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Last week, at nine weeks postpartum, I squeezed myself back into my spandex yoga pants, stuffed my sports bra with cotton breast pads, and made my way back to the gym. After over two months of absolutely zero physical activity and eating nothing but casserole after casserole, I was more than ready to get my butt kicked back into shape.
I trepidatiously started out with a kickboxing class, assuming I would keel over at least ten times in the middle of the jabs and hooks and HI-YA’s!, but to my surprise I only wanted to collapse once or twice, a fraction of what I had originally expected.
A couple days later I attempted a 45 minute spinning class, however when I looked down at my watch and saw that 43 minutes had already passed and we were still out of the saddle and climbing what I could only imagine to be a Mt. Everest-sized hill instead of cooling down, I quickly figured out that I was actually in the middle of a 60 minute class. Do you know how disappointing it is to realize that instead of only having two more minutes left to sweat, you actually have seventeen more minutes? I instantly decided I deserved an extra Kit Kat for all of my unexpected hard work.
Today I’m going to tackle a kettlebell class, and I am quite certain that I might just die. Whoever decided that throwing around heavy iron balls was a good idea must really enjoy The Torture, and probably also does things like eat live frogs for breakfast and pluck out leg hairs one by one for Friday night entertainment.
But hey, if throwing around kettlebells gets me back into my David Kahn jeans, then I’ll do what I have to do.
Goodbye forever.
It was a really interesting coincidence when both of these items fell into my lap last weekend:
and…
What’s funny is that anyone who has known me for more than three minutes is aware that I’m really not a runner at all. I don’t like running, I don’t think it’s fun, and I suck at it. It’s pretty much a major fluke that a couple of years ago I was able to train for and finish a half marathon without keeling over and dying. But I have proof that it actually happened! Well, not of the actual race…but that I really did run before:
And, okay, this isn’t actually a picture of me RUNNING, per se, but I swear, this was right after a really long, excruciating training run.
So now that I haven’t really been able to do any sort of physical activity for a couple of months, I’m desperate to do anything to get back into shape and get some endorphins swirling around my body. Including running. So I decided that I’d buy myself a new pair of shoes that could sit in my closet and wait for whenever I get the go-ahead from my doctor (post-Avalon, of course) to start working out again. Then some of our close family friends had a baby shower for us last weekend and all pitched in to get us the sweet Jeep baby jogger!
I can honestly say, without a doubt, I have never been more excited about running in my life. And I really, REALLY mean that.
Last Saturday Rob completed his first half Ironman, the Steelhead 70.3 Ironman. It was only the second triathlon he had ever done, his first being last summer’s sprint triathlon.
The first leg of the race was the swim in Lake Michigan. The athletes swam 1.2 miles along the shore, and Rob made it in only 34 minutes. Here he is in his fancy new wet suit, which helps him stay buoyant and warm in the water. If I wasn’t so kind and sensitive to his feelings, I would love to post a video of him putting it on. LORDY, is that a good show. He makes fun of me when I put on leggings or tights for doing several deep squats and knee raises to get them on, but watching him putting on a wetsuit totally trumps me in the tights. It’s a full-body workout, leaving him with sweat on his brow when he’s finally in it. Then I call him Scuba Steve.
After getting out of the water he transitioned into the bike portion of the race, and cycled a total of 56 miles in just under three hours.
Finally, he got off the bike (still smiling, no less… whaaaaat?) and all he had to do to complete the race was run 13.1 miles, which he finished in 2:07. I’m trying not to be offended that he beat my (one and only) half marathon time by a minute after already exerting himself for four hours.
Overall, he finished the race in 5:52:40. His goal was to finish in six hours, so he did it! I was so proud of him, and gave him lots of TLC the next day. Funny enough, when he got out of bed the following morning all he complained about was his neck hurting. Not his quads, not his feet…HIS NECK.
This sounded like a pretty good plan to me, so my postpartum goal is to have only a sore neck, too.
A couple of weeks ago My Bff Mo and my sister, Courtney, gave me another baby shower. It was fun, with all of my close friends, and had a little bit of a bird theme going on. (Important to note for the record: none of us are really theme-y people, but this was pulled off really nicely without being too over-the-top, grody theme-y. Thank you and good bye.) One of the cute things they did was cut silhouettes of birds out of really cool, patterned paper then hung them all around. Once the shower was over they decided to keep the paper birds for me in case I had a light bulb moment and thought of something interesting to do with them.
Unfortunately, I don’t have many of those so-called light bulb moments and am not typically very creative. However, Courtney sort of led me to think about mounting the birds on white paper then framing them and hanging them in the nursery. While doing some shopping on Sunday I found some picture frames that were 40% off, and not being able to deny myself of a good deal I bought four of them thinking I would try the bird-framing idea.
Again, not necessarily a fan of birds, per se, and without doing a major bird theme in the nursery, I think I really like how the whole thing turned out.
Not only do I really dig the patterns and colors that are going on, but what’s better than an art project that takes less than fifteen minutes?
Nothing, that’s what.
Every once in awhile I’ll get the itch to create something. To let my creative juices flow; to turn something ho-hum into something funky; to really let my hair down and go wild and crazy and make up for being such a goody-goody in high school.
I totally know how to let loose.
My most recent project was this beverage bucket. I got it as a wedding gift, and loved the raw look of the galvanized metal. However, I finally decided that it needed some color and a little livening up.
Remember the last time I did this? When I painted the trash can? I used the same kind of paint and basic technique as I did for that project, however, I think I enjoyed painting this beverage bucket a lot more than the trash can, simply because of the time factor.
See, my patience tank is typically on “E”, and when it comes to a project such as this I want to start it and be done in approximately three minutes or less. As a result, it took me a total of four weeks to finish this project because I could only concentrate for a few minutes at a time before I got bored and wanted to give up and check my Google Reader for the eight-hundredth time that day. But the good news is that if you are a normal person and don’t possess All The Crazy like I do, it should only take you a couple of hours to complete. Which, really, is much more manageable than four weeks. I really need to learn.
A couple of weeks ago, around the time I was wrapping up my first trimester, I finally began to feel well enough to emerge from my pregnancy slump and participate in activities that didn’t include my couch, sitting on my couch, or laying on my couch. It was refreshing to break away from The Lazy and get on with my life, so I left the permanent outline of my body on the couch and never looked back.
(Except I feel I should disclose that ‘getting on with my life’ excludes any and all Monday [The Bachelor] and Tuesday [Biggest Loser] evenings, because at those times my life comes to a complete halt so that I can glue my eyeballs to the tv screen and absorb every single, sappy, ounce of reality television.)
(It’s just something I have to do, and is as vital to my existence as Dove chocolate Promises.)
(You know, just one of those things.)
So yesterday, in an effort to really get back to my normal self, I decided to go to the gym and get back into kickboxing. I went anxiously into the class with the assumption that I might pass out from not exercising for at least two straight months and being horribly out of shape. Luckily and to my surprise, however, my lungs held out on me throughout all the jabs and kicks more than I thought they would, and I successfully made it through the class without keeling over and seeing stars. At the end of class it felt so good to walk out the door with shaky, sore legs and bulging biceps limp arms, and my racing endorphins completely made up for all the muscle soreness I’m feeling today. AND MY THIGHS, THEY’RE SORE.
I’m going to continue working out as much as I feel is right, and for as long as my doctor says is okay. Hopefully this will end up being a couple times a week, although I’m not making any promises and won’t push myself too hard because, duh, I only have an excuse not to push myself too hard for another six months or so. And I’m going to milk it for all it’s worth.
Rob and I have a chair in our living room that should be nicknamed The Black Hole. It’s a chair that sucks you in and doesn’t let you get away. Once you go in, you can never get out.
In my case, it has a tendency to suck me in when I get home from work in the evenings, particularly on the nights when Rob has class and I am home alone with Oliver. As soon as I walk in the door and change into my comfy clothes, the chair’s arms reach around me, pull me down, and won’t let go for practically an eternity. AND THAT CHAIR, IT FORCES ME TO WATCH THE FOOD NETWORK FOR HOURS ON END, OH HOW EVER SHALL I COPE?
Yes, I do love that chair and the laziness that it forces upon me. However, a problem soon arose after I began this daily Happy Hour ritual; my typical evenings spent in the gym were soon long gone and my love handles quickly reappeared back on the scene. And the guilt! Oh, the guilt I felt at exactly 5:45 each night for not being propped up on a stationary bike, sweating and pedaling my way through Timbaland’s “Elevator” in spinning class.
I was a heathen. A heathen with rapidly-growing love handles. But I just couldn’t manage to get myself to the gym after being gone all day at work. The hardest part was having to leave my poor baby puppy at home for an additional two hours. It just didn’t happen.
Luckily, right around this time a trainer we knew opened up a Kettlebell Gym right near our house. Rob and I decided to sign up for two kettlebell classes a week, both at 5:30 in the morning so that we could have our evenings free at home. As we got into this new workout routine, I liked it so much and saw such great results that I didn’t feel the need to do any additional workouts. And you know what meant – MORE TIME IN THE CHAIR, THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKIN’ ABOUT!
I have found kettlebell training to be the most effective and best form of exercise I have ever experienced. I am addicted! After years of working out, this workout has gotten me stronger than I have ever been, and it only takes a couple of hours a week. Best of all, I don’t need to diet and you would not believe the happiness that this brings me, because Internet, I LOVE ME SOME CHIPS AND SALSA.
So if you’re in the predicament that I was in – not being able to commit to the time in the gym that I thought I needed – try doing a kettlebell workout. I’m telling you, it works and takes only a minimal weekly time commitment. Just be careful and work with a trainer; don’t go trying to throw a kettlebell over your head without knowing what you’re doing. Those mothers are heavy.
This post was a part of Works for me Wednesday.
When I started kettlebell training last March, my instructor made it very clear how important nutrition was to this type of workout (or, really, to any kind of workout). She gave us advice as to what to eat, and what not to eat, but the point that she emphasized the most was WATER.
Apparently, like 99.99% of Americans don’t drink enough water. I know I am definitely one of them, as sometimes the only water I drink in an entire day is the bottle that I drink while exercising and the few drops I guzzle down while brushing my teeth.
Of course, there’s coffee too…but with Tiramisu-flavored cream in it (SO GOOD) I’m thinking that doesn’t really count.
So while she was drilling this point deep into our skulls, I decided that I would try it. After I googled what exactly all of the benefits were from drinking so much water, I saw it might be worth it and began filling up my water bottle at least eight times a day.
And honestly, it was a huge inconvenience.
It seemed like a chore, trying to drink so much. And of course, there’s the bathroom issue; I was going about once an hour.
However, I really did see great benefits. My workouts were better, my skin was fresh and clear, I felt lighter when I thought I would feel bloated…on and on. I even read that you will actually lose pounds just by drinking the daily recommended amount of water, but since I don’t weigh myself I couldn’t tell you if that actually happened or not.
My point in all of this is to say that I need to do this again. After those two weeks I started falling off the bandwagon and drinking Coke Zeros in place of water (and believe me, I am a CHAMP and drinking those). So now I am going to get back with the program and drink only water.
Well, maybe one Coke Zero a day.
But that would be an improvement in and of itself, and I am all about having a little give-and-take in my life.
I will be the first to admit that as of late I have let myself slack a bit in the nutrition and fitness categories. I could blame it on many things; the nice weather keeping me out of the gym, the awesome ice cream place two seconds away from our house, wanting to put on a couple pounds to fill out my clothes better, etc.
(Yeah, KIDDING about that last one, unfortunately. But wouldn’t that be so wonderful to be one of those people? What I wouldn’t give…)
Anyway, I will be receiving my new swimsuits at my front door any day now, and don’t want to give myself too horrible of a complex when I try them on. Plus, we’re going to Florida in a month, so seven days of traipsing around in only a couple square inches of spandex fabric produces particular motivation for this girl.
To say the least, I’m getting back on the horse. I have been off for too long and old Nelly is way, long gone.
The problem is that when it comes right down to it, I am an all-or-nothing kind of person. Not those major extremists that go on Oprah because they say if they can’t keep their house perfectly clean 100% of the time then they are going to give up completely and never do so much as flush a toilet, wash a dish, or empty out the cat’s litter box but instead allow the cat poop to pile up two feet high in the Powder Room. (Wow, did anyone see this episode a couple of years ago? I actually puked in my mouth when I saw it.)
I’m more of a moderate all-or-nothing. Which is a total oxymoron, but I think you get what I am saying, don’t you? I’m either all in, working out every single day, or I’m totally out of the grind and end up avoiding the gym for two months straight. It’s ridiculous and makes no sense at all.
However, today, as I have mentioned before, I start Kettlebell training again. Along with that I am watching my diet better, and am using the Daily Plate as a guide.
It calculates the number of calories you should eat in a day, and adjusts that number if you workout that day (allowing you to eat more). It’s a real eye-opener to see how all the calories add up, which makes me dislike math even more than I already do.
I don’t really have a set goal in my mind for all of this, other than to generally feel better about life and quit feeling guilty about that extra spoonful of butter pecan ice cream.
Because it is my downfall. AND DOWNFALL, BE GONE.
Last weekend was our city’s annual race, the Sunburst. They have several events; a 5k, 10k, half marathon, and full marathon (which is a Boston qualifier). A lot of people like to run, apparently, because they had a huge turnout.
I, however, am not one of those people. Me and running do not get along.
Have I ever mentioned that before?
I have mastered the art of spectating, though. Which is exactly what I did on Saturday, while my sister, mom, dad, hub, and our best man Carlos ran.
Mom and Maddie ran the 10k, Rob and Dad ran the half marathon, and Los ran the full marathon. They all did a great job, and made it to the finish while still breathing (and smiling, nonetheless), which is way more than I would be able to handle.
This is Rob and Carlos.
Los did an especially amazing job that day. His goal was to run the Sunburst marathon and qualify for the Boston marathon. This meant that he had to complete the race in under 3 hours and 10 minutes. Which equates to running 7:15 minute miles. For 26.2 miles.
Are you having a heart attack just thinking about it? I am.
Anyway, he ended up finishing in 3:08! HOW PERFECT?! We were all ecstatic for him, and plan on following him to Boston in April. Because we are his groupies.
And finally, this is Corby, mom’s puppy. He was a spectator, too.
Nice job, everybody!
