Week In Review

*sigh*

Have you ever felt that - while things were stable and you were accomplishing the things you wanted to accomplish - that you were on the precipice of it all crumbling? That is how I feel. It's not really the upcoming holidays; I feel that I've worked very hard to overcome that holiday Buffet Pig-Out mentality and mastered the art of 90%.

It is the disruption of my routine. Believe it or not, the easiest days to get a workout accomplished are days when I work daylight, 8a-8p. I know that I need to get my ass out of bed at 4:30, and after that comes shower and work. Easy peasy. Not so easy on days off, with some tasks on my house still hanging over my head. With the painting of the entire house out of the way, the rest has become overwhelming. Really, I should feel as if I'm in the home stretch and when I was in the thick of painting hell, I was looking forward to this time. Now, however, I am confronted by my stuff. Stuff that needs to be moved. Stuff that I need other people to take away. Stuff I still need to throw out. Stuff I need to strip/sand/refinish, because I'm not paying someone $1200 to do so. Stuff I need to box up/donate. Stuff that needs to be dragged out to the curb on garbage day.

I wake up on my days off and think to myself, "How can I possibly go to the gym for an hour and a half with all of this crap hanging over my head?" Most days I go anyway and I know in my rational mind that it makes absolutely no difference in what I do or don't get done at the house. Sometimes I just do what I feel is the important stuff and cut cardio down to 15-20 minutes. I had stopped filling out my workout book on Sundays because my workouts were so muddled, trying to combine the new kettlebell strength moves I learned in physical therapy with the workouts I had planned, so that I never have to deal with that throbbing pain in my ass ever again. The fact that I stopped filling out my book frankly scares me, and I am making myself a promise that I will fill out the next 5 days tonight. Having a plan makes me feel safe; not having one makes me feel unstable and on a collision-course with disaster.

Last week:
Monday - first shift of a month of daylights. Ass out of bed at 4:30 and at gym by 5:30. *proud*
20 minutes cardio, squats/lunges modified with dumbbells from kettlebell workout (ouch - you can't hold a dumbbell over your sternal area the way you can a kettlebell - lesson learned), chest workout
Tuesday - Gym at 5:30. Struggled through my workout, sustaining severe respiratory damage from an inconsiderate crop-dusting. 30 minutes cardio, arm/tricep workout, abds. Tricep dips are the devil.
Wednesday - Day off. Gym at a leisurely pace. 30 minutes cardio. Modified leg workout, squats/lunges. I can feel my ass getting higher.
Thursday - Ever feel like crap, but you couldn't say or describe exactly specifically how you felt like crap? This was one of those days. I only completed 10 minutes of cardio, did my brief shoulder workout, skipped abs, went to my house, and accomplished absolutely NOTHING. I'm blaming the rainy, gloomy weather. That's right. I'm gonna Blame It On The Rain.
Friday - I didn't go to the gym. I wanted to get stuff done at the house. I got jack schit done.
Saturday - I took my new 25lb kettlebell to work with me and got 80 squats and 50 lunges done. It helped me feel better about Friday.

Plan. Plan. Plan.
Off to make a plan for next week.

Crop-Dusted

Dear Dude Working Out On Treadmill In Front Of Me:

It has been well over 20 years since someone farted so horribly in my presence that I nearly threw up (and that's saying a lot, I'm in healthcare). The last time was on a road trip, trapped in a Ford Tempo with my brother; 80mph down the highway, but I seriously considered the tuck n' roll, if only it would allow me to escape that thick, lingering odor.

Have you considered perhaps using a machine that doesn't place your ample ass almost directly in front of someone else's face? I mean, you had to know that Cloud of Doom was coming. I bet it burned coming out. Whatever you ate yesterday, it created this perfect storm of sickly sweet crappish odor that had an unreal hang time. My brother would be proud. I mean, if you were trying to actually invent a recipe to make someone gag, you really could not have done better.

I know that's not addressed in all of those Gym Etiquette articles you see in Men's Health, but maybe it should be.

• Don't grunt loudly or bang your weights together
• Don't drop weights on the floor
• If you see people waiting, limit yourself to 20 minutes on cardio equipment
• If you've overdone the fiber or something has actually gone and died in your rectum, please stay off the cardio machinery or become proficient at ass-kegels.

Overwhelmed

This blog is not dead, just temporarily neglected. My days have consisted of a blur of physical therapy appointments, gym workouts, and painting and remodeling my house for the tenant who is moving in mid-December.

I remember why I only paint once every 10 years: I hate it. I hate moving stuff. I hate covering stuff. I *VERY*hate cutting in.

However, my month of night shifts is drawing to a close and I'm hoping to be 95% done with everything I wanted to have done on the house by next week. I'll be done with physical therapy - which, by the way has gone fabulously. The physical therapist/torturer had me feeling 90% better the first 2 visits. I've been going 3 days a week for a month and I've done more squats and lunges in the past month than I had previously done in my lifetime. I do feel (and maybe, just a little, see?) a difference, though and these will remain a staple of my workouts at least 3 days a week.

So, without anything else meaningful to say at this time, please enjoy one of my favorite Nike ads. I always have my 120g ipod on shuffle while I drive, and when this song comes on, I want to stop the car in the middle of the road, just leave it there abandoned with the door hanging open, and do a triathalon.

Confession time.

I'm seeing someone on the side. There's been this unanswered throb inside of me, calling out, unanswered, for release.

God bless him, my sweet fiance did his best to give me what I needed. I will always love him for that.

I even tried desperately on my own to satisfy my need for release. It ended, embarrassingly, with me on the floor, and feeling dirty.

I met him this morning. He promised me that he could ease my ache; he would use his hands, and sometimes heat and ice, to get the relief my body craved. He said there might be pain; I was intrigued. There was no mention of a safety word. He put my body into positions I never thought possible. At first, it was painful, but slowly, I began to enjoy it. The yearning throb was replaced with release. Relief. Even... pleasure.

We made arrangments to see each other tomorrow. My body just can't get enough. He said he's done 2 people at the same time before. Maybe tomorrow I'll bring Dan with me and he can learn some new moves.

After all, at our age, anyone with the aches and pains we have can benefit from a session with a good physical therapist.

(Get your minds out of the gutter. Sheesh.)

Week in Review

So the week in review's a day late. Big woop, wanna fight about it?

It was a decent week, in general. Despite getting up at 4:50am, I still can't seem to actually set foot on the gym floor until 6am. I refuse to get up earlier than that, so I need to become more efficient in the morning. (HA!) However, I don't have to worry about becoming more efficient for four! more! lovely! beautiful! awesome! titillating! (ok, not really that great) weeks! Yes, it's that time again: Night shifts for 4 weeks. Butterflies and hearts fill the air. Things get accomplished - bills paid, yards mowed, carpets cleaned, houses dusted. It's like having a full day to do what you want/need to do, in addition to your regular work day - as long as you don't care too much about sleep.

In an unexpected twist this past week, I suddenly have somebody who wants to rent my house for a year. I didn't even know I wanted to rent it out, that's how unexpected it was. So that's what'll be getting done this month on nights. Lining up plaster repair estimates. Painting. Fixing the porch floor. Moving stuff. Ugh. Moving.

So, as you can see, I should really get off my ass and do something rather than sit here blogging. Without further adieu:

Monday - chest/core + 30 minutes on the staircase. That staircase... not fast by any means, but it gets my heart rate up there and makes me pour sweat. Pretty disgusting, really. However, it burns more calories in 30 minutes than any cardio I can stand to do, besides running.
Tuesday - arms + 45 minutes on the staircase. What I remember most about this day was the odd feeling of every extremity being shaky and jello-like all day.
Wednesday - legs/core - I didn't have enough time for cardio this day. Boooo. However, my leg workout was extensive and my heart rate was up in target range for most of it.
Thursday - crapped out. Slept in til 6am. Feels weird to say sleeping in in reference to 6am.
Friday - combined Thursdays arm workout with Friday's back/core workout. I really felt that back workout the next 2 days - the difference? Much higher weight and using the nautilus machines. Only 13 minutes cardio on staircase. Felt like I've been fighting something off (little one has (probably) the flu) and I didn't want to push it.
Saturday - it's my weekend off! So, nutskin.
Sunday - walked 4 miles with the dog - and man, did she need it. We'll be getting out later today too.

Results? My weight is decreasing, but the numbers are fickle and frustrate me. Better to focus on the increased strength and endurance, and the fact that jeans that cut into my waist a few weeks ago fit very nicely now.

Dear Cecil,

It's GYM, not Jim. Jesus, that's all I need is you starting nasty rumors with Jims living next door on both sides of us.

Furthermore, I'm off this weekend and starting night shifts Monday. I was planning a couple of nice long walks for us this weekend and lots more time together the next 4 weeks. So... chill! And quit pawjacking my blog.

Love,

Your feeder/walker/butt-scratcher

Jim.

Who is this... Jim?

Every morning, you wake up hours before everyone else muttering about going to Jim. I don't know who Jim is, but I strongly disapprove of this relationship.

See, when I see you getting up early and lacing up those running shoes, that always means that I'm going somewhere with you. The park, the trail, the lake.... maybe just a walk around the block. That's our time and this Jim guy is stepping on my toes. And I have a lot of toes.

So listen, Jim. I've been cool about this, and I haven't said anything about this to The Man. What does she tell him when she rolls out of bed at 4:50am? Does he know about you, Jim? I don't want to, you know, hold anything over your head... but what if someone were to, say, somehow clue him in to you? Maybe she'd be mad at me for a couple of days, like that time I chewed up her shoelaces, but I bet without you in the picture, Jim, we'd be going for more walks.

Be warned, Jim. I've spelled your name out in venison-sweet potato kibble on the living room carpet. It's only a matter of time before the jig is up and you're out of the picture, and I get My Person back.