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 weight loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weight loss. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
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.
Monday, January 14, 2013
Four...
Ladies and gentlemen of the internet, four months ago I began this journey of bettering (not buttering) myself by becoming more healthy and I can say, with much pride, that four months ago I was 26 lbs heavier. That is an average of one and a quarter pounds a week. That was also over two holidays where one of the main purposes is to consume ridiculous amounts of food.
Do I wish it was more? Yes. Am I discouraged? Get off the internet if you think I'm discouraged. This is awesome. I set a goal and for four months I have been working towards it and this proves that I am successful. So take that, stupid people who scoff when I tell them I go to the gym. When was the last time you lost 26 pounds?
Do I wish it was more? Yes. Am I discouraged? Get off the internet if you think I'm discouraged. This is awesome. I set a goal and for four months I have been working towards it and this proves that I am successful. So take that, stupid people who scoff when I tell them I go to the gym. When was the last time you lost 26 pounds?
This is the more slender face of someone who is pretty darn pleased with themselves
And I've worked hard for it. Just ask Best Friend Rachel who endured Dynamic Core with me on Tuesday. During class we do a total of probably around 200 lunges in various directions and probably a good 75 squats. The next day, it's painful to sit down on a couch so I can be lazy. Like really painful. But I've come to enjoy the soreness that comes from workouts. It means changes are happening.
Thankfully, I recover by Thursday, or at least recover enough to do Pilates. The only problem is that I'm feeling a little gassy. Good thing I'm a trained actor so I can pretend that I'm taking breaks because I'm sore instead of taking breaks to avoid breaking wind. I do it for you, ladies of Pilates, because I'm such a nice guy.
With the break after the Christmas season at Target, I've had much more time to kick it in to high gear once again, so expect big changes in the coming months. Also, I vow to do better with the whole photo progress portion and seeing as I've decided to stop making empty promises, you know it's really going to happen.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Obligations...
Basically all weekend long I've had this awful cold that will not go away and it has made me not want to do anything. I did Pilates on Saturday but between moving a couch into the house that ended up not fitting and working at Target, I have been exhausted all weekend. And today is not different. I have made plans with Best Friend Rachel to go to Zumba, but she texts me and has to cancel because she has a date, which I take as a sign from God that I should give it a rest and focus on getting better.
I'm home from work and ready to crash when I get a text from Lisa asking if I'm going to go to Zumba. I tell her I'm going to pass on Zumba but that I'll probably be at the gym doing some lifting. I make a little dinner and as I'm eating, the skinny person inside of me screams 'Go to the gym, you lazy poop'. Skinny Me has a point. I really should just go. Plus I always enjoy Zumba and I could use a little pick-me-up. So I hop back on my phone and tell Lisa I will be at Zumba and she had better be there, too.
An hour later, I'm dressed in my gorgeous gym apparel (I've decided to embrace it, what else can I do?) waiting outside the studio, telling Lisa all about how I might pass out from oxygen deprivation. Either that or I'll be taking frequent breaks to prevent death. Either way I think I'm doing a good thing by coming to the gym despite feeling ill.
We enter the studio and Lisa stops in the back, so I have to correct her and tell her that we dance up in front, because we're awesome.I think it's funny that after this long of consistently attending classes at the gym, I still get a tinge of nervousness before classes begin. Like suddenly the class will be completely different and I won't be able to do it, or I'll be asked to demonstrate for the entire class. That whole demonstration thing never happens, so I have no idea why I'm nervous about it, but I am.
Turns out Zumba was exactly what I needed. It's a ton of fun dancing around to songs with a good beat, learning dance moves and feeling like I'm a part of a massive choreographed impromptu dance party. It get's my heart rate going which only makes me less aware of the cold that has been plaguing me, and I don't need to break at all. Also, I think I worked my magic and dug out that ingrown toenail that had been bugging me so I have no more foot pain, either. What a wonderful Monday this has morphed into.
After the completion of our Zumba workout, Lisa insists on using the 'women only' area to do her weightlifting and refuses to accompany me to the regular weight room. So I go by myself and do some arms and chest. Arm-Candy is back with the most ridiculous looking bun ever, balanced precariously on top of her head. Honestly it's hard not to laugh at people when they take themselves so seriously. Plus she's helping me by bringing a smile to my face, so it can't really be that bad.
I head to the grocery store after the gym because tonight is the only night I'll have available to grocery shop. This is what my life becomes when I pick up a second job and try to squeeze in gym time. I'll keep you posted on how that endeavor goes.
I'm home from work and ready to crash when I get a text from Lisa asking if I'm going to go to Zumba. I tell her I'm going to pass on Zumba but that I'll probably be at the gym doing some lifting. I make a little dinner and as I'm eating, the skinny person inside of me screams 'Go to the gym, you lazy poop'. Skinny Me has a point. I really should just go. Plus I always enjoy Zumba and I could use a little pick-me-up. So I hop back on my phone and tell Lisa I will be at Zumba and she had better be there, too.
An hour later, I'm dressed in my gorgeous gym apparel (I've decided to embrace it, what else can I do?) waiting outside the studio, telling Lisa all about how I might pass out from oxygen deprivation. Either that or I'll be taking frequent breaks to prevent death. Either way I think I'm doing a good thing by coming to the gym despite feeling ill.
We enter the studio and Lisa stops in the back, so I have to correct her and tell her that we dance up in front, because we're awesome.I think it's funny that after this long of consistently attending classes at the gym, I still get a tinge of nervousness before classes begin. Like suddenly the class will be completely different and I won't be able to do it, or I'll be asked to demonstrate for the entire class. That whole demonstration thing never happens, so I have no idea why I'm nervous about it, but I am.
Turns out Zumba was exactly what I needed. It's a ton of fun dancing around to songs with a good beat, learning dance moves and feeling like I'm a part of a massive choreographed impromptu dance party. It get's my heart rate going which only makes me less aware of the cold that has been plaguing me, and I don't need to break at all. Also, I think I worked my magic and dug out that ingrown toenail that had been bugging me so I have no more foot pain, either. What a wonderful Monday this has morphed into.
After the completion of our Zumba workout, Lisa insists on using the 'women only' area to do her weightlifting and refuses to accompany me to the regular weight room. So I go by myself and do some arms and chest. Arm-Candy is back with the most ridiculous looking bun ever, balanced precariously on top of her head. Honestly it's hard not to laugh at people when they take themselves so seriously. Plus she's helping me by bringing a smile to my face, so it can't really be that bad.
I head to the grocery store after the gym because tonight is the only night I'll have available to grocery shop. This is what my life becomes when I pick up a second job and try to squeeze in gym time. I'll keep you posted on how that endeavor goes.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Pedal...
It's 7AM and I hate the world. Who wants to wake up at 7 on a Saturday? Not this guy. I'm exhausted from the night before and I want nothing more than to wrap my self up like a burrito (from Chipotle... delicious) and go back to bed until the more normal hour of 11. But alas, it is not meant to be. I force myself up because today is my first time attending a spin class. Ryann convinced me it would be a good idea and so I set my alarm leaving enough time to wake up, get dressed and speed down to the gym before class starts at 7:30.
Now, why have I been so hesitant to try out a spin class? Let me tell you. The equipment scared the crap out of me. As a fat person, I have broken my share of furniture. Just ask Fit Andrew's sister Sarah. That poor chair. I am terrified that this bike, while made for the purpose of exercise, will not be able to support me. Believe it or not, you can be too fat to use a piece of exercise equipment (thanks for nothing, Wii Fit). Who's to say this bike won't crumble when I sit down or when I'm supposed to stand on the bike and pedal like I'm going uphill? Unless you're the manufacturer, that person is not you, so don't get too excited.
I enter the room of death (that's how I will be referring to the spin room for the remainder of the post) and do not recognize anyone other than Ryann. I honestly don't even know where to start. Forget the old colloquialism of 'it's like riding a bike' because it's riding a bike that's not meant to go anywhere. It's a completely different thing.
Thankfully, Ryann is helping someone else who's new (I love you, other new person) and I don't have to worry about being the only first-timer. She teaches us the gear-shifting and where our seats and handle bars should be and then we get started. Okay, this should be fine. If I need to, I can pretend (thanks to my acting training) to shift to a harder gear.
Song starts, we start pedaling. Wow, it's a smooth ride. I try shifting up and down to see how things change. Nice. Not too scary. Until the song really gets going. Pedaling with the beat would be causing so much chafing that I might need to be hospitalized. So I go as fast as I can while preserving my thigh skin. And it's still really fast. Within minutes, my legs burn. And here comes a 'push it' section where we're supposed to stand. Holy crap, this bike is going to tip over and I'm going to be decapitated and everyone in this room will be so traumatized that they'll never exercise again, but no. The bike incredibly remains upright. Cool.
Now spin class is very repetitive, so allow me to pull out some highlights for you. First, about twenty minutes into the fifty minute workout, I start to regret my decision to not bring water or a towel. Not only is my sweat flying, but I am thirsty to the point where I actual think I could be in danger. I know that sounds serious, and it is because hydration is important, but keep in mind that I tend to exaggerate. So I make to the decision at the end of the song to go to the locker room and grab the empty water bottle I brought (honestly, I was really stupid) fill it up, and grab the extra shirt I brought to use as a towel. I then head back into the room of death. Hopefully Ryann didn't worry about me leaving and didn't think I was quitting. Don't care too much and don't care too little. It's a fine line.
Towards the end of the workout, we're on our second to last song and it's a really tough one. It's got a lot of gear changes and a lot of standing and sitting and pedaling really fast. Now, I in no way fault Ryann for what happens next; she's doing exactly what she's supposed to do. In order to get us to push hard, she simply utters this sentence: "Come on push it, we're all here for a reason." In my vulnerable state (I have been on a bike for essentially 40 minutes at this point) I let that statement sink in. I think, 'Yeah, I am here for a reason. I'm sick of being a fat person and of feeling like I'm missing out on life. I'm sick of not going to the beach because I don't want to take my shirt off. I'm sick of not playing sports because I don't think I can run. I waited until I turned 26 to take my life back and that was the dumbest thing I could have done.'
So I start crying. And this is not an exaggeration. I'm not full on uncontrollably weeping, but tears are coming and I can't look up because I don't want other people to see. I'm keeping my head down and crying because I'm mad that I didn't care about myself enough to do this sooner. I'm mad because I was for some reason okay with not living my life to the fullest. And I have no one to blame but myself. Dammit now Coldplay comes on so I start crying more. On a spin bike is not necessarily the most ideal time to have an epiphany of such a caliber.
Class is over and immediately I look back and think my situation is hilarious. I was just crying on a bike in a spin class. And it's okay if you want to laugh, too. It's a funny picture. But my actual thoughts are sticking with me and this is becoming about more than just a thing I do to blog about. I'm telling you, exercise does amazing things to not just your body, but to your mind. Also, a guy from the spin class tells me he's read my blog and likes it, so feeling like a celebrity is a pretty decent side effect of all this.
Now, why have I been so hesitant to try out a spin class? Let me tell you. The equipment scared the crap out of me. As a fat person, I have broken my share of furniture. Just ask Fit Andrew's sister Sarah. That poor chair. I am terrified that this bike, while made for the purpose of exercise, will not be able to support me. Believe it or not, you can be too fat to use a piece of exercise equipment (thanks for nothing, Wii Fit). Who's to say this bike won't crumble when I sit down or when I'm supposed to stand on the bike and pedal like I'm going uphill? Unless you're the manufacturer, that person is not you, so don't get too excited.
I enter the room of death (that's how I will be referring to the spin room for the remainder of the post) and do not recognize anyone other than Ryann. I honestly don't even know where to start. Forget the old colloquialism of 'it's like riding a bike' because it's riding a bike that's not meant to go anywhere. It's a completely different thing.
Thankfully, Ryann is helping someone else who's new (I love you, other new person) and I don't have to worry about being the only first-timer. She teaches us the gear-shifting and where our seats and handle bars should be and then we get started. Okay, this should be fine. If I need to, I can pretend (thanks to my acting training) to shift to a harder gear.
Song starts, we start pedaling. Wow, it's a smooth ride. I try shifting up and down to see how things change. Nice. Not too scary. Until the song really gets going. Pedaling with the beat would be causing so much chafing that I might need to be hospitalized. So I go as fast as I can while preserving my thigh skin. And it's still really fast. Within minutes, my legs burn. And here comes a 'push it' section where we're supposed to stand. Holy crap, this bike is going to tip over and I'm going to be decapitated and everyone in this room will be so traumatized that they'll never exercise again, but no. The bike incredibly remains upright. Cool.
Now spin class is very repetitive, so allow me to pull out some highlights for you. First, about twenty minutes into the fifty minute workout, I start to regret my decision to not bring water or a towel. Not only is my sweat flying, but I am thirsty to the point where I actual think I could be in danger. I know that sounds serious, and it is because hydration is important, but keep in mind that I tend to exaggerate. So I make to the decision at the end of the song to go to the locker room and grab the empty water bottle I brought (honestly, I was really stupid) fill it up, and grab the extra shirt I brought to use as a towel. I then head back into the room of death. Hopefully Ryann didn't worry about me leaving and didn't think I was quitting. Don't care too much and don't care too little. It's a fine line.
Towards the end of the workout, we're on our second to last song and it's a really tough one. It's got a lot of gear changes and a lot of standing and sitting and pedaling really fast. Now, I in no way fault Ryann for what happens next; she's doing exactly what she's supposed to do. In order to get us to push hard, she simply utters this sentence: "Come on push it, we're all here for a reason." In my vulnerable state (I have been on a bike for essentially 40 minutes at this point) I let that statement sink in. I think, 'Yeah, I am here for a reason. I'm sick of being a fat person and of feeling like I'm missing out on life. I'm sick of not going to the beach because I don't want to take my shirt off. I'm sick of not playing sports because I don't think I can run. I waited until I turned 26 to take my life back and that was the dumbest thing I could have done.'
So I start crying. And this is not an exaggeration. I'm not full on uncontrollably weeping, but tears are coming and I can't look up because I don't want other people to see. I'm keeping my head down and crying because I'm mad that I didn't care about myself enough to do this sooner. I'm mad because I was for some reason okay with not living my life to the fullest. And I have no one to blame but myself. Dammit now Coldplay comes on so I start crying more. On a spin bike is not necessarily the most ideal time to have an epiphany of such a caliber.
Class is over and immediately I look back and think my situation is hilarious. I was just crying on a bike in a spin class. And it's okay if you want to laugh, too. It's a funny picture. But my actual thoughts are sticking with me and this is becoming about more than just a thing I do to blog about. I'm telling you, exercise does amazing things to not just your body, but to your mind. Also, a guy from the spin class tells me he's read my blog and likes it, so feeling like a celebrity is a pretty decent side effect of all this.
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