WAAAAAAHHHHHH!!! In which I figure some shit out. Sort of. And whine a bit.

So I’m sick. And that sucks.

Let’s pause for this:

This is me. I am under a blanket, too. But I definitely don't look quite as adorable when I cry. Anyway.
This is me. I am under a blanket, too. But I definitely don’t look quite as adorable when I cry. Anyway.

What I have is kind of like the flu “lite.” My whole body aches and going up the stairs kinda makes me feel like I ran a marathon. I finally gave up trying to “work from home” again (like I did on Monday and Tuesday…barely) and just took a sick day today.

Why am I sick? Is that even a question people ask? I used to get sick a lot, but in the last 2 years I have gotten sick far less frequently–I say from being in better shape and making better food choices. So I DO want to know what the hell is going on.

But when I tried to figure out what brought me down this time, I saw a general kind of decline since Saturday morning. I had pushed really hard at workouts for several days, but that’s not a unique circumstance for me. So I thought some more.

Frankly, I don’t think I’m eating enough. I don’t think I’m giving my body enough fuel to–in the words of my awesome trainer Karin–“support the amount of weight I throw around in the gym.” (word)

I also have consistently been told by docs that I have low red blood counts and should be on iron supplements. No matter how much red meat and dark leafy greens I have eaten, I can’t seem to make up for the deficiency. I need to find and STAY ON a quality iron supplement.

Continuing to work with my diet and get it right so my body can handle all I ask of it is a new goal for me. It’s a critical one, because I’m not making ANY progress towards my other goals while I’m sick.

So, I’m working hard to accept the reality that I am not an impervious superhero who never gets sick. (Good thing I don’t have unrealistic expectations for myself.)

But there’s another problem that comes with being sick, and all you moms will understand.

Ya catch my drift?
Ya catch my drift?

Right. It’s close to impossible to “rest” when you have kids running amok, with lunches to be made and science projects to do involving the creation of a cross section of the human eye out of household objects. And play rehearsal. And a band concert. And an eye doctor appointment that I couldn’t possibly put off because we had waited two months to be scheduled, and at which my 6 year old daughter screamed as though being murdered (just like every other time) while I pinned her to the chair and held her thrashing and screeching little self so they could put those infernal drops in her eyes. She could not be reasoned with. That shit is fight or flight for her, and holy crap does she fight.

So, yeah, I haven’t done much in the way of “resting,” and yet I haven’t really gotten much done. I look around my pigsty of a house and feel depressed at my lameness. At my inability to carry a load of laundry without gasping for breath afterward. At my reluctance to go pick the kids up at school right now–even though I miss them dearly–because I know it will exhaust me. At my conflict over whether I should go to dance crew rehearsal tonight–even just to watch–because I miss my awesome girls so much and would like to do SOMETHING that feels like my real life.

Because slobbing around in pajama pants, shivering under a big blanket and watching Secret Life of the American Teenager on Netflix is definitely NOT my real life.

I friggin hate being sick.

Whining Fat Girl, out.

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How about a photo Friday?

New levels of accountability: posting a photo every Friday! I hope some of you will join me–post your photos every Friday on the FFG FB page.

Here’s the Part of the Blog Where I Share a Picture Just Taken This Morning:

(after getting my ass kicked during Circuit Blast)

Samm made me laugh.
Samm made me laugh. But the workout was no joke.

So Circuit Blast is a little insane, especially after the workout I did yesterday morning at 6am, which included a total of 32 pullups. Which is a pretty big challenge for me. But I did it and am feeling it today for realzzzz…definitely making today’s workout that much tougher.

It’s 45 second strength intervals (stuff like trap bar deadlift, push press, TRX rows, pushups, pullups, chinups) followed immediately by a 20 second metabolic interval (burpees, high knees, climbers) then 15 seconds “rest” before the next strength station. 16 stations total.

Of course I put “rest” in quotes because it’s barely enough time to stop gasping.

Along with my weekly photo, how’s about a little goal check-in too?

The Part of the Blog Where I Update You On My Progress Toward Goals:

Reduce bodyweight goal:

Well, I kinda refuse to weigh myself that often, and I haven’t yet. I will NOT judge myself by a number on the scale…but I do need to reduce. So I’ll be weighing myself maybe once a month to check progress in a healthier way than scale obsessing on a daily or weekly basis. (PSA: if you obsess over the scale, please stop. It is kinda bullshit.)

But I have been training hard and eating clean about 85% of the time, and I know those are the steps I need to take to reduce. So I’m feeling good that there’s progress happening there.

Strength goals:

  • Pushups: Today I did 15 consecutive pushups at the end of a workout that really challenged my tired body. Considering in the past I would squeak out maybe 10 in a 45 second interval–probably with multiple 1-5 second “breaks” (lame)–I feel like this is solid progress.
  • Deadlifts: I definitely pushed myself on deadlifts this week, and pulled more than I have in the past for the amount of reps we did. (Thanks to encouragement from some awesome partners! Shout outs to Meaghan and Kathrin!) Still not sure what my max is, and hoping we’ll be doing that soon enough so I can get more specific on this goal.
  • Pullups: See above. Definitely feeling good about progress here.

Endurance/Metabolic goals:

Technically this goal isn’t really in the forefront right now, as I want to build strength NOW and then work more on endurance in the 3 months before the Mudder.

However, I did count my burpees during the intervals today and made sure that I did as many on my last round as I did my first round. So I have an idea of where I am now and will continue to track these types of things so I don’t stagnate during this time that I am more focused on strength.

So talk to me, peeps. Share your photos. Update me on YOUR progress towards goals. Let’s hear it.

In Which I Live My Personal Nightmare: An Extended Metaphor

It was just an ordinary Tuesday morning, on my way to 6am class with Mike to lift some heavy shit and generally be a badass. You know, whatevs.

When suddenly, the powers of the universe turned against me and this happened:

*Disclaimer: I did not actually take this photo. But this is very nearly what I saw.
*Disclaimer: I did not actually take this photo. But this is very nearly what I saw.

Seriously, out of nowhere. One second, no snow. And the next…

And I turned into a whimpering lameass, just like that.

So ok, here’s the deal: I consider myself a reasonably courageous person. I push to step out of my comfort zone on a regular basis. I don’t hate snow or anything, and I *can* drive in the snow.

But…I am freaking terrified of driving in the snow. TERRIFIED. Like, literally white knuckles on the steering wheel, stiff back, every muscle clenched.

It is my kryptonite, probably because of a few car-losing-control-in-snow-or-ice-holy-shit-we-are-all-going-to-die experiences from way back when. I avoid driving in snowy or–god forbid!–icy weather at all costs, especially when there are hills involved.

My drive to the gym involves going down a very large hill on a highway. I have unabashedly cancelled workouts because of weather due to my crippling fear of driving on this hill in snow or ice.

So you can imagine my terror (yes, terror–go ahead and laugh at me for being a lameass, but it is true) when I got caught in what I can only call a “flash blizzard” en route to my workout.

I literally could not see the road in front of me. I was on a stretch of the highway with a 3+ mile space between exits, and the next exit was, of COURSE, at the bottom of the aforementioned terrifying hill.

I couldn’t turn around. I couldn’t keep going. I COULDN’T EFFING SEE THE ROAD!

I whimpered a little. I may have even sobbed a bit. This was my nightmare, people. It was 5:45 and still dark, and the snow was, like, EVERYWHERE.

I considered my options:

1) Just sit there, stopped on the side of the highway, until it cleared and I could see better. And the trucks came to plow. Or someone came to rescue me. (This option would likely include more sobbing).

2) Keep going. (Let’s face it, this option would likely also include more sobbing.)

I’m proud to say that it only took me about 30 seconds to discard option 1 as completely lame and out of character.

So I sucked it up. I kept going.

I kept going VERY slowly, and driving on the divots in the side of the road–you know, the ones that make that annoying loud noise when you start to veer off the lane–because at least if I could hear that noise, I knew I was going in a straight line.

Of course I had to keep going, because by the time I got to the next exit I would have already done the hardest part–the hill. And once I got down the hill, there was no point in turning around and heading home.

So even as I’m writing this, I feel sort of ridiculous. It all sounds very dramatic. (Of course, if you know me at all by now, you know this is partly just me.) But even for ME, it’s dramatic and definitely so lame.

But we all have our fears that seem absurd and make us feel like total pathetic wimps. This is mine (well, I also have an almost-as-crippling fear of mold, but we can talk about that another day).

Pathetic wimp that I was, I put on my hazards and crawled down that hill at like 10mph. More whimpering occurred, along with some praying, and the full expectation that at any moment I could and most certainly would lose control, slide over the side and pitch down the mountain in my crappy little car.

Dramatic? Yes.

Real fear? Definitely.

Obviously, I made it and lived to tell the tale. I was only a couple of minutes late for class, and still kinda shaking when I got there. I’m not proud, but against my will, I had to face this kinda ridiculous fear and push past it. Because chances are, if I had known about the “flash blizzard,” I wouldn’t have left my cozy bed.

It’s a good lesson…

Thanks, MT.
Thanks, MT.

But I think there’s more to my little story than just the fear aspect. I really thought about it after, about what it was like sitting on the side of that road, trying to decide what to do, where to go from there.

I didn’t think I could go forward. I couldn’t turn back. I had no one but myself to rely on at that moment, and I had to dig deep, regardless of how silly the fear might have seemed to my rational mind.

At the end of my workout, I left the gym sweaty and feeling badass again. When I walked outside, the sky was perfectly clear as the sun came up. Like the little flash blizzard had never even happened. Son of a bitch.

Even when you think you can’t go forward, turning back isn’t the answer either. Weather the storm; it’ll be worth it.

It’s a pretty sweet metaphor. I’ll let you ruminate.