It's been pretty nice out lately. Which worries me. As summer quickly approaches, my waist needs to shrink as fast as the melting snow or I'm going to be one pissed off woman.
That's why I'm so happy to announce that I'm wearing pants that I coudln't fit into a month ago. Couldn't even button them. Now they're on, and I'm comfortable. That's not to say that they're roomy, but they fit.
They're size six. That means I've got one more size to go. Just one more. I have no idea how many inches are between sizes. You'd think I would, having worked in retail clothings stores for almost seven years.
Another thing that made my day today was that I received a compliment from my campus director this morning. He said I'm looking really good lately. Being the smooth, collected girl I am, I naturally accepted his compliment gracefully by asking, "Why?" He said I just had been looking better lately with all the "healthy" stuff that I've been doing. So there ya go.
Today's WOD is push jerks. I'll probably get some running or rowing in to suppliment the workout, but I don't get off work until 8pm, so I'm always greatful when the later workouts don't take as long. I'll keep updating as I can and let you know how it goes.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Rest Day For Me
Happy St. Patrick's day. May you drink too much and dishonor this day with fighting and obscenely racist opinions of the Irish.
Kevin, don't read this. I'm violating one of your sacred rules and I fear your wrath.
Yesterday was the official Crossfit rest day. I decided to try to run 3k instead, figuring that I would be venturing out to the bars this evening. Green beer and Crossfit do not a good combination make. I went directly to the gym after work, despite feeling kinda shitty. I've been very worn out lately, which I suspect has occurred as a result of spending my weekend in a basement with dust and mold and working a tad too hard. Certain influential forces in my life like to say that if there is work to be done, it doesn't matter what condition you are in, you need to do that work. I say you have one body, and you better take care of it. If there's work to be done, it won't get done if you're dead. That being said, I still feel like crap taking a rest day when one of the hardest workouts I've ever seen is taunting me from the Crossfit forums.
Here's the actual workout:
Kevin, don't read this. I'm violating one of your sacred rules and I fear your wrath.
Yesterday was the official Crossfit rest day. I decided to try to run 3k instead, figuring that I would be venturing out to the bars this evening. Green beer and Crossfit do not a good combination make. I went directly to the gym after work, despite feeling kinda shitty. I've been very worn out lately, which I suspect has occurred as a result of spending my weekend in a basement with dust and mold and working a tad too hard. Certain influential forces in my life like to say that if there is work to be done, it doesn't matter what condition you are in, you need to do that work. I say you have one body, and you better take care of it. If there's work to be done, it won't get done if you're dead. That being said, I still feel like crap taking a rest day when one of the hardest workouts I've ever seen is taunting me from the Crossfit forums.
Here's the actual workout:
“Murph”
For time:
1 mile Run
100 Pull-ups
200 Push-ups
300 Squats
1 mile Run
Partition the pull-ups, push-ups, and squats as needed. Start and finish with a mile run. If you’ve got a twenty pound vest or body armor, wear it.
Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me.
I thought that Buttercup would be a much more achievable option, so I decided to check that out in hopes that it would encourage me to just keep going instead of going home and sitting on my ass tonight.
Buttercups:
1/2 mile Run
25 Pull-ups (or beginner pull ups)
50 Push-ups
75 Squats
1/2 mile Run
Partition the pull-ups, push-ups, and squats as needed.
Okay, a bit easier... if you like causing your own suffering. Still, I evaluated how I felt: worn out, sore and overall kinda sick. I decided it wasn't a good idea to push it. Rest days are there for a reason, I figure, and my time yesterday on my 3k proves that something isn't right here.
Here's why I really hesitate to abandon this workout without at least giving it my best shot. "Murph" is short for Lt. Michael Murphy, who was killed in Afghanistan in 2005. This was one of his favorite workouts. In Kevin's Commandments (as seen on Facebook), #3 states explicitly, "Check the fucking WOD every day and keep holy the hero workouts by fucking doing them to standard and not skimping like a pussy ass bitch. They're heroes for a reason. Cuz they fucking got killed. Show the respect they fully and undoubtedly deserve for their ultimate sacrifices."
I guess today's title should read, "I am a pussy ass bitch." Don't I feel special.
I've been having odd cramping in my stomach, which doesn't help with my workouts. I think it may have something to do with what I'm eating, but cooking dinner isn't an option lately. I usually don't eat until 9:30p as it is. I am eating waaaay more protein than I did even a month ago, and I've cut out bread and pasta as much as possible. Dinner is typically some meat I found at Pick 'n Save with spices on it cooked in the oven for 30 minutes and eaten whether it's fully cooked or not. I hadn't had any bread in my fridge until my dad came home this week and blindly bought some at the grocery store. He figures that if you don't have a loaf of bread, ketchup, barbecue sauce, milk, sour cream, frozen pizza and some odd chunk of meat in your fridge, you may as well not eat. Two days ago he tried to shove shrimp dip in my mouth because, "It's good for you." This guy has no idea what nutrition is, and you know if I'm saying that, he's a special case. Perhaps I would do better on my diet if I didn't allow him to stock my fridge, because now I want to make a sandwich.
A friend at work and I were talking about our workouts. She does a lot of running and claims that after a certain point, you feel like, "You can run forever." I've never felt such a sensation, and until I do, I argue that she's just not getting enough oxygen which is causing her brain to misfire. She tried to talk me into doing a 5k this April, which I had to decline, because there is no way I can add running training to my Crossfit workouts and get up to a 5k in a month when I almost died yesterday trying for 3k. Granted, yesterday was a bad day, and I've run more than 3k at a time before, but I still don't feel like I could prepare myself adequately. I do think it's a goal to shoot for eventually though. I wonder if I'll ever have enough time to go to the gym in the morning to run and do the WOD at night. A girl can dream.
Summer is coming up faster than I like to admit. Today it was nearing 70 degrees out, and I wore short sleeves to work. I'm worried that I won't be able to meet my goal of fitting back into my pants by May or June. Of course, days like this don't really help matters much. All I want to do is sleep, recover, and hopefully kick the shit out of tomorrow's WOD. My dad leaves tomorrow too, so if anyone has a hankerin' for BBQ sauce and bread, I've got more than enough to give away!
Friday, March 13, 2009
Hooray for Rainman!
**Editor's note: I'm at work. I apologize in advance if certain parts of this post don't make sense.**
My schedule requires me to work Wednesday evenings until 8pm. Ideally, since I don't start work until 11am, I should get out of bed in the morning and go to the gym before work. That hasn't happened once yet. I'm hoping that once we get settled in at the house and the gym is a mere 2 miles away, I'll have more motivation to get there in the morning. For now, I hope that the rest day falls on a Wednesday, and when it doesn't, I trudge to the gym after work.
There are two times a day that a gym is busy: before work (6-8am) and after work (5-7pm). Outside those times, you typically find people like myself who work odd shifts, don't like people, and... various others who can be quite strange.
Perhaps it's not kind of me to refer to these people as strange. But that's how I see them as I weave through them, trying to get to my equipment while still on the clock. There are old men who stare at you as you run, interrupting your concentration and causing general paranoia. There are women who do seemingly nothing but walk and giggle with one another. Tony has mentioned more than once that most people are too far below average intelligence to navigate the track successfully without getting in the way of others.
But none of these people compares to Rainman. I use the name Rainman because most people can immediately identify with the movie and picture a semi-retarded man in his late forties. Since I don't know of any famous characters that meet the description of the man at my gym, allow me to tweak that character in your mind. This Rainman can't walk, so he zips around the upper level of the gym on his shiny maroon wheelchair, head always rolled to one side or another, staring at seemingly nothing as he maneuvers fitness equipment. I've never felt comfortable enough to get a good look at his clothes, and for the most part, he doesn't stay in one area for long anyway. He always has a passive look on his face--slack jawed, if you will-- until he gets a weight in his hand. Then the real magic begins.
Rainman only knows how to do curls and to lift the weight above his head. Each rep is accompanied by a shout of which number he has completed. However, his counting skills are lacking, so he is sometimes very quickly able to make it to 50 when he has completed closer to 12. Nonetheless, he is very excited about his accomplishments, finishing each set with a loudly proclaimed, "Hooray!" At least, I think he's saying "hooray," it can be difficult to tell.
Rainman has never bothered me before. He's usually leaving when I'm coming in, so I've ignored him up until now. Wednesday night, however, he was gliding back and forth, between the benches, and stopping where ever his little heart desired. A few people were working out on the mat in front of the giant mirror, so I began doing squats between the benches. I had hardly gotten to five before Rainman was at my side, ramming his chair into my legs. I wasn't sure if he was trying to get past me, or if he was doing it for his own amusement, but I ignored him and continued to do my set. He didn't get the hint, and sat there, staring at me until I moved. Angrily, I picked up my towel and stomped off into the other room, leaving him to find someone else to ram into.
When I came back to use the pull-up machine, Rainman was still there, but this time he had a weight in his hand and was calling out numbers.
"Five! Six! Nine! Fourteen! Nineteen!" He stops abruptly and throws the weight on the floor. Somehow another weight materializes and he resumes, "Twenty-five!"
I try to block out the noise, which I can hear over my headphones as I count out my own pull-ups, dips and sit-ups. He's driving me crazy. "Fifty! Hooray!"
Yes, hooray for you, now will you go home or where ever it is that you belong?
***
It wasn't until later that I felt bad about being angry with Rainman. It wasn't his fault he was obscenely annoying. Besides, he was probably working harder than most of the fat old ladies, and enjoying it more too. Even later, I wondered if nicknaming him Rainman was a cruel thing to do. I decided it wasn't, as I needed a name to identify him with for this story, and actually, Rainman in the movie (and in real life) was actually a very intelligent guy. Who knows, YMCA Rainman could be crunching numbers in his free time too... although I doubt it.
That night, I managed to get in 8 rounds of 5 pull-ups, 5 dips and 10 sit-ups before I thought my arms would fall off (just over 10 minutes). That's a total of 40 pull ups at a 22# assisted weight. Not bad.
Tony has criticized me for doing additional cardio on the days that I'm already doing a WOD. Crossfit does say that cardio is for idiots, but I can't help but feel like this isn't working fast enough. I haven't noticed my pants getting any more loose lately. I'm going to try it his way for a few weeks though, and only run on the days that I have an easy WOD (ha!) or a day off. We'll see how it goes.
My schedule requires me to work Wednesday evenings until 8pm. Ideally, since I don't start work until 11am, I should get out of bed in the morning and go to the gym before work. That hasn't happened once yet. I'm hoping that once we get settled in at the house and the gym is a mere 2 miles away, I'll have more motivation to get there in the morning. For now, I hope that the rest day falls on a Wednesday, and when it doesn't, I trudge to the gym after work.
There are two times a day that a gym is busy: before work (6-8am) and after work (5-7pm). Outside those times, you typically find people like myself who work odd shifts, don't like people, and... various others who can be quite strange.
Perhaps it's not kind of me to refer to these people as strange. But that's how I see them as I weave through them, trying to get to my equipment while still on the clock. There are old men who stare at you as you run, interrupting your concentration and causing general paranoia. There are women who do seemingly nothing but walk and giggle with one another. Tony has mentioned more than once that most people are too far below average intelligence to navigate the track successfully without getting in the way of others.
But none of these people compares to Rainman. I use the name Rainman because most people can immediately identify with the movie and picture a semi-retarded man in his late forties. Since I don't know of any famous characters that meet the description of the man at my gym, allow me to tweak that character in your mind. This Rainman can't walk, so he zips around the upper level of the gym on his shiny maroon wheelchair, head always rolled to one side or another, staring at seemingly nothing as he maneuvers fitness equipment. I've never felt comfortable enough to get a good look at his clothes, and for the most part, he doesn't stay in one area for long anyway. He always has a passive look on his face--slack jawed, if you will-- until he gets a weight in his hand. Then the real magic begins.
Rainman only knows how to do curls and to lift the weight above his head. Each rep is accompanied by a shout of which number he has completed. However, his counting skills are lacking, so he is sometimes very quickly able to make it to 50 when he has completed closer to 12. Nonetheless, he is very excited about his accomplishments, finishing each set with a loudly proclaimed, "Hooray!" At least, I think he's saying "hooray," it can be difficult to tell.
Rainman has never bothered me before. He's usually leaving when I'm coming in, so I've ignored him up until now. Wednesday night, however, he was gliding back and forth, between the benches, and stopping where ever his little heart desired. A few people were working out on the mat in front of the giant mirror, so I began doing squats between the benches. I had hardly gotten to five before Rainman was at my side, ramming his chair into my legs. I wasn't sure if he was trying to get past me, or if he was doing it for his own amusement, but I ignored him and continued to do my set. He didn't get the hint, and sat there, staring at me until I moved. Angrily, I picked up my towel and stomped off into the other room, leaving him to find someone else to ram into.
When I came back to use the pull-up machine, Rainman was still there, but this time he had a weight in his hand and was calling out numbers.
"Five! Six! Nine! Fourteen! Nineteen!" He stops abruptly and throws the weight on the floor. Somehow another weight materializes and he resumes, "Twenty-five!"
I try to block out the noise, which I can hear over my headphones as I count out my own pull-ups, dips and sit-ups. He's driving me crazy. "Fifty! Hooray!"
Yes, hooray for you, now will you go home or where ever it is that you belong?
***
It wasn't until later that I felt bad about being angry with Rainman. It wasn't his fault he was obscenely annoying. Besides, he was probably working harder than most of the fat old ladies, and enjoying it more too. Even later, I wondered if nicknaming him Rainman was a cruel thing to do. I decided it wasn't, as I needed a name to identify him with for this story, and actually, Rainman in the movie (and in real life) was actually a very intelligent guy. Who knows, YMCA Rainman could be crunching numbers in his free time too... although I doubt it.
That night, I managed to get in 8 rounds of 5 pull-ups, 5 dips and 10 sit-ups before I thought my arms would fall off (just over 10 minutes). That's a total of 40 pull ups at a 22# assisted weight. Not bad.
Tony has criticized me for doing additional cardio on the days that I'm already doing a WOD. Crossfit does say that cardio is for idiots, but I can't help but feel like this isn't working fast enough. I haven't noticed my pants getting any more loose lately. I'm going to try it his way for a few weeks though, and only run on the days that I have an easy WOD (ha!) or a day off. We'll see how it goes.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Buh Bye Buttercup
Today was the first day I decided to do a workout at the Puppy level instead of Buttercup. (Barbie doesn't count, because there isn't a Buttercup listed for it. I had to create my own when I was doing that workout.) There's several reasons for my decision. First, I've hit a wall. I've lost 3 inches off my hips, but that's it so far. Today was weigh-in and measure-up day, and nothing has changed since the week before. I'm sure I can blame that on the fact that 1. I can't stick to the zone diet to save my life, 2. I wasn't able to make it for every workout last week and 3. I'm obviously not doing enough. So, I'm upping the work and the intensity. I feel like I'm getting stronger, I'm extremely happy about that.
Today's workout was "Jackie":
Puppies:
Row 1000 meters
15-20 pound Thruster, 20 reps
20 Pull-ups (Assisted or Beginner)
Total time: 8:05. Not. Bad.
20 pull-ups in a row really set me back though. I can't pound them out quickly, I have to stop, wait for my arms to get some blood back in them, then go at it again. Still, it's better than where I was a month ago.
I also ran two miles. I think my time was around 19 minutes, but I'm still getting used to the stupid Nike Plus thing that doesn't stop when you push the middle button. Update: I figured out that if I upload my runs to the website, I can actually see the time/mile. I got 18:48. Not bad at all. My goal is to run at least three times a week in addition to the WOD. Nike helps me keep track of that, so that's great.
I did not see Boy Blue at the gym today. I thought for a moment that one guy might have been him, but he wasn't nearly as big of an ass, so I figured I was just being paranoid.
I'm watching the anorexic girls on a rerun of America's Next Top Model right now. Makes me want to barf up my dinner. Stupid girls.
Today's workout was "Jackie":
Puppies:
Row 1000 meters
15-20 pound Thruster, 20 reps
20 Pull-ups (Assisted or Beginner)
Total time: 8:05. Not. Bad.
20 pull-ups in a row really set me back though. I can't pound them out quickly, I have to stop, wait for my arms to get some blood back in them, then go at it again. Still, it's better than where I was a month ago.
I also ran two miles. I think my time was around 19 minutes, but I'm still getting used to the stupid Nike Plus thing that doesn't stop when you push the middle button. Update: I figured out that if I upload my runs to the website, I can actually see the time/mile. I got 18:48. Not bad at all. My goal is to run at least three times a week in addition to the WOD. Nike helps me keep track of that, so that's great.
I did not see Boy Blue at the gym today. I thought for a moment that one guy might have been him, but he wasn't nearly as big of an ass, so I figured I was just being paranoid.
I'm watching the anorexic girls on a rerun of America's Next Top Model right now. Makes me want to barf up my dinner. Stupid girls.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Tales From the Y, Part II
It was only a matter of time before I found more stuff to bitch about. As a matter of fact, it didn't take long at all.
When I arrived at the Y today, I was happy to see that the parking lot wasn't filled to capacity, and when I asked for a locker, there were actually more than a few remaining. I didn't have to squeeze between two naked fat women to get to my locker which was amazing in itself.
Upstairs, I decided to warm up by messing around on the treadmill. I walked for awhile, then decided to see how far I could crank it up without flying off. I got up to 8.4 (whatever that means--miles per hour? Maybe). It felt amazing. Since I wasn't going for distance and time, I just ran until I felt the asthma attacks coming on, then I walked. More about that later.
Then I started on the WOD. I had to use the pull-up machine, and I was going to need a mat for the sit-ups, so I looked around for a free small mat to drag over to the pull-up machine. The only one available was set up with weights around it, as if someone had just walked away. The only guy near it was about 6'9" tall, muscular and wearing all baby blue. For that reason, he will be referred to as Boy Blue. He was in front of the mirror curling dumbells. I waved at him to get his attention. He stared blankly at me, so I asked him if he was going to use the mat. He glared at me for at least 5 very long seconds. I figured that meant no, so I took the mat.
There is a small space between the pull-up machine and some big machine with very long movable arms. When you have the arms positioned where you want them, you can pull on the handles to work... your arms? I don't know. It looks ridiculous. Some guy was using it, so I asked him if I would be in his way by putting the mat down next to the machine. He was incredibly polite, and said I could. I started on the WOD. In between rounds, you are to rest 3 minutes. I was on my second rest period when Boy Blue decided to use the arm machine.
He immediately went to reposition the arms, and instead of asking me to move, or saying, "Excuse me," he just moved the arm until it hit me, then glared at me until I moved out of the way. Now there's enough room where this should not have been a problem, but now I was pissed. "Is that how you say, 'excuse me,'" I asked him. He either ignored me or couldn't hear me because of his headphones. From that point on, he continued to move the arms right into my space. I think if he could have picked up the machine and positioned it so I would have hit it when I was doing sit-ups, he would have. I was so angry, which only encouraged me to work harder, knowing that Boy Blue and his steroid muscles couldn't keep up with me if he tried.
I'm still mad. The nerve. I'll take suggestions on how to deal with him if/when I see him again.
Today's WOD was "Barbara", which at the Puppy scaling, is as follows:
Five rounds, each for time of:
5 Pull-ups
10 Push-ups
15 Sit-ups
20 Squats
Looks easy. I guarantee it's not. If you don't believe me, try it. My times were the following:
1. 1:33
2. 1:27
3. 1:28
4. 1:38
5. 1:37
Last time, my times were:
1. 1:52
2. 1:43
3. 1:33
4. 1:48
5. -didn't know there was a round five :(
Keep in mind, last time I did reps of 4, 8, 12 and 15 instead of 5, 10, 15 and 20. So I have really blown my old times out of the water. I'm very happy.
I had posted a question on the Crossfit Forums yesterday about how to overcome asthma when you're working with high intensity workouts. I got some great responses, including some that I completely didn't expect. The issue is that I know I could push myself harder if my lungs didn't feel like they were on fire. My friend Kevin said it would go away with time and encouraged me to give it awhile because my body would compensate over time for the extra stress. Makes sense.
What didn't make sense to me (and I have yet to test it) was the response I got from one of the administrators. He explained that heavy weighted squats and deadlifts release adrenaline and stop the attacks. I suppose it's possible, but after I start hyperventilating, the last thing I feel like doing is loading up a bar and doing a few squats. I usually just sit down until I can breathe again.
The other option that several people mentioned was to take fish oil. Now I have to give credit where it's due and say that Tony has been telling me to take this stuff for awhile now, for a multitude of reasons. It seems to have so many benefits to it: high blood pressure, cardiovascular disease, brain development, controlling bipolar disorder and... yes, the Mayo Clinic gives it a grade of "C" in treating asthma.
I was unsure about taking fish oil because of the size of the pills, but I was immediately presented with another solution (the forums are amazing). Fish oil comes in a lemon-flavored liquid that you can add to protein shakes! Is there anything that these guys can't find the answers to? I feel like throwing out random questions just to see what they can do.
When I arrived at the Y today, I was happy to see that the parking lot wasn't filled to capacity, and when I asked for a locker, there were actually more than a few remaining. I didn't have to squeeze between two naked fat women to get to my locker which was amazing in itself.
Upstairs, I decided to warm up by messing around on the treadmill. I walked for awhile, then decided to see how far I could crank it up without flying off. I got up to 8.4 (whatever that means--miles per hour? Maybe). It felt amazing. Since I wasn't going for distance and time, I just ran until I felt the asthma attacks coming on, then I walked. More about that later.
Then I started on the WOD. I had to use the pull-up machine, and I was going to need a mat for the sit-ups, so I looked around for a free small mat to drag over to the pull-up machine. The only one available was set up with weights around it, as if someone had just walked away. The only guy near it was about 6'9" tall, muscular and wearing all baby blue. For that reason, he will be referred to as Boy Blue. He was in front of the mirror curling dumbells. I waved at him to get his attention. He stared blankly at me, so I asked him if he was going to use the mat. He glared at me for at least 5 very long seconds. I figured that meant no, so I took the mat.
There is a small space between the pull-up machine and some big machine with very long movable arms. When you have the arms positioned where you want them, you can pull on the handles to work... your arms? I don't know. It looks ridiculous. Some guy was using it, so I asked him if I would be in his way by putting the mat down next to the machine. He was incredibly polite, and said I could. I started on the WOD. In between rounds, you are to rest 3 minutes. I was on my second rest period when Boy Blue decided to use the arm machine.
He immediately went to reposition the arms, and instead of asking me to move, or saying, "Excuse me," he just moved the arm until it hit me, then glared at me until I moved out of the way. Now there's enough room where this should not have been a problem, but now I was pissed. "Is that how you say, 'excuse me,'" I asked him. He either ignored me or couldn't hear me because of his headphones. From that point on, he continued to move the arms right into my space. I think if he could have picked up the machine and positioned it so I would have hit it when I was doing sit-ups, he would have. I was so angry, which only encouraged me to work harder, knowing that Boy Blue and his steroid muscles couldn't keep up with me if he tried.
I'm still mad. The nerve. I'll take suggestions on how to deal with him if/when I see him again.
Today's WOD was "Barbara", which at the Puppy scaling, is as follows:
Five rounds, each for time of:
5 Pull-ups
10 Push-ups
15 Sit-ups
20 Squats
Looks easy. I guarantee it's not. If you don't believe me, try it. My times were the following:
1. 1:33
2. 1:27
3. 1:28
4. 1:38
5. 1:37
Last time, my times were:
1. 1:52
2. 1:43
3. 1:33
4. 1:48
5. -didn't know there was a round five :(
Keep in mind, last time I did reps of 4, 8, 12 and 15 instead of 5, 10, 15 and 20. So I have really blown my old times out of the water. I'm very happy.
I had posted a question on the Crossfit Forums yesterday about how to overcome asthma when you're working with high intensity workouts. I got some great responses, including some that I completely didn't expect. The issue is that I know I could push myself harder if my lungs didn't feel like they were on fire. My friend Kevin said it would go away with time and encouraged me to give it awhile because my body would compensate over time for the extra stress. Makes sense.
What didn't make sense to me (and I have yet to test it) was the response I got from one of the administrators. He explained that heavy weighted squats and deadlifts release adrenaline and stop the attacks. I suppose it's possible, but after I start hyperventilating, the last thing I feel like doing is loading up a bar and doing a few squats. I usually just sit down until I can breathe again.
The other option that several people mentioned was to take fish oil. Now I have to give credit where it's due and say that Tony has been telling me to take this stuff for awhile now, for a multitude of reasons. It seems to have so many benefits to it: high blood pressure, cardiovascular disease, brain development, controlling bipolar disorder and... yes, the Mayo Clinic gives it a grade of "C" in treating asthma.
I was unsure about taking fish oil because of the size of the pills, but I was immediately presented with another solution (the forums are amazing). Fish oil comes in a lemon-flavored liquid that you can add to protein shakes! Is there anything that these guys can't find the answers to? I feel like throwing out random questions just to see what they can do.
Monday, March 2, 2009
PR and a First!
Today was all around good news. When I got to the gym, I was happy, despite the parking lot being full of cars and having to walk a half mile.
I'm going to pause right here.
There's a long time joke about people who have to park in the front row when they go to the gym. I just want to say right now that I do not drive around, stalking people as they go to their cars, hoping that they will give me a good spot. I usually drive to the far end of the lot and choose a spot in the dark because the Y is too cheap to turn on the outside lights past a certain point. I will say though that it has been fucking cold out lately, and it sucks ass to walk a half mile to your car when you're still panting and sweating and the water on your body instantly freezes.
Back to the story.
So I was happy, I ignored the throngs of people, children and even the fat man sleeping in the hallway (no, I'm not lying) as I went to the mat and did my warm-up. Halfway through I was struck by inspiration. The pull-up machine was open, so I walked up to it and eyed it. It stared back at me, mockingly, with its weight left by the last person in the heaviest amount. I decided I wasn't going to take it's shit, so I stepped up, lowered the weight to 26# and got on. That means I was lifting all of my weight, minus 26#. I did 4 pull-ups, then decided I was going to go for the gold. I moved the foot rest back, and stepped forward. I fell straight down, and when my arms caught me, I wasn't sure I could pull myself back up. But I pulled, and I got my chin over the bar. I dropped back down with the biggest grin on my face and decided to go for two. I got about 3/4 of the way there and couldn't pull any more. I dropped back down, stepped back and just about shrieked. I thought that would wake up the guy in the hall, so I lowered the foot bar instead and did a few more sets. Then I decided to try a different hand positioning, so I tried doing more pull-ups with a wider grip. That didn't work as well, but I got 4 of those out.
It occurred to me that if I lost 30 lbs, I would be able to lift my weight easily. Sad. I need to stick to the Zone diet and stop snacking. I really want to try to cut out refined carbs, but I'm having suuuuuuch a hard time with it. Every day I wake up and I try. I eat a Zone breakfast, but by 10:30 I'm hungry. So I try to eat a Zone snack. Inevitably, I eat too much. Lunch is hit or miss. Weekends are especially hard because most days I eat with Tony, and it's not easy to get a Zone meal from a take-out restaurant. Dinner I try again, but I get hungry about an hour after dinner.
Anyway, back to the good things. After my warm-up, I moved on to the WOD. Today was deadlifts. I decided to go all out, and try for as much as I could. I'll spare you the progression. My max was 115#. Insane. I was so excited. I hope I'm doing the move right. It gets way harder to keep form when you add weight. I was so overwhelmed by the amount that I was lifting that I had to add my numbers twice to make sure I had got it correct.
Oh, another thing. I have calluses on my hand. More my left hand than my right. They're from pull-ups. Proof that I'm doing something right ;)
I'll try to update with some of the struggles I've run into at work tomorrow, but no promises.
I'm going to pause right here.
There's a long time joke about people who have to park in the front row when they go to the gym. I just want to say right now that I do not drive around, stalking people as they go to their cars, hoping that they will give me a good spot. I usually drive to the far end of the lot and choose a spot in the dark because the Y is too cheap to turn on the outside lights past a certain point. I will say though that it has been fucking cold out lately, and it sucks ass to walk a half mile to your car when you're still panting and sweating and the water on your body instantly freezes.
Back to the story.
So I was happy, I ignored the throngs of people, children and even the fat man sleeping in the hallway (no, I'm not lying) as I went to the mat and did my warm-up. Halfway through I was struck by inspiration. The pull-up machine was open, so I walked up to it and eyed it. It stared back at me, mockingly, with its weight left by the last person in the heaviest amount. I decided I wasn't going to take it's shit, so I stepped up, lowered the weight to 26# and got on. That means I was lifting all of my weight, minus 26#. I did 4 pull-ups, then decided I was going to go for the gold. I moved the foot rest back, and stepped forward. I fell straight down, and when my arms caught me, I wasn't sure I could pull myself back up. But I pulled, and I got my chin over the bar. I dropped back down with the biggest grin on my face and decided to go for two. I got about 3/4 of the way there and couldn't pull any more. I dropped back down, stepped back and just about shrieked. I thought that would wake up the guy in the hall, so I lowered the foot bar instead and did a few more sets. Then I decided to try a different hand positioning, so I tried doing more pull-ups with a wider grip. That didn't work as well, but I got 4 of those out.
It occurred to me that if I lost 30 lbs, I would be able to lift my weight easily. Sad. I need to stick to the Zone diet and stop snacking. I really want to try to cut out refined carbs, but I'm having suuuuuuch a hard time with it. Every day I wake up and I try. I eat a Zone breakfast, but by 10:30 I'm hungry. So I try to eat a Zone snack. Inevitably, I eat too much. Lunch is hit or miss. Weekends are especially hard because most days I eat with Tony, and it's not easy to get a Zone meal from a take-out restaurant. Dinner I try again, but I get hungry about an hour after dinner.
Anyway, back to the good things. After my warm-up, I moved on to the WOD. Today was deadlifts. I decided to go all out, and try for as much as I could. I'll spare you the progression. My max was 115#. Insane. I was so excited. I hope I'm doing the move right. It gets way harder to keep form when you add weight. I was so overwhelmed by the amount that I was lifting that I had to add my numbers twice to make sure I had got it correct.
Oh, another thing. I have calluses on my hand. More my left hand than my right. They're from pull-ups. Proof that I'm doing something right ;)
I'll try to update with some of the struggles I've run into at work tomorrow, but no promises.
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