Tag Archives: Exercise

Life Lesson Learned: Laundry Edition

So here I am, hanging out on my porch, well in the carport, hanging up my laundry.  See, I’d normally be on the porch, but it’s a touch windy today and the last thing I need is to have the laundry topple over (again!) onto the landlord’s daughters new flower bed.  Not good.  So instead, I’m going to take advantage of the carport’s wind-tunnel nature and put the laundry to hang in there, relying upon the not-quite gale force winds to dry my clothing.  Sure, they don’t get sunshine this way, but I also don’t spend most of my afternoon going out to pick them up off the deck and pick dried leaves and dirt from what were clean clothes.  And yeah, I could tuck them in the little space where E’s motorbike is parked, we get some sunlight there in the afternoons.  But the last time I did that and a big gust of wind came through, I was chasing the laundry down the driveway as the towels acted as sails for the Good Ship Clothing Drive that was careening towards the road.   Not a particularly fun way to spend twenty minutes.

 

So there I was, in the carport, hanging up the clothes when I came to this one shirt of mine in particular.  Now this shirt I’ve had for several years and it has seen it’s fair share of ups and downs.  It’s a gray shirt with an orange collar and orange sleeves and I got it from Old Navy, who knows how long ago.  It’s a comfortable shirt, well worn and well loved.  I use it mainly for around the house now and lazy weekends with nothing to do but relax with my man.  But today, something about this shirt made me stop as I was hanging it up.

 

I’m not sure if it was the voluminous amounts of fabric that were just not agreeing with me or the hangers.  Or if it was the somewhat stubborn seeming insistence that it would quite simply not stay on the hanger at all, thank you kindly.  But once I finally hung it up, I paused in my usual chore doing and looked at it.  Really stopped and looked at it.

 

“This shirt is huge!” I thought to myself, and half said aloud.  I turned it this way and that and then this way again, looking it over.  Now true, it was wet and it had just gone through a bit of a battle with me and the washer and a pair of pants that decided it was a great time to turn into an octopus, so it was slightly stretched out.  But no. Even accounting for that, the shirt was huge. Enormous. And that thought, of course, got me thinking other thoughts.

 

The shirt was a 3XL.  I bought it because it was comfortable to fit in.  It was nice and light, gave me room to breathe, but also room to hide. I never quite filled it all the way out, and I’m very glad for that, but I fit into it comfortably.  It was a nice second skin for me. The shirt allowed me to get service in almost every establishment I went into without really letting on just how fat I was. We were secret companions in an ongoing battle with reality.  And dammit, we were winning, my shirt and I.

 

But now, here and now, on this day, I am hanging up this shirt and it is huge. Giant. I could swallow a small child and not even notice it had eaten.  I remembered thinking the other night when I was wearing it, that it was almost like a nightgown, only a little shorter.  I looked down at the shirt that I was wearing today.  A black t-shirt. Nothing special, nothing amazing. Just one that came from those three packs of t-shirts from the Men’s department at WalMart.  it’s comfortable, not too snug, but also not too loose.  I could do my workout in this shirt if I needed to.  I can also do my dishes and still feel comfortable.  Just to make sure, I turned the shirt sideways slightly and I peeked a look at the tag.

 

XL.

 

Talk about your mind being blown.  It’s hard, sometimes, when you’re so close to everything happening, to really see the progress being made.  But I was standing there, obsessively staring at this old shirt of mine, not quite realizing that I was looking at the progress I had made.  I used to fit into that. Now, I fit into this.

 

I used to hide behind that fabric, now I’m starting to own this fabric. I used to wrap myself in security in that shirt, now I’m becoming more outgoing in this one. I did that. I beat that. I beat that old shirt.  And I’m starting to beat this new shirt as well.

 

I have a size large t-shirt hanging up in my bedroom.  It’s my Nanowrimo shirt that I bought last year.  It was way too small for me then, it’s still slightly too small for me now.  Next year, next year, It will be too big for me.  I have come so far, but I have still further to go.  But for the moment, I’m going to finish my laundry, and then have a cuppa tea.

 

Thank you, Grey and Orange shirt. Thank you.

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Seasons Change

Wow.  Not since April.  Huh.

 

I guess this is where everybody expects a big info dump of my life in the last 5 months.  Truth to be told, there’s not much to tell.  I’m still in New Zealand, I’m still madly in love, and I’m still unemployed!

 

There, my life summed up.  Well, ok there’s more to it than that.  I’m still going to the gym, and I’m still losing the weight.  Slowly, but it’s happening. It’s steady, and I’m looking more at a lifestyle change than rapid “ohgod get it off me before summer!!!!!”.  Because even when summer hits, and even after I hit my goal weight, I’m still probably not going to wander around in a bikini.  It would just be weird.
And blinding.  My skin’s a bit… pale. Light would reflect from the surface of my skin and blind everybody.

 

Hmm.  maybe this could be the start of a new trend.  Nobody minds wearing bathing suits because nobody can see anybody else due to blinding skin whiteness.

 

Anyway, what else is happening?  Well E and I went back to the states to visit my parents and go to PAX again.  I suppose I could do a post all on those once I get my head straightened back out.  Pax was awesome, just saying.  Even if I didn’t go anywhere near the expo hall or do anything overtly geeky (although I suppose spending two entire days playing board games is a bit geeky.  But i got to be a pirate in one and the other I killed zombies! Totally not geeky!).

 

And now, I’m back home, getting back into the fitness swing of things, back into the crocheting swing of things, and back into the packing swing of things.

 

Packing?

 

Why yes, packing.  Because in about two months we’ll be living in a new place.  And so when that happens, people pack! it’s a natural thing, no need to be afraid of it.

 

So yes, I am back.  I will do what I can to keep you all updated with the absolutely mundane things that make up my life.  Even if all they are revolve around the gym, my crochet, and tea.

 

Tea can be entertaining, right?

 

 

Today’s Brew:  Twining’s Earl Grey

Total cups so far: 5

Getting Back Up

Hi!

 

Have you missed me?

 

Well life has been a series of busy lately, and while all of it has been fantastic, none of it really lends itself to being ‘blog-worthy’.  Or at least, not in a way that I can think of just yet.  So what has been happening in life down here in kiwiland?  Well, let me tell you.

 

A couple weekends ago two of our really close friends got married.  It was an absolutely fantastic day, the ceremony went off just as was planned and the Bride and Groom had a great time.  I was so very happy to be not only invited but to also be a part in helping them plan and get ready for their day.  Having only known them for a few months, it’s truly amazing just how close we’ve become.  I can’t express enough or in the proper words just how humbled and grateful I am to the pair of them for allowing me to spend time with them and share in their joy on that day.  Love you both R&K!

 

This past weekend, another pair of our friends moved into their new house! And we, of course, helped them move!  Now, I know that does not necessarily sound like a barrel of laughs, and it was some hard work, but it was also absolutely great.  We got to spend time with friends, help them move onto their next big step, and generally just enjoy everybody’s company.  And while helping them move, unpack, and settle into their new place, I had time to look back, reflect, and focus on just how far this life that I’m living now is to the ones that I’ve lived before.  Doing physical labor, but laughing and joking at the same time. Everybody coming together collectively to help out, and then sitting around a table (which is gorgeous!) for a well deserved dinner.  I am struggling to figure out if life gets better than that.   The house is gorgeous, the couple fantastic, and our time spent together equally precious.  Congrats R&E!

 

What else, what else.

 

The job hunt is not so much a hunt as it is shooting arrows wildly into the forest in every direction, only to have them shot back at you with no points and no fletching. Not helpful.  But! perseverance will prevail!  Employment will be gained! Somehow.

 

Now, the biggest new thing happening to me personally is that I’ve committed to a Personal Trainer. Tom is going to be kicking my butt left, right, and sideways twice a week for 45 minutes.  After 7 months at the gym, and a significant amount of body tightening up, It was time to get even more serious.  I’ve got weight I want to, must, lose and it’s not going to come off on it’s own.  And while I’ve stuck with going to the gym at least twice a week for 7 months, I need something more. I need to keep pushing myself even more, harder than before.  I must lose this weight.  The rest of my life depends upon hitting that healthy moment and then keeping going.  And that’s not an exaggeration.

 

Today was my second session with Tom and everything went well.  Really well, actually.  But it was the last ‘exercise’ that got me into a contemplative mood.  Essentially all I had to do was lay down on the ground on my chest and then stand back up again five times, and then lay on my back and get up again five times.  Sounds simple, right? Wrong.  It was definitely not easy.  There was so much involved, just so much energy and movement and muscles.  It was by far the hardest exercise that I did.

 

Just like life.  It’s fairly easy to get knocked down time and time again.  It’s the getting back up that’s the hardest part.  And all of this, the man who is supporting me, the friends that I’ve found and love, and the gym, this is all part of me getting back up off the ground.

 

And this time, I’m going to remain standing. And then, start running.

Botany 10k Walk

Yeah.  You read that right.

 

10k.

 

Just about 6 miles.

 

And I did it. I set myself the goal and I completed it. Smashed it. Demolished and obliterated it.  I looked my goal in the face and I scared it into the atmosphere.

 

After crying, and whimpering and almost quitting, of course.

 

The day started out cloudy and overcast.  When we got to the race venue (which is really just a large mall/shopping center) we could see that a huge amount of rain had already come through earlier, and the sky looked to be promising more.  It was a bit brisk for a summer morning and the air was damp and humid.  So not the best thing to be walking in, but better than clear blue skies and sweltering heat.

 

The race started at 9am on the dot, there were just over 600 people there men, women, and children.  There were folks with their babies in strollers, a gentleman in a wheelchair and a father and his special needs son in a stroller.  And me.  I started off strong, matching my pace with a pair of older ladies and just keeping up.  but they soon passed me, and then more and more people passed me.  But that was alright, I was fine.  I knew that there were still people behind me.  I made it through the first 3k without any problems.

 

It was around the 3.5k mark that things got difficult.  My feet were hurting, my back was aching my knees wanted to give up.  I started to cry. I could not believe what I was doing to myself. What in the world had seeped into my brain to make me think that I had anywhere close to a chance to doing a 10k walk?  I hadn’t even hit the halfway point and I was ready to die.  How could I go around and do it again?  And then, just as I was hitting the absolute bottom of depression, the knowledge in my mind that I just could not do this thing anymore, E was there.  He had found the 4k point of the race and was waiting for me with fresh cold drinks (powerade) and encouragement.  I stopped my crying, picked my head up, and instead of turning into the finish line, I kept on going straight to start the next lap.

 

I was alone.  Completely and utterly alone.  There were no more walkers in front of me that I could see and try to match with them.  And turning around I was completely by myself.  I could see nobody.  It was just me and this course.  And the cones.  And the cars.  And so I turned up my music and I walked. And I walked. And I walked some more.  I cursed and I yelled and I chided myself.  I hated my life and everything that I was doing but I kept on moving.  Had to keep moving.

 

Got to the water station and looked at the kid behind the table, I jokingly told him that I thought I was last.  He confirmed that I was.  He told me to take a break, take a rest, have some water.  But I had to keep going, I had to keep moving.  I couldn’t stop, not even for a brief breath and some water. If I stopped moving then, I would have stopped completely.  And so I moved on.  Full of the knowledge that I was the very last person out of 600+ to be out on the course.  The very last.  Everybody was waiting on me.

 

And even that knowledge, and the fact that I knew that I would show up last and everybody would know that I was completely incapable of doing this, did not slow me down. I kept going, kept moving. Singing and dancing and walking and cursing and crying.  I was soon joined by one of the race helpers, those blessed people who get up early to stand along the route of the race and cheer you on in their bright orange vests.  She joined me to ostensibly keep me company, but also to keep an eye on me and make sure I didn’t collapse.  Also, my own personal traffic cop.  Because there were still intersections to get through and cars to avoid.  Let me tell you a personal traffic cop is a handy thing to have when all you can do is concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.

 

One kilometer to go and there was my E again, waiting with yet another cold drink and more encouragement.  So for the last kilometer of the race I walked with E and this orange-vested race lady.  It was quite something.  And as I got closer to the finish line I was greeted by more race personnel and they all offered congratulations and adulation on my continued effort. I was last.  But I had still made it that far.

 

I turned down the roadway towards the finish line and as soon as I appeared in that area the remaining racers and their friends and family all erupted into cheers and applause.  The MC of the event, a guy from the local radio station, announced to everybody that I was coming down the home stretch.  He announced me by name.  And the applause and congratulations and approval got even louder as I crossed the finish line and the clock stopped.

 

2:00:41

 

I was hurried over to a chair where the race workers took off my bib and put it into the box for the spot prizes and they removed the timing chip from my shoe for me.  I was then allowed to move into the crowd, where even more people offered personal congratulations on completing the race, and they decided to do the spot prizes and the big prize drawings.  Oddly enough, we were joined by some friends.  They had done the 5k run and had no idea that I was even there, but they heard my name over the speakers and were surprised and happy.  The prizes were awarded and then we left to go home.

 

I hurt. My entire body was aching and I could barely form complete sentences. But I had finished my goal, beaten it to the ground.  I had told myself that if I could finish this race in under 2.5 hours, I would be happy.  I blew that expectation out of the water.  And I was still alive and still breathing.

 

The applause from the other participants was the biggest mix of emotions that I have felt in some time. Pride in my accomplishment. Shame in how long it took me. Embarrassment at the attention. Guilt that it took me so long and everybody was waiting for me before the event could move on.  But mostly just relief that it was over. And then pain.

 

It’s two days later and I can say that even though I have blisters on both feet and my ribs ache as though I’ve been dry-heaving for days, I am glad that I did it.  I set myself a goal and I achieved that goal.

 

Now, I rest a bit, get my feet healed, and then back at the training.  I’ve got another big race coming up next month!

 

This one’s only 8.5k though.  Only. Hah!

Flying Time

Goodness Gracious where does it go!

 

Just a quick note from me today to inform you all that I am indeed still alive.

 

E had this last two weeks off, so we’ve been spending some serious quality time together, and that has left me less time for the writing!

 

But alas, the real world has called and he is back at work.  I’m still fighting with getting my immigration stuff sorted.

 

Upnotes!  I signed up to do a 10k walk next month! Because I am a complete and total nutjob.

 

So i’ve decided to start going to the gym more often.  We’re talking like every weekday more often.  To do at least 30 minutes on the treadmill (I still haven’t fallen off! yay!) during the day and then go back at night with E on his gym nights to do weights.

 

Although, note to self, after last night’s first attempt at doing this program, I really need to eat/drink more sugar/carbs if I’m going to do this kind of training.  Last night resulted in a bit of an insulin crash and I had to stop about 1/3 of the way through my weights routine.

 

Bummer.

 

So that’s what’s been going on.  I’ll post up about the Botanical Gardens in a bit, but first, I gotta get to the gym!

The Treads on the Mill Go Round and Round

One time, a long time ago, I had a terrifyingly traumatic experience with a treadmill.  That is to say that I got onto the treadmill and since I had improper posture/walking/gait/whatever and did not pick up my feet while walking, instead I shuffled everywhere, the treadmill and I were very close in a short period of time.

 

Like face to treads close.

 

Suffice it to say that I have not since gotten on a treadmill.  The memory of that incident, the abject terror of repeating it again, only this time with other people around to witness my humiliation. I simply could not do it.  I would look at the treadmill and think that it would be easier to do, that I could do it and it might end up being better for me than the elliptical/crosstrainer.  I could walk for longer and not get quite as tired.  But I could not quite get the memory of that tragic faceplant out of my mind.  And now that I’m at this gym where I like the people around me? And have actually gained some of their respect?  To lose it all in a moment of utter ridiculousness that would be my flying off the back of the treadmill in a glorious  ball of not yet lost fat?  Yeah, not ideal.

 

So I stuck with the elliptical.  Even though I was feeling that it wasn’t quite doing it for me anymore.  For some reason I felt as though I was not achieving my goals anymore by doing just the elliptical.  Granted, the gym has bikes available, and I know that I can do that, but I’ve found that sitting on the exercise bikes usually ends up being ten minutes worth of trying to not feel like I’ve got the worlds biggest wedgie.  And that is not conducive to getting into the ‘zone’ for a good cardio workout. It’s just not.  So the next step, logically would be the treadmill.  But how do I get over my paralyzing fear?

 

This is where E steps in.  He has more ability to encourage and support me than I think even he is aware of.  His faith in me and his strength of support have been huge.  Also, there is no way I would have gotten onto a treadmill if he were not right next to me.  If I’m going to look like a fool, I want my scrawny-legged man right next to me to make me feel better.

 

Huge props also to the guys at the gym, especially Tom.  He has been huge for my confidence, and him telling me that he knows I can do it while not being overly pushy or insistent has been huge.  He makes me want to push myself to the next level just to be able to prove to him that I can.  If those are not great qualities in a personal trainer, then I don’t know what makes a great personal trainer, obviously.

 

Another big thing was something that I picked up somewhere, but I don’t remember where.  It sounds silly at first, but visualizing myself doing pretty much anything has been a huge help.  Whether it’s been making a dinner that I’ve been thinking about lately, or writing a post that’s been on my mind, or conquering a treadmill, I’ve thought about it for at least a few days.  I know, my posts still sometimes come out very disjointed, but those are usually the ones that were spur of the moment.

 

So after a few weeks of thinking myself through the process of getting onto the treadmill and staying on it I finally did it.

 

I climbed onto the treadmill and started off slowly, but i did it. I managed to do not one, but now two workouts on the thing.  I’m still working my way up to doing the ‘preset’ workouts like the ‘glute busters’ and ‘leg trainer’ but i’m just proud that I haven’t quite fallen off of the machine yet and caused a scene of epic non-awesome proportions.

 

A fitter me, here I come!

Insomnia

So here I am. 1am on tuesday morning.  And I’m still awake.

 

What could possibly be bothering me?

 

My Nanowrimo is done (unofficially and more about that later), my FBI paperwork came back clean and healthy (like there was really any doubt), I have a game plan for where and when and how to go through and finish up this visa application (ugh tediousness).  There really is nothing overly heavy weighing on my mind.

 

Except.

 

Well, I’m still unemployed. Which granted at this point is planned until after I get my new visa and then I can look for things that are not ‘temporary’ or ‘contract’ but I can actually get full time work.  But that doesn’t necessarily mean that I am ok with being unemployed.    And I still have no idea what it is I would like to do.  Call centers, retail, go back to school?  Maybe a bit of this and a bit of that?  But all of that requires some soul searching.  And I just am not good at soul searching.  Especially if it involves any form of meditation.  My brain just refuses to slow down.

 

Also, I am thinking about the whole ‘what next’ part of my writing.  I have no done my 6th Nanowrimo. I have now hit my 6th mark of 50,000 words in so many years.  My world and my plot are coming together better now than they ever have before.  So what next?  Do I move on? do I try to finish up? Do I gather all of my previous writing and notes and details on this subject and scour them for details, information, bits and pieces and then put that all into notes on Scrivener (awesome program btw), and actually honestly attempt to write this book?  Or books?  Do I have the willpower to sit through, sift through, all of my writing over the years, trash what is crap and keep what is good, build on the rest and actually come out ahead with a story that maybe somebody somewhere will want to read?   Do I have this willpower?

 

Do I have the willpower to keep up with the weight loss?  I can tell that I’m losing weight because my pants are slowly starting to come off around my waist.  But my hips are still the same size they were, so no real loss there.  Also means no new pants.  Just have to keep fiddling with the old pants.  Can I really keep up with this? Can I lose enough weight so that when I head back to the States next year to visit, mom and I can go shopping for new clothes for me and I can actually maybe not wear the ‘fat girl clothes’?  How much willpower do I really have stored up?

 

And is it even willpower that I need? Perhaps what I really need is ambition.  I don’t really seem to have any of that.  Ambition.  It’s a funny word.  In some cases it is a strong, positive, encouraging term. In others it’s dirty, nasty, unkind.  And it seems to be difficult to balance the two levels perfectly.  What is a good level of ambition? And how do I get there?  Now that I think about it, Ambition seems to be the core of most of my problems.  Yeah, I know, First world problems and all that.

 

But really.  I never had many ambitions as a kid, or even as a young adult.  To be happy and to be loved for who I was were about the only things I was ever determined to secure for myself.  And, well, now I have those.  And I’m lost.  I have no real ambitions.  Dreams, sure I have those aplenty, but ambitions?  To be a writer who can tell her stories and have people want to read them.  That could be one.  That’s about as close to an ambition as I have.  But I am still very unsure of how to necessarily achieve that goal.

 

I’ll have to do some more thinking on this.  I’ll get back to you.

 

But for now, It’s almost 130.  My mint tea is just warm enough to drink while still being hot enough to be soothing to the rather unhappy stomach that I have now (i think it doesn’t like peanut butter anymore), and I’m hoping that a few minutes of window shopping for a new menorah is going to be enough to settle my brain and calm my whatever it is that’s keeping me awake.

 

So good night, good morning, and have a pleasant day.

who am I?

I started thinking about this recently, like yesterday, and I realized, I have no idea anymore.

I mean, I thought I knew who I was. But that was before I strapped on my shoes and went for a walk to the store.

Wait what? I walked to the store? Who the hell is this person?

Me, Sarah, would have just jumped into the car and driven to the store. got what she needed, put it in the car and driven back home.

Nope, I walked to the store, got what I needed, tossed it into my reusable shopping bag, and then walked home. And then today, I decided I wanted sushi for lunch. So, I strapped on the shoes, tossed on the coat and walked to the sushi place, and then walked back.

So my question becomes, who am I?

The Me that I knew back in the states would never do this, ‘walking’ thing. And then follow it up by going to the gym. The US Me would never have even thought about maybe attempting rock climbing. The US Me went everywhere in her car, even if it was only a mile away.

The Kiwi Me? Well the Kiwi Me for the first part says ‘only a mile’ as if that’s not a big deal anymore. The Kiwi Me eats chinese cabbage and wasabi. The Kiwi Me is thinking of ways to talk to pretty much everywhere. The Kiwi Me has entered into a 6k walk and is damned sure that she will not only complete it, but she will do so in a good amount of time. The Kiwi Me is excited to go out for nature walks, to see new things that the US Me would have been uncertain about. The Kiwi Me is starting to come around to the idea of rock climbing. And conquering fears. The Kiwi Me likes to drink water! And hasn’t had a can of soda in months!

I’m not sure who this Kiwi Me is, but I Like her. and I think that my Kiwi Me and I are going to get very friendly as time goes on.

Damn Straight.

Mrs. Harris

Dear Mrs. Harris,

 

You might not remember me, it was a long time ago that you were my physical education teacher.  A very long time ago.  You pushed me to get those ten sit-ups done, you cajoled me to doing those push-ups, and you rebuked me for failing to even attempt the pull-ups.  You understood when I changed in the bathroom stalls, as opposed to changing in the locker room.  You listened when I cried about being fat and useless.  And you had sympathy for when I fell and sprained my ankle in the wrestling room.  You encouraged me when we played kickball, and showed me the best way to dodge at dodgeball.

 

I hated your guts.

 

I know, that’s not fair. It wasn’t really you so much as it was the subject that you taught.  had you been any other teacher I probably would have sung your praises for how well you managed the fragile egos of the charges given to you in those oh-so turbulent times of middle school. But you taught Physical education.  The most loathed class of any fat kid.  Kickball was a nightmare, always last for the team. Dodgeball was painful, almost literally, I never played baseball and touch football almost always ended badly.  But the more horrifying thing in the world, the terrible, awful, torturous event was the Physical Fitness Test.

 

Now, I don’t really remember if that was the actual name of it.  It was one of those things that I think started with President Kennedy and then continued on through the years.  Every year, every student, had to pass a physical fitness test.  This included everything. Height, Weight, BMI, Jumping jacks, sit ups, push ups, the sit forward and reeeeach for that ruler, pull ups, and the dreaded Mile.

 

Oh, the Mile.  On a dust and dirt covered track around the football field, one lap around was one quarter of a mile. Four laps.  You had to get 4 laps done, and the set time was 15 minutes.  The Mile. That dreaded torture device.  Pullups were easy, I couldn’t do them, I touched the bar and that was it.  I could get out 10 situps if I tried, and 10 pushups too.  I could never reach very far down the ruler, but nobody expected me to.  But the Mile.  The one thing that would get gym teachers from every corner of the school to converge on one spot in order to yell.  You encouragement sounded like jeering, your shouts to keep going brought only feelings of hate.

 

I hated the Mile and I hated you.

 

It wasn’t your fault. you were doing what you had to do. It was part of the national curriculum and that I understand now. But oh, how I hated you.

 

But, what brings this up now? all these years of repressed anger and hatred towards the dreaded Mile?  The one thing that I was never able to beat. Fifteen minutes.  I think the closest I ever got was seventeen minutes.  After which, I collapsed on the grass of the football field and promptly attempted to stop living.  Or at least breathing.  So what brings these memories up? what causes them to come to the forefront today?

 

Well, mrs. Harris are you listening because this is important, I walked a mile today.  I actually walked closer to 1.5 miles, but all the same, I walked a mile today.  And I did it in under fifteen minutes.

 

Did you hear that?  Fourteen minutes and forty-seven seconds!  Me!  Me who couldn’t even think about doing a Mile on that flat dusty track in under 17 minutes. Me who was so out of shape that the thought of more jumping jacks made me want to vomit.  I actually managed to do a 15 minute mile.  Without dying! Without needing an inhaler or a respirator or to have my heart restarted!

 

So, Mrs Harris, from so long in the past to this point in my life right now, I want to say thank you.  Thank you for your understanding. Thank you for your kindness, and your encouragement.  It might have taken me almost twenty years, but I have finally made it past that point!

 

You can mark me off your clipboard now!  I am on my way to physically fit!

I LIke To Move It

Well. I did it. I joined a gym.

I guess I should say that we joined a gym.

We are signed up for a 6 month contract at a gym that is up the hill from our house. It’s about a twenty minute walk (for me) to get there, which the guys at the gym said is a great warm up. Then 10 minutes on cardio, and then 3 circuits on 6 weight machines with 15 reps each, plus bench sit-ups of 10 reps each, then back to 15 minutes of cardio.

Tonight was my second night through the program, and I picked up some Biggest Loser music this afternoon to help me power through. Let me tell you. I am feeling the work out, but it’s a good pain. My instep on my right foot is hurting a bit, but the trainer said that it would happen and to try switching to a different elliptical. My left calf is tight as all hell, but that’s been that way since yesterday’s workout. I am getting a bit of a pain in my neck, not sure what that’s from. Might have to talk to the trainer about that on Saturday.

Ee joined too. They’ve got him doing some treadmill and then he’s down into the weight room to lift some weights and put some muscle on his scrawny self.

All in all, so far, it’s been a good experience. Of course I’ve only been going for 2 days, but it’s still a start. And a good feeling. I’m doing something to help myself and goddamn if I’m going to let myself out of it. Getting myself to this point was the hard part. Getting myself into the gym and onto the machines was the hurdle.

Like hell I’m gonna let myself fall off.