Today was my 3rd day of running this week on Week 1 of my Couch to 5K journey.
And all I have to say about it is...
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUCH!
It was hard. Really, really hard to make it all the way through the workout.
To start with, my iPod erased the podcast that I was using during the workout that gave me all the nice verbal cues to either start running or slow to a walk. I'd gotten used to that guy whispering encouraging catch phrases in my ear, no matter how corny they were. "You can do it!" was said at least 3 times over the 25 minute workout.
So, I had to use a different podcast that was not as good, but it did the job. I'm starting to think about making my own weekly mix of music that I actually enjoy though, because some of the stuff they put in there is just crap. But, the point is not the music (reminding myself here), it's to get up and running.
Okay, so the mix-up with the music was one problem. But the bigger problem was HOW HARD IT WAS TO JUST DO IT today.
I'm going to use my best whiny voice here:
It was HAAAAARD. My legs HURRRRRRRRT. I didn't wanna do it anymore.
And that was only by the third 60 second running interval. My legs were starting to cramp. My breathing was really labored, and it felt like I hadn't even bothered to use my inhaler - which I totally had! It was just really, really hard to get through it this morning.
By the fourth running interval, I was really ready to quit and just hop on the elliptical machine.
Oh sweet elliptical, how I miss you so. You're really boring, but you never made me hurt so much.
It was really tempting.
BUT...... (yes, I've got a big but here. Badda bing!)
I persevered. I kept on keeping on, telling myself, "It's just 4 more runs. Just three more. Come on, you can do it, just 2 more and then you're done."
And thankfully, by the last 2 running intervals it was starting to get a little more manageable again, and I was out of danger of quitting the treadmill and heading for the calmer waters of the elliptical, which doesn't actually have anything to do with water...but you get my point.
So, I'm really proud of myself. I stuck it out. I endured.
And tomorrow at Weigh-in Saturday at Weight Watchers,
the scale had better show it!
Friday, February 18, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
On the Road Again
This weekend I bent the rules of reality.
I worked out on Saturday
AND
Sunday!!
Shocking, I know.
But it doesn't stop there. Oh no, the amazement continues.
I RAN both days!!
Stop doubting! I really did it!
I don't blame you for your utter disbelief. I can hardly believe it myself.
But I did it.
The guy on the treadmill next to mine couldn't seem to believe it either.
I was starting out on my 5 minute warm-up, listening to a Couch to 5K podcast when he showed up on the treadmill next to me. He gave me the look. You know what I'm talking about...the I'm-going-to-work-out-next-to-this-fat-chick-so-I-can-look-awesome-and-fit look.
You should have seen his face when I started jogging along right next to him.
I could read his face. It said, "Dang! Fat Girl can run!!"
Oh yeah.
Boo-yah.
Look at that blubber fly!
So I can run, bub. For all of 60 seconds before I needed a 90 second break to take a breather.
But I kept it up, and I ran for 60 seconds eight different times.
And each time I ran, I chanted in my head, "Go fat girl! Go fat girl! Go!"
In your face, treadmill boy!
I worked out on Saturday
AND
Sunday!!
Shocking, I know.
But it doesn't stop there. Oh no, the amazement continues.
I RAN both days!!
Stop doubting! I really did it!
I don't blame you for your utter disbelief. I can hardly believe it myself.
But I did it.
The guy on the treadmill next to mine couldn't seem to believe it either.
I was starting out on my 5 minute warm-up, listening to a Couch to 5K podcast when he showed up on the treadmill next to me. He gave me the look. You know what I'm talking about...the I'm-going-to-work-out-next-to-this-fat-chick-so-I-can-look-awesome-and-fit look.
You should have seen his face when I started jogging along right next to him.
I could read his face. It said, "Dang! Fat Girl can run!!"
Oh yeah.
Boo-yah.
Look at that blubber fly!
So I can run, bub. For all of 60 seconds before I needed a 90 second break to take a breather.
But I kept it up, and I ran for 60 seconds eight different times.
And each time I ran, I chanted in my head, "Go fat girl! Go fat girl! Go!"
In your face, treadmill boy!
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Getting FIT instead of FAT
Do you the difference between FIT and FAT?
Just one little vowel, but a very important one. The letter "I."
If I don't want to be FAT, then I have to get in the middle of things.
If I don't want to be FAT, then I have to make hard changes in my lifestyle and my mindset.
If I don't want to be FAT, then I have to be willing to do what it takes to be successful, even if it's hard and uncomfortable for a time.
"I"
I have to be in control.
I have to be willing to do what it takes.
I have to be mindful of what I'm doing.
Just one little letter that points to who is really to blame for where I am, or who is really going to get credit for where I end up.
So, little friends, how are your New Year's Resolutions going? I know you made some. You know you made some. Maybe you didn't use the word "resolution" but surely you have some goals, some aspirations and ambitions you would like to accomplish before the end of 2011. I know at least one of you said to yourself, "This year I'm gonna..."
How's that going for ya?
I hope it's going well.
We're more than 1/12th of the way through the year so far. Are you 1/12th of the way to reaching your goal?
This year, my New Year's goals were a little less specific than last year's. Last year I really wanted to lose 100 pounds in a year. Well, at least until around March, I was wanting to lose 100 pounds. After that, I seemed to just want to sit around on my butt and whine about why I wasn't losing weight.
This year, I decided to go a little more general, but at the same time, I think I am being a little more realistic, and allowing myself a little more grace to succeed at varying levels.
This year's goals are fourfold:
I want to take steps toward becoming
SPIRITUALLY fit,
PHYSICALLY fit,
EMOTIONALLY fit,
and FINANCIALLY fit.
I'm calling it my SPEFfy fitness goal. I can be SPEFfy.
To reach these goals, I have laid out some steps.
To become physically fit, I'm continuing with Weight Watchers and exercise. As long as I actually DO them, I know that I can become physically fit.
To become financially fit, I am currently following the advice of Dave Ramsey, and am enrolled in his course, Financial Peace University. I didn't really know much about Dave Ramsey and his baby steps for getting out of debt and building wealth until a friend recommended him (Kudos to you, Sonya!). So far, we're working on baby step #2, the debt snowball, and will hopefully be completely debt free by the end of April, or maybe even March if things go well with our tax refund.
To become more spiritually and emotionally fit, I'm working on my honesty with myself and others, trying to be more of who I really am instead of who I think people want me to be. I'm also getting back into church. It's been awhile since I've been going regularly, and I know that's been a large part of why I've been feeling so down for awhile now.
So, I'm getting all SPEFfy. I'm striving to reach some goals.
I know that "I" can make it happen, and can change my FAT life to a FIT one.
Just one little vowel, but a very important one. The letter "I."
If I don't want to be FAT, then I have to get in the middle of things.
If I don't want to be FAT, then I have to make hard changes in my lifestyle and my mindset.
If I don't want to be FAT, then I have to be willing to do what it takes to be successful, even if it's hard and uncomfortable for a time.
"I"
I have to be in control.
I have to be willing to do what it takes.
I have to be mindful of what I'm doing.
Just one little letter that points to who is really to blame for where I am, or who is really going to get credit for where I end up.
So, little friends, how are your New Year's Resolutions going? I know you made some. You know you made some. Maybe you didn't use the word "resolution" but surely you have some goals, some aspirations and ambitions you would like to accomplish before the end of 2011. I know at least one of you said to yourself, "This year I'm gonna..."
How's that going for ya?
I hope it's going well.
We're more than 1/12th of the way through the year so far. Are you 1/12th of the way to reaching your goal?
This year, my New Year's goals were a little less specific than last year's. Last year I really wanted to lose 100 pounds in a year. Well, at least until around March, I was wanting to lose 100 pounds. After that, I seemed to just want to sit around on my butt and whine about why I wasn't losing weight.
This year, I decided to go a little more general, but at the same time, I think I am being a little more realistic, and allowing myself a little more grace to succeed at varying levels.
This year's goals are fourfold:
I want to take steps toward becoming
SPIRITUALLY fit,
PHYSICALLY fit,
EMOTIONALLY fit,
and FINANCIALLY fit.
I'm calling it my SPEFfy fitness goal. I can be SPEFfy.
To reach these goals, I have laid out some steps.
To become physically fit, I'm continuing with Weight Watchers and exercise. As long as I actually DO them, I know that I can become physically fit.
To become financially fit, I am currently following the advice of Dave Ramsey, and am enrolled in his course, Financial Peace University. I didn't really know much about Dave Ramsey and his baby steps for getting out of debt and building wealth until a friend recommended him (Kudos to you, Sonya!). So far, we're working on baby step #2, the debt snowball, and will hopefully be completely debt free by the end of April, or maybe even March if things go well with our tax refund.
To become more spiritually and emotionally fit, I'm working on my honesty with myself and others, trying to be more of who I really am instead of who I think people want me to be. I'm also getting back into church. It's been awhile since I've been going regularly, and I know that's been a large part of why I've been feeling so down for awhile now.
So, I'm getting all SPEFfy. I'm striving to reach some goals.
I know that "I" can make it happen, and can change my FAT life to a FIT one.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Run For Your Life!
I did something today that I am so stinking proud of.
Well, now that I think about it, I've done several things that I'm so stinking proud of...
I went to Weight Watchers this morning even though I knew my WW buddy would most likely not be there today.
(Hope you're doing okay buddy! I'll see you next week!)
And, I lost 1.6 lbs this week - the day AFTER my class had its Valentine Party complete with make-your-own sundaes, of which I happily partook.
But the thing I'm really proud of myself today is this: I RAN.
On the treadmill.
At the gym.
Without falling down.
Or passing out.
Both of which I was fairly certain I was going to do.
Now, this isn't necessarily the first time I've ever run, but it is the first time I've ever done it at the gym IN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE.
I'll admit, there was some trepidation at first.
In addition to the aforementioned fears of falling off or passing out, I was certain someone was going to walk by and give me the "what in the world is she doing on there" kind of look. I also had a deep-seated fear that I was going to actually break the machine and have to pay oodles of dollars for repairs. Happily, neither of those events took place.
No one looked at me weird. Or if they did, I was so lost in my own thoughts of "BREATHE! BREATHE!" that I didn't really pay any attention to the people around me, so it was all good.
And BONUS! the machine did not crumble into chunks of metal and plastic beneath my feet. Yea!
Just in case I have not expressed it properly, this is a big deal to me. I am not a runner. I do not run. I don't even like to move that quick if I can help it. But deep down inside of me is a thin girl who wants to be a runner someday, and today I let her have her way a little bit.
So, down the brass tacks of how this all came about, because a 256 lb. person does not just up and decide to run and then go do it. It just doesn't happen like that.
I've been noticing for a couple of months that my beautiful, black Nike tennis shoes are wearing out a little bit. My socks peek out of a couple holes in them, which is fine when I'm wearing black socks, but a little conspicuous when I'm not. So, I need new shoes. What's the big deal you ask?
Well, I bought those shoes to run in.
And I did run in them.
ONCE.
I went running one time at the park, and it was so hard on me, that I gave up.
So now that I'm facing the fact that I need to replace them, I'm filled with some guilt about never really using them for their intended purpose.
I've heard that running on a treadmill is easier than actually running outdoors, so I thought I'd give it a try.
That was about a month ago.
It takes me awhile to get my courage up, I guess.
Or maybe I can put a positive spin on it and say I don't like to rush into things. I'd rather check out all the options first before doing something drastic (like exercise). I make calm and cool, calculated decisions.
Okay, that's all a bunch of crap. The truth is I was a scared little chicken shit. I can be honest.
So, for a month I've been tentatively checking out the treadmills. I'd get on one for awhile before doing my tried-and-true workout on the elliptical. I might push myself into doing a very fast-paced walk, but never so fast that I was actually jogging or running. I was just too afraid of what might happen.
Today, I guess the situation was optimal. I had plenty of time to warm up. The treadmill I was on was at the end of the row, and partially hidden behind a display, so I didn't have to worry about gawkers as they passed me by. I got to the gym fairly early so there weren't many people there anyway. I decided to give it a try.
After a 7 minute warm up (it still took me a few extra minutes to get my nerve up) I decided to crank up the speed and give it a go.
And go I did.
I pushed that baby as far as I could, sweating and sucking wind like there was no tomorrow. Legs pumping. Arms flailing. I was focused and intense.
For all of one minute.
That's right my friends, I pushed it to the limit.
And then I took a two minute walking break and decided to try it again.
For another minute.
And then some more walking, and then some more running. I kept it up for over 30 minutes. And I'm really proud of myself.
For those of you who can run and have never been overweight...I'm not sure why you're reading this blog, you must be lost. But on your way out, keep your judgey thoughts to yourself. Getting a fat girl to run is nothing short of a miracle.
And now, I believe in miracles.
Well, now that I think about it, I've done several things that I'm so stinking proud of...
I went to Weight Watchers this morning even though I knew my WW buddy would most likely not be there today.
(Hope you're doing okay buddy! I'll see you next week!)
And, I lost 1.6 lbs this week - the day AFTER my class had its Valentine Party complete with make-your-own sundaes, of which I happily partook.
But the thing I'm really proud of myself today is this: I RAN.
On the treadmill.
At the gym.
Without falling down.
Or passing out.
Both of which I was fairly certain I was going to do.
Now, this isn't necessarily the first time I've ever run, but it is the first time I've ever done it at the gym IN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE.
I'll admit, there was some trepidation at first.
In addition to the aforementioned fears of falling off or passing out, I was certain someone was going to walk by and give me the "what in the world is she doing on there" kind of look. I also had a deep-seated fear that I was going to actually break the machine and have to pay oodles of dollars for repairs. Happily, neither of those events took place.
No one looked at me weird. Or if they did, I was so lost in my own thoughts of "BREATHE! BREATHE!" that I didn't really pay any attention to the people around me, so it was all good.
And BONUS! the machine did not crumble into chunks of metal and plastic beneath my feet. Yea!
Just in case I have not expressed it properly, this is a big deal to me. I am not a runner. I do not run. I don't even like to move that quick if I can help it. But deep down inside of me is a thin girl who wants to be a runner someday, and today I let her have her way a little bit.
So, down the brass tacks of how this all came about, because a 256 lb. person does not just up and decide to run and then go do it. It just doesn't happen like that.
I've been noticing for a couple of months that my beautiful, black Nike tennis shoes are wearing out a little bit. My socks peek out of a couple holes in them, which is fine when I'm wearing black socks, but a little conspicuous when I'm not. So, I need new shoes. What's the big deal you ask?
Well, I bought those shoes to run in.
And I did run in them.
ONCE.
I went running one time at the park, and it was so hard on me, that I gave up.
So now that I'm facing the fact that I need to replace them, I'm filled with some guilt about never really using them for their intended purpose.
I've heard that running on a treadmill is easier than actually running outdoors, so I thought I'd give it a try.
That was about a month ago.
It takes me awhile to get my courage up, I guess.
Or maybe I can put a positive spin on it and say I don't like to rush into things. I'd rather check out all the options first before doing something drastic (like exercise). I make calm and cool, calculated decisions.
Okay, that's all a bunch of crap. The truth is I was a scared little chicken shit. I can be honest.
So, for a month I've been tentatively checking out the treadmills. I'd get on one for awhile before doing my tried-and-true workout on the elliptical. I might push myself into doing a very fast-paced walk, but never so fast that I was actually jogging or running. I was just too afraid of what might happen.
Today, I guess the situation was optimal. I had plenty of time to warm up. The treadmill I was on was at the end of the row, and partially hidden behind a display, so I didn't have to worry about gawkers as they passed me by. I got to the gym fairly early so there weren't many people there anyway. I decided to give it a try.
After a 7 minute warm up (it still took me a few extra minutes to get my nerve up) I decided to crank up the speed and give it a go.
And go I did.
I pushed that baby as far as I could, sweating and sucking wind like there was no tomorrow. Legs pumping. Arms flailing. I was focused and intense.
For all of one minute.
That's right my friends, I pushed it to the limit.
And then I took a two minute walking break and decided to try it again.
For another minute.
And then some more walking, and then some more running. I kept it up for over 30 minutes. And I'm really proud of myself.
For those of you who can run and have never been overweight...I'm not sure why you're reading this blog, you must be lost. But on your way out, keep your judgey thoughts to yourself. Getting a fat girl to run is nothing short of a miracle.
And now, I believe in miracles.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
The Day the Sky Shat
It seems that the heavens opened up over the entire mid-west and took a white dump on us. And how lucky for us that we get to clean it up.
Fun.
So, for the better part of three hours today (yes, THREE HOURS), I nearly destroyed another snow shovel in an attempt to unearth us from the aftermath of The Blizzard, 2011. Or more precisely, I attempted to un-snow us from the wintery diarrhea squelched all over our garganuanly-huge driveway from The Blizzard, 2011. Yeah, I think that's a much nicer visual, don't you?
My body hurts in places that have never hurt before.
And places I sure hope never hurt again.
I can foresee that my chiropractor is going to have a field day with me in the next week. Again I say...
Fun.
Alas, I shouldn't complain. I mean, we're all in the same boat. We're all stuck in 8 degree weather trying to dig ourselves out with a snow shovel.
Except the old biddie next door who has a snow blower.
The same old biddie who became so impatient with my lawn mowing this past fall that she took it upon herself to mow my front lawn.
Twice.
Without so much as a knock on the door to say "Hi, I happen to be mowing, and I couldn't help noticing that your grass is about a quarter inch above the neighborhood-approved height of 2.5 inches, so I thought I'd just take care of that for you while I'm out if you don't mind." Nope, nothing like that. One minute I'm walking in the door with a sack of groceries in one arm and a toddler in the other, changing diapers, wiping poop, walking the dog, and making dinner (all at the same time of course because if there's one thing I am, it's Super Mom), and all of the sudden I see a flash of Bermuda shorts and a tank top whizz by my window.
She doesn't stop.
Doesn't knock.
Doesn't bother making small talk.
She just makes short work of my lawn. Did I say TWICE? Oh yeah, I did.
Now, does the same old biddie who happens to own a snow blower get all worked up over my 3 billion feet of driveway being shat upon by the sky?
NO!
Durned old biddie.
Have some consistency will ya!!
Not that I'm bitter or anything.
I'm just sore and achy, but at least I have a clean driveway.
Fun.
Fun.
So, for the better part of three hours today (yes, THREE HOURS), I nearly destroyed another snow shovel in an attempt to unearth us from the aftermath of The Blizzard, 2011. Or more precisely, I attempted to un-snow us from the wintery diarrhea squelched all over our garganuanly-huge driveway from The Blizzard, 2011. Yeah, I think that's a much nicer visual, don't you?
My body hurts in places that have never hurt before.
And places I sure hope never hurt again.
I can foresee that my chiropractor is going to have a field day with me in the next week. Again I say...
Fun.
Alas, I shouldn't complain. I mean, we're all in the same boat. We're all stuck in 8 degree weather trying to dig ourselves out with a snow shovel.
Except the old biddie next door who has a snow blower.
The same old biddie who became so impatient with my lawn mowing this past fall that she took it upon herself to mow my front lawn.
Twice.
Without so much as a knock on the door to say "Hi, I happen to be mowing, and I couldn't help noticing that your grass is about a quarter inch above the neighborhood-approved height of 2.5 inches, so I thought I'd just take care of that for you while I'm out if you don't mind." Nope, nothing like that. One minute I'm walking in the door with a sack of groceries in one arm and a toddler in the other, changing diapers, wiping poop, walking the dog, and making dinner (all at the same time of course because if there's one thing I am, it's Super Mom), and all of the sudden I see a flash of Bermuda shorts and a tank top whizz by my window.
She doesn't stop.
Doesn't knock.
Doesn't bother making small talk.
She just makes short work of my lawn. Did I say TWICE? Oh yeah, I did.
Now, does the same old biddie who happens to own a snow blower get all worked up over my 3 billion feet of driveway being shat upon by the sky?
NO!
Durned old biddie.
Have some consistency will ya!!
Not that I'm bitter or anything.
I'm just sore and achy, but at least I have a clean driveway.
Fun.
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