I got my ass handed to me on the first day back. Couldn't get the lifts the way I wanted to or at least thought I should. Maybe I am looking for too much too soon, maybe I am just not cut out to be a weight lifter, but I was hoping for a few more pounds today than what I was hitting. A week and a half off could do it to me. I could have used the encouragement of a successful outing.
Day 1: South Beach Phase I modified...breakfast and lunch have gone ok. It's when the kids get home that kills me. I stand in the kitchen, helping with homework, snacks, etc, etc and I find myself wanting to snack with them or finishing up their snacks. It will be interesting to see how this afternoon goes, but I am feeling a little motivation to stick to my guns with the diet this time. After those folks at Disney and my summer clothing debacles I have provided myself with enough incentive...now wish me luck!
Monday, March 26, 2012
Humble Pie
I was handed a piece of humble pie last week. The WOD was WICKED hard. Enough that I wanted to cry again (see previous post) but I suffered through and I completed it- all be it REALLY slowly. Air squats and running. After the first 50 air squats, running a 400 felt a little shaky- by the 5th time I could barely breathe. It was awful. I felt like a beginner again, after having gained a little confidence over the past few weeks I was put right back in my place of an out of shape almost 39 year old mom who is trying to exercise like I am 20 again.
Then I went away to Disney. Eight glorious days of no gym! Ha! For the first 3 days I was continuously reminded of what I was missing due to the fact that I could barely walk after the workout the Wednesday before. Physically, I believe I needed the break. I had been trudging through the workouts and feeling really tired for about a week and a half. Mentally, I don't think I should have had this break.
Today is my first day back. I haven't gone yet, but I will tell you that it is taking every ounce of me to muster up the strength to go. Putting on my summer clothes was an unfortunate reminder of what I look like. In the winter I was able to feel like it was hidden a little. Summer reveals a little too much, as evidenced by some of the outfits I saw at Disney that have etched themselves on my retinas and won't go away. Honestly, I know that I am my own worst enemy, but some of these people must be REALLY comfortable with themselves to be wearing what they had on. I was fighting my large thighs to the best of my ability and wearing all of my ill-fitting clothes with my head low and my fingers crossed that the image of me wasn't burning on someone else's retinas.
So, here I am, dragging myself back to the gym to sweat my butt off and work myself to the point of dizziness, nausea or some other sort of physical discomfort and for what? At least I'm off the couch. It's for the kids, my heart, my life, etc., etc. At this moment, I am not believing it is for weight loss and that is the hardest part. It will come, give it time, blah, blah, blah. I've heard it. I'm listening. I am just trying to come to terms with it.
Today starts day 1 of the diet. I have lost a lot of weight on South Beach in the past. Between each child that was the diet of choice. I actually started it after Jillian, but I am an emotional eater and things after Jillian got tough. This move to Cape Cod has been the most difficult one. So, now I am going back to it. I have decided to bastardize it a little and follow phase I but allow myself fruit. Watch out, I will be a demon for the next few weeks until my blood sugars straighten themselves out, but hopefully it will get me to that new pair of sneakers that I was planning on rewarding myself with sooner rather than later. I have 5 pounds left to lose to reach that goal.
Then I went away to Disney. Eight glorious days of no gym! Ha! For the first 3 days I was continuously reminded of what I was missing due to the fact that I could barely walk after the workout the Wednesday before. Physically, I believe I needed the break. I had been trudging through the workouts and feeling really tired for about a week and a half. Mentally, I don't think I should have had this break.
Today is my first day back. I haven't gone yet, but I will tell you that it is taking every ounce of me to muster up the strength to go. Putting on my summer clothes was an unfortunate reminder of what I look like. In the winter I was able to feel like it was hidden a little. Summer reveals a little too much, as evidenced by some of the outfits I saw at Disney that have etched themselves on my retinas and won't go away. Honestly, I know that I am my own worst enemy, but some of these people must be REALLY comfortable with themselves to be wearing what they had on. I was fighting my large thighs to the best of my ability and wearing all of my ill-fitting clothes with my head low and my fingers crossed that the image of me wasn't burning on someone else's retinas.
So, here I am, dragging myself back to the gym to sweat my butt off and work myself to the point of dizziness, nausea or some other sort of physical discomfort and for what? At least I'm off the couch. It's for the kids, my heart, my life, etc., etc. At this moment, I am not believing it is for weight loss and that is the hardest part. It will come, give it time, blah, blah, blah. I've heard it. I'm listening. I am just trying to come to terms with it.
Today starts day 1 of the diet. I have lost a lot of weight on South Beach in the past. Between each child that was the diet of choice. I actually started it after Jillian, but I am an emotional eater and things after Jillian got tough. This move to Cape Cod has been the most difficult one. So, now I am going back to it. I have decided to bastardize it a little and follow phase I but allow myself fruit. Watch out, I will be a demon for the next few weeks until my blood sugars straighten themselves out, but hopefully it will get me to that new pair of sneakers that I was planning on rewarding myself with sooner rather than later. I have 5 pounds left to lose to reach that goal.
Friday, March 9, 2012
One Day I Will NOT Suck
I cried at the gym. It's true. I don't cry on a regular basis-at least not where people can see me. I tend NOT to show much emotion, but frustration is just something I can't control. F-bombs have become a little regular lately, the truck driver mouth in me has been rearing its ugly head. I have had it under control since the day I heard Lucas utter "Damn it!" in the car at the tender age of 2. I am only slightly worried that Jillian will pick up something a little worse.
I came home the day I cried and told James what I did. I was a little embarrassed to even be telling him- and he's known me for the past 15 years! Betcha know how I felt in the gym in front of all of these people I didn't know. James's first reaction,"Really? No. You can't do that. There is no crying at the gym." Thanks for telling me something I didn't already believe, honey!
So, I dried up my tears, contemplated quitting and went about my day. It was a clean and jerk lift. I have two left feet, left hands and very slow reflexes. I tried for about 15 minutes (but it seemed like an eternity) to get the stupid thing right with a PVC pipe. Couldn't do it. It was the ultimate in frustrating and embarrassing. I mean, really. I'm not using ANY weight here. I thought about that stupid lift ALL day.
Then I got talking. Told people about my crying episode and surprisingly, I heard a lot of similar tales. People throwing down weights and storming out, people crying when double unders weren't going their way, etc., etc. Then I learned that some of the lifts I was trying were Olympic competition lifts and I didn't feel AS bad that I couldn't get it. As luck would have it, over the next two days a very accurate blog was posted on the web site for the gym. It spoke to me in a way that got me pumped up to go back. In case you want to read it, the link is here: http://crossfitlisbeth.com/
Needless to say, after a month of worrying about this particular movement and wondering each day whether it was going to show up in the work out it finally returned. The clean and jerk was back. YUCK. When we were all standing in that circle with the PVC pipes in our hands all I could think was, "Please not again. Don't let me cry again." I can't handle the humiliation...one time is enough. I took a deep breath and attempted the move. Holy cow!! I got it. It certainly wasn't pretty, but it was good enough to count and THAT was what mattered at that moment. Yes, I would like to perfect it, but that will come over time. I keep telling myself that Olympic weightlifters and professional competitors work their entire lives to perfect these things. I'm a stay-at-home mom who manages to get off the couch 3 times a week. I'll take what I can get! One month and I improved...that's what matters at this stage. I'm still the newbie, but maybe one day I will not suck. I can see it coming.
I came home the day I cried and told James what I did. I was a little embarrassed to even be telling him- and he's known me for the past 15 years! Betcha know how I felt in the gym in front of all of these people I didn't know. James's first reaction,"Really? No. You can't do that. There is no crying at the gym." Thanks for telling me something I didn't already believe, honey!
So, I dried up my tears, contemplated quitting and went about my day. It was a clean and jerk lift. I have two left feet, left hands and very slow reflexes. I tried for about 15 minutes (but it seemed like an eternity) to get the stupid thing right with a PVC pipe. Couldn't do it. It was the ultimate in frustrating and embarrassing. I mean, really. I'm not using ANY weight here. I thought about that stupid lift ALL day.
Then I got talking. Told people about my crying episode and surprisingly, I heard a lot of similar tales. People throwing down weights and storming out, people crying when double unders weren't going their way, etc., etc. Then I learned that some of the lifts I was trying were Olympic competition lifts and I didn't feel AS bad that I couldn't get it. As luck would have it, over the next two days a very accurate blog was posted on the web site for the gym. It spoke to me in a way that got me pumped up to go back. In case you want to read it, the link is here: http://crossfitlisbeth.com/
Needless to say, after a month of worrying about this particular movement and wondering each day whether it was going to show up in the work out it finally returned. The clean and jerk was back. YUCK. When we were all standing in that circle with the PVC pipes in our hands all I could think was, "Please not again. Don't let me cry again." I can't handle the humiliation...one time is enough. I took a deep breath and attempted the move. Holy cow!! I got it. It certainly wasn't pretty, but it was good enough to count and THAT was what mattered at that moment. Yes, I would like to perfect it, but that will come over time. I keep telling myself that Olympic weightlifters and professional competitors work their entire lives to perfect these things. I'm a stay-at-home mom who manages to get off the couch 3 times a week. I'll take what I can get! One month and I improved...that's what matters at this stage. I'm still the newbie, but maybe one day I will not suck. I can see it coming.
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