goals schmoals

Plump to Pump
Blog #8 for No Quit Fit Outdoor Bootcamp

12/27/13

I've been busy figuring out all the aspects of my Hardcore Hottie training plan. I have to learn all the exercises, how to use the machines at the gym, proper form, how to add more protein to my daily consumption without eating more meat, how to count my macros, and more. I'm feeling good about my progress toward being ready to start on January 1. I have become an avid viewer of video clips on bodybuilding.com. 

Don't confuse that with bodybuilder.com which is seedy and 70's-looking and has a picture on the cover page of a woman body builder in a purple bikini that turned me off so much I nearly ripped my Hardcore Hottie plan in half when I saw her in her awkward pose. Meg, my trainer, has this in mind as the place to send me?! Gross! Nasty! I persevered for a few moments and searched around the site for the video clips of the exercises to learn. I kept coming back to this over-muscled poser on the cover, crinkling my nose. I checked my plan, oh it's bodybuildING.com DUH. 

Whew. I'm relieved to see a reputable site and can report that I am now in love with a blonde bobbed built bodacious bountiful woman who is in their teaching videos. They have her in slo-mo showing me how to complete the exercises with weights and machines and I carefully absorbed each of her movements and muscle ripplings. WOW. She looks short, but she's never standing next to anyone so I can't gauge her height. But I'm 5'8" and I think in comparison to her my limbs are longer and my muscle type leaner in general. It's probably not right to pick a body and say "yep that's it, I want that look" as I think the hair stylists cringe at a photo of a celebrity hair cut when there's no way they can make my hair look like that. But I certainly envision my body to gain muscle -- and if you ask me -- she's the shit. Utter fabulousness. Blonde Bobbie I call her. She doesn't even smile or make eye contact with the camera throughout any of the video clips. And she's that magnetic. That body!

But I digress. 

So I completed Day 1 and Day 2 of my lifting routines this week in preparation for my Wednesday start. I have made a list of non-meat proteins to up my protey intake without having to shovel meat into my mouth non-stop all day long to achieve 155 grams per freaking day. I bought my lunch leftovers containers so no more Smart Ones at work. I learned to count macros and practiced a few days using myfitnesspal, not hitting the prescribed numbers yet, but who wants to blow their wad before the race even starts, not me. 

But something's been missing. I don't have a clear goal that satisfies my intense desire to have a clearly stated goal. I'm goal oriented, I didn't even realize it until two years ago when I started my fitness odyssey. But yep, goals and me, we're tight. 

When I decided to lose weight, I had a number on the scale as my goal. I had a starting point of 170 pounds and I knew I wanted to cut 25. I asked my husband to take 'before' photos. I stood in front of him, peeling off my clothes, at my lowest point. No sucking in. No good angles. Snap those damn pictures and let me see them. Oh crap, there it was. A sad sack in a sports bra and undies. I wasn't even exercising but I was wearing a sports bra constantly to pack my big boobs down as tight as could be so they appeared smaller under my baggy clothes. The look on my face is exactly how I was feeling about myself. But I had a starting point with a clear ending point. 

When I decided to run a marathon, the day came and I had to run a marathon. I had a starting point of being able to run about 3 miles in 32 minutes and needed to train to be able to run 26.2 miles in 4 hours 31 minutes. Starting point - clear ending point. 

When I decided to increase my muscle mass, uh, hm. I have taken measurements, my numbers will change, but I don't have a clue what they could or should change to. I don't know how I'm going to look with bigger defined muscles; I'm doing this to see if I like a more shapely, muscled body. The goal "look fucking hot in a bikini in March" isn't quantifiable. It's sort of felt like a plan without a clear goal in the end. Until now! Now I have my goal! I want to look like Blonde Bobbie's taller sister!

demise of the carbs

12/17/13
Plump to Pump
Blog #7 for No Quit Fit Outdoor Bootcamp


I'm going to be starting my Hardcore Hottie Challenge on January 1. Two weeks ago I turned in my personal evaluation which was umpteen pages long and detailed my goals and present status as a bootycamper extraordinaire. Last week I received my plan from my trainer Meg. I have spent a few days figuring things out but have oodles of kinks to iron out before New Years Day so I can hit the ground running, er uh, well not running obviously. Running is out, protein is in. Shocker. Since I love running so much, Meg says one day of running per week is my choice, but if I want the big guns, my focus is nutrition and lifting and HIIT workouts. I feel like a million bucks after I run, so I will miss lacing up my purple sneaks and pounding the pavement for an hour at a time. But it's fucking cold outside, and the pavement is covered in at-the-beach-style snow which makes running not quite as fun. I think this is the longest cold snap in my recorded history, so ya, I think I'll live with just one run per week this frigid winter. Check. 

Ok, next. The protein. Jesus in heaven the protein. 155 grams per day of protein. Visions of chicken breast and deli turkey dance in my head until I throw up. I don't like to eat meat THAT much. So I've been researching all the ways I can add protein without wanting to become a vegetarian (again). My regular protein intake is around 90 grams at very most, so I've got some ground to cover. AND I have to cut back on the carbs. Oh delicious womanly carbs. I will miss you so. I have a max of 225 prescribed carbs in my plan (on workout days). Oh woe is me, that number is so sadly small. I am going to throw a little "celebration of life" for the demise of my mountains of carbs I like to scarf down every day. I'll light a candle for carbs. 

Throw an egg or cottage cheese in with every meal. Cut out my frozen Smart Ones lunches. Explore butters other than peanut. Craft my own salad dressing. Chuck the scale. The scale is the devil and, wait, what?? No weighing myself? But I just wrote a pithy blog about why I think the scale is just fine. I use it healthfully to keep my weight in check. I'm wrong?! I'm wrong. Muscle weighs more than fat blah blah blah. Yeah yeah. We will be measuring my progress weekly solely with photos and how my clothes fit. So if you liked my sneak-snap in my brassiere that my husband took last blog, you'll be disappointed from here on out. I am a terrible poser. Get the camera out and tell me to look a certain way and I freeze up. Something stupid happens and I look stupid and effortful. My daughter took over 100 pictures of us in our halloween costumes and there was one usable picture where I didn't look ridiculous and over-acted. Our costumes fucking rocked the house mind you, but me trying to act out Mia Wallace from Pulp Fiction in her revived-with-syringe scene for the photograph was laughable. Or cry-able, Alan was visible irritated at many points in the kitchen photography session. 

By the way, I haven't weighed myself for 5 days, my longest stretch since I began weighing myself about 2 years ago. I'm going to try to hold off until Sunday. And maybe say fuck it on Sunday too.

scales aren't just for fish

11/30/13

Plump to Pump

 Blog #6 for No Quit Fit Outdoor Bootcamp

I'm a slave to the scale.  I admit it.  And I'm ok with it.  I've considered chucking it, but shudder at the thought.  Instead, I choose to enlist a select few intimates to tell me honestly and abruptly when I am going overboard with either cutting too much fat, or with building too much muscle.  If I am going all Keira Knightly to the bones, they will tell me to cool my jets and eat some more damn food.  Additionally, if I develop muscular bulges resembling Arnie Schwartzie, they will set me straight and let me know my boobs are going the way of the cutting board.   I am crafting a strong, athletic, chiseled body.   If I must choose a body or fitness idol, I choose Jessica Ennis, the current Olympic heptathlon champion.   She's a hottie bo bottie althete of the highest order.   I want to be able to outrun any asshole trying to hurt me or steal from me and then later that day woo my main squeeze into submission in my LBD or my bikini.   In short, I want to be a sexy motherfucker.  

So I weigh myself regularly, about 4 times per week.  This helps me stay on track with my goals.  I have read all the bossy flossies that scream at me to throw my devil scale away.   I have considered their reasoning, found it sound, and kept on doing it the way that works for me.   I am an information junkie so I gather up the data from all angles and use it to make informed decisions for myself.   This was my process when I decided to lose weight.  This was my process as I make choices about what to use to fuel my body.   This is my process when I decide training plans for my running or lifting goals.  

To sum, I use my scale to stay in a five-pound range that I am happiest living in, I use my intimates to keep me feminine but badass, and I use the internet to learn about health and fitness.  Earlier today when I was getting ready to go running, I had only my sports bra and running pants and socks on so far.  My husband walked into the room, stopped short, and breathed "damn you are looking fine, Greta!" and nuzzled in for some canoodling.  The other morning I was getting ready for work and talking with Alan.   Later that day, the attached picture was texted to me, sneaky snapper.  These Great Gaspy responses from him, and the fact that I ran 3 long blocks to work at 7am when I was going to be late for a meeting and it took me all of 20 seconds to catch my breath once I got there, is all I need to know that my way is working.  I am on point for reaching my goals and I'll be using a scale as I see fit.  To get fit.  

three pound diff, big whup

11/24/13

Plump to Pump 

Blog #5  for No Quit Fit Outdoor Bootcamp

I've been back to bootcamp for 3 rad weeks and my body is thanking me by growing bigger muscles.   I was laying in bed this morning petting my little doggies and when the pooches jumped off the bed my right arm lay bent and rested with my hand on my pillow, near my head.  Try to picture it.   I glanced down at my arm and holy shit there was a bulge!    Where my bicep should be, was a lump of muscle!  I checked myself… nope, I was not flexing in the slightest.  I immediately called my husband Alan into the room.  Look at my arm, all loosely laying here, now check out the muscle!!  He oohed and aahed and damned if I forgot to have him take a picture.  It was a glorious vision to wake up to.  Muscle sighting at 7am while lounging in bed!   

 I feel so deliciously good when my muscles have some soreness from being worked.   Speaking of my biceps, those suckers were so incredibly sore for 4 days.   More sore than I would have expected or even thought right, my own fault.  Due to pushing my limits on poundage of the dumb dumbbells.  Shame shame I know your name.   Last time I was a bootycamper was March 2013, and I was heaving 20 pounders around like a boss.  So it's a bit of starting over since I've been off strength training for a few months.   However, I'm pleased to report it's not starting over from scratch, I did retain a good deal of muscle throughout my marathon training.  So bite me you people that say you can't maintain muscle while mary training.  I'm living proof.  I was running upward of 40 miles per week at the height of that beloved running insanity, and I kept the ole guns at the ready.  Score.

 Back to 'my own fault'.  I should have stuck to the 12 pounders that second week, as I promised myself I had to take things slowly so as to avoid re-injuring my neck.   Slow and steady wins the muscle building race, no?  I really have no idea, I'm a sweat-loving, muscle-pumping, burpee-despising novice still at knowing what the hell I'm doing when it comes to strength training.   I'm pretty sure consuming gobs of french fries is high up on the list of no-nos, but I'm still devouring a medium fry from Wendy's every chance I get.  I know just enough to make me dangerous I suppose.  

Dang, those 15s looked so ripe for lifting, and oh so sad over there where the wall met the floor.  Can't have those beauties all by their lonesome, so  I scooped them up for the bicep curls.  I ain't too proud to beg, but I am stupidly prideful to drop weight when I lose my form.  I kept at it with those 15s and Dustin the instructor went to failure.   I could feel my left bicep hinting at me to knock it the hell off, but I didn't listen and kept curling those 15s.  

Flash forward 3 days.  Walking through Target pushing a cart around.  When it was time to carry my pair of bags out to the car, I turned in the direction of the exit and dropped one of the bags!   Straightening my arms down by my sides to carry the bags made my biceps throb and I lost power.  Crazy!  I grabbed the stinking cart and threw the measly two bags inside it.   The big strong woman showing off her tight ass in the yoga pants has to push her 2 plastic Target bags to the car in the cart.  Yes, there was toilet paper involved, I can't even boast that it was a set of milk jugs.    

  

Moral of the story:  French fries good.  Pride bad.  

avoid the void

11/15/13

Plump to Pump 

Blog #4 for No Quit Fit Outdoor Bootcamp

I am very susceptible to comments about my body.   Case in point:  This summer when I was training with my personal trainer (and bootcamp instructor) 4 times per week and he was assessing my goals and consulting with me at the start, I asked him what he thought of my body.  He said I had good genetics for building muscle, that I was lucky about that, that he was happy to get to train me, that I had a good base of muscle built and that he knew how to help me reach my goals.  He did a quick couple looks and pinchy tests to my belly and arms and thighs, and concluded I had no fat to lose, and only had a little bit of back fat.   There were a few more complimentary remarks.  BUT guess what phrase rings in my ears every once in a while.  Yep- a bit of back fat.   He did not mean for it to be negative.  It was meant as a response to my query of what he thinks about my body in relation to personal training.  

Flash forward to this past Thursday.  Same dude, my bootcamp instructor, referred to me as "skinny".   Being called skinny feels the same to me as being called fat.  Skinny is not my goal.  Strong is my goal.  Fit is my goal.   This was the scene:  I had just taken off my sweatshirt.  I had a tank top on.  I picked up my 15 pounders and started pushing them up over my head, when he looked at me and said "You're looking skinny Greta" and I read a hint of alarm in his voice.  I immediately and audibly balked.  He reminded me how sensitive I am about words (which I am).  But I didn't want to subject the whole class to my questioning of his motives.   So I let it go and didn't pursue an interrogation about it.  

He had never called me skinny before.   He's said comments like "your shoulders Greta wow", "your ticep muscle is really long", comments that clearly referred to strength or genetics.    For the next set of 15 pushups I pondered, was I projecting my own feelings onto his words?   Probably.  Am I worried I'm getting skinny?  Perhaps.  Shit.  Too fat, too skinny, too big muscles, too small muscles.  Fuck.  When am I going to be satisfied?  Is any woman out there satisfied?  

As I got down on all fours again, this time for set 1 of 4 sets of 40 mountain climbers, I decided:  Okay, you are at least happy now.  You were miserable heavier.   So figure out why you're worried about being called skinny and make a plan.  Then I lost ability to think coherently because holy shit I was a sweating!  Before the climbers, we had just run stairs 4 times.  Holy shit do I love sweating!

 Side note:  I absolutely rocked mountain climbers that night.   First time I've dug mountain climbers, ever.   Previously, my heel would pop out of my sneaker, or my feet were mis-timed, or I was otherwise un-athletic with them, but not Thursday.   I was like a scissor cutting a straight line.   My feet were rhythmically switching so fast!    Not sure if it's the speed work I'm doing running or what, but smoke was coming off my heels for sure.   And to keep me knocked down a peg or two, I'm still on my knees for push ups.  All in good time, all in good time.  

Back to the story.  So, in my sweaty stupor I had decided to collect some data about my body, consider my feelings, and make a plan to resolve any problem I might find.  So with that, and certainly when I felt the gelling of my mountain climbers, I stopped stressing the "skinny" topic.   

Today, I took action.  I asked Alan to take my measurements, recorded them in my book.  Then Al took nudie pictures (just kidding, I had my same sports bra and undies I wear in each of my progression pictures).  I checked the numbers, basically maintaining at each body location.  Compared the photographs, close to the same since the last ones we took.  Huh.  So, now think about my feelings.  I'm feeling a void.  What is it?  Somethings's missing.  What's missing?  

A GOAL!   I always have a goal to work toward.  A few weeks back I met my latest running goal I had set for myself, a faster 5k time, clocking my new PR of 26:44 .   I don't have a running event on my calendar -- on purpose.  I'm not sure which distance I want to PR next, and I don't want to rush that decision.  I do know I'm not running a marathon this spring as I am not ready for the training and injury prevention commitments required.  I am hoping to have an injury free winter, and be able to focus on a grand goal without having to spend ample resources and time devoted to restoring my body parts at every turn.  

So what's it gonna be?  A goal helps me stay focused., keeps my training on track.  I see my workouts on my calendar and I don't skip them because I need to complete each in order to meet my end goal.   I can't deny it, there's still something to my feelings about being called skinny.  Like I said last time, time to build some motherfucking muscle.  2 bootcamps per week and a few days of running isn't going to cut it.  I think it's time to take my nutrition and my lifting to a new coordinated level.  I want to get through the winter months unscathed by added fat and looser skin.  Overall, my muscles are soft compared to where I want them to be.  

I hereby announce my registration in a challenge called the Hardcore Hottie Challenge-  beginning January 1, winner selected end of March.   I have secured personal training for January, February, and March to whip this bod into a sexy, muscular, appealing, and chiseled vessel.  End Goal:  look fucking hot in a bikini when I go to Florida for spring break!

up-sizing at target

11/7/13

 "Plump to Pump" 

Blog #3 for No Quit Fit Outdoor Bootcamp

Two years ago, when I weighed 170 pounds and had just come home from Target with new khaki work pants two sizes bigger, I put a pair on and stared in the mirror.   Yep, they fit.  Long enough.  Plenty wide in the waist so my belly isn't getting squeezed into muffin-topping over the fastener.  Great, I have work pants that fit.   Yay.  

I had never been so underwhelmed with a clothing purchase in my life.  I stood like a disgusted statue staring at myself.  A bumpy, lumpy newly-38-year-old woman standing there in Target khakis begging for an oversized shirt to cover it all up so I can get on with the day.  But I made myself take stock.  My fatty booby extra-flesh was screaming for air and squishing out the sides and over the top of my boob-packing sports bra.  A sports bra was the only thing I was wearing in an effort to cram my breasts so tight to my chest that they appeared a size smaller.  I realized it was a sad sad lie to live.  But I loved eating!  Eating out was certainly my favorite past time.  The more appetizery the better.  Give me spinach artichoke dip with crusty bread or give me death.  

It had taken me over a year to go buy the larger sizes.  I was shoving myself into too snug pants for months because I didn't want to face the music.    The tune that was playing:  I had gradually packed on the pounds.  doo do doo do doo do do doo  I wasn't caring about it enough to do anything.  la la laa la la laa  My pants were creeping up on my ankles because my thighs and butt were filling them up like never before.  Ooh ooh ya.  It was far passed time to plunk down some hard earned cash to up-size.    I refused to spend more than Target costs, however, as I was pissy-pants shopper, shopping under protest.  

As I stared in the mirror, I pondered.   Ya they fit.  But geez o pete what's next?  How long will it take before I need to buy new bigger pants?   Or is this the final size up?  That question was startling.  It meant I might be ready to do something about it.   Was I?   

I felt like shit all the time about my body.  I didn't want to go out because clothes didn't fit and I was so self conscious all the time.  Not a deciding factor, but I certainly wasn't turning any heads anymore and I had turned my share before gaining weight.   I didn't want to get naked, ever, and that's a problem since I shared a bed with my husband.   If I got nekkid I made sure to be flat on my back immediately.   Big boobies falling way deep into my armpits.   What a wicked world of worry I created in my head without a single outward person telling or hinting that I need feel or act this way.   I rationalized all the time that "I'm getting older, my body is changing, my metabolism is slowing, it's normal."   

What a crock of shit.   I wasn't moving.  I wasn't active.   I was eating gobs of boxed and breaded crap every day and drinking myself silly with cabernet.  I loved my wine the most.  A couple 2, 4 glasses of wine at night was becoming a habit that was bordering on hmmmm can I stop doing this?   Wine tastes so good.  It's such a perfect compliment to any and all occasions and wine and I had developed such a close comforting relationship.   Watch TV, drink wine.  Hang with friends and eat nachos grande, drink wine.  Eat french fries, drink wine.   Drink wine, drink wine.   If I had been living an active life and eating even moderately healthfully, and still gradually gaining weight, that would have been no big dealio.  

So, how old do I want to appear?   How big do I want to get?   It rang loudly in my  head:  Is this the final size up?   IS THIS THE FINAL SIZE UP?   Fuck this shit.   I'm done.  Time to get healthy.   That night I stayed up late researching and then registering on a website that taught me how to lose fat healthfully and how to maintain it.  I diligently exercised and counted calories and cut a pound per week.  Five months later I was at my goal., taking oodles of happy-ever-after-pictures.  Every pose imaginable, after pictures.  Glory be!  I had crafted a body I was proud to call mine.   I developed a level of fitness!   I was moving.   Stagnant no more.   I've maintained my fat loss for a year and a half.  Now, to build some motherfucking muscles!

to fluff or not to fluff? that is the question.

Plump to Pump

Blog #2 For No Quit Fit Outdoor Bootcamp

In fitness, is there a double standard related to being female?

I lifted the first dumbbell of my adult life in September of 2011. 8 pounders. Above my head. Many reps and many struggles to push that weight all around up and down and in and out. First day of bootcamp class. I hadn't known anyone in the class personally, though a few faces were familiar. Some of them were lifting 15 or 20 pounders and were zipping so quickly up and down in the burpee portion of the night., I was getting dizzy watching their speed and agility. They were laughing and joking while doing toe push ups and I was so sweaty and exhausted after 3 knee push ups, all I could muster in the comedy department was puking in my mouth a little after numero 4. 

There were softer-bodied women and harder-bodied women and everyone was lifting and jumping and sweating. I was a softer-bodied woman and I felt comfortable in my skin while I was there. Had that happened before? In my life? I wracked my brain. Um, no. But it was true, I felt zero judgements. Self esteem nirvana, I think so. When I pushed the weight up overhead and my shirt came up to reveal a roll peaking out to say yo, was I embarrassed? YES. But not because I thought any of the other boot campers cared to count the dimples pushing through the butt of my yoga pants. Rather, I was feeling my own embarrassment in my choices of inactivity for so long, my choices that had led to roly poly oly. But I was comfortable. Comfortable being vulnerable because I was moving! I was lifting weights! I felt welcomed. And I got the distinct feeling that these women and this trainer were about to give me a platform for change. Along with a shit-load of mountain climbers and walking lunges. 

I was hooked. Well, until three days later when I couldn't sit down on the toilet without grab bars. My quads were burning! The second week of class, my husband literally had to push me out the door to go. I was so sore I wanted to quit. I hadn't been sore in my life. I said my body was screaming at me to knock it off, but Alan knew better. He said my body was screaming at me to bring it on. He was right. After a month, I never looked back and hardly missed a class over one and half years before I had to take a break from lifting during the last leg of my marathon training in the spring of 2013. 

Now, the double standard, is there one in my world of fitness? I think it's in the mind of the beholder. And my mind doesn't see one. Men joined our class in my tenure. I had to hold in my farts just the same around the women as the men. There was a "no fluffing" rule at bootcamp. They were smart to institute that before I arrived. Being a man or a woman didn't matter in class. I was asked to work just as hard on building my muscles as the men. I loved the attitude from the trainer: whether it's your first day or your fiftieth or you are a man or a woman, you paid me to work your ass off, so that's what I'm going to do. 

If I was a person that put walls up, I might be able to think more and find the double standards that exist in my fitness world, but I tend to put in chinks in walls instead.

from nothing to everything

10/12/13  

Blog #1

Plump to Pump for No Quit Fit Outdoor Bootcamp

About Me:

If I had my druthers I'd strength train bootycamp-style 2 times per week, run 4 times per week, play volleyball once per week, core train with pilates 2 times per week, free my mind and increase my flexibility with yoga once per week, and I'd get paid big bucks to complete all these fitness activities.

Alas, my body revolts with injury when I pile on too much exercise so I have to carefully measure my fitness activities.  Plus, there are just not enough days in the week to do "my dream fitness plan".  I work full time as a speech therapist in a primary school.  I have 3 kids: one son is out of the nest, another is working on it (knock wood), and my daughter is a senior in high school.  I am eager for an empty nest and have been creeping more fitness into my life as my children have grown and needed less of my daily parenting.  My husband is a cooking rock star who makes dinner every night which carves out time for me so I can exercise.   I am having a small taste of empty nestdom now and I dig it.  Totally dig it.  I won't be one of those moms that cries and doesn't know what to do with her time once the kids are moved on.  I have my hobbies all lined up.  See first paragraph.  

Topic:  The challenge of getting back into fitness after a break.

I was chosen by school staff as the Outstanding Athlete (female) in my senior year of high school.   I was a three-sport athlete.  I was named to the All-Conference volleyball team during my senior season, though that sport was my least favorite.  There was so much standing around in volleyball.  There was only a one in six chance I could touch the ball every time it went into the air.  Those odds sucked.  It was frowned upon to shove my team mates out of the way to hog the ball.  While there were some off-chances for errant physical contact with my team mates, there was none with the opposing team.   Booo dullsville.   

I was a hitter and a standout in my grade, but overall my volleyball skills were subpar in comparison to great players.  This had something to do with my lackadaisical feeling about volleyball to be sure.  Running long distances was a ridiculous notion so joining the cross country team held zero interest for me.   I think those were the only two fall sport choices for girls.  So volleyball it was.  

The biggest negative about volleyball was that I rarely got sweaty and red faced.  My hair stayed dry during matches.  Blah.  I craved sweat to be dripping from my face and body.   I felt my absolute best in life when I was working so hard physically in sports that my hair was drenched in sweat.  Sopping, so that I looked like I just washed it, heaven!  The most difficult part of high school was the 2-3 weeks between sports.  I was antsy and restless for the next sport to start up, huh, but I just realized I didn't take it upon myself to complete any fitness activities during the dreaded time off between sport seasons.   Interesting.  Nevertheless, I brought 100% effort to every vball practice and every vball match.  And bided my time until my true love, basketball, began.

Heads and tails above volleyball was basketball.   I was a serious pumpkin pounder.   Defense was my specialty; I could steal the ball from anyone and could stuff even the tallest girls.  Bring it.  Year after year, I was always put in position to defend the opposing team's top scorer; I could usually shut her down down down!  That fact is my crowning achievement in my high school career, athletic or otherwise, I just decided.  

I day dreamed about switching schools in our conference so I could play competitive defense against our team's leading scorer Katy.  Katy was a force on the court and was the surest shot around.  Guarding her in practice drills didn't give me the information I needed.. could I defend and stop Katy from running up the score?  I never found out because back then everyone just went to the school they were supposed to go to and there weren't all these newfangled choices to make about your district.  I didn't really want to switch I just wanted to know that I could bring Katy to her knees when push came to shove.  Ooh great segue..  

The shoving!   The body contact!  The inadvertent scratching and the accidental hahahah elbowing!  Lawdy mae were there ever tussles for control of the ball!!  Basketball satisfied my aggressive athletic leanings.  Stealing the ball gave me a super high.  Just wish I could dribble the damn thing.  I could steal like a champ but then if I didn't have a team mate darting down the court awaiting my pass, I was forced to dribble and all bets were off.  I was lightening quick so whomever I stole it from was in my dust.   But often, after my cat-like reflexes of pick-pocketing this girl,  I would turn the blasted ball over due to an unforced error of losing control of the freaking ball while trying to dribble.   I was a total clod if I wasn't on defense or shooting.   I don't know what my stupid problem was, legs too long?  Ball had to travel up too far to meet my hand and got lost in the uncoordinated shuffle between eye/hand/ball?  Just a shitty ball handler.  Anyway, we could capitalize on my steals if the shorty short girls were close by that could make the damn ball go up and down rhythmically.   

Rounding up the school year was track and field in the spring.  Running around the track was the draw for me, an unwelcome field event was hoisted upon me every meet and required by the coach.  I was long and skinny and the shot put and discus were not options.  What else is there?  Oh ya, long jumping, did that a few times.  Eh, no spectacular performances there.  At one meet, the triple jumper was MIA so coach taught me how to "hop, skip, and jump" in the aisle of the bus on the way to the meet.  I placed 6th the first time I ever tried it, and then never competed in triple jump again.  Probably missed my calling.  

Most of the time I picked (or was coerced into doing) high jump and was a total fraidy cat of the bar.  Very few others wanted to do it, so there I was. I placed mid-pack usually, couple times in the top 3, but never was taught how to do it, or if I was it didn't take.  My fear of the bar caused me to jump differently nearly every time.  What a jumping jahosafat joke.  I'm glad my mom barely had a camera back then much less a video camera because I would not want to see replay of my flailing Bambi limbs going this way and that over the bar.  

The field event was just a means to the end, the track events.  I adored the 400 meter dash more than any boyfriend I had in high school.  The sun rose and set on the ass-crack of the 400 meter dash.  There was no other physical feat more strenuous or challenging than this race, in my opinion.  Sprinting one whole lap around the track was a daunting thought that I relished.  If I could have sprinkled sugar over some strawberries on top of the 400 meter dash, I would have eaten it right up.  There is nothing that made me feel more of a champion than winning those races.  It was an individual event (although team points were garnered) so I was the only one that could be held accountable for a poor showing or a top finish.  I loved the glory that came from winning solely on my own merits.

Then.  Duh duh duh dunnnnn.  I graduated from high school.  And all my physical activity ceased.  No intermural sports.  No organized sporting of any kind.   No roller blading.  No walks even.  Nothing.  I took up smoking cigarettes the summer after I graduated.  WTF.  I couched all my inactivity in "I just need a break from all the competition, all the go go go.  I just want to enjoy college." 

Total bullshit!  I reveled in that competition.  Not once during high school did I ever want any fitness ANYTHING to slow down nor did it wear me out to the point I wished for a break.  When we had two-a-days, I wished they would last longer than the first 2 weeks.   Alas, that was my weak excuse.  I should have been honest with myself and admitted that I didn't want to partake in that stuff.  No biggie.  It's my life, I live it how I see fit (or not fit haha).  But by being dishonest I left myself open for guilt.  Good gravy the guilt.  

 I gained weight.  I lost all my fitness.  My muscles were kaput.  I had fun!  I met great friends!  I drank!  I smoked!  I lived it up!  I went to classes.  I got good grades.  I was focused on my education but also kept a good balance of energy for parties and socializing.  I had zero money usually and I was buying packs of smokes now and I had to save some for Boones Farm Wine, so Ramen noodles and Mac N Cheese were my staples.  I don't know if I ate anything else.   I vividly remember a saucepan with dried crusty macaroni leftovers stuck to it on the stovetop.  For a long time.  Like, weeks or more.  If my roommates had been cleaner, someone would have noticed.   If I liked eggs back then I would have jumped on that shit, so cheap.  A dozen for a buck or so.  That's like 6 meals, how did I miss out on eggs?   I could buy 10 Ramen for $1 and I never got sick of eating them.  Was that my crowning achievement of college?  Egads I was a loser.  

My college-years' abstinence from exercise spilled over into my mid-twenties.  I got really comfortable with inactivity.  I didn't even question it.  Looking back, I loved my life and all that it entailed.  I wasn't unhappy.   I was in a good place.   I had met the man of my dreams, and while he was fit, exercise or sports weren't part of our relationship when it started.  I didn't feel a fitness void.   I did however hate my body and the rolls of fat I had gained from over-eating and under-exercising.  Not enough hatred to take any action mind you, just enough to give me a dull roar of unhealthy body image and feelings of not looking good enough,  for the duration.    I was keenly aware that my body was meant to be fit and I that wasn't taking care of it, but I wasn't motivated to do anything about it.  

I started a family at 30.   A few years after that, I got the urge to start a recreational sand volleyball team to play in a local league.  Ironically, it was volleyball that got me started back onto the road to fitness.  Volleyball was much more palatable in my older age; now I liked the bit slower pace since I was in sand and drinking beers.   We didn't win a single game our first season, and won one game the second year.  While I would have liked to win more games, my priorities are different as a mature woman and the camaraderie and having my OWN thing was the tops over winning.     Six years later, I'm a 39 year old marathoner and my co-ed volleyball team has improved steadily year after year.  We are presently in first place in the league!  Plays of the game this week:  I blocked a pair of hard spikes from guys that were 6 footers.  Go Sharks!

My break from fitness was a long one, about 15 years.   I can analyze all I want (and boy do I like to over-analyze) to figure out if the break was a hindrance to my happiness or harmonious happenstance, but really, bygones.  It's water under the bridge.   Or is it water over the dam?  At any rate, what's done is done.  I can't change the past so I don't dwell on it..   Kill two birds with one stone.   Oops one idiom too many.    

It matters less how I got here, and more where I am going.  I start from where I am.    Up with fitness, down with guilt!  

personal training evaluation for entrance into hardcore hottie challenge

11/19/13

Personal Training Evaluation 

Hardcore Hottie Challenge

Trainer: Meg

This is an in depth evaluation of your current goals and lifestyle situation. Please answer as honestly as possible; there are no wrong answers. Take as much time as you need.

Name: Greta Hansen Begg

Age: 39  DOB 1/8/74

Height: 5 feet 8 inches, almost 5 '9"

Weight: 149 lbs

Measurements: 

1. Bicep - 11"

2. Chest - 37.5" 

3. Waist -  28.75"

4. Hips -  39.25"

5. Thigh -  22.5"

6. Calf -   14.5"

• What are your current fitness goals? Weight loss? Muscle building? How much would you like to gain/loose? 

Build muscle. I want my athlete body to be trained, toned, and strengthened,  Sexy and muscular.  Appealing and chiseled.  

So.. maybe have to gain weight.. up to 150-155.  ??

• What are the biggest challenges you currently face in meeting your fitness goals?

I'm anxious about gaining weight.  I lost 25 pounds between January 2012-May 2012.  Now I maintain at 146-150 pounds.  

• Please outline your current home situation. Who lives with you? Are you married/single? Do you have children? If so, how many and how old are they?

Married-husband Alan.  Age 45.  Raddest husband ever!  Alan is physically active: plays disc golf, runs the courses often, and lifts weights 3 times per week.  

3 children:  Brett- age 21, lives with us, probably will for at least 1-2 more years, is disabled from an auto accident when he was 16, needs assistance, uses a wheelchair now.

William-age 20, lives on his own, bit of an irresponsible fuck up, but a nice kid, just trying to find his way. 

Robin- age 17, she's a senior in high school, lives with us, will move out (fingers crossed) around August 2014.

• What is your history with diet and exercise? Have you tried dieting before? What did you do?

I was a 3-sport fit athlete in high school.  But then was inactive (by choice :( from 1992-2012.  I slowly gained weight and put on 40 pounds all told.  I decided I was not buying any bigger pants anymore in January 2012

and learned to count calories and added exercise to lose one pound per week.  This was my first attempt at losing fat.  

I used livestrong.com website and the my plate tool and their community forum for support to successfully lose the weight and keep it off. 

• Do you work? What is your schedule like and what do you do for a living?

I am a speech therapist in a preschool/kindergarten school building.  I work 7:20am-around 5pm Monday-Friday.  I am the breadwinner.  Alan has a printing business in our home.  

But the kids take up lots of time with appointments and assistance and such, he takes care of all of that while I'm working at school.  He maintains the house for the most part, but I 

clean on weekends a bit too. 

• On a scale of one to ten, ten being the highest, what would you rate your

level of stress? Why?

3-4.  I have a demanding job that requires high energy, but great co-workers and cute, sweet students to work with each day.  This balances the stress caused by my job.  I have high need children, but I have an equal parent in my husband.  We share the parenting so there is no more burden on me than him.  He takes care of supper, so I can work late. He makes sure I have time for fitness and myself.  I handle my stress pretty well.

• Are you a happy person? Why or why not?

Yes I"m happy.  I handle stress healthfully most of the time.  I let things roll of my back and don't get bogged down with negative thoughts.  

• Outline a typical day in your life from the time you get up until you go to bed.

Mon-Fri:  6:30am up, kiss my man, shower, coffee, pet and cuddle doggies, dressed.  Walk to work by 7:20 (2 block walk).  Meetings with parents and teachers, 

speech therapy with 3-6 year olds, write paperwork, more meetings.  4:30/5:00 leave work.  Walk doggies.  Hug kids, see how their days were.  5:30 supper (husband cooks).   6-6:30 decompress.  husband and kids clean up supper so I can have 30 minutes to relax and change clothes.  6:30 my time for exercise. one hour.  8:00 tend to my son or daughter for an hour or so.  9:30 use internet internet for Facebook, write my blogs, check calendar, return emails, etc.  11pm bed.  1130 sleep.

• How long do you sleep at night? Do you feel rested when you wake up?

about 7 hours.  I feel rested enough I guess.  I don't pop out of bed, but I do ok.  Coffee feels necessary.  Have NEVER been successful trying to get to bed earlier.  Sometimes I'm in bed by 10p, but I'll use my phone until 11 or 1130 anyway before I fall asleep.

• Outline a typical day of your food choices. Include beverages and snacks.

(M-F) 7am coffee 2 cups, black.  9am granola bar, banana or apple or grapes, water, 11am smart ones frozen lunch (300-400 calls) , water, and fruit strip or 100 cal pack of something, and a bit of chocolate or candy.  

1pm apple or granola bar, water.  3pm mozzarella cheese stick, deli turkey, water.  5:30p balanced with good groups healthy supper (700-900 cals maybe), water.  8p peanut butter with 

apple, 3 caramels.   or peanut butter on gluten free toast.   3-4 times a week ice cream (coffee mug full).  around 10p tortilla chips and guac or salsa, grapes, water.   I eat certs breath mints when

 I'm hungry and I don't have 'room' for more calories.  Or drink a glass of water.   I eat out of lunch or supper at least 3-5 times per week.  I generally eat back the calories I burn through exercise, 

so on lifting days or longer run days, I eat more calories, usually in the form of peanut butter yum or ice cream.

• Do you drink alcohol regularly? If so, how much and how often?

Now- about 1 beer or 1 glass of red wine per week.  Before I lost the weight, I drank about 1-2 wines per day and lots of beer on weekends. 

• Do you exercise? If so, how often and what do you do?

Monday- run 3-5 miles, or do speed work on the treadmill or track.

Tuesday/Thursday Bootcamp class-weight training/strength training with cardio and ploy added in

Wednesday- volleyball league

Sat/Sun run 3-5 miles, or do one long run if I'm training for an endurance running event. 

When I can fit it in, I also like yoga and pilates classes once per week.

• Please describe your level of comfort and experience with weight training.

I have been to bootcamp/strength training classes for 2.5 years.  I had personal training 4 times per week in June and July 2013, but I had to stop at the end of July when I bulged a disc in my neck-high amounts of pain for a month.  

I do not have great form, I get corrected often.  I just got cleared to start lifting again from doc regarding my injury.  I rejoined bootcamp classes in this NOvember.  I  use 12-15 pound dumbbells presently.  But I was lifting

20 pounders before my neck injury.  Cardio wise I"m fast and fit. 

• Do you prefer to workout at the gym or at home? If at home, please provide a detailed list of the equipment that you have. 

My favorite is fitness classes.  Generally I do much better when I have a place to go at a certain time, when it's in my calendar I will be there.   We have a gym membership. I use the treadmill there when it's cold in winter.

At home:  yoga dvd, yoga mat,  foam roller, 20 pounders, weighted vest, 8 pounders, 4 pound medicine ball, resistance tube, ab wheel, 65 cm body ball, yoga block and belt, jump rope.  

At bootcamp, I leave my 15 pound dumbbells and 12 pounders too.  

• Do you have any medical conditions that I should be aware of?

Just the bulged disc in my neck end of July 2013.  It is fully healed now, but I am cautious with my neck to prevent re-injury. I don't pull on my neck when doing ab work on the floor, I modify some. 

• Do you have any food sensitivities that you’re aware of?

No.  I love water, it's my favorite drink.  I love fruit, candy/sweets, chips, ice cream, cheese, potatoes, caramel, guacamole, i love food!

• What are the most convenient times for you to eat throughout the day? How many meals do you usually eat?

I get little breaks at work, so I'm flexible about when to eat.  I can eat lunch usually at 10:45 or 11:15.  Supper isn't flexible, we need to eat between 5:30-6pm.  I don't feel hungry in the morning until around

9am, but I can stuff something down earlier if I have to.

• What are a few subjects about nutrition and fat loss that you have the

most questions about or need the most help with?

I have knowledge of number of calories in/calories out.  I know how to 'eat back' my burned calories.  I know how to lose fat by restricting calories by 500 per day for instance.  I have been 

successful maintaining my weight between 146-150 since May 2012.  I eat out and eat bread and eat high calorie food and drink wine occasionally, but I will exercise to try to balance it so I don't gain weight. 

I don't know the terms macronutrients or macros or much about recovery nutrition.  I will need counseling or help to tolerate gaining weight to build muscle.  

I am a dedicated person to something I understand.  I am coachable.   When I set a goal, I am determined and persistent and I achieve it! 

 I started running in March of 2012 as a way to burn more calories so I could eat more food when I was restricting calories. 

 I was NEVER interested in running long distances before that day.  But I ran to eat!  I love to eat.  But I found i LOVED running too.  WOW.  By the next winter I decided to run a marathon and trained for

18 weeks diligently (with an online coach I met on livestrong.com forums) and ran a fucking awesome first marathon in June 2013,  I am putting long endurance events off while I focus on muscle building

and training with you.  I still want to run a few times per week, but I am ok if it is not my focus for Jan, Feb, Mar.  My focus is a super hot bikini body by end of March when I vacation in Florida with my sister!!

• What are your top five priorities in life? List them in order of importance    with one being the most important.

1. Happy, strong marriage.  2. Healthy fit body and mind, and I like to feel sexy.  3.  Time to write.  4. My kids- nearing an empty nest, and we are thrilled with it and ready for it. 

5. ENJOY my life, my friends, enjoy food, enjoy going out with friends. 

• If you could create the ‘ideal’ life for yourself, what would that look like to you?

My IDEAL:  I would get paid to write and paid to workout.  My kids would be independent, not in jail, and happy.  My husband would rub my body every night for an hour.

I'd be paid to write my blogs.  I'd be paid to train for short (5k, 10k) races and long races (half marathons and marathons).  

I'd teach fitness classes for fun and to get sweaty.  I love being sweaty!!

I'd volunteer at my school so I could still be around little children and teachers, or work at my job 20 hours per week.  

I'd go out to eat and drink with my friends and husband often and be less choosy about my food in relation to calories--BUT NOT gain weight.  

I'd drink a glass of wine every day, or two.  

I'd get to take my little doggies everywhere I go.  

I'd have hair that isn't so crappy.

left, left, left, right, left!

following is the poem i wrote for a white elephant gift exchange we did at our holiday party this weekend.  gifts were passed either to the right or left based on the wording in the poem.  it's based loosely on 'twas the night before christmas' and is about our party preparations the night before the big day.  fun was had! 



twas the night right before the NOT TOO OLD TO PARTY party when right through the house

not a creature was left stirring except Benji the dog who was chasing a grouse.

the wine glasses were set right by the chimney with care

in hopes that our fabulous friends soon would be standing right there

our children were nestled right in michigan, chaska, and st cloud

while visions of party merriment in our heads did abound

and greta in her flannels and alan left in his long underwear

had just drank a bunch of left-over coffee to stay up late to ready the lair

when right out on the left side of the kitchen there rose such a clatter

alan sprang right from handyman repairs to see what was the matter

he found greta right right right right right up a shit creek

so he tore open the shutters and right-ly grabbed the ice pick

he started chopping up ice and dipping it in the left snow bank

so everyone could have chilled drinks which is rightly dank

when, what to greta's wondering left eye should appear

but a miniature chihuahua wanting to lick her left ear

with Spike's jumping and begging and licking right quick

she knew right in the moment she must find a lighter from Bik

there may be smokers on the left deck needing ashtrays and flame

so she whistled and shouted to alan, were there smokers, who came?

it had been so long since they threw a party, they felt a bit rusty

they knew they had to whip the house right into shape since it was all crusty

they (greta) made lists and left cleaning the kids rooms to the kids

so that's why those are off limits until bedtime where we're taking bids

linens were washed right, folded, sorted and doted

and greta dreamed of a fun night where she would get loaded

alan found the perfect place left of the tree for the basket of disc

knowing the golfers present may want to putt, broken glass is a risk

but it's left too freezing cold outside for putting and smoking, 

so do your putts right in here but keep your butts outside toking. 

the right night was drawing to a close as it was nearing midnight

not late you say, well at this ripe old age sleep gets harder to fight

the coffee's wearing off and alan looks down right drowsy

greta wants to get her beauty sleep so she's not feeling lousy

they can't wait for right at 6:30 to get here on saturday evening

and are left wondering who will be the first guests to arrive and later be leaving. 

with a wink of his left eye and a left twist of his head

alan soon gave greta a kiss so nothing was left to dread

they felt good about the cleaning and prepping and left over work

then filled the candy dishes, and left hoping no one would act a jerk

then greta heard alan exclaim, ere he left for the bedroom right out of sight

happy christmas to all the not too old to party goers and to all a good night!