Books and Beatings

Long time, no talk, peeps! As usual, no excuses -- after the whole "rut" post, I just didn't feel like I was in a good place for writing.

Instead, I chose to immerse myself in the wonderful world of literature for the past week and got some good reads in. I got some crazy belly laughs out of Bright Lights, Big Ass by my beloved Jen Lancaster, a little deep thinking from Water for Elephants courtesy of the lovely Katie, and I am now forcing my bad mood to die with the wise words of comedic genius Tina Fey and Bossypants.

I might decide to write actual reviews of one or all of the above, or I might not. At the moment, though, I'm very psyched to be reading again -- I went to Borders during my adventure to Legacy Place last weekend with $30 on a giftcard and walked out with five books and $8 out of my wallet. BLBA was one, but then I borrowed the other two from Katie, so I still have four more delights to look forward to once I finish Bossypants! The Almost Moon by Alice Sebold, some book about lanterns by Alice Hoffman, My Life in France by Julia Child [my love of Julie & Julia shall never die, no matter how disappointed I was when I finally found Julie Powell's blog and had my own, "not such a fan of my idol" moment] and Voyager by Diana Gabaldon.

Score.

In other news, I decided to take my own advice and for the first part of my "Get Back on Track" graph, the agenda is focused on getting my ass up off the couch/bed and getting some sweat sessions in.

With this in mind, Saturday afternoon, rather than after hunkering down in bed and reading the entire second half of BLBA while consuming my weight in chocolate chips all morning, I hauled myself out to Target. $65 and some candle holders I never knew I needed later, I came home with the prize:

[Source]

Jillian, you feisty biatch!

Back when I got really serious about my weight, before the whole disordered eating/calorie counting hysteria began in my brain, I did the 30 Day Shred in January of 2010. Like a lot of people, I didn't actually lose much weight over the course of the month, but the numbers spoke for themselves: despite only a 3-lb scale loss, I took off over 7" collectively from various body parts. I got loads of compliments on my improved muscle tone ("How does one go about losing that chicken wing?" is a personal fave), particularly in my arms and quads, and there was a definite noticeable change around the mid-section. My Starbucks-worthy muffin top was downgraded to "miniature cupcake, hold the frosting", and there was even the faintest hint of the top two ab muscles threatening to peak out. Pumped, indeed.

So, when I decided that the first step to clawing my way out of the abyss known as my head was to get back to regular workouts, did I turn to my $70/month gym membership? No. Did I turn it over to Hal Higdon and the promise of running that half marathon I've been yapping about in October? Heck no.

I went to Jillian.

Ripped in 30 is set up the same way as the Shred, using JM's 3-2-1 system of 3 minutes compound strength, 2 minutes of cardio, 1 minute of abs through three circuits. Like 30DS, you need some weights and a mat -- and if you're anything like me, a shitload of water, because otherwise the odds of your neighbors calling the cops due to a horrible stench emanating from your apartment and your loved ones finding you dead on the floor are very high. Don't say I didn't warn you.

I like that instead of two strength exercises alternating through each circuit, R30 has three, so you're doing 30 seconds of each, rather than 45, and repeating. It seems ridiculous, but when I'm doing lunges, those 15 seconds really make a difference in my effort. Jillian also pays WAY more attention to form this time around, which is super important. I also like that it's designed to be done 5-6 times per week, with at least one day of total rest, rather than 10 solid days in a row before you can switch things up. For me, the prospect of devoting 10 days to something is daunting. 5-6 times in the course of a week, though? Doable.

Granted, I haven't been doing a ton of strength lately, but it's not like I've been blowing off my workouts ENTIRELY in favor of cramming whipped cream down my pie hole (too inappropriate for a TWSS here? I thought so). I've been going to Zumba every Tuesday and trying to walk or run a few miles per week via treadmill, at the very least. And 30DS has always caused me a little huffing and puffing at first, but let me be the first to say, R30 has twice now reduced me to a panting, gasping, pile of liquified sludge on the floor. Did I mention this was AFTER THE FIRST CIRCUIT? Because it was. The first time, I made it through with only that one pause; the next day, though, resulted in a pause at each circuit to CHUG water, and ended with a slump onto the couch, after which Andrew could still find an imprint of my sweat-stained head on the arm of the sofa 3 hours later.

Needless to say, I think Ripped rips 30DS in half. I've done the first two days of Week 1, and I can say that yesterday my upper back and hammies were feeling the burn. I've worn my Polar HRM for both L1 of 30DS and Week 1 of Ripped, and burned an extra 10-30 calories with R30... and I forgot to hit "Start" until after the warmup both times.

I skipped yesterday, but am dedicated to getting R30 D3 out of the way tonight. I'm still battling WICKED fatigue, and I know it's going to get worse before it gets better. Part of it is my allergies (I've been getting allergy shots for the past two years, five at a time, ranging from 2x/wk to 1x/month, which is, roughly, one million sticks with a needle), but this year, rather than the dead-stop inducing migraines they usually use to torture me, they've decided to manifest themselves more as skin ailments -- there is seriously not a six-inch square swath of my body right now that doesn't have some kind of itchy, red welt on it. Neck? Oh, sure. Under arms, right where they rub on your shirt's sides while jogging? Yes, please. Wrists? Oh yeah! Lower back? Why not?

You can imagine what going through high school was like with this condition. Ugh.

To make it even better worse, you know what makes it worse? Sweat. And even worse than that? Showering/bathing.

Sorry, Andrew.