Intensity...

I'm sick of missing Pilates so when an opportunity popped up to swap shifts at Target, I opted to ditch my Thursday night shift in favor of a Friday night shift. I just sit at home and make awful decisions on Friday night anyways, so why not make a conscious decision to better myself? That seems smart.

So Thursday finally hits and I'm feeling really tired. This is what happens to me now that I work until 12:30am, fall asleep around 2:00am and have to be up at 6:45am (which inevitably ends up being more like 7:20). The problem is I really am enjoying working at Target and the extra money is incredibly helpful. The season is over soon, and hopefully they'll keep me on after the technical "Seasonal Employment" time is over, but with adjusted hours so I can resume going to the gym more regularly.

Anyway, so I am heading home from work, dangerously low on gas and I can't stop because I've left my wallet at home. The last thing I need is to run out of gas and not be able to go to Pilates. I make it home and grab my wallet and workout gear and drive to the gas station where I put 16.004 gallons in my 16-gallon tank. My father would be so ashamed that I let it get that low. And thank goodness my dad knows about cars because he has saved me many a time. Not that I don't know that running out of gas is bad for the car, but you get the idea.

Since I was so motivated to get gas, I have plenty time to hop on the elliptical before class starts. I go for just over 5 minutes, really pushing myself and getting a full quarter mile in that time. Exciting side note: I often used to have to slow down because my heart rate would get to high, but today I push the whole time and never get into a heart rate 'danger zone', and that is super encouraging after being lazy for about a week.

After my elliptical warm-up, I head upstairs and meet Lisa, who I have convinced to join me for Pilates, today. I have been wicked encouraging, telling her she'll have fun and Kiki is great, and to only worry about doing what she thinks she can do. Nadine, you are free of your title as I have now become 'Sam the Liar'. Kiki went to some workshop and came back with incredible motivation to basically make our lives miserable. Poor Lisa thought she was going to have a slow paced Pilates introduction, but no such luck.

Kiki races from one exercise to the next, and I'm not only sweating from using my muscles but from moving so fast. It's bordering on cardio. Every move and pose and exercise hurts (in the good 'you're really doing something' way) and I can't wait for class to be over. Every so often I glance at Lisa, who is graciously smiling through the whole thing even though I'm pretty sure she'll never speak to me again.

At the conclusion of the class, everyone is wiped out, but it feels amazing. It was exactly what I needed to de-stress and relax (ironic, huh?). I say hi to Kiki on my way out and pop in and say hi to Ryann, as well. I also confess my awful diet from the past few weeks because I'm feeling honest. Gotta get right back up on that horse. So I ask her to help set me up with her food tracking app. That way she can yell at me for eating awful things.

After the gym, I head to the hospital to visit, get this, MY NEPHEW! My sister had a baby on December 18th and he is, without a doubt, adorable.

No contest

His name is Chester and he is my favorite baby ever.

Priorities...

Hello to all of you who have been waiting for the first post since my blog revelation last week. It's cray-cray up in my life what with Target and Hiltz and I have a hard time squeezing the gym in, too. Why can't life be easy? Honestly, if some anonymous reader wants to donate money so that I don't have to work while I do this whole gym thing, I will not complain. But my complaining is part of the appeal of the blog, I guess.

Basically what this is teaching me is that I need to make time for things that are important. Obviously it is important to earn money so that I can survive, but this quest for fitness is something that has to take priority, too. Which means that even though I'm really tired from working so much, I need to take the time on my days off to do the gym. I haven't been since last Monday, and that is shameful.

Though Monday is awesome. I go to Zumba with a posse of supporters. Best Friend Rachel and Fit Andrew come, along with Lisa and first-time Zumba-er Liz. Getting Liz to go to Zumba is a difficult task but proves I have harnessed the power of persuasion. Not only do I get her to go, but I get her to stand in the front row with me. Liz is secretly a natural dancer, though she would never admit it. Fun is had by all and this evening proves that exercise can bring people together.

Also, I can't fall asleep last night so what do I do? Sit-ups and push-ups. What is happening to me? I'm becoming one of the people I used to mock (probably out of jealousy)! I literally used to yell at people when I saw them jogging because they were making everyone else feel badly about themselves and now I cheer them on. I love that this is what's happening to me. I never thought I'd even consider starting to be a runner and I've already downloaded and seriously thought about using a couch to 5k app. Exercise is addicting if you stick with it long enough. But that does hinge on finding something that you enjoy doing. If you don't like running, don't run. Find something else in the world of cardio that you do enjoy.

I don't know how on board I am with this analogy, but humor me because I provide you with plenty of humor: To an extent, if I'm not enjoying what I do for work, I will never be happy in a job. I'm not willing to categorically say that I won't be happy if I don't like it because I honestly believe I could overlook a lot of unpleasant things for the sake of financial security. But the basic lesson is I never enjoyed going to the gym until I tried all sorts of classes and found the things I really enjoy. And I haven't even tried everything. If something get's boring I can try something else, as long as I keep trying.

Goodness this feels like I'm being Mr. Rogers. But as cheese ball as it sounds, it's true. Just because you tried one thing and it didn't start your engine doesn't mean you can never enjoy exercise. Give it time and try different things. Tennis counts as exercise, so does swimming, so does ultimate frisbee. Stop complaining that exercise isn't for you. It's not for the lazy version of yourself but isn't it the whole point of exercise to not be lazy? Think about it. 

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.

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.

Crumbs...

So today I go on a moving job. My first ever moving job. This may sound odd because I work at a moving company, but I normally do office work, scheduling and in home estimates. Not today. Today, I go to a woman's house and help lift patio furniture and move it from her decks into her garage. Now, I had no idea patio furniture could be heavy and it mostly wasn't, but she has two umbrella stands that are really tough to move. It makes sense when I consider that these stands are the only things preventing the umbrellas from blowing into the ocean. Side note: this woman has a gorgeous view of the ocean. Even on a day that is as crappy as this one. Aside from that, everything goes fine. 

By the end of the move, I am soaking wet. The problem is, it rains for most of the day and I can't tell if I'm just covered in rain or covered in sweat. The wetness under my breasts lets me know that it is, in fact, mostly from sweating. But I get a tip from the lady so that makes it all worth it. That, and I consider this exercise because of how much I perspired. Maybe I should volunteer for moving jobs more often.

My evening workout is pushed up because I have friends coming over for a scary movie marathon, so I do yoga as soon as I get home from work. This is one of my favorite ways to workout not only because I can do it in the comfort and privacy of my own living room, but because it's the workout where I can see the most apparent change. I've become much more flexible and my endurance is getting better every day.

But it's also the workout where I sweat the most and where I'm the most aware of how sweaty I am. I constantly have to lay on my back and wet back against dry carpet is not a good feeling. Plus I always end the workout with crumbs on my back because, despite having a perfectly wonderful kitchen table, my roommates and I all seem to prefer eating on the couch in front of the TV. 

Be sure to check out the "Photo Progress" section of the blog and I'd appreciate any follows and shares.

Determination...

So I get home from work and after watching the series premiere of Modern Family and throwing my workout clothes into the washing machine, I decide to do yoga. Now, in the last few weeks of doing yoga, I've never been able to complete the workout without having to rest at some point during most of the exercises. Today, however, I complete the whole video without giving up on a motion once. Bam. I gotta say, I feel pretty awesome when I'm finished. But it instantly goes away because I realize I have left a lovely sweat spot on the carpet and I instantly become discouraged knowing that I'll have to clean that up, later.

But I won't be doing that right now because I am a sweaty mess and I need to rest. I toss my washed clothes into the dryer and realize, with much dismay, that I have sent my hot pink earbuds through the wash. But I test them out and they appear to still be working. Now I have to waste time while my clothes dry. I decide to browse the interweb for for a while and read up on some great butt exercises that I can do at home without the use of machines. I then go to get my workout clothes out of the dryer. Unfortunately my normal workout shirt has stuck itself to the wall of the washing machine and has not made it into the dryer. So basically, I sat around for nothing.

I grab a different shirt, throw on my shorts and head to the gym, because a wet shirt isn't going to stop me, today. I feel too awesome. I get on the bike when I get to the gym because I'm feeling adventurous. 25 minutes and a full bike dance routine to Want U Back by Cher Lloyd later, I head to the weight room for a day of legs. I use the calf machine, because I now know how. I'd love to give someone a tutorial if they'd like to come to the gym with me, sometime.

Then, I go to the glute machine, which is especially difficult, today. Maybe because I literally have no clue what my starting weight should be when I use a machine. They should have guidelines printed on the machine. Like, is it awesome that I can do 115 pounds on the triceps machine or is that below average. And what should I start with when I do bench presses to ensure I don't die when I try to lift it? When I'm done on the glute machine, some old guy comes up and asks what the machine is for. It's totes awkward to talk to an old guy about a machine that works your butt. 

I do a few more exercises and when I get up to grab a cloth to wipe down the machine, old guy swoops in and starts to use it. Enjoy that, old guy. You're sitting in my butt sweat.

In case you were worried that I was too attractive while at the gym...

May I also take this opportunity to ask that you follow my blog? Simply sign in with your free Google account and click 'Join This Site' on the left. You'll be informed when a new post is made and I'll look really cool. Thanks in advance.

Suicide...

After work I go out to dinner with two very dear friends. While we are stuffing our faces with bread rolls and pasta, I attempt to convince them to join my gym, or at least check it out. After surprisingly little effort, I convince them that it's worth it to accompany me tonight and see how they like it.

Upon our arrival, Skinny Matt is standing behind the counter. "I brought friends tonight!" Maybe I sound a little too cheerful when I practically shout my statement at Matt, but I make no apologies for my behavior, so he can deal with it. A very nice woman helps both Megan and Charlotte fill out their guest information. I head down to change while they get things sorted out. When I emerge from the dressing room, Skinny Matt has already started giving the spiel (it's the right spelling, trust me, I looked it up) about joining the gym to Megan. I can almost taste the reduced membership fee.

We go down to the cardio room to start, and that is where I make the biggest mistake of my life: Charlotte and I get on the elliptical machine. I know within a minute and a half that this is bad. My thighs are burning. To top it all off, I'm on an elliptical machine that is right next to one of the exercise bikes that has a 'contest' component. It is this very bike where my good friend CJ decides he's going to be working out. It's bad enough that that I'm on a machine that will surely put me on the front page of the newspaper with a 'Fat Guy Dies on Elliptical Machine' headline, but to have to think about spending twenty minutes next to someone who may talk my ear off the whole time adds almost too much stress.

Surprisingly, CJ doesn't say a thing to me during my fifteen minutes of death on the elliptical. Yeah, I cut it down from twenty. Get over it. I am dripping sweat the entire time and my thighs burn like I just climbed all 1,860 steps of the Empire State Building. I wipe off the machine and wait for Megan to finish her biking when CJ decides to start up a conversation about how he's seen me here a lot. I comment on how it's really just an obligation and he says 'But you passed the hardest step: showing up'. That's going on my quote board.

I also look like this during my workouts, only with significantly more sweat

Megan and I head to the weight room, while Charlotte decides to be lame and use the 'Women's Only' equipment room. I focus on arms, today, but not before I try the calf machine one final time. Miracle of miracles, it works. I literally do nothing differently, but I guess the universe thinks I deserve a win.

At this point, I want to go home. I'm tired and sweaty, but these lovely ladies I have brought with me decide that they want to try the pool before we go. So I swim ON TOP of everything else I've done this evening. By the end, I can't feel my body and can only assume I have left my physical body and will soon be ascending into heaven. Not the case.

I decide to try the steam room, again. I walk in and realize that there are two other guys in the room, but I can't see them, because of all the steam. I head towards the edge of the bench and pray that I am not about to sit on one of them. Thankfully, I make contact with the tiled bench. I can still only stay about 4 minutes of torture before I have to leave and sit in the sauna for 10 minutes.

On the way out of the gym Megan decides she's going to sign up for a membership. I not only get my five bucks off, but I also get a free t-shirt, because Matt is awesome.

Swim...

So I get to the gym today and decide to start in the weight room. There is a woman in the weight room, today. The first woman I've ever seen in the weight room, minus that gentleman's eye candy from last week. This one is actually on machines. In fact, on the calf raise machine, which I could not, for the life of me, figure out. Add that to the list of things that have made me feel stupid since I joined the gym.

I'm intimidated away from working on legs, and decide to do more curls with my dinky 15 pound weights. The sad thing is I feel like I'm working really hard to do 3 sets of 10 reps with these things and this guy standing three feet away is doing curls with 40 pound weights and I swear he's been going steady for about 2 minutes. I'm tempted to throw a five pound weight at him, but I resist because I don't think I'd be able to get it that far after my 30 total reps. 

I also do some tricep workouts and work my back. Then, I decide to do some calves, but I'm not using a machine to do it. I just stand and raise up on to my tiptoes and back down again. Like a very rudimentary ballet. Except I guarantee you I do not look graceful as I do this. I almost fall on my face a minimum of 8 times.

Once I'm done with that, I head back to the locker room because tonight is the night I venture into the pool. The gym keeps touting their saltwater pool and I kind of feel obligated to try it out. Now, as a fat person who is male, I avoid taking my shirt off at all costs. I wore t-shirts in the pool as a kid and claimed it was because I didn't want to get sunburned. False. I didn't want to be arrested for indecent exposure.

Thankfully, every time I go to the gym at night, the pool is empty. Doubly good, because I slip and fall as I go down the steps into the pool and nearly drown. Talk about embarrassing. I decide to start by swimming simple freestyle laps. After the first two, my speed decreases tremendously. Holy crap. I had no idea I was this out of shape. I imagine I must look pretty comical; as uncoordinated as ever. I'm glad there's no life guard on duty because it would be embarrassing a) to drown in a pool that is 4 1/2 feet deep, at most, and b) to explain that I am in fact not drowning, I'm just swimming. 

I then do some laps with the pool noodles, using just my legs. It's the most intense leg workout I've experienced and I am as exhausted as ever when I finish. Then I swim on my back using just my arms for a couple laps, to really work them. When I'm done, I'm exhausted. I take a quick shower and head home, happy to not have to exert anymore energy.

Juiced...

I'm only feeling pressured to post during the week, because I have a life. Take any weekend posts as a wonderful gift from me to you.

I wake up around 12:30pm because I was working until 4:00am last night. And I had to fight to not wake up at 8:30am. Why? Because my body is stupid and false into a routine. I do not feel like exercising, so I grab my juice and do very moderate things that could be considered physical activity. Like laundry, for example. Don't mock me, laundry can be an exercise, especially if you've got as much as I do. My laundry basket is really heavy. Plus I dance while I do it.

I also continue with my juicing. I've been juicing 2 meals a day for 2 weeks. Because I know all of you are curious, no, I do not get particularly hungry. But I do frequently get nostalgic when I think about what it was like to chew food. If you're interested in juicing, look it up on the internet because I am not doing your research for you. Be an adult. But here is the fancy juicer that I own, should you be interested.

It works really well, but cleanup can take a while.

I do an abbreviated yoga session and make sure that I do not idly sit in front of the TV. I do a wonderful set of those exercises that remind me of a Jane Fonda workout video, or the exercises we used to do in elementary school gym class. 

Similar to this, but without all that 80s glam

Beautiful buns and thighs, here I come.

Peeing...

Please be aware that I have no shame and I am perfectly comfortable talking about bodily functions. This will occasionally filter into the blog.

So after I watch an episode of The X-Factor, I drive to the gym and as I'm walking up the stairs to the front door, I'm getting nervous. 'I'm going to scan my card and lights will flash because they're going to see that I haven't been to the gym all week.' Card scanned, nothing happens. Now I'm offended. 'Apparently they don't care that I haven't been all week. Thanks for all the great support!'.

I walk down the stairs into the locker room and get changed into my gym clothes. As I leave, I briefly think I may need to pee before I start. Someone is already using the urinal, so I decide to leave, but not before I notice something strange. Being that most people wear pants or shorts with some sort of elastic waistband, I have found that the easiest way is just to pull down the front of my shorts and do my business. Apparently this guy has found a better way because he goes up through the left leg of his shorts. I have never seen this done before and I'll be honest: it was weird.

I go to the stationary bike and start my workout The good old stationary bike that never lets me down. There is nothing confusing about sitting and pedaling. I don't even have to press any buttons on the bike. It just assumes I know what I'm doing. I just pedal and lip-sync to all my gym jams. What a great name for a playlist, btdubs.

11 minutes in to the ride, I realize I have to pee. The question is, do I hold it for the next 14 minutes, or do I finish the ride and then go? I don't like either option, so I just pee my pants. Just kidding. I wait until I finish and then speed walk to the bathroom. And no, I don't try going up through the leg.

After my bathroom break I head to the weight room, which is once again full of men in much better shape than me. I do some free weights and minimal machines because of an article someone sent me over Facebook that warned of the perils of some machines. Back, shoulders, biceps and triceps, all in time to get home and shower before the new season of Parks and Recreation starts.

Sickness...

Despite feeling ill, I decide I still need to workout and rather than infect everyone at the gym, I stay home. Another day of yoga in the living room. The only problem with this decision is that I have short ceilings in my apartment and a lot of the stretches involve lengthening my spine with my arms over my head. Impossible to do when I only have 4 inches of clearance between the top of my head and the ceiling. So I adjust, and hope that I'm not doing serious damage to my body, as a result.

It's a rough workout. My arms are incredibly sore from the lifting that I've done recently, and I can think of nothing more appealing than lying on the couch and watching the sad sacks in the video do the workout while I stuff my face full of Funyuns. But that would be foolish.

Sweat is pouring off of me and I start to realize that regardless of my fitness level, I will ALWAYS sweat if I'm doing it right. This is an incredibly depressing thought. I hate the feeling of sweating. I understand that it has to happen, on a biological level, but I really think I'd prefer whatever the consequence of not sweating would be. It gets into my eyes and runs up my nose when I'm in downward dog and is generally annoying.

Another frustrating thing about a fat person doing yoga is when I can't do a particular pose. Now, I don't mean can't because I'm not flexible. I have always been flexible. I'm talking when my body gets in it's own way. I'm supposed to lay on my back and pull my knees to my chest. When I've got a big stomach, this isn't possible. 25 minutes later, I'm exhausted but invigorated. If I could just continue to remember how great I feel after a workout, maybe I could convince myself that it's a good idea more often.

iPod...

Today I go to the gym a little later than I intend because there is another important lesson I have learned: It is incredibly important to have a comfortable pair of shoes when I'm at the gym. I've been squeezing into a pair of Adidas running shoes that I've had since my junior year of high school and they've given me wonderful insight into the practice of binding feet. I decide it's time to get some new shoes. So I drive down to Nordstrom Rack, which seems to be the only place that sells shoes the size of most clown cars, and pick out literally one of the most comfortable pair of shoes I have ever worn. Those of you who are interested, they are the Asics Nimbus 13.

Then, I go over to Target and re-purchase my hot pink head phones, because I need them.

Upon entering the gym, I take my gym bag down to the locker room. That's right, ladies and gentleman, I finally got a gym bag. True, my gym bag is a reusable Target bag that I purchased about 4 years ago, but it's my pride and joy so keep it to yourself. The gym is a little more crowded, today, so I decide to head to one of the available treadmills. Now, as a fat person, I hate being right next to someone while I'm on any piece of equipment and today I have a person on either side of me. 

Because they are so close, I can clearly see the speed with which they're running and how long they have been on the treadmill. I'm planning on walking because I'm convinced I will not survive an attempt to jog on a treadmill, and I'm only planning on doing it for 25 minutes. The woman to my left has been on for 30 minutes, and she shows no signs of stopping. And yes, women can do anything men can do, but it's incredibly de-masculinating to be beaten by a woman in feats of physical strength and endurance unless she's a body builder.  

I make it through the treadmill and then do legs. As usual, I look incredibly non-graceful as I straddle the hip whatever thing. This time, I have to raise my leg to get it over one of the arms and I end up looking like a figure skater who is failing and almost fall out of the seat. Thank goodness there is a personal trainer working with a client not 4 feet from me and they both see the whole thing. 

Then, I decide to work on whatever the backside of my thigh is called. This exercise is incredibly embarrassing because it involves laying down on my stomach. So while I sweat and struggle, it looks like I'm taking a nap. And who knows, my butt could be hanging out while I am blissfully unaware. But not really blissfully. More like painfully. Thank goodness that's the last thing I have to do before I leave, but not before responding to a woman who says goodbye to someone other than me. 

Mornings...

Let it be known that I HATE working out in the morning. I have plans to go into Boston this evening, so I decide that means I need to wake up early in order to get in my workout for the day. Yes, I'm amazing and have incredible dedication, but please, settle down.

It's awful from the moment the day starts. My alarm goes off and I instinctively hit snooze before I realize that this defeats the entire purpose of setting an alarm in the first place. So I actually get out of bed. The stupid thing with exercising in the morning is you still have to get ready. And it's pointless to shower before hand so I still have that awful sleep feeling all over myself. What the heck is that from, anyway?

I also have to put my contacts in, because otherwise I will not be able to see the TV and therefore will not be doing the yoga poses properly. And I hate putting my contacts in before I shower. Don't judge me or question my opinion. Deal with it. It's the truth.

So I start the DVD and 40 minutes later, I am now sweating profusely so it's sleep mixed with exertion sweat which makes a death cocktail of body odor. It's a good thing I didn't eat breakfast before I did this. It's also good that I am not in the presence of any other people because if I were, I would probably end up being arrested for homicide. 

I have never been more happy to shower, in my entire life. Okay, that's probably an over-exaggeration, but it's definitely in my top ten. And this morning's work out marks 5 days in a row, of working out! Never in my life have I done that. So suck on that, naysayers and my self doubt! Plus, I have a follow-up to a physical later in the day, and the doctor says he's very pleased with my progress. But I still hate morning workouts.

Lessons...

I really need a gym bag, because I keep a) forgetting to bring things to the gym and b) keep losing things when I leave the gym. The other day at Target I buy a pair of really awesome hot pink ear-bud head phone because why shouldn't you be a little flashy at the gym? I lose them two days later. Or someone steals them. But I'm pretty sure I just lose them.

In an embarrassing turn of events, I neglect to wash my gym clothes and have to come up with an alternative work-out outfit. I find a pair of shorts that I really only use to sleep in and an old t-shirt to wear, but I basically end up looking like a hot dog because the shorts are red and the shirt is yellow. And now a hot dog sounds delicious and all I can think about is eating one. No hot dogs. Just gym.

I get to the gym after watching The X-Factor and put my stuff in the locker room when I realize that I have once again forgotten my towel. I don't think it's going to be a big deal because my plan is to stick to the weight room today.

Upon entering the weight room, I notice that it is much more crowded than usual. Instead of one lone person, there are now 5-6 beefy guys that look like they've been going to the gym since they were able to walk. And one of them has brought some ditsy looking woman who doesn't touch a single piece of equipment. Apparently you need arm candy even at the gym.

I try to ignore everyone as I work my arms and shoulders until I'm good and sore, but another variable comes into play that I didn't expect. Before I left for the gym, I had a little ice cream to celebrate my successes of the week. And by a little, I mean more than I should have had, and I am now feeling it. For those of you who might be curious, I can now say with complete confidence that you do not want to be lifting weight while you feel queasy.

Intimidation...

There are two things in the world that intimidate me: movie stars and treadmills. And I only encounter one on a regular basis. I go to the gym yesterday and decide like an idiot that I'm going to use a treadmill. As I walk over someone calls out my name. I turn and it's my apparently new best friend CJ. I get your tactic, CJ. Greet the new guy, make him feel welcome so he gets off his lazy butt and keeps coming back. Apparently, CJ cares more about my health than I do. Keep it to yourself, CJ.

Picking a treadmill doesn't sound hard, but when there's a row of about 15 of them it suddenly seems like a huge decision. Do I pick one close to other people and potentially seem creepy? Do I pick one as far away from others and seem snobbish? I have no idea. So I pick one in the middle and try not to feel badly about my decision.

As I start up the treadmill, I realize I do not know treadmill etiquette. I have no idea if I should start it and slowly increase my speed, or raise the speed before I step on, and I am for sure not touching that incline button. I'm terrified I'm going to fall flat on my face and all I'm doing is walking. Something I do EVERY DAY. Leave it to a piece of gym equipment to make you feel inadequate while doing something as trivial as walking. I find my groove after about five minutes, but not without the constant fear of what will happen if I look away from my feet, or the foreboding end of the treadmill that could be millimeters from my feet; I really have no idea.

About 8 minutes in, I'm overcome with an urge to dance as 'Club Can't Handle Me', the genius Flo Rida and David Guetta collaboration from last year, plays on my ipod. Seriously, who doesn't want to break it down when this song comes on? Evidently, not only can the Club not handle me, but neither can the treadmill. Trying to bounce to a beat with your upper body while your feet are walking at a completely different tempo is insanely difficult and I lose my balance and have to brace myself on the supports. Mental note, don't dance on the treadmill.

After 25 minutes and about a gallon of sweat, my time on the treadmill has come to an end. Post-treadmill, I feel like I'm gliding across the floor, which feels kind of cool. Then, on to the weight room for leg day. Now, I've never been in labor before, but I'm fairly certain that working my inner thighs on the machine that forces your legs apart in the most provocative of ways comes pretty close to what it feels like to lie in a hospital bed awaiting the emergence of an infant from your nether region. Praise be to Jehovah this gym is practically a ghost town.

Several more machines and two sore legs later, I begin the arduous climb up the set of stairs that you have to use in order to exit the gym. Clever design, gym architect, but I would literally push you down these stairs if you were here right now. Not only do I have to conquer those stairs, but I have to ascend the two flights of stairs to get to my apartment. What did I learn today? Stairs suck.

Foolish...

I’m all pumped to go to the gym today when I realize I have no idea where my gym shorts are. Sabotage! Someone in the world is deliberately trying to thwart my efforts to live a healthier life! That or, like an idiot, I lost them somewhere in the five minutes between my gym and my house. Side note: saying ‘my gym’ is really weird for a fat person.

So I have to drive down to Target and buy some gym shorts which is super inconvenient because I don’t want to spend more money right now. So I drop 40 bucks on two pairs of shorts and a t-shirt. All this t-shirt does for me is turn my midsection into an inner tube and super accentuate my breast and seeing as I’m not a flotation device for a 45-year-old divorcée, neither of these things are particularly helpful. I figure I’ll hold onto it and begin to wear it when it fits me better.

I get home and decide to do some yoga before I go to the gym. I love working out at home. I let it all hang out in the privacy of my home. I make no effort to pretend that I’m not winded and I certainly don’t attempt to be discreet when I have to break wind. I sweat everywhere and I love it. The problem is, it’s much more appealing to watch TV and snack when I’m at home, so that can’t be my only option.

After yoga and a rather amusing conversation with my mother (who just had surgery) I drag myself to the gym. This time I remember to bring a towel because I was SO embarrassed when I was dripping with sweat the night before and had nothing to wipe myself off with. They really should have an orientation class at the gym. This is all the stuff I would never think about.

It’s another night of stationary bike to start. Thank goodness no one approaches me, tonight, because I may have lost it and punched whoever approached me in the face. The 25 minute flies by, mostly thanks to Sean Paul. ‘She Doesn’t Mine’ motivated me like no other song can, so thank you, Sean Paul, for motivating my lazy butt.

I get off the bike and head to the weight room. The ever intimidating weight room. The room that makes me feel foolish. I never know what I’m doing in the weight room and  tonight is no different. Only tonight is worse because there are actually people in the weight room. And I promise they are all judging me. So I do my best to look impressive as I do curls (I think?!) and shoulder shrugs and I’m sure I fail miserably. 

Joined...

To celebrate a momentous occasion, I decided to get a gym membership. That momentous occasion was finally getting my own health insurance. And because I get a discount on my gym membership through my insurance provider, I thought, 'why the heck not?' Now, because I am not being paid to plug this gym, I will be omitting it's name. Suffice it to say, it's an "Athletic Club" of sorts in "Beverly". Join and tell them I referred you and I get 5 bucks off my monthly fee. Thanks in advance.

So, I joined the gym. Now, as a fat person, joining a gym is extremely intimidating. It's not like joining Curves for Women. I walk in and it must be workout rush hour because EVERY SINGLE CARDIO MACHINE IS TAKEN by super fit and super attractive people. I almost quit before I even sign up.

The first thing the membership guy asks me when I sit down is "So what are you looking to do?" What do you think a fat person walking into a gym wants to do? 'I've come to walk around and eat donuts in front of everyone.' I could have said that and maybe scored an additional discount for being HILARIOUS. Instead, I  talk about my interest in starting to work out regularly and how I want to find out about membership costs. We discuss and he offers me a tour of the 'facility', to use his lingo.

So I get a tour and all the while I'm being super self-conscious about my body compared to the bodies of all the people who are there. 'I do not have abs like that gentleman,' 'My man-boobs are larger than that woman's real boobs.' But, I'm motivated enough to decide to sign up.

Cut to two and a half hours later when I come back to the gym to actually work out. There's Matt, still sitting in his office. He flashes a smile and gives me two thumbs up. "Back already!" he hollers. Shut up, Skinny Matt. You don't know me.

Downstairs to the Locker Room and on to the cardio room. I guess I'll stationary bike it, tonight. Headphones in, I start pedaling, and some Personal Trainer dude named CJ comes up to me and tries to persuade me to swap to a different bike so our gym can beat another gym in some competition. Step off, CJ. I'm a fat person in a gym. I do not want to be approached.

So I bike 6 miles and lift some weights and leave. All in all, not too crazy of a day.

Purpose...

I was talking with my roommates after getting back from the gym, yesterday, and I decided to write a blog. As any person knows, a blog has to have a purpose in order to succeed. A blog has to answer the question "Who the heck are you, what the heck are you doing, and why the heck should I care?" So here is my answer to that question:

My name is Sam, I am losing weight, and I'm a fat person doing it at a gym.

Plain and simple. Who doesn't want to be inspired by a weight loss success story while laughing at the craziness I experience as a fat person at the gym? So tell your friends. Also, if people want to pay to advertise, I would be very appreciative.

So please enjoy, and thanks for reading.