasp the idea that I can push myself and survive. It's supposed to be a struggle. Similar to playing against an opponent who is better than you to really improve your game. People, it's possible to make a change in your life and most of us need to somewhere. For me, it's exercise. For you, it may be eating healthy or not stealing the punchline of someone else's joke.

Apology...

Ladies and gentlemen of the internet, I have failed you. I had a particularly challenging day at the gym on Saturday and it has forced me to face the reality that I have not fully committed to the process. My intention and focus has slowly wavered. I also can't help but feel that I have been somewhat deceiving and causing you, the reader (however devoted you may be) to believe that I was doing significantly better that I was in reality and for that I apologize. The truth is, it's been hard.

I have been a fat person for practically twenty five years. The process of attempting to lose weight is terrifying because it is exactly that: an attempt. I could fail and based on my motivation as of late it's a more real possibility. That's what I find so terrifying. If I fail after this point, it's because I am a failure. It's easy to cope with being fat when you're not trying to get fit, but when you are trying and it's not working it becomes almost unbearable. 

In truth, I don't know why my motivation is not here. I am being 100% honest when I say I am sick of being fat because I feel like I'm missing out on the more enjoyable parts of life. Why doesn't that make me want to change?

Here's a great plus, though. I not only found my headphones, but I found my old pair of headphones, too. As daunting as it is to get back on the cross trainer after over a week of not working out, the promise of Demi Lovato makes it a little easier. After eight minutes, Justin finds me and we start with some exercises in the gym. He lays out a rope ladder, much like you see football players train with. Side note: if I had played football in high school, I probably could have played in college, maybe been drafted third or fourth string, sat on a bench and made $500,000 a year. This is evidenced by the fact that I actually am really good at the exercises that require the coordination that Justin has me do with this rope ladder. I think it's also helpful that I'm like a really good dancer.

After the rope ladder, we do alternating squats with an exercise ball that I have to throw in the air and pushing basically weighted punching bag down the length of the gym and back twice. I'm fine for the squats, but when I start pushing that bag, I start to feel nauseated. Really bad nauseated. I can make it through another rotation of squats and pushing before I need to stop because I feel like I'm going to puke.

It's really easy to feel awful about yourself when things get difficult and that's exactly what happens. I get mad because I think that I should be able to do this without a problem. I expect to sweat but I don't expect to feel so sick that I have to stop. That's not fun. It's awful when your mind can handle the idea of something but your body simply won't perform. I have to excuse myself not only to get a drink, but because I'm on the verge of tears. After six months at the gym, I expect to be better than this and I'm not and that's depressing.

I think Justin can tell that I'm having a really hard time because when I come back he asks to make sure I'm okay and let's me do things kind of slow. We stop with the punching bag and substitute wall sits instead. He's incredibly nice but he's not going to let me give up, for which I am grateful (don't end a sentence with a preposition yo!). He also becomes incredibly encouraging. This isn't to say he isn't usually encouraging, but instead of the usual "push", "keep going", and "don't stop", it becomes "you got this" and "you're doing great". 

We move into the cardio room for the last exercise, which is a chest and core exercise I've done before, but the nausea comes back and it takes me longer than it should to finish two sets of ten.We make plans for Tuesday and he tells me good job, but it doesn't feel deserved. I did and have done a horrible job. The truth is I could be better and the only thing that has prevented me from making progress is me.

Any person will tell you that when you try to make a lifestyle change, there are ups and downs and I would agree and say the same thing. Based on my experience I have days when I feel like I'm awful and days when I feel like I'm amazing. This was one of the lows, but it's not the end. Who knows how long this is going to take, but I'd like to think I'm in it for the long haul. I always appreciate encouragement, so if you feel so inclined. Either way, I have training tonight so look for another post tomorrow.

Companion...

My entire family is out for a visit and I couldn't be happier. Mom came out at the end of last week and Dad and Miriam finally joined on Wednesday. Good thing, too, because I need someone to drag along to my training session as a companion in suffering. And that lucky individual is Miriam. I swing by Alice's to pick her up when I'm done with work. After the obligatory baby talk to my adorable nearly three month old nephew, we drive back to my apartment so I can get my clothes together.

Upon our arrival, Mir has to fill out a waiver because she's not a regular member and so I pop over and say hi to Justin. He gives me a little flack for simply telling him that I was bringing her (all in fun because I did have a disclaimer of 'if it's okay with you'). He then informs me that because it's going to be too time consuming to teach her how to use various machines that what we're going to end up doing is 'Tabouli'. Or something like that. Ciabatta maybe? I can never remember. Regardless, it's the whole twenty seconds of intensity followed by ten seconds of nothing. Sister Miriam better appreciate what I'm about to go through in the name of inclusion.

We change and begin with our warm up on the cross trainer and she tells me all about her upcoming school work and her life and all that. We both do ten minutes and she makes a comment about how the cross trainer is weird because she should be able to go farther than half a mile in ten minutes. Justin appears and we start. First up is squats. Twenty seconds of as many squats as we can, then ten seconds of nothing. Eight times. Kill me now. The last time I did something remotely like this was with a pair of officers at Gordon College Public Safety and I could hardly move for four days.

Sister Miriam and I both hold our own. I think she technically does more squats than I do, but who says we're competing? Next we alternate bicep curls and wall sits. Awful, awful wall sits. At one point Miriam says she loses feeling in her legs. I am not so blessed and I can feel each and every strain of my muscles. Bicep curls are a little easier, but by the end of the four sets (four of each) my arms are exhausted. But we're not done. We have crunches and tricep something or others. I rock the triceps and insist on more weight. Mir kicks my butt at the crunches. But her arms are shorter so I technically have a greater distance to travel. That's my excuse, anyways.

In our second to last set of exercises we do hovers and side lunges. This is where both of us struggle. I hate hovers and constantly stand up too fast and get a little dizzy. Mir feels like she may pass out. But you know what? We finish because we can. It may be at a slower pace than normal, but we finish. Our final exercise is to alternate side-hovers. At the conclusion of everything, both of us feel pretty great. I'll give the victory to Mir because I want to be nice. Also because she probably actually did beat me.    

Circus...

You'd think after going to bed at 8:45 it would be easy to wake up after ten hours of sleep. But when my alarm goes off at 7:00, all I want is more sleep. So I reset it for 7:15 and wake up at 7:45 because awful things happen to me constantly. So I rush to pack my gym bag and walk open the front door of the club right at 8:00. No time to warm up whatsoever. Wow, what an ideal situation!

I guess Justin has some sympathy because we seem to start a little slower, today, first with some stretching and then some squats and side stepping. And then things get interesting. Apparently I'm training to be a trapeze artist because Justin pulls out these handles and anchors them to a bar about eight feet in the air. The handles themselves hang about four feet from the ground and I'm supposed to lean back and do a squat and then pull the handles to my chest. Kind of like a reverse push-up, if you will. This paired with standing on the ball and I almost have a full circus show. I'm supposed to do this for a minute, then do a minute of jumping jacks, and fifteen bicep curls.

I have to do this a total of three times and I am not in a very compliant mood because I hate having to rush things. I didn't feel prepared to come in and work out because I didn't get the time to warm up. I didn't realize how important that ritual has become for me. Plus, I feel incredibly unstable every time I'm on the trapeze (at least that's what I'm calling it) because my hands slip and I feel like at any moment I'll fall backwards and become severely injured.

I voice this concern to Justin who assures me that I will not fall and that I'll keep myself up almost solely with willpower. And you know what? I believe him. And I don't fall. I wouldn't say I particularly excel, but I made myself finish and a little seed of pride is planted. 

I desperately hold on to that seed because if there's one thing I hate more than planking, its jumping jacks. Every time I jump, all I notice is my belly and boobs bouncing. It makes me mad. Even though I have the sense of accomplishment that comes with losing 35 pounds, I still have many to go. It's easy to be mad about how difficult exercises are and blame the fact that I didn't start this earlier. It's easy to think that I'll never get better at it and that this is the best I can do. 

But that would be stupid because it's amazing what I've accomplished all because I was determined to do it. Plus I'm getting remeasured on Tuesday and I want to see results! At the conclusion of my session, I opt for the treadmill and sweat through twenty minutes before I'm ready to go home and collapse. But first I stop and say hi to Skinny Matt because I haven't seen him in a while. It's weird to have friends I only know through the gym. I never thought I'd be one of those people.

Social...

Thank goodness it's Friday because it has been a long week. I am so tired. Tired enough to skip the gym. But thankfully none of my friends are free and so instead of sitting home bored for the night, I decide to go to the gym. Interesting how things work out that way. But please, don't intentionally not hang out with me on a Friday because you think I won't go to the gym. Some days I'm happy to go to the gym before hang out time.

I get to the gym and the butterflies are hopping around. I have to be entirely self motivating tonight. I know I've done it before, but for some reason it seems incredibly intense tonight. Truth be told I'm not good at personal motivation. Why do you think I spent the first twenty five years of my life as a fat person? It's because I didn't have the motivation to do anything about it. Often times the only reason I complete the reps that Just has me do is because he's there yelling at me the whole time. And suddenly I find that I'm the only person responsible for myself, today.

One step at a time. The first thing I have to do is warm up and I constantly do this by myself, so why on earth would I not be able to do it this time? (I'll tell you why: it's because I can be incredibly lazy). But what do you know? Boom. I finish it. And then I move on to the thrusts. This is where I know I'm going to have a hard time forcing myself to keep going. I'm supposed to do four sets of fifteen with a minute of rest in between sets. At six, my arms are tired so I stop. But only for a few seconds.

I do nine more. And when it's time to start a new set, I force my self to do all fifteen at once. This is what determination does to you. For my third set, I stop at ten, rest for about thirty seconds, do ten more, rest for thirty seconds and end with another ten. I hope slight modifications are okay because I just modified. Like a boss.

Despite it being fairly empty, inevitably two fit people find it necessary to do their exercises next to where I am. Thanks, thanks a bunch for making me feel weak. I move on to my leg presses and then on into the weight room for chest presses. This time I have to select a bench that's next to some other guy who is also doing chest presses, only with significantly heavier weights. Congrats you can do presses with 80 pound dumbbells!

I hate feeling insecure or inadequate. Not that I know anyone who enjoys that feeling but it is a feeling that can really make it hard to keep pushing yourself. I don't want to look like I'm struggling with thirty pound dumbbells while you are doing presses with nearly three times as much weight. I do want to punch you, though, so by all means, keep doing what you're doing. But prepare to suffer the consequences.

Thankfully I have self control and don't end up spending the night in prison for aggravated assault. Instead after my reps I go to the pool for a swim. It's been a while since I've been in the pool and it appears that they want it to have a little more of a tropical feel. They now have a ton of plants and dolphin shower curtains. Fancy. I do about a half mile before I'm ready to leave. And then, because I can, I come home and go to bed at 8:45 on a Friday night. Seriously. I'm that lame.

Bear...

I may or may not have promised Justin that I would work out at 6:30 on Wednesday morning and I may or may not have actually gone to work out. I'm sure you'll be able to figure out which is actually correct by telling you that I was given a harder workout for not showing up at 6:30 like I told him I would. I agreed to it because I wasn't going to have time to go later that day with work, and I really did intend to go but I was really tired and so I slept. And exercise is one of those situations where it's not the thought that counts. If that were the case, we would all be skinny and muscular.

Justin comes over to me just shy of the ten minute mark of my warm up and practically threatens me by telling me he's gonna make me work hard after I skipped out on exercise yesterday. And that makes me scared. Thank goodness we head into the weight room because there is no way he would make me do ropes in the weight room. It's a real possibility that there would be an actual accidental death if anyone were to do the ropes.

Instead we go to the seated leg press machine. Great, we're starting with a machine that intimidates me. I guess I should be happy because I'll learn how to use it and it won't scare the crap out of me. Gotta find the positive in everything or you will go crazy. Life lessons, by Sam. Now this is an inclined or declined leg press, not the standard straight-on leg presses. I'm practically sitting on the floor and my legs are inclined almost forty-five degrees away from me. Justin has me start with forty reps on each leg with no added weight. They get to be quite strenuous by the end.

In between sets of leg presses I do my push ups. I'll say, I'm noticing improvements. I still can't do a full on push up, but I can get through my set of fifteen without having to pause. I ask Justin about any adjustments I can make when I'm doing them at home (because I don't have an adjustable bar at home) and he says that I should just come to the gym and do them. Fair point. It is only three minutes from my house.

For my last of three sets of leg presses, Justin makes me up the reps to fifty per leg instead of forty. By the end my legs are on fire. And my butt, too. One final set of push ups and onward we press to the cardio room, where I apparently am going to do the rowing machine. The rowing machine is another machine that absolutely terrifies me. Today is apparently a day of pushing me outside of my comfort zone. We'll see how I feel about it after my workout is complete.

Now, for those of you who have never used a rowing machine before, it looks fairly easy. After my introductory lesson about how to secure myself into the machine I realize that it isn't really that complicated of a machine. This is not to say that the exercise itself is easy. It's not. I have to keep my speed up and keep track of the number of calories I have burned before I can stop with the rowing. Apparently I start off a little too energetically because I literally bounce the machine due to the force with which I propel myself backwards. That's all I need, to have to replace a rowing machine that I break.

Thankfully it doesn't break. But I remain a little wary for the rest of my time on the machine (which, in case you were wondering is however long it takes to burn 10 calories as fast as I can). That is alternated with fifteen reps of dumbbell presses. And I can't turn either of those experiences into anything witty or fun, so just create a scenario in which there's a bear in the cardio room while I do these things. I'm sure it will be fascinating and full of adventure.

Interestingly enough, there was no bear at the gym, but there was a pair of crocs. Yes, crocs. Someone chose to wear crocs because apparently they are acceptable workout footwear. No. No they are not. So don't every be tempted. The only place crocs are acceptable is at the bottom of a trash barrel.

After my rowing and my pressing, I have twenty minutes of cardio that I have to do. Justin gives me the choice between cross trainer and treadmill and so I pick treadmill, because practically all I do is the elliptical nowadays. Remember how I said it was a day of living outside my comfort zone? True to that declaration, I have to mess with the incline of my treadmill. To increase the incline to stare fear in the face and say "please let me live." Can the thing even incline while I'm on it? I DON"T KNOW! I've never tried it before!

I liken this treadmill experience to playing Russian roulette. My workout consists of a minute of comfortable pace on level ground with thirty seconds of increased speed and incline so that I really have to work. Every time I hit that incline button and that speed up button it's like pulling the trigger of a gun. Will I die or will I live? Only destiny knows the answer. Clearly the answer is I live. I even get so bold that for my last thirty seconds of pushing, I jog.I never thought I would be jogging on a tread mill but here I am doing it with Ke$ha cheering me on all the way. It's exhilarating and I've never felt more alive. 

I've also never felt more like I want to die. My body is sore and tired and all I want to do is curl up and go to bed. But first I must go up those awful stairs, get my protein shake and then go home. Best friend Rachel stops by with cookies because she's apparently determined to ruin any semblance of a healthy diet I had for today. Oh well. Occasionally you have to treat yourself. There's another wise saying for today. And yes, I totally did borrow from Parks and Recreation. Deal with it.

Fire...

Day three of personal training has arrived! After a mild failure of a weekend in which I did hardly any exercising on days other than Saturday, I'm a tad apprehensive about the session tonight. But first thing's first: elliptical time. I've come to enjoy my time on the elliptical for many a reason. One: because it's not very long, and two: because I can actually do it without pre-dialing 9-1-1 just in case. The ellipticals are kind of crowded tonight and I am lucky enough to be next to a very smiley woman who's plugging away on her own machine and she amuses me enough to keep me on track, too.

Workout conclusion: consistency is key?

After the elliptical I quickly drop off my phone and trudge back to the cardio room. With my head hanging low I shamefully admit my lack of exercise to Justin because I was under the impression that I was supposed to work out twice before this session. Allegedly that is not the case. He apparently knew that I wouldn't exercise before now. I can't tell if I should feel relieved or offended. I really want this to work and despite all of my progress I still allow my laziness to get the better of me, on occasion.

Here's the other thing I really appreciate about the whole personal training thing. There's is another person involved who can help keep me accountable. Do you want to know another thing Justin is really good at? Making me feel bad. And I mean that in the best possible way. In a way that makes me realize that the only person I'm screwing over when I'm lazy is myself. That is a tough pill to swallow. And it would be easier with cake but dammit I'm trying to give up sweets.

We start with fifteen standing chest presses as I fill him in on the movies I saw this weekend (which were all great, by the way). Talking proves to be a great distraction from the pain of exercise, in case you were curious. A fact that becomes incredibly apparent when I do my minute wall sits. Holy quads. They burn like the fire of a thousand suns. And I have to do four sets of them in between my chest presses. But I wanted this. In fact I'm paying for it.

Onward we press to the weight room where I do push ups and squats. It's during the push ups that I discover the truth in what Justin continues to tell me about doing them. It's easier if you just keep going. Stopping in between push ups to rest does absolutely no good, believe it or not. We do four sets of each, to mix things up, and this is something I wish I had learned before my last set when I was given the ultimatum of not being allowed to stop during the set. To maintain what little dignity remains at this point, I do feel the need to let Justin know that I really do want this to work and that I'm not stopping just for the heck of it. It honestly sometimes feels like I can't do anymore.

I realize this may sound mildly pathetic to some of you who do this type of stuff as a warm up to a real workout, but keep your stupid opinions to yourselves. If this is where I have to start, so be it. My goals may be lofty but it would be foolish to assume I could achieve them without starting way below them and working upwards. If it worked instantly, so one would be fat and everyone would be rich. Hard work is what pays off. Feel free to print that on a t-shirt if you ever need motivation.

To end the day, I have to do a standing twist of some sort, which is where I really start to feel the piece of cake I had earlier at a 'last day' party for a woman who works in my office. And this is why I shouldn't eat cake anymore. Working out with cake in my belly makes me ill, apparently. All in all it's a positive experience, though I am still mighty embarrassed by the designs my sweat makes on my t-shirts because of where I start to sweat first. But what to me is disgusting may serve as inspiration for a great artist who happens to work out at my gym and who knows, maybe my sweat will be hanging on the wall of an art museum. How's that for optimism?

Crack...

My alarm goes off at 6:30 and I hate myself for scheduling this personal training session for 7:30 in the morning on a Saturday. I'm a person who enjoys the few chances I get to sleep in and to have to wake up early is bad enough, but I'm doing this to go exercise. Granted, I am much less annoyed than I would have been 5 months ago, but still, this is not an ideal Saturday morning. So I hit 'snooze' once. But then I really do force myself out of bed and down from the loft to get ready.

You know what sucks? When you wake up tired but you have to get ready because you are under a time crunch but then you take far less time than you thought to get ready and you have fifteen minutes to waste that could have been spent under the covers getting more sleep. So I hear, anyways. But I will sacrifice if it means going to the Best Picture Showcase. Check it out if you have no idea what I'm talking about, but basically I will be seeing all the best picture nominees before the Oscars on the 24th. This is my march madness.

When I arrive at the gym, I pick up my special form that shows my insurance provider that I have been an active member long enough to get my rebate and then head down the stairs to change. I have been unbelievably sore since Thursday and I still have some residual ache in my thighs when I use the stairs. Work through it though, right? It does cause my elliptical time to be slightly more difficult than usual, but after seven and a half minutes, I still feel pretty groovy, despite my fear that my crack is hanging out for all the world to see (a not so positive side effect of a shrinking waistline).

Justin meets me downstairs and we head to the weight room to start the workout. I have to tell you that the thing I appreciate the most about this personal training endeavor is learning how to use some equipment. Gone are the days of wondering around pretending like I know what I'm doing. I actually do know what I'm doing, now. Or at least I'm learning. I start with some cable rows on this giant apparatus that must have at least twelve different components for a combined total of 33,000 different exercises. So I do the rows with minute hovers (like planking, only on my forearms instead of my hands) in between sets.

Then we move on to an exercise in the cardio room that I can't begin to name, so I'll describe it. It's on the same machine that I would do the tricep exercise on, and in fact uses the same rope attachment. I face the machine and have my arms outstretched in front of me, gripping the rope. I then pull my fists back to my cheeks, making a point to squeeze my shoulder blades together. Fifteen reps and then fifteen wall squats (against an exercise ball, which seems terrifyingly unstable) three times. In an attempt to show Justin that sometimes I do have legitimate questions and I'm not always stalling to avoid doing work, I ask a question while I do squats. Mainly I'm curious if squatting with the ball works muscles in a different way. Apparently it's all about training myself to have good form when I do regular squats. 

Then we head back into the cardio room and I do some weird pull down thing while seated. I only say 'weird' because I don't know the actual name of the exercise. But I have seen people do it before. I don't know if this makes me qualified to be talking about it or if it's simply something I have literally observed before, so make your own decision about that. This is interspersed with side planks which, as we all know, I hate. I feel obligated to tell Justin that I really am a generally cheerful person and that I'm not always such a complainer (who am I kidding, I complain constantly).

Once the workout is over I shower and change because I have to leave right from the gym to go to Boston. And I grab a meal replacement shake on the way, because I like them. And, on Sunday, I buy myself some weights because I want to be able to do some stuff at home in case I can't get to the gym for some unknown reason. Guys, my whole attitude has changed.