Friday, August 31, 2012

In Which I Write A Whole Lot About A Whole Little

The focus yesterday was circuits and form in the gym.

It was just supposed to be circuits, but my form is always kind of shitty.

When well executed, circuits are one of my favorite workouts.  Well executed, to me, means that in between the horrible, awful exercises are fun, easy ones.

15 ring curls (fun!)
15 ring bicep fist-to-forehead curls (sucky!)
15 ring push ups (abnormally sucky!)
2 minutes manually pushing the treadmill @ a 15 incline with 30 second sprints (awesome and awesome)

Conclusion:  Meh circuit.

Upside:  The woman walking at an incline next to me, glancing over when I started running with the treadmill turned off, and my feeling of superiority that followed.  Sure, sure, most of you never judge people at the gym, good for you, enjoy being a better person.  I'm a terrible person.  I judge people at the gym all the time.  Like the woman who comes in and does the elliptical for 5-10 minutes in kitten heels.  Yeah, yeah, good for her for working out.  But, dude, that's hilarious.  Or the guy who goes and does bong rips in between sets (one of the perks of using an apartment gym)?  That guy is a boss.  There's another trainer who works out groups of middle age women, and sometimes he brings his guitar and plays them songs.  The rest of the time he's fucking around on his phone telling them to count their own sets.  I'm judging him.  I'm judging all of them.  Really, I judge everyone, all the time.  I AM JUDGE DREAD.

What the fuck?  Um.  Yeah, back to circuits.

15 band assisted pull ups (I did one regular one first, just to show up)
something, jesus fuck, this is why I normally write this shit up same-day
20 kb swings (20kg)

2 per side turkish get ups (35lb dumbbell)

I think I made it through 3 full sets and one right side before we took a break to work on my second position.  I do this weird hand hop thing, because I don't have the back flexibility to start with my arm in the right place.  This is working OKAY right now, but if I want to go up in weight I need to master the TRUE second position, because I'm not going to be able to jump my hand into a different position when I'm holding 60+lbs over my head.  Well, at least I PROBABLY won't be able to.  I'm pretty awesome.

Anyway, we did a lot of work on the movement.  I watched my trainer do it repeatedly, and tried to emulate it.  Something about my...thoracic spine? Anyway, something for me to work on.

The end result?

My poor, stupid elbow.  If I were doing the movements right I would be coming down on my elbow slowly, and with control, and wouldn't have a bruising issue.

So, as a thin person, I catch flack when I talk about gaining weight.  I understand, I really do.  But I know my body pretty well, right?  And 4 weeks of eating regularly, but decreasing my exercise by 6+ hours a week is starting to take its toll.

I still look great.  I'm still in a healthy range.  All my clothes still fit.  I am likely the only one aware of the slight changes in my body.  But they are there.  And it's important to be able to recognize them.  Every shift in health starts somewhere.  The ability to recognize it and make the necessary changes is key to maintaining a healthy lifestyle.  I either need to ramp up my activity level or clamp down on my eating.

Honestly, both options would be best.  But I have a tub of 5 cups of delicious pasta calling my name for lunch.  Nothing comes in 5 cup servings.  That's excessive for water.  But it's going to be awesome.

Where was I?

Oh, diet and exercise.  Sky finally decided he'd tired of having bigger boobs than I do, so after some football thing (opening day?  IDK), he's going to try to lose 25lbs in 30 days, and get near 175lb.  I don't know how realistic this is, but I know he spent his in-shape-adult-life trying to get UP to 175 instead of DOWN to, so it's worth a try.  He's asking me to help because I like crazy stuff, and he doesn't have any other friends.  I'm pawning him off on my trainer because I don't actually KNOW anything, and giving out half asses health advice is both stupid and dangerous.

I mostly mention it because if Sky's going in to full health mode I'll probably have a constant running partner, which will do wonders for my running.


Two months of sleeping like shit, right?  Two months of every fucking morning not feeling full rested.  Blood work came back normal, so I'm on sleeping pills.  Last night I still woke up at 4am, and it still took a while to go back to sleep, but the sleep I did get felt pretty deep.  I still woke up feeling meh, but meh-with-hope.  And hope is worth its weight in spades right now.  What the fuck does that mean?  I don't know.

Oh, hey, I have a half marathon in 29 days.  Huh.

Guess I better try to run further than 3.5 miles soon.  I could always go back to half assing every race.  It served me well in the past.  Any of you locals running the 2nd Annual Beach Blast Half?  My friend Mike and I are both signed up, according to my records.  I hope he's training better than I am.

I mean, there's nothing wrong with half assing races if you enjoy it.  Not everyone needs to try hard to get what they want out of this running gig.  Anyone who says you're stupid for signing up for races and doing them for fun needs to shut the fuck up.  We're all doing this for fun or glory, but most people aren't doing it for both.  I don't know why I used so many angry curse words in this paragraph.  Hmmmmm.

Hot damn there are a lot of words in this post.  Hi.

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

That's My Normal Facial Expression

Last night was my two year wedding anniversary.  I commissioned the above work from my favorite living artist.

 The husband and I went out to a fancy pants dinner, where everything was so delicious I wiped spilled sauce off the table cloth and licked my fingers, because it was too good to waste.

Before dinner I went to the gym, where I spent most of the type yapping my maw over my shitty running and how my trainer should market himself.  I think we reached a conclusion on his marketing, at least.

He had me doing circuits with silly rope slams (slam the ropes while jumping forward and backward! shit like that), and manual treadmill pushing, and single leg roman deadlifts.

Then I had to do minute long planks, and for the first time in a while I didn't while my face off.  He thinks I'm getting better.  My secret is, he was working out his girlfriend when I first got to the gym, and her plank form was only out-shadowed by her complete overreaction to how hard it was at the end.  I did my best not to laugh, and vowed my planks would be awesome.  And they were.  Score.

At some point I'm sure the temperature will go down, and it won't be too hot to run during the day.  At some point I'm sure I'll start sleeping like a normal person again, and won't be carrying around the backpack full of bricks that is my Tired.  Until then, I'm just going to play it by ear.

Monday, August 27, 2012

Slutting It Up As A Hufflepuff

I am not a smart woman.

93F.  Too hot to walk the dog.  I will go for a run instead.


3.5 miles or so.  I'm guessing.

It sucked.  My lungs, you guys.  My poor lungs.  Who knows how long it will take me to get back where I was.  Ug. 

But, I ran.  So, there's that.

In more exciting news, I went to a Harry Potter murder mystery dinner on Saturday, and decided to slut it up, Hufflepuff style. is available you guys.  Excuse me while I become a porn mogul.

I didn't figure out whodunnit, but I did befriend our waiter and discover I enjoy beer.

Good times.

I spent the rest of the weekend sitting around with my thumb up my ass.  Running once a week is a great way to get back in shape, right?  No?  Shit.

Two runs and I still haven't found my "holy shit I love this shit" shit.  Shit.

I should probably, like, go run in my favorite trails.  That would be smart.

I am not a smart woman.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

Return of the Ass

Standing on one foot is one of the few things I'm good at.  It comes in handy when...never.

I'll be honest:  It was really nice not transcribing my bi-weekly workouts.

Today was a leg day.  I did snatches, single leg roman dead lifts, lunges, and some other random crap.

My trainer works out at a normal gym, and apparently the hip thing at his gym is doing lunges for 30 minutes.  We laughed at how ridiculous it was.  All it does is make people hurt themselves and hate their trainers.  I threatened violence if he ever pulled that shit on me.

Then we joked about it being a spin off from CrossFit.  LungeFit.  Later we'd see KipFit, SquatFit (I'd do that) and SnatchFit.

SnatchFit is just begging for a tshirt design.  Something about fisting.


I finally went to the doctor for my sleep issues.  I haven't had a satisfying night's sleep in two months.  Which is ridiculous.

I think my new doctor is a keeper.  The first thing he suggested was that I exercise.  After I laid out my exercise history he encouraged me to start running again.  He also scrolled through all the possible afflictions for "not sleeping well," reading them out loud and laughing.  He kept threatening to put "African Sleeping Sickness" in my file.

We're waiting on bloodwork to see what to do next, but in the meantime he encouraged me to do some yoga stuff in the evenings to calm my shit down before going to bed.

Enter randomly searching on youtube.

Tonight I tried this video:

I don't know how to breathe in to my arms, and I'm pretty sure the chick was Jesse Spano, but it could have been worse.


Random irrational annoyance of the day:  I really hate it when people park in front of my house.  It's a free country, and it's not like they're blocking ME parking anywhere.  We have a driveway, and plenty of parking in our neighborhood.  But it still annoys the crap out of me.  Totally irrational.


 What happens when a blogger dies?  Would someone in their life come on and post on their blog?  "Hi, I'm the friend of Cupcakes, Feces, & Badmitton.  She died."  Would the blog just stop, and no one would really know?

After people die, Facebook friends tend to post creepy "I miss you" posts on Facebook.  So I guess people who followed someone's Facebook would be able to figure it out?  And then post creepy comments "I hope you're blogging from Heaven!!!!" (since 95% of bloggers seem to believe in some form of God/Jesus/Whatever)

Which makes me want to randomly go on blogs that are slightly inactive and post creepy "I can't believe you died in a freak dildo factory explosion!" messages.  Except I'm not that much of an asshole.  Well, I am, but I'm lazy.  Feel free to steal that idea.  Or just tell people you came up with it.  I don't want glory.  I just want to increase the laughter in the world, man.  Fuck giving the world a Coke.  Can't we all just laugh more often?


Based on the comments on the last post, The Funk is pretty common.  Is this something that should be talked about more?  Is it talked about, but I never noticed, because I wasn't in one?  Do we, as bloggers, not talk about it when we're not running, because we are running bloggers?  Who the fuck knows, man.  If you're in a funk right now, I'm sorry.  Sucks balls, yo.

Good advice I received:

-Run sans clocks/run for the shit of it, not for time or distance.  Basically, take the stress out of running.  Just go out and pound some pavement without worrying about it.

-Do something else.  There are like, 47 different ways to exercise (probably more).  No one HAS to run.  Unless it's your job.  Does anyone here get paid to run?  No.  You don't have to run.  Want to stay in shape/lose weight/gain muscle/get endorphins/have an excuse to be outside in a sweaty sports bra?  Pick another sport.  Roller blading is big again in LA.  Maybe.  Hula hooping.  Weight lifting.  Whatever.  No one has to run.  If it isn't giving you what you want from it, don't do it.

-Shake up your running.  New trails.  With people.  Without people.  In a thong.  Backwards.

-Do nothing.  Take a break. 

Whatever.  I'm not a doctor or a personal trainer.  I know nothing about this shit.  If you're basing your life on my advice you have bigger problems than being in a running funk.

It's Been 22 Days Since My Last Blog Update, And I'm Not Dead

It's also been 19 days since my last run.

What the fuck happened?

I don't know.

I have some guesses.  My blog had, for weeks leading up to my disappearance, been a journal of slow decline.  I was mentally tired.  I was frustrated.  I was unmotivated.

Which is sad and funny, since I was doing really well physically.  I was hitting my 400s.  I smashed my 5k PR.  I hit a long standing goal.

And I was miserable.

What the fuck happened?

The morning of the 4th I woke up ready to kill a virtual 5k.  My legs were ready.  I was going to own that bitch so hard so would be sore for weeks.

1.2 miles in to it I quit.  I stopped the treadmill.  I stormed through the house.  I slammed doors.  I was angry at myself for stopping.  I had stopped...because I could.  That was all.  Because I could.  Still angry I threw on my Garmin.  "Fuck this, I'll do it on the street!" I thought.


Holy shit, right?

More storming around the house.  I was having a full blown fit at this point.  So mad at myself.  What the fuck was wrong with me.

Back on the treadmill.  Five minutes on the nose I slam the "stop" button.

Done.  Done with it ALL.

I quit running.  Boom.

Sometimes was wrong, and it had been wrong for weeks.  This wasn't one bad run.  My legs weren't doing so bad.  This was a mental glitch that I had been avoiding.  My conniption fit was that glitch coming to a head.

I didn't like running anymore.

So, I stopped.

Listen.  I know.  Throwing a fit over running?  Is ridiculous.  This is not my job.  This is not even a huge chunk of my life.  I felt like a goddamn toddler.  It was absolutely, totally ridiculous, how I acted.  Being upset, whatever.  Being angry, even, okay?  Storming around the house because I was mad I quit a run early?  WHO DOES THAT.

Me.  Jesus fuck.  This is what my running decline had done to me.  This is what I had done to myself.

Three days later I sheepishly entered my gym.  My trainer was going to be soooooooo mad at me, right?  I told him and he nodded.  He knew it was coming.  He was not surprised.  I had been falling apart for weeks he said.


So, the last three weeks have been filled with a whole lot of not running.  I skipped two races.  I went on a quick vacation to Northern California, where I did manual labor, swam in rivers, square danced, and drank a lot of beer.

I kept waiting for the gentle tug of the open road.  I do love running, right?  So I'll eventually come back to it?

The tug never came.

But 19 days is a long time.  I was losing my cardiogainz.

So last night I nutted up, laced up, and headed out.

And I ran 15 miles faster than my half marathon goal pace!

Just kidding.  That's stupid.

I jogged 3 miles.  I didn't hate it.  I stopped to walk and text people on my phone a lot.  Whatever. That's all the victory I need right now.

I still don't know how to go about fixing what was broken in me.  Too much pressure?  Not enough sleep?  I don't know.  I can only hope that being aware of it from the onset will help mitigate any damage.  I want to like running.  I want to run like the wind through the hills of all time.  I want to casually lace up and run 15 miles because I can.

That's part of the issue.  Do I want to run a sub-40 10k?  I mean, sure, I'd love to run all the races hella fast and be some sort of legend.  But do I REALLY want it?  I don't know.  Right now my running goals, the ones in my heart, are all stupid.  Run a half marathon faster than someone I know, to be a dick.  I decided it would be fun to run a 5k over the duration of NoFX's The Decline, but I don't think I have an 18:19 in me.  It would just be cool to run a whole race over the course of a fucking awesome song.

Anyway, I'm back-ish.  I'm sorry for worrying some of you.  I got some really sweet comments and emails while I was on my break. 

I assume some of you have dealt with this before.  So, anyone want to wallow in comisery?  I'll also take advice.  Unless it's "just go run more."  You can leave that advice at home, yo.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

No, Seriously, How Do People Come Up With Post Titles?

First, thank you everyone for sympathizing or empathizing with me yesterday. I'm still pondering how to knuckle under, but it's good to know I'm not the only lazy runner.


Yesterday's Workout With My Trainer:

Warm up stretches (inch worms, twisting lunges, roman dead lifts, bridges, scissors, planks, and chest raises)

30 seconds on the ropes, on my knees
15 (per side) split squats
15 squat to overhead rows
2 minutes on the treadmill, 4.5mph, 12.5 incline

10 banded pull ups
15 (per side) low to high wood choppers
2 minutes on the treadmill pushing the tread


This morning I was up at 6:30 (I hate my body), but I was prepared.  Before I had a chance to waffle I was in workout clothes, dragging the dog out the door.  He's been a shitty running partner lately.  I drag him the last few blocks home.  Poor guy.  After a mile with him I hopped on the treadmill and fucked around for another 3 miles.  It wasn't the worst run ever, but I swear, a 7:53 pace this morning felt harder than last week's 6:26 pace.  I hate morning running.

Don't fret.  I promptly rewarded myself with a McDonald's breakfast.  And two large cups of their sweet tea.  If I lived in the South I'd be carrying around a midget's worth of extra pounds from sweet tea alone.  That shit is delicious.  I don't usually allow myself to make it at home, the same way I have a "no home bacon" rule, because I will sit and drink a gallon over the course of a few hours.  And, sure, I work out a lot, and will burn most of it off, but it's still not GOOD for you.  Not all the time, at least.  This morning it's fucking great for me, yo.

Since it's been a while, here is a picture.

The End.