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.
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.
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