The Great and Powerful Oz

I made an appointment with a personal trainer.

There are three sessions included free with my membership, and so I figured I would get acclimated and figure out what I should be doing and how.

I am sort of motivated and repulsed by the whole experience. First of all, I walked in, and I KNEW my trainer.

This is the second face from my past that I have encountered in the past week, and it was kind of eerie, but OK.

I got weighed, measured in inches, and had my body fat percentage measured with calipers. Not too traumatic, but kind of irritating. Ironically, the calipers put me at 12% less bodyfat than my Tanita scale, so I guess I should be happy with that. The goal is evidently to get below 20%, and I am not sure if I am behind that or not. The downside is that weighing in fully clothed, including shoes, after a huge meal....eeeeeeeeegh.

We ascertained that I had no cardiovascular disease, no diabetes, hereditary high cholesterol (but it's the "good" cholesterol that makes it high, so no biggie) and no injuries.

I did really well on the fitness testing, which was a shock. 64 mini-crunches in a minute, 31 modified push-ups in a minute....go figure. My trainer said I did more crunches in a minute than any of her other clients. She managed not to sound too surprised when she said it. Then she said, "Nothing is standing in your way. Six months from now, you won't recognize yourself."

I am nothing if not competitive. I think I went over to the dark side, and suddenly I came back to myself, and she was talking about L-carnitine and colon cleanses and working out 6 times a week and keeping almonds in my gym bag, and I kind of went, "Wait, what?!!"

I have another appointment on Wednesday morning, to get acclimated to the rest of the weight machines and to see if I am happy with the direction things are going in. She asked if I wanted to draft a diet plan, and I said "No, I am not planning on counting calories. I am just planning on making more healthy choices, eating out less, and working out more." And thank goodness, she left it at that.

So yeah, motivated, but repulsed. Nonplussed, maybe? Maybe I will have a clearer picture in the morning.

You Can Do It!

Day One at the gym was on Saturday. We were there when the place opened, 6AM.

It's a great place, and I have to say, I like the fact that our schedules are pretty conducive to working out at odd hours.

But man, my girlie gym has spoiled me. I am used to friendly people, and this place has the desk clerk who is cracking her gum and reading OK! magazine and who answers, "I dunno" to every question you ask.

I am also used to machines that are scaled to someone about my size. And their elliptical machines? Not my friendly little Precors, oh no. These things are by StarTech or something like that, and they are scaled for giants. Also, getting started feels like you are booting up the Space Shuttle. Once you enter program, level, intensity, upper body preferences (push, pull, or none) and weight (in 1 lb increments)and then the time you want to spend, you're so intimidated that you want to spend the rest of the hour hiding in the locker room.

The first day was the hardest. I was ellipticating away, when suddenly the machine hit a plateau which I would describe as "wading through Jell-O". I checked my heart rate monitor at the end, and it took me 30 minutes to burn almost 700 calories. Holy Crap!

I hopped off the machine, panting and red-faced,with legs that wobbled precariously. Then I happened to glance down at the pool, where The Man had sort of draped his upper body onto dry land while the rest of him bobbed gently in the waves generated by the other lanes of swimmers. He looked like a shipwreck survivor.

By the time we admitted it was time to hobble home, I had a migraine and he had thrown up. Today, however, was better. We are learning how to pace ourselves, and are actually having a lot of fun!

Also, a small celebration- today, for the first time, my heart rate monitor pronounced my recovery heartrate "fair". I have been "poor" without fail for the last month, so "fair" is worth celebrating over. Yay "fair!"

Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat

On a treadmill.

Went on an SBux run last night, and then wondered why I was up until 3AM. Ahem.

We went by the gym last night, and I picked up some info and some free 1-week passes.

It's really nice. Prohibitively so. Not cost-wise but just....well, yuppie-wise. The cost for couples to attend it pretty good, it basically boils down to $20 each, plus a fairly ridiculous "sign-up fee." I will have to do the math and decide which route to go- higher cost up-front, with a locked in rate, or higher cost on a monthly basis. Hmmmm.

So we are probably going to head in tonight and sign our lives away.

Considering the last time I used a co-ed gym, I was so sexually harrassed that I vowed never to go back, this is a huge step for me. of course, part of the equation is that The Man will be with me, so I will feel more secure. And have a built-in exercise buddy, which couldn't hurt. We are hoping that we are going to motivate each other.

Status Quo

I am down about 4.5 lbs since I restarted- making an effort to eat healthier, but not really dieting. Running should recommence today. I still have 2.5 lbs to go before I get to where my body usually likes to hang out.

I am guessing that the spike in my weight had a lot to do with fertility meds and comfort eating, and just laziness. We were eating out a lot.

The Man and I have had a long conversation about joining a gym hat just opened up down the street. He wants access to an indoor heated pool to swim laps in for work, and i would just use the companionship to obligate me to go- plus I could renew my relationship with My Other Boyfriend, the elliptical trainer.

He also wants me to come up with an "eating plan" for both of us. I am thinking that a modified South Beach may be the way to go, as he refused to give up bread. Usually the stuff he likes (Potato bread- hello!) is the worst possible thing, so I explained that the breads he should get were whole grain, high in fiber, and minimally processed.

Imagine my shock when we went to the grocery store, and he had actually been listening. He went and pulled a loaf of Ezekiel Bread off the shelf, and said, "Well, the Sesame sounds good."

Of course, I haven't actually seen him eat it. But it's a start.

I am also considering signing up for one of those weekly organic produce plans, but I don't want to do too much too soon. Small changes are probably best.

My intentions are good...

Has it really been over a year?

I don't remember if I explained, but I have spent the last year, wrestling with fertility meds, on the quest to have a baby. And here I am, still in the same place. No baby, 245 lbs.

I have probably lost and regained the same 10 lbs a few times since I have been here last. And I just have to thank heaven that I haven't gone UP. The amount of progesterone I was taking turned me into a hormone-laden Victorian maiden who just wanted to lounge on a fainting couch and drink eat cookies and read banned literature all day. (what, don't you drink cookies? Hello, auto-pilot!)

So once again, I am leaping upon the fool's errand of starting a program the week of Thanksgiving. Which coincidentally, falls on the same day as my 33rd birthday this year.

It's time.

My sign from the universe was the return of my Shangri-La Diet book, and the mention by Secret Squirrel of meeting a a co-worker from the East Coast who has lost 100 lbs.

"And she's just...adorable!" gushed SS. "I mean, I never would have known."

I was skeptical. "How did she do it?" I asked, while visions of Atkins and gastric bypass and bulimia danced in my head.

"Running. I'm not kidding. She said she started with running one minute, walking four. As she got in better shape, she could run more, walk less...and the rest is history. She said she changed her eating habits a little- cut back sodas, more water, you know. But if she wants the chocolate cake, she just has the chocolate cake."

Well, crap. I want to have my chocolate cake- well, creme brulee in my case. And eat it too.

So this morning I excavated the treadmill from beneath a metric ton of yarn and dusted it off. I discovered three workout videos that I bought several months ago, which don't even have the plastic cracked on them. I added them to the towering stack that I have. but never use. I got out the ELOO. I pulled out my cross trainers. I gave up on finding my mp3 player as a lost cause, and I turned up the stereo and started running.

For me, it is all about getting started. First, I decided on a 20 minute workout- that would be three minutes of running, and the rest, walking at a slightly elevated pace. But then I got there, and I had only one for a mile, and I wasn't really even sweaty yet, although I was panting.

OK, one more sprint. More walking. One more sprint. And before I knew it, I was looking at
1.75 miles, and it just seemed like the thing to do to suck it up and make it to two.

And it damn near killed me, but I did. I did it. Six one minute sprints, 35 minutes of aerobic exercise.

I had to scale back the running on the last two sprints, but it was still definitely running.

God, I am beginning to sound like Rain Man.