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.
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