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.
Showing posts with label measurements. Show all posts
Showing posts with label measurements. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Monday, April 8, 2013
One...
It's measurement day. Measurement day is always an intimidating day. So there was this one time I bought a bathroom scale because I thought it would encourage me to be more healthy because I'd constantly want to weigh myself. I would like to ask if there is a single person existing in the world who wants to weigh themselves, because if there is, they are probably a body builder or a wrestler. No one enjoys forcing themselves to step on a scale; this little thing that can literally shatter someone's self confident in a matter of seconds. Curse you, scale. Curse you.
Walking in to the gym, I see Matt and stop to say hi and show off my new piercing that makes me feel super bad-ass. I literally am arriving to the gym fresh from the piercing place. Because that's how I roll. I get a needle shoved into my ear and then I go workout because pain doesn't faze me. I'm one tough dude. I also may be kind of a loser. To avoid the wrath of Justin, I keep my small talk to a minimum and change quickly, dash back upstairs and prepare myself for utter humiliation.
I'm terrified to look at the results of my weigh in and insist that Justin not tell me. March has been a bad month for me. The exercise hasn't been consistent and I have been eating terribly. It sucks because this March was a full month of personal training and I should have been excited by the prospect of making real progress enough to actually monitor what I'm consuming. We move to the computer to do the rest of the measurements and he asks if I really don't want to know because he has to type in the results. I decide to suck it up and deal with it. And ladies and gentlemen, in the entire month of March, I lost one pound.
A whole pound. And I am choosing to be excited by this. That is one pound that I will never again carry. One pound can still be significant because of what it represents. And this one pound represents the direction in which I'm moving, but is also a reminder that I will only achieve what I try to achieve. It's a good motivator to push harder with what I've learned from Justin and proof that just because you exercise doesn't mean you're doing all you need to do. It really is a lifestyle change.
Most of what I do during my half hour workout involves squatting. Squats, squat rows, squat cartwheels (just kidding; as far as I know there is no such thing) and by the end of my workout, I am sufficiently exhausted.
Walking in to the gym, I see Matt and stop to say hi and show off my new piercing that makes me feel super bad-ass. I literally am arriving to the gym fresh from the piercing place. Because that's how I roll. I get a needle shoved into my ear and then I go workout because pain doesn't faze me. I'm one tough dude. I also may be kind of a loser. To avoid the wrath of Justin, I keep my small talk to a minimum and change quickly, dash back upstairs and prepare myself for utter humiliation.
Tragus piercing. Like a boss.
I'm terrified to look at the results of my weigh in and insist that Justin not tell me. March has been a bad month for me. The exercise hasn't been consistent and I have been eating terribly. It sucks because this March was a full month of personal training and I should have been excited by the prospect of making real progress enough to actually monitor what I'm consuming. We move to the computer to do the rest of the measurements and he asks if I really don't want to know because he has to type in the results. I decide to suck it up and deal with it. And ladies and gentlemen, in the entire month of March, I lost one pound.
A whole pound. And I am choosing to be excited by this. That is one pound that I will never again carry. One pound can still be significant because of what it represents. And this one pound represents the direction in which I'm moving, but is also a reminder that I will only achieve what I try to achieve. It's a good motivator to push harder with what I've learned from Justin and proof that just because you exercise doesn't mean you're doing all you need to do. It really is a lifestyle change.
Most of what I do during my half hour workout involves squatting. Squats, squat rows, squat cartwheels (just kidding; as far as I know there is no such thing) and by the end of my workout, I am sufficiently exhausted.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Pride...
Completely and utterly unrelated to fitness even in the slightest, my windshield was replaced today. I just had to share because it's so much less stressful to drive with a windshield that isn't cracked. Plus it was replaced while I was at work. Safelite is the best.
Today is the day. The day where I get wicked candid and tell you my current weight. On the internet. For all to see. And I thought a cracked windshield was a source of stress. Believe it or not there's a big difference between admitting you're a fat person and telling people how fat you actually are. I remember in elementary school the fifth and sixth graders would go on a ski trip to Trollhaugen in Wisconsin and in preparation we would all get weighed during gym class not in private. It was always my least favorite day cause everyone was telling everyone else what they weighed and I was always wicked embarrassed (goodness I've used 'wicked' twice in one paragraph. Thanks, Massachusetts!).
Well today I will not be embarrassed. Not because I'm happy with the number out of context, but because in the grand scheme of what I'm attempting to accomplish, progress has been made. But you'll have to wait just a little longer until those numbers are officially released because I'm not taking events out of sequence.
I get to the gym tonight and feel slightly nervous because I know I'll have to step on a scale. The worst thing that could possibly happen is that I've put on weight since my physical where I learned that I've lost a total of 26 pounds. But I can't think about that because I have to get on the elliptical machine and get warmed up. Maybe I can work off some extra poundage in this five minutes that ends up morphing into ten because I make the best workout mixes ever.
After my elliptical time I head upstairs to grab a towel and see if that's where Justin is waiting. Indeed it is and we head down a hallway to start the process of my measurements. We have to create a profile with some personal information before the moment arrives. We head to the scale. Thankfully Justin is really good at making things seem less intense and I tend to be a little more on the dramatic side (but it really is just a defense mechanism).
Before I reveal my current weight, let me tell you where I started. At my very first physical with my new doctor (sometime this past summer, I think in June) I stepped on the scale and weighed 411 pounds. It was really scary to me to be over the 400 mark, especially at 25. At my most recent physical on January 14, my weight was 386. Today, my weight is 377. I've lost nine pounds in four weeks. Two and a quarter pounds a week average. An average of seven pounds a month since I started in September. I am insanely proud of those statistics. Other boring measurements are taken to track my progress and since I don't have the exact figures, I'll omit them.
After measurements, Justin and I head down to the weight room where he shows me some actual exercise to do with weights. I think he calls them dumbbell presses but I can't really be sure. I'm really good at pretending to pay attention when I'm actually not paying attention. That's what I learned as an actor in college. So we alternate 15 presses and one minute planks three times. And after that I'm dripping sweat. Gross. But it is indicative of exertion, so it's proof that I'm trying me best. I'll attempt to view sweat as a positive thing.
We move on to the cardio room to do an exercise that features squats. As I often say, squats are one of my least favorite things. Combine it with presses and it becomes really awful. Squat down, do a press on the way up. Fifteen of those then side planks for a minute on each side. We do that twice. Maybe three times. I was kind of delirious so I don't really remember.
Then we go over to the leg press machine. Justin tells me that these are really great and I say something along the lines of, 'But will my body be happy with me?' Some lady pipes up 'No! They're awful." Zip it lady. I'm paying to be trained, not for you to be friendly. Fifteen presses on each leg three times, and then my workout is over. We go back upstairs to schedule our next session and I renew my hatred for whomever put stairs in the gym that I MUST go up.
Once the appointment is scheduled I go downstairs and change into my swim suit (HA! You thought I was done but I tricked you) and head to the pool. Crap there's an aqua aerobics class going on. That means the water is choppy and I may drown. I'll deal. The problem is, I know I'm swimming in pee. You don't get that many people in a pool for an hour without at least one person peeing. I don't care if they're all adults who should know better. Which makes it even worse when the unthinkable happens and I accidentally swallow some pee-water. Time to be done with my swim.
I head back to the locker room to change and I'm 98% sure I hit some poor guy in the face with my sweaty shirt. The problem is I wait well beyond the point in time where it would be acceptable to say something so I don't say anything and he probably thinks I'm some stupid jerk. So if perchance you are reading this, dude in the locker room, know that I had a hard time sleeping because I felt so guilty about maybe smacking with you my shirt. Please forgive me.
Today is the day. The day where I get wicked candid and tell you my current weight. On the internet. For all to see. And I thought a cracked windshield was a source of stress. Believe it or not there's a big difference between admitting you're a fat person and telling people how fat you actually are. I remember in elementary school the fifth and sixth graders would go on a ski trip to Trollhaugen in Wisconsin and in preparation we would all get weighed during gym class not in private. It was always my least favorite day cause everyone was telling everyone else what they weighed and I was always wicked embarrassed (goodness I've used 'wicked' twice in one paragraph. Thanks, Massachusetts!).
Well today I will not be embarrassed. Not because I'm happy with the number out of context, but because in the grand scheme of what I'm attempting to accomplish, progress has been made. But you'll have to wait just a little longer until those numbers are officially released because I'm not taking events out of sequence.
I get to the gym tonight and feel slightly nervous because I know I'll have to step on a scale. The worst thing that could possibly happen is that I've put on weight since my physical where I learned that I've lost a total of 26 pounds. But I can't think about that because I have to get on the elliptical machine and get warmed up. Maybe I can work off some extra poundage in this five minutes that ends up morphing into ten because I make the best workout mixes ever.
After my elliptical time I head upstairs to grab a towel and see if that's where Justin is waiting. Indeed it is and we head down a hallway to start the process of my measurements. We have to create a profile with some personal information before the moment arrives. We head to the scale. Thankfully Justin is really good at making things seem less intense and I tend to be a little more on the dramatic side (but it really is just a defense mechanism).
Before I reveal my current weight, let me tell you where I started. At my very first physical with my new doctor (sometime this past summer, I think in June) I stepped on the scale and weighed 411 pounds. It was really scary to me to be over the 400 mark, especially at 25. At my most recent physical on January 14, my weight was 386. Today, my weight is 377. I've lost nine pounds in four weeks. Two and a quarter pounds a week average. An average of seven pounds a month since I started in September. I am insanely proud of those statistics. Other boring measurements are taken to track my progress and since I don't have the exact figures, I'll omit them.
After measurements, Justin and I head down to the weight room where he shows me some actual exercise to do with weights. I think he calls them dumbbell presses but I can't really be sure. I'm really good at pretending to pay attention when I'm actually not paying attention. That's what I learned as an actor in college. So we alternate 15 presses and one minute planks three times. And after that I'm dripping sweat. Gross. But it is indicative of exertion, so it's proof that I'm trying me best. I'll attempt to view sweat as a positive thing.
We move on to the cardio room to do an exercise that features squats. As I often say, squats are one of my least favorite things. Combine it with presses and it becomes really awful. Squat down, do a press on the way up. Fifteen of those then side planks for a minute on each side. We do that twice. Maybe three times. I was kind of delirious so I don't really remember.
Then we go over to the leg press machine. Justin tells me that these are really great and I say something along the lines of, 'But will my body be happy with me?' Some lady pipes up 'No! They're awful." Zip it lady. I'm paying to be trained, not for you to be friendly. Fifteen presses on each leg three times, and then my workout is over. We go back upstairs to schedule our next session and I renew my hatred for whomever put stairs in the gym that I MUST go up.
Once the appointment is scheduled I go downstairs and change into my swim suit (HA! You thought I was done but I tricked you) and head to the pool. Crap there's an aqua aerobics class going on. That means the water is choppy and I may drown. I'll deal. The problem is, I know I'm swimming in pee. You don't get that many people in a pool for an hour without at least one person peeing. I don't care if they're all adults who should know better. Which makes it even worse when the unthinkable happens and I accidentally swallow some pee-water. Time to be done with my swim.
I head back to the locker room to change and I'm 98% sure I hit some poor guy in the face with my sweaty shirt. The problem is I wait well beyond the point in time where it would be acceptable to say something so I don't say anything and he probably thinks I'm some stupid jerk. So if perchance you are reading this, dude in the locker room, know that I had a hard time sleeping because I felt so guilty about maybe smacking with you my shirt. Please forgive me.
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