2014

Grind Grind Grind

Here we are, bright eyed and bushy tailed on another lovely Monday morning. As I said to Lovey this morning, only about 260 more Mondays before the 5 year plan is in effect. In the meantime, we’ll just keep on trucking, one week at a time. And we’ve got a fun one ahead (and when I say we, I mostly mean me). Of course, there are the regular T-25 mornings and the Monday/Wednesday/Friday yoga and the Tuesday/Thursday stretching, but we’re adding on a Monday pole class, Tuesday Zumba, Wednesday shooting range, Thursday chiropractor, and a weekend in Crested Butte.

Crested, where my love of all things Colorado began. It’s where I first tried snowboarding…and got a concussion (although not my first one). It’s where I gained a little self-confidence. It’s where I met famous people. It’s where I felt at home and had a damn good time. So much good food and too many great drinks. And a great note for being late to work due to a pot pie explosion. Let the good times roll.

Back to the present, back to reality. Back to the realization that my body wants to work out daily or make me pay hardcore on Monday for not exercising over the weekend. Mind you, I wasn’t a total slug. I did do some pretty intense stretching on Sunday as we sat out in the sun. Nothing warms up your muscles (to the point that I was sweating) like some good old, natural sunlight. If you’ve been following soccer at all, you’ve maybe seen the sniper video. I have moments wherein that is exactly how I feel. There’s one spot in my left leg under my glutes that, at times, feels like someone shot me, or at least stung me really good with a large rubber band. Sniper! Yeah, I keep stretching it. Gently though. Most of the time.

One of my big realizations is that by the time the weekend rolls around, I’m so beat down from work and working out, that I never want to do anything productive. I have a list just under a mile long of things that I want/need to do – clean the house, at least write an outline, study SQL, stretch more, exercise – and pretty much none of it gets done. I’ve really gotta work out how to not just go into a weekend coma starting Friday at 6pm.

In other news, the waiting is down to about 2 days to see if I’ll be performing (not competing because, realistically, I’m not at the talent level of some others) in the Colorado Pole Championship. I still am wavering between ‘why in the world did I submit and put myself in this position, please don’t let me get in’ and ‘I really hope I get in’. In the case that it’s the latter and not the former, I’m still stretching like a maniac. I may need to up my strength training, but that can wait until next week when I know for sure. I don’t want to unnecessarily bulk up because that’s what happens. There’s no being tone and getting strong. My body only understands building more muscle to get strong and hulking out of my clothes. HULK SMASH!

Since I’ve just under a million things to take care of today, and yes, I exaggerate; I’m off to take care of business. Hasta la pasta folks!

Memory Lane

Music both makes me lose control and helps me to stay in control. It’s so much of my life that I don’t even realize it until I’m put to task to really think about it which I was by today’s writing prompt – talk about three songs that mean a lot in your life. Lots of songs come to mind, but I think I can narrow it down to three. Oddly enough, these three revolve around some painful periods of my life. From oldest to most recent:

1. Never Say Goodbye – Bon Jovi: Oh, back when I was an insecure teenager, this song…on repeat. Many a tear was shed to this song and not only by me. This shit was like an anthem to us. Slippery When Wet was our soundtrack. Funny thing is that I’m pretty much the only one of us that said goodbye in moving so far away from where these memories, both good and bad, were created.

2. I Will Always Love You – Whitney Houston: Yep, I had just seen The Bodyguard with my at-the-time boyfriend who is also my daughter’s father. Again, insecure teenager falling all be-doop-be-doop with an older guy who showed me some attention. Gawd was I a moron back then. I got smashed in the rose-colored glasses with a huge rock when I was trying to be helpful to him and he told me, “I don’t need you (to blah, blah, blah).”  But of course all I heard was “I don’t need you.” Crushed. But, lesson learned.

3. I’ll Be Missing You – Puffy, Faith, 112: This is, by far, the toughest one. I almost teared up just thinking about it as I’m typing this. There was a period of time, probably close to a year, where I couldn’t even listen to this song. It would come on the radio and I would immediately turn it off. On the morning of my father’s funeral, my brother played this song. Constantly. It was the only song I heard all mo(u)rning.

Every step I take, every move I make

Every single day, every time I pray

I’ll be missing you

Thinkin of the day, when you went away

What a life to take, what a bond to break

I’ll be missing you.

Damn. Crying at my desk. Miss you, Dad.

Ok, ok, let’s move on to things that are a little more on the ‘dude, that’s sad!’ topic. Last night, I woke up around 1 with the worst headache ever. I considered taking a Tylenol but deemed it too much work to get the stupid bottle open. Instead, I tried to relieve some of the tension in the muscles in my neck and went back to bed. Well, surprise, surprise, guess who was still around when I got up again at 5. It took a half an hour of just sitting still to get it to go away just enough to get my workout in. Headaches suck. Fortunately, it did go away. Exercise fixes everything. No choice for those blood vessels but to open up and pump for all they’re worth (I actually realize that there is a choice, but I’m not that unhealthy. I hope.) and get some blood to my poor head. After I was all wonderfully sweaty, I did some splits stretching. I think I’m stuck in the same place that I’ve been in for a couple of months. It may be time to get that front foot up on a yoga block so I can make it those last few inches to flat.

Still going down that fitness road, this month, I decided to try to count my calorie intake/output. Before you go all off the deep end on me there, know that I’m counting because I think that I’m not getting enough calories in a day. As crazy as it seems, not enough calories is just as bad as too many calories. Maybe not just as bad, but not good. Yesterday, at the end of the day, I was in a 250 calorie deficit. I could have and should have had a shake before bed to fix this, but I was too sleepy to make it downstairs to the fridge. You might think, oh, well, 250 calories isn’t bad. It is. When I’m aiming for a healthy 1355 a day, missing 250 means a lot. I think that my actual calorie count may have made it to 1355, but factoring in workout Wednesday left me low. And, think of it this way: missing 250 calories a day for a week is equal to not eating for a day and change. So that doesn’t work. I’ve been unknowingly sabatoging myself by not eating enough. I think that in a couple of weeks, I should be back into a good food routine to match my exercise routines. I feel as though I can weigh 140 as long as it’s not a jiggly 140. I’m looking at you, belly fat! Be gone!

I think that I’ve rambled quite enough for one morning. In case you don’t wander over my way this weekend, I’m wishing you all a happy and safe fourth of July. Try not to overeat and I’ll try to take my own advice. Although I fully plan on crushing some steak this weekend. Mmmmm, red meat. Such a nice change from chicken, pork, chicken, pork, chicken. Feast on!