Weight, Weight, Don't Tell Me

195.6 lbs., but that’s okay. I think we’ve got this figured out.

A dress I ordered from Ebay arrived tonight (a T shirt jersey sundress with Buddha on it. The green isn’t the best shade for me, but there were no alternatives). It came in a small packet, about the size of the pouch for one of those fold-up rain ponchos. The mailbox guy was amazed that such a small package contained a dress. I told him that it was obvious he wasn’t a transvestite.

Today was my last session with Torquemada (that is, until and unless I get in more money. Click early and often. Pretend I’m on the ballot for an All-Star team). The investment in the training sessions was absolutely worth every penny and then some (the gym gave me a deal). I will miss that Napoleon complex.

When I started working with her (3 weeks ago, give or take), I felt well, better than I did at the end of last year, but not the greatest. Pot belly (and weak muscles underneath), not really a lot of upper body strength, the legs were good (or so I thought). I figured a half hour on the elliptical and a half hour on the treadmill, maybe take a yoga class and I’d fix all that.

Yeah, right. And monkeys fly out of my butt (and some of the exercises I’ve been doing, it sure as hell feels like that’s what just happened).

Today, after sweating the oldie in the gym (No, I don’t mean sweating to the oldies. I mean this oldie sweated. A lot. Buckets, even), I felt…

Long, lean and lanky. I’m not. Yet. I mean, 195 lbs. is a substantial distance from where I started, but I’m still technically obese. However, a couple of hours after the workout, I felt like a tall drink of water and I was wearing flip flops (well, Fit Flops, but no heels).

Wow.

Understand, this has been an intense course of weight training, flexibility classes (yoga and Pilates) and cardio. Today’s cardio was more intense than usual: Torquemada is a believer in the Cardio Blast: for instance, on the treadmill, walk 5-10 minutes at 3 MPH, then increase to 5 MPH (In my case, more like 4 or 4.5) until you hear God clear His throat and you see the Grim Reaper on the next machine (He wears the blackest Nikes you’ve ever seen. And yes, there is a gold skull and crossbones and the swoosh is gold), then back the speed down to 3 or 3.5 MPH so your heart doesn’t explode. Unfortunately, this particular treadmill’s speed down switch didn’t work and I did 25 minutes of the 30 minute workout at 4 MPH (loooong, loping stride on the walk). I learned that I can sustain an even faster pace and that I will be avoiding that particular machine. I don’t know about you, but I like options, particularly if they are the means of slowing a galloping pulse.

There was a young lady on a machine next to where we were working and the smell of pot was pretty strong on her. The Pushy Peanut and I were giving each other “Did she or didn’t she” looks when she looked over at us, “Um, yeah, I uh, work at a pot dispensary and the smell gets into everything. And I sample some of the cheap stuff, too.” She finished her set (kind of half-assedly, actually), slumped and said, “Oh, wow.” I don’t know if there really is such a thing as a contact high, but I was thinking hard about Oreos when I left.

I had a breakthrough today, the last guided session on the machines. For the first time in 8 sessions (and yoga and cardio and Pilates in between. Okay, one Pilates class, but I plan to take more), I was able to isolate the muscles I wanted to work, leave my neck and my shoulders out of things (unless they were part of the target) and “engage the core.” That’s why I felt tall and strong today; those muscles that help one stand erect are actually getting strong enough to do the job. I was assured that the arm flaps would be going soon, if I keep faith with what I’ve learned:

1.       Form is everything. Do this little experiment with bicep curls: extend your arms and make fists. For the first move, have your fists face each other (like you’re playing “One Potato, Two Potato”), now bring your fists back by your ears. Feel which muscles are working. Lower your fists. Now turn your hands so that your arms are palms up. Bring your fists back to your ears again and feel which muscles are working. Different muscles in the forearm are engaged depending on the form you’re using. This applies to any weight bearing exercise. Isolate and contract the muscles you want to work. I FINALLY got that nailed on the obliques (muscles along the sides of the abdominals. Chubby Checkers’s favorites. Look it up)

2.       Burning good. Ripping, tearing, screaming pain bad.

3.       When you’re trembling and your form starts to deteriorate, you have sufficiently worked that muscle. Move on to the next one. And be prepared to feel it later.

4.       Water, water, water. Your body will demand it AND it helps to flush out toxins, as does sweating. It’s great for your skin and if you think that’s girlie, dig this: the skin is your single biggest organ (unless your name is Ron Jeremy) and the Ellis Island for infections. You want to keep it healthy (and how many moisturizers out there talk about “superior hydration”? Yeah, you can get that from a bottle of water. Bottle reusable).

5.       Always control the weight. The upward/outward/downward push may work the muscles as shown on the machine, but there’s a benefit to be had in resisting as the weight is returned to the starting position. The muscles get additional work on the backswing, nobody likes the sound of clanging weights (because they’re usually accompanied by loud grunting. Yeah, guys, we hear you. We’re not impressed. And you probably have nuts the size of Skittles). Plus, if you’re working with free weights, controlling the weight on the return to starting position lessens the chances of tearing, hyperextension or dropping the fucking thing on your foot. Until Nike comes up with steel-toed sneakers (Fuck Reebok), control the weight.

6.       I’m still working out the “complex carbs before working out” step due to a gluten sensitivity (Got eczema? A lot of sinus problems for no particular reason? Feel bloated? Eliminate gluten for a week, including oats and see if things change). However, I understand the principle: it’s priming the engine before you begin the big burn.

7.       Take in protein immediately after the workout. Your muscles will feel like they’ve gone through Parris Island (that’s where the Marines go to boot camp) and you need to build them back up. Torquemada got me into drinking Muscle Milk Light and shot-gunning a 2 scoop, 12 oz. drink (the Blender Cup is a beautiful thing). Since the Muscle Milk Light comes in Peanut Butter Chocolate, I am a happy camper and it keeps me away from the Reese’s Peanut Butter cups and the Snickers bars. There’s a pretty good flavor range, if you look online. The selection’s not as great in stores (Vitamin Shoppe, for one. I’ve seen the ready to drink in Fresh N Easy and in coolers at convenience stores).

I will miss my training sessions with Torquemada/The Pushy Peanut/Napoleon (she confessed to enjoying bossing people around. In related news, the sky is blue). I was able to push what I had learned from The King to the back of my head (except for the bit about “always control the weight.” I nearly took out his toes one day. And King, if you’re reading this, I still ain’t no Hollaback Girl). She got me to do lunges without falling over (although the asphalt impregnated right kneecap doesn’t like those very much) and to push harder.

 

And she got me to feel long and lean.

I Must Be a Masochist: I'm Paying For This

196.2 lbs. BUT, I was told a great secret today: sweet potatoes absorb water from your body. If that’s the case, I’m eating those suckers a LOT.

I had to go to Fresh & Easy today to get a truckload of sweet potatoes. Part of the adventure was running a gauntlet of local grocery union members trying to hand out leaflets to people attempting to shop in the store. There are billboards around LA proclaiming “Let’s Fix Fresh & Easy Together.” I don’t know what’s broken at Fresh & Easy but the last time we had a big grocery strike, the “picketers” were hanging around the front of the grocery store and turning their attention away from a football game on a radio boombox (sitting in a shopping cart from the store they were “picketing”) long enough to snarl “You know, you’re not helping us” at the people leaving the store then turn back to the game and drink more coffee (although I think a couple of them had beer, but that was 8 years ago). Guys, that’s where you lost me. This is YOUR cause and if you aren’t going to show me that you give a shit about it, how the hell do you expect to persuade me I should give a shit?

Here endeth the unrelated  complaint.

It is a bad sign when your personal trainer giggles and says “Okay” when you tell her that from now on, she will be known as” Torquemada.” My ass hates her right now. My ass hates her a lot.

I frustrated the poor girl today, I can tell. Certain areas, my defenses go WAY up and stand strong. The right knee with the asphalt in it and a long string of getting banged HARD into pointy objects is something I protect (and probably baby). Anyone who says “Man up” needs to wear my knee for a couple of days starting with banging it into an angled object (like the corner of a solid desk. We’re talking a direct hit on the kneecap). It hurts like hell (pain bad enough to nauseate me) and is extremely sensitive for days afterwards. If you want me to do something on all fours where the kneecap is in contact with the floor, I need a mat. I have fallen climbing stairs (fall forward, brunt of impact on wrist of outstretched hand. Navicular fracture), bruised or fractured my coccyx (hence the subsequent muscle spasms in the lumbar region. Well, that and The Great White Belly).  Consequently, each of my wrists has spent time in a cast. I have balance issues, not just because I’m in poor shape, but also because I have ongoing inner ear issues. I have had back spasms, broken toes and other similar injuries over time that, well, okay, I’ll just say it: I’m a big chicken about pushing myself on certain moves. And I just flat refused on a couple of points (like a horse saying “Oh HELL NO” to a fence), today being walking lunges. I’m angry at myself  because this is a trained professional and she’s not going to let me hurt myself.  The walking lunges put pressure on the damaged kneecap and I have wobbled and fallen out of them. But refusing to challenge myself is part of the reason I never got good as a skier (that and I hate being cold). I must overcome this.

The other exercise that made me hold back a bit was a step exercise with a stool that was maybe 18” x 18” on the step. I couldn’t focus as well on form because I was so worried about missing the step or falling off and twisting my ankle. Again, this is a pro. She’s not going to let me hurt myself. I must trust her.

I am also angry at myself for not giving her a clean slate, so to speak, on her training methods. I was bringing in “stuff” from when I was working with The King back in 2005. He wanted me to work muscles to exhaustion. He wanted me to work on free weights rather than machines because of the extra effort required without a machine to carry part of the load. She has a different approach. She knows what she’s doing and I should respect that and let her do her to make my life better.

On the other hand…

She took away hot dogs, tortilla chips and (temporarily) red wine. Great – no more liquid muscle relaxant. The greatest blow, though, was (Play “Taps,” if you would be so kind) almost no more beef. Filet mignon once a month, maybe, but no burgers, no ribeyes, no jerky (well, that stuff’s pretty salty for my taste, anyway). I think I’m actually going to go through the 5 stages of grief on this one.  I got a lecture on having gone to In N Out (ONCE! OKAY? ONCE! AND I DIDN’T KNOW THEY WERE GOING TO PUT SAUCE ON A SINGLE PROTEIN STYLE! I EVEN SACRIFICED CHEESE ON THAT MOTHER!) . I got even, though: I told her all about Five Guys Burger N Fries. When I see her on Monday, I giving her a Mapquest  print out to the nearest one. Heh heh heh heh.  I could see the lecture coming on a mini Edy’s ice cream  along with wine and tortilla chip consumption when I pointed out the date and explained that the Red Goddess had demanded sacrifices. She was not impressed. Or sympathetic.

(For the record, I have tried the Trader Joe’s no sugar added chocolate bars. The ones made with maltitol (I think that’s what the stuff is called). There is a warning label on the wrapper: that is the first red flag. The second, bigger red flag is that the warning is of a “laxative effect” if one eats too much. Not wishing to be a guest on “When Snacks Attack,” I will not be eating them again. Plus, they just taste gross.)

I told you this was a mean little person.  Seriously, she’d have to stretch to punch me in the kneecaps. And she just might, too.

Torquemada was smiling at me sweetly and asking, “Where are you feeling it?” when my knees were wobbling, my mouth was dryer than the Atacama Desert and I couldn’t breathe. I’m thinking she’s going to get flipped off at some point. However, she’ll probably just smile because trainers feed on your anger.

When asked to do “prison squats,” I blanched. I’ve seen “Oz.” Never, never, never bend over (or any move approaching that) in a prison. In keeping with my perceived politics, I seemed to lean towards the left, but that's only because she was was standing so far to the right.

I did get mad at myself with that one because I’m thinking that maybe I could have pushed a little bit harder and dipped a bit deeper, However, I resolve to try harder next time. Be fearless, be fearless.

And the little stinker had the nerve to give me homework: drop and do planks (or bridges) when I “feel bored.” And practice balance exercises (standing on one leg) when I’m bored with the plank.

According to the diet app (www.mynetdiary.com or just go to the app store on your IPhone or Android. I cannot endorse this more highly), today’s workout was good for burning over 500 calories. That’s more than I had eaten for breakfast (oatmeal with raspberries, flaxseed and a shot of agave). According to Torquemada, I need to eat that within an hour before training with her. Okay, I can do that, but no hot dogs? With Fab Hot Dogs down the street from the gym (Victory Blvd and Tampa Blvd. Go, go, go!). Aw jeez…

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to go curl up in the Child’s Pose and whimper softly for a while.