Yoga makes me fart.

In all the hustle and bustle of the holidays, dealing with a sick husband, catering to a dog that needs to be walked and a heaping pile of work that needs to be done before going on my holiday leave, there is little time for exercise. But, I made a commitment to myself that I WOULD NOT regress over the holidays and MUST continue my workout regimen. So…with the dog walked, and Eric snug as a bug on the couch with a thermometer in his mouth and packed full of medicine, I tried to sneak in a few minutes of yoga. I don’t know about any of you, but yoga makes me fart. I just can’t help it. In my transition from upward to downward facing dog, gases were flowing and it had to go somewhere. Thinking Eric’s NyQuil had kicked in and he was fast asleep (come to find out that was the dog snoring), I may have fluffed a little bit. In response, Eric yells, “Ewe do you do that in your yoga classes?” I want to state for the record, that NO, I have NEVER farted in the middle of a yoga class, BUT there have been many yogis who have and I can only bet that my time is a coming.

This made me consider my digestive normalness, so I Googled it and was blown away with the number of search results – 410,000 to be exact. And (drumroll please), me and my flatulence are normal! There is even a video, “How to Handle a Fart in Yoga Class” which is worth checking out: http://www.howcast.com/videos/459415-How-to-Handle-a-Fart-in-Yoga-Class. There are also articles that address yoga class vaginal farts (totally nasty), farting etiquette, and poses to help you let ‘em rip. I did not tackle all of the articles, but get the general drift. With all the twisting, bending and stretching, you are bound to feel a little pressure. How you react to it is what matters. In the words of my niece, Berkley, “Boys fart, girls poot.” So in full princess style, I will poot with grace and style my next yoga session and not feel bad about it.

Happy Holidays everyone! From me and Mr. Hankey.

The Sound of Music.

Although my blog is filled with my exercising mishaps or woes, I want to clarify that I actually do have workouts that are normal and relatively uneventful. However, what is the fun in talking about that.  But, waiting on a crazy workout means lapse in between my posts, so sorry again for the delay.

My legs are hurting so bad today after my workout yesterday that I have to do the trust fall just to sit down. You all know it…you blindly fall backwards and hope for the best. At least my chair at work had wheels, so I could just pedal around the office. Why am I in such pain, you ask? Pintrest.  If you are familiar with Pintrest, you understand. If not, I will let you in on a little secret – Pintrest is the holy grail of information for foodies, crafters, procrastinators and workout enthusiasts. I happen to fall under all four categories, so I am always on the search for the latest and greatest “pin.” Well, I finally met my workout match and have posted it below. It is a four part workout, with each list being a complete circuit training guide that spans the length of the average song on your iPod.  All in all, it took me about 20 minutes to do, and probably 2 days to recuperate.

The first list, accompanied by one of my favorite bands, the Black Crowes, was a breeze. I felt confident that I could finish all four. Man was I naive. The second list busted out mountain climbers, which I haven’t done since middle school, and with good reason: THEY SUCK. There was too much jiggling, but the sounds of Stroke 9 actually made it tolerable. But by the start of list three, I was sweating like a man and it was embarrassing (granted, only Posha was in the room, but still). Wave on Wave by Pat Green could not get me past the waves of nausea that hit once I started on the 50 bicycle spins. I don’t remember the song to list four, as I was just struggling to just breathe. But, I do recall being ½ way through the Russian Twists and thinking about Piroshky, the Russian bakery in Seattle. Any of my Seattleite friends want to hook me up with some next day air potato, cheddar, and onion roll? I feel like I have earned it!

Anyway, this workout was actually challenging, awesome, and I will try to “best” my time in future sessions. Try it out and let me know what you think… 

Here is the actually website (to give credit where credit is due): http://150lbsto120lbs.tumblr.com/post/16677730013/backonpointe-thin-gorgeous-music-lies-but 

Zombies, Running, Beers, Oh My!

The Zombie Run was a blast - over 1,200 runners came out to support the local firefighter charity and battle over 100 zombies!!! I finished the race, but lost my flags a little over 3/4 of the way through. There is no amount of training that can prepare you for the adrenaline rush you get - it is like 3rd grade recess and dodge-ball all over again. There were four friends that dared to do the race with me, and as soon as we crossed the start line, I lost sight of them all. It was a mad house that began with an uphill sprint. People were scrambling everywhere! After about 300 yards at a top speed sprint and just past the first set of zombies, I realized that I had not trained nearly or properly enough and was clutching my side and begging for a time out. The second set of zombies was a breeze and dad would have been proud of my razzle dazzle, give 'em the old okey doke, zig and zag running back style moves. That feeling didn't last long...the third set of zombies was a doozie. As I was hurdling over a set of hay bales, a zombie bride appeared out of nowhere, and in slow motion just like in the movies, I watched her snatch my first flag. What a huzzie. I was a bit disappointed, but still had one flag left. About that same time, I come across a guy spewing his guts right in the middle of the course. I am guessing his fat crap and desire to continue morphed into overexertion.  I applauded his spirit, but had to keep going...there were zombies behind us!

I can't lie: I sorta cheated. One of the race coordinators gave me an extra flag and I was back in the game with two! About 3/4 of the way through, we head over a hill and there are about 30 zombies blocking the alley. The zombies must have read my mind telling them to "Just let me get through this one section, please!" because I made it through unscathed. However, as we enter the next zombie zone, I feel a hand grab a hold of my [slimming] muffin top, yanking my flag. I yelled at her a bit, because no one likes being groped, but the race had to continue. There was about 1/4 of a mile left and I was feeling good, thinking I may get one of the brain prizes for finishing with a flag. As soon as those thoughts crossed my mind, the door opens to a port-a-potty and a little seven year old kid in full zombie garb reaches out and gingerly grabs my last flag. Sneaky damn kid. Lynn, a friend that stuck the race out with me (the three others were already enjoying their free beer at this point), and I were both out of flags and made a plan to run linebacker intervention for those few in our pack with flags remaining. Out of the whole race, that part may have been the most fun. The Greensboro Roller Derby girls were the last set of zombies, all on roller skates. I do want to point out that everyone knows that real zombies cannot roller skate and this was a serious faux pas for any serious zombie virtuoso.  Regardless of this slight plot error, those were some hard core ladies (hopefully I will be ready to try out in the spring), but we got our new friends across the finish line intact. 

Overall, it was AWESOME and I am so glad that I ventured out of my comfort zone to participate. Eric has committed to doing it with me next year, so we have a whole year to get into super zombie slayer shape. They caught us in the act so pictures are soon to follow! 

Slow but steady.

Call it bad judgment, a glutton for punishment or just plain stupidity. Whatever it is, I have a case of it. I let my co-worker, April Cox, talk me into doing some insane workout in our work conference room that that she found on Pintrest. Most of the workout was fine – although I did the happy dance while she tackled the 240 jumping jacks solo.

Once home, I decided that wasn't enough and popped in my Julian Michael’s Ripped in 30 Days workout. After five months of the Week 1 workout, I graduated myself to the second level (week 2). My opinion of her has not changed – she is possessed by a little devil that feeds off the sweat, pain and suffering of others.  I am now sitting on the couch drenched in sweat, heating pad to my back, and packages of frozen peas on my knees. Tomorrow is going to be fun…

All joking aside, the summer has come to an end and the signs of fall are all around us. My favorite season! Back in January, I wrote a set of goals that I hoped to achieve by the end of fall. How did I fair? Let’s see:

1)     Not go to exercise extremes unless being chased by the police or competing for a chance to meet Gerard Butler. I will do this by striving for 30 minutes of exercise five days a week – Nailed it! 

2)     Add more no/or minimally processed foods to my diet. You guessed it, Cheetos and Peeps are out – this one is a bit more difficult. I have not consumed any Cheetos or Peeps, but I still possess a strong love for Jalapeno Poppers and York Peppermint Patties. What can I say? I try! 

3)     Participate in a Sprint Triathlon in the spring –this is in the works and I have started training! Iron Girl here I come. I am also running from the Zombies in a few weeks. 

4)     Wear a red bikini by the pool this summer while at the same time not scaring away the little kids or looking like the Michelin Man – I was a bit off the mark on this one. Given what people wear to Walmart and out on the beach, I would have fit well within the norm, but not up to my bikini ready standards. There is always next year! 

5)     Do it all without breaking my budget or joining the local meat market. Oops, I meant gym – Totally screwed the pooch on this one. Eric got a GREAT deal on a family membership at the Rush and I love it! I just don’t work out during “look at me I am sexy and working out” hour.

I have lost 13 pounds since January, which is a bit slower than expected. But in the end, the tortoise always wins. 

Super Fun Weekend = Super Bad Workout

Yesterday, when my Facebook status read, “My super fun weekend made for a super bad workout,” I was not exaggerating. I learned my lesson…

My weekend was very indulgent – drinks at Natty Greene’s while cheering on Brenn as she completed the 10K Beer Run, street food from the Spring Garden Food Truck Festival, then cake from Maxi Bee’s. Yeah, I know. My inner fat kid came out.  To combat this, I had a tougher than normal workout planned, designed to whip myself back into the groove of things. I started off with a run on the treadmill. I was zoned in, jamming to the String Cheese Incident on my iPod, oblivious to everyone around me. But the world began to gradually seep back in, and I smelled him before I saw him - a deadly mix patchouli and Fritos.  The smell got stronger and as it wafted towards me, waves of nausea began hitting me like a ton of bricks and I tried to make as discrete an exit as possible. As I was sprinting away from the line of treadmills, I caught a glimpse of the Geico Caveman in his tank top and running shorts. Notice to overly hairy men: If the hair on your back is thicker and curlier than that on your head, do not, I repeat, do not, wear tank tops to the gym. It is repulsive and the unequivocal opposite of sexy.

A few minutes later, I regained my composure and thankfully had the pool to myself, all alone in my safe space. There is something so peaceful and calming about being in the pool alone. It makes me want to do hand stands and flips down all the lanes. I restrained myself, however, and settled in for a good 20-30 minutes of lap swimming. As I am rounding lap 15, I notice someone getting in the water at the other end of the pool. Guess who? Mr. Chewbacca himself. I try to not let it distract me, but the thought of all that hair next to me was utterly revolting. I quicken my pace, hoping to get through 20 laps without puking in the water or having a total meltdown on anyone. The pace is too fast and I get the fat crap, but keep hammering on. I look to my right to catch my breath and this guy is violating the cardinal rule of lap swimming. Actually, he broke two swimming rules: 1) Never talk to someone while they are swimming laps. It is a total choking hazard; 2) NEVER, on any occasion, under no circumstances, should you ever stare (not just glace, STARE) at the swimmer beside you underwater. It is creepy, Buffalo Bill from the Silence of the Lambs creepy. I felt violated and must have given off the disgusted vibe, because he then tells me that he was only staring at me to see the brand of goggles I was wearing. Ugh. It was so bad the old ladies in the hot tub started laughing. Embarrassing.

Maybe I subconsciously exaggerated the horribleness of my work out because I was still suffering from the Irish Flu or trying to cope with the excessive amounts of calories making a mass exodus out of my body, but I did learn some valuable lessons. The top few being I am not as young as I used to be, my body will not tolerate being fed crap anymore (I don’t think I will eat Fritos for a looooooong time) and that I have a strong distrust and abhorrence for overly hairy males. Good thing I married a man who shaves his head.

Forecast: Overworked Body with a Side of Muscle Spasms

OMG (that is oh my goodness for all you old folks), today’s workout was a doozie! Mother Nature in all her glory rained down buckets last night and most of today, canceling my mountain bike ride with Ms. Megan McClure. By the time I got home from work, changed and headed over to the gym, the spinning cycle class (my intended back-up) had already started. I needed the motivation of a group, so I decided to enter the 60 minute barbell class. This is where it all started to go south…

Class was scheduled to star at 6:35 and I got there at 6:30, meaning I was late, as I had to get all the equipment together and march my tail all the way to the front of the class because the back and sides were already taken. I HATE being in the front, as I sometimes have a rhythm problem and I knew I would get quite a few “bless her hearts” thrown my way. For y’all reading this blog that do not live in the south, that term is never good - they may as well have said, “She looks as stupid as a one legged cat in a sandbox.” But, I was determined to give it a try. I bribed the lady next to me with a trip to the juice bar after the workout if she would help me coordinate all my weights, bars, mats and other miscellaneous equipment.  I didn’t really think she would take me up on the offer, but she did. Thank you, Jesus!

When I say barbell, I don’t mean the little pink and green free weights you use in aerobics, oooooooohhhhhh no. I am talking the dead lift and clean and jerk type of bar. FOR 60 MINUTES!! I was pouring sweat 10 minutes in and we had only finished the warm-up. I thought Julian Michaels was a bitch and a half. This instructor could match her toe to toe and probably gouge Julian’s eyes out without batting an eyelash and still wearing a big friendly smile. There should be a warning posted for the classes:

WARNING: When you leave, none of your body parts will like you anymore. And, don’t expect to look respectable or polished after completing this workout. You will look like you were hit by a Mack truck.

I will not get into the details about how many bicep or tricep curls, dead lifts, squats, clean and jerks, bench press, chest flies, or abs exercises (AB EXERCISES WITH WEIGHTS I MIGHT ADD) that I struggled through, but to give you an idea of the impact, on my way out the door, I had to stop twice. Once because my upper abs muscles were cramping and another because my right knee buckled under me. It looked like I was having my own church service in the middle of the gym. I even cut myself during the workout somehow, so I had blood dripping down my leg…

Even now two hours after the workout, I am looking at my dinner and contemplating sticking my head near the plate and licking my food off, rather than attempt to use any muscles to raise a fork to my mouth. Regardless of the pain, I am proud to say that I have a feeling I am soon to become one of the class regulars – having the opportunity in the future to make fun of newbies like myself as they stroll into the class, oblivious of what is soon to come.

The Forbidden Donut

Manly Hall once wrote, “It is only a step from boredom to disillusionment, which leads naturally to self-pity, which in turn ends in chaos.” If only I had read this passage prior to last Friday night, I could have avoided the sheer disaster and gloom that was soon to follow.

Eric and both worked late, which equates to a quiet night at home consisting primarily of dinner, Internet, television and dog snuggles. Within a few short hours, we were getting antsy and bored, and thinking out loud to myself, I mentioned that “a Krispy Kreme donut sure would be nice.” Total disillusionment brought on by boredom. You already see where this train wreck is heading, don’t you? So, we pack into the truck, Eric, Pasha and myself, and we set out to get a (one, un, singular, uno) donut each. And then, BAM!, we are leaving the drive-thru with a full dozen – glazed, cream filled, seasonal flavors, old fashioned – you name it, we had it. That night, regretfully, I had a donut. Okay, so I had two. As soon as I had licked the last sugary morsel of lemon custard cake off of my right thumb, the self-pity set in, big time.

The next morning, I walked in the kitchen and the smell of donuts and coffee enticed me and soon I was dining on a donut and mug of steaming coffee, which I rationalized as “okay,” since I was going out for a run shortly after. About ¼ of a mile into the run, my side is hurting and my stomach is making sounds so loud that even Pasha knows something is wrong. The pain was worse than the fat crap, which is pretty excruciating in itself. About 5 minutes later, right after passing a group of hot, shirtless runners, my body couldn't take it anymore and I vomited. Not once, but twice. And it was not pretty. Pasha didn’t know what to do, so she just sat pitifully in the middle of the trail. Who could blame her? She was probably embarrassed, hoping none of her dog friends would come by seeing me hunched over and all shades of green. My body rejected the Krispy Kreme donuts with a vengeance. This is where the chaos came in, if you didn’t already notice. I continued on, pasty-faced and queasy, but determined to finish my run. I didn't sell my soul to the devil for the donut as Homer Simpson did, but it sure as hell fell like it.

It has been almost a week since I have had sweets of any kind. I have made a promise to myself to remain out of the processed food inferno for as long as possible, eating only the foods my body loves and was designed to consume – fruits, vegetables, legumes, and protein. I know that it is unrealistic to never eat sweets again, but for now, I know that every fiber of my being is still reeling from that donut disaster and it will be a very long time until I am fully recouped and ready for another chocolate glazed monstrosity.

Scatterbrain

Today was one of those dreary days where exercising outside could either be great or go horribly wrong. I am not keen on being caught in the middle of a thunderstorm, so I went with the only other option: the gym. Ugh. Don’t get me wrong – I know that many people love and enjoy the gym, but for me it is comparable to watching paint peel. My opinion would probably be different if I had thousands of dollars to pay a physical trainer to kick my ass all over the gym, but this is the “Transformation of a Broke, Chubby Chick” blog, not the “Maintaining a 5% Body Fat Frame of a Rich, Making It Rain Money and Trainers Chick” blog. No matter how many times I close my eyes and wish it to be true, the former prevails.

Anyway, I digress...back to the treadmill. My mind constantly wanders and roams away from the target at hand (fitness), and I can never seem to keep focus. So, I decided to make this experience into a blog post by 1) staying on the treadmill as long as I could do so while still maintaining my sanity and 2) recording my most random thoughts when my mind veered off course. In my just over five mile walk/jog, my thoughts spanned the spectrum of normal to crazy. Here is a small insight into my "brain on treadmill", in the order they were received…

1)      I wonder where Mark-Paul Gosselaar learned how to shot-gun a beer. Was it on the set of Saved by the Bell?

2)      Janis Joplin is such a badass. Wonder what she would think about music today. She would probably cry.

3)      If I was wearing pantyhose right now, they would probably catch on fire.

4)      I would sooooooo rather be at the beach right now.

5)      Don’t choke on the Clif Shocks, no one will save you.

6)      Oh crap. I am singing out loud! Haha. I hope everyone in here like my rendition of Weezer’s “Undone.”

7)      Can you bruise a bruise? I think that it is happening now.

8)      Holy crap, I am starving.

9)      Can you get electrocuted from sweating too much wearing your ear buds? I should look that up.

10)   Why did I hit “cool down” instead of “incline?” Damn you chubby, subconscious mind.

11)   I bet I would be good at roller derby.

12)   I got this! [Two seconds later] This hurts really badly.

13)   Eric is going to want to go watch the hockey game. What excuse can I give him?

14)   Is that a spider on the wall? As long as it is in my line of sight, I am good.

15)   Wonder if Eric will come pick me up? The walk to the apartment is going to suck (200 yards).

I can’t wait to exercise outside tomorrow. My brain can’t wait either...

"Prescribed" holistic health

I can feel all of scowls and scolds for not blogging in an extremely long time. I KNOW – you don’t have to say it. Some of you even went the extra mile to call and urge me to write a post (you know who you are). Your encouragement has not been entirely in vein. I have lost four pounds! I am going to weigh in again on Wednesday, so I will have to do a “mini” post update.

At first, I was focused on counting calories, eating anything as long as my daily total fell around 1,500. You get creative – fat free, low fat, diet soda, Splenda, sugar free Jell-O, and the list goes on. You begin to look at food not for the nutritional value, but for the calories. For example, five Hershey Kisses have the same amount of calories as an apple. Needless to say, I was hitting my calories, but feeling like crap. I take that back. Not crap, like being hit by a Mack truck. This feeling continued through the day, coupled with sluggishness, mid-afternoon fatigue, difficulty concentrating and trouble getting to sleep. All because of the processed crap I was eating!!! So, over the past month, my main focus has been to eat according to nutritional value, striving to meet my daily intake requirements and eat real food in as natural a state as possible. It is hard! But the change in how I feel has been AMAZING!

Today, however, was a low point. Because of all the intense exercise, work duties, constant go-go-go, and Mother’s Day stress (yes, family is stressful), I woke up with a tweaked back. Have you notice how mean and on edge pain can make you? I know Pasha was silently calling me the b-word and willing me to go to work, or anywhere outside of “her” house. At one point, she went into the guest bedroom and buried herself under the laundry waiting for the laundry fairy to come by and fold it. If you have seen that damn fairy, please send her my way. Anyway, after receiving a wonderful therapeutic massage (at that point I didn’t care about the cost – Eric will see it sooner or later on the bank statement), the masseuse essentially told me that I was the victim of a non-stop hustle and bustle culture that has lost focus on personal physical and mental health. Really? I could have saved some money by sitting in the vibrating chair at the mall, people watching and easily come to the same conclusion. Oh, what you see at the mall…

But in all honesty, she is right. We are often so caught up in our “lives” that we forget to take care of ourselves. It is sad that in order to be reminded to take better care of myself, I had to be “prescribed” a morning, lunch, and afternoon break away from my computer, 30 minutes of listening to a meditation/relaxation CD, stretches and daily salt and ginger baths.

So as I continue in my quest to eat right and be healthy without pills, starving myself, adhering to some crazy diet or denying myself ALL of the yummy things I like, I also commit to focusing on my mental and spiritual wellbeing - as it directly impacts my physical health. Off to listen to my relaxation tape. Namaste.

Frugality, Beans, and Yoga

I apologize for the delay in my post – life has been a bit crazy the past few weeks. Have you ever heard the saying, “If you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans?” Well, God got a good laugh at our expense. Eric and I had plans to venture out into the housing market and look for our potential “first home” after Christmas. But (the dreaded “but”), like many families of late, we have found ourselves with a reduction in income. How easily I forget what it was like to be broke and am reminded everyday how much I took the little luxuries for granted – a random coffee and pastry, date night and a movie, new bike gear for no reason other than it is just cool.  Holy crap, when did it start costing a couple $40.00 for movie and popcorn? The Grey was a really good movie, by the way. A little gory, but what can you expect from a movie about plane crash survivors being hunted down by a pack of wolves? At least at home I can wear my pajamas, prop my feet up on the seats, and not hear loud sucking noises coming from the back of the theatre.

This new dilemma has forced me to be more creative with my workouts. No more $14.00 yoga classes. I will just have to Downward Dog and Child’s pose it out in the living room, working through Pasha constantly licking my face and disrupting my flow because I tripped on her ball and she thinks it is time to play. Megan, maybe if I turned the heat in the apartment at full blast that could be a substitute for hot yoga? I am REALLY grateful that for Christmas, Eric spoiled me by buying me a new pair of Nikes and an i-Pod Nike+ fitness tracker.   This has been my saving grace, and I can track my progress online. So far, I have walked/ran the distance of Manhattan twice and am now headed towards the Bronx Zoo. What? At least if we can’t afford a trip to New York, I can splurge on a running app that gives me a tour of the U.S.’s largest cities. And, NO, I did not stop for a martini along the way...

Finally, many of you have asked for recipes or even mentioned sharing recipes on this blog (Sara, we need your veggie lasagna recipe you texted me about a few weeks ago). What are your most favorite, go-to-in-a-jam, budget friendly recipes? I want to know!

Until next time, stay frugal, eat your beans and stay beautiful.

In the end, it is just a number.

The past few days have been a struggle. It was not a struggle with eating healthy or exercising – I am rocking in both of those aspects. My challenge the past week was with the dreaded scale. Every time I would go into the bathroom, the damn thing would beckon me over to it. It is like in The Lord of the Rings, when the ring’s power has memorized Gollum and his desire for its power has overtaken his ability for rational thought. Well, maybe not to that extreme, but you catch my drift. I totally caved and was filled with an onslaught of emotions: elation (because I had lost 5 pounds), relief (that I could report to you positive change and not look like a total idiot), but also disappointment.  I believe myself to be a strong, confident woman, but at times I find even myself caught up in our society’s thin-ideal standard of female beauty. The airbrushed, anorexic, even a model isn’t good enough, constant extortion of women in movies, magazines, songs, television and advertisements “female beauty.”  This reminds me of a video that the Dove Campaign for Real Beauty posted, outlining the creation and production of a billboard ad. If you haven’t seen it, check it out at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=omBfg3UwkYM . Did you notice that the pre-advertisement is for food or beauty products? lol. The video will leave you speechless.

Several years ago, Harvard University conducted a study of over 3,000 women and when asked if they consider themselves beautiful, only 2% said yes. More women are struggling with eating disorders than are struggling with cancer. Let me repeat: More women are struggling with eating disorders than are struggling with cancer. What breaks my heart the most in not my inner struggle or perception of myself, because I DO understand the dynamics at work. It is for those who, for whatever reason, do not have the ability, confidence or knowledge to break this destructive cycle of thinking. Almost half of 9-11 year olds are on some type of diet. Most fashion models are thinner than 98% of American women. One in four women uses unhealthy methods of weight control (fasting, skipping meals, excessive exercise, laxative abuse and/or self-induced vomiting. THIS IS NOT SEXY! And why are we okay with it?

Okay, I am off my soapbox (for now). My battle with the scale turned into a rant, so thank you for being patient. At this point, I cannot bring myself to throw out the scale completely (maybe I will just have Eric hide it), but I do need to continue to change and reinforce what I think about it. It is a simple tool, not the end-all-be-all to good health. Are you part of the 2% satisfied with your body? I am trying. If not, rethink your ideal of beauty and what has shaped it.

Resolutions, Smezolutions.

It is said that what you do on New Year’s Day is a precursor of the year to come.  If this is true, thank you 8 pound 6 ounce baby Jesus that I did not spend all day suffering from a hangover. My typical (however 100% guaranteed) hangover relief of sweet tea, Chickfila and channel surfing just wasn’t going to cut it. This year, Eric and I traded our movie marathon for an exercise marathon that would challenge even the most compulsive exercise addicts. It started off with a run on Thursday, “Ripped in 30 Days” video with Julian on Friday (sorry to subject you to that workout, Amber), yoga on Saturday, a grueling three mile hike up Hanging Rock on Sunday and finally a four mile dog walk/drag on Monday. Pasha is still snubbing me.  At this rate, I would be as thin as a bean stalk in no time! Note, the use of the word “would.” I totally crashed on Tuesday – my body was utterly exhausted from a combination of strenuous activity, holiday madness and a mysterious bacterial infection (don’t ask).  I didn’t totally slip, still focusing on eating healthy and making smart choices, but from the comfort of the couch.

I received several emails and questions asking me if this blog is part of my New Year’s resolution. To that I say, no. Why? Well…because I am not making ANY resolutions. I could soooo easily play the part and give my typical “This year, I want to lose 25 pounds, eat better and save $30 a month by cooking at home.” But being totally honest with myself, after a few weeks, those general statements are always out the window and I am back to old trusty habits. Think about it. How many of your resolutions have you actually kept? That is what I thought. Instead, I am committing myself to a few specific challenges this year. I will:

1. Not go to exercise extremes unless being chased by the police or competing for a chance to meet Gerard Butler. I will do this by striving for 30 minutes of exercise five days a week.
2. Add more no/or minimally processed foods to my diet. You guessed it, Cheetos and Peeps are out.
3. Participate in a Sprint Triathlon in the spring. No really, I am doing this. Any takers?
4. Wear a red bikini by the pool this summer while at the same time not scaring away the little kids or looking like the Michelin Man.
5. Do it all without breaking my budget or joining the local meat market. Oops, I meant gym.

If you are one of the few actually taking time out of your busy schedule to read this, THANK YOU for your support. I was truly overwhelmed by the responses I received after posting this blog. I know it is uber corny, but in the words of the Beatles, “I will get by with a little help from my friends.”