Back to the Weight Room…

I have one of these heavy buggers! :)

I have one of these heavy buggers! 🙂

I know that since “catching a break” last November, fitness has not been on my front burner (or even on my radar, really) for months. I haven’t cracked the books for my CPT course in many, many moons, either. (Hanging head in shame…)

It isn’t like I’ve had nothing to do over these past four months since I fell; crochet projects, homemade salts/lotions/butters, homemade wine and beer, digging out dogs, etc., have kept the shorter days pretty full.

I’ve done the occasional Zumba workout because I love them, but I pay for them the following day.

Who WOULDN'T want to be in here?

Who WOULDN’T want to be in here?

As you know, Johnny, Peri and Sean moved all the junk out of what used to be the boys’ room into what used to be the studio and brought all the fitness equipment in, and we painted, etc. so that I’d have a really cool space in which to lift my weights and use my treadmill. I have lacked interest, however, in that there was always some excuse NOT to go in there and move those weights; ankle is sore, too tired, worked late, let’s bottle the wine, let’s drink the wine…ad nauseam. We even managed to mount a TV with a Roku streaming stick over the treadmill and get my bluetooth speakers in there to complete the transformation. I can count the number of times I’ve been in there on less than both hands. 😦

Since I fell, my weight dropped, too. When I hit my ultimate goal weight of 135 lbs., I was thrilled. Who knew weight loss while doped up on the couch could be so darned easy, right? Except then five more pounds fell off and I was down to an unseen (since 1992, anyway) 130 lbs. Ok, time to stop losing and start working on maintaining around the UGW of 135, which I did. Over the past few months I’ve been hovering between 134 and 137 depending on what day it is. Sounds great, right? Well, one would think so. I look pretty good in clothes, but without them?

I know. It’s that bad.

So what this tells me is that I’m not a special snowflake that doesn’t need strength training, that it’s better to be a little heavier on the scale and lift the weights than to just occasionally cardio and have smaller numbers at your weigh-in. I most assuredly looked AND felt better when I was lifting regularly. Ten pounds ago I was lifting 3-4 times a week and was killing it in a swimsuit. Now? Not so much. I now see that I’m starting to develop “old lady body” and am continually cringing when I pass a mirror wearing what appears to be a jiggle suit, except I’m not wearing anything. Like, SERIOUSLY? I can’t believe it’s gotten this bad in just four short months.

It’s only March 22, and I have a good 6-8 weeks until pool season starts, and figure I can make it back to where I was at the end of last year’s season if I get on it right now. As in today. So I did. I made myself get off the couch and lifted for the first time in over two months. I feel amazing, although I am fairly certain that I will be sore tomorrow, but that’s okay. I am making a promise to myself to get into that room at least three times a week and get those plates on the bar and put them to good use. Today’s numbers were better than the numbers from two months ago, but still puny compared to where I was at my personal best. That’s ok, though. I’ll come back.

100 days and counting!

100 days and counting!

“Where did all of this sudden motivation come from?” you ask. Or maybe you don’t; I don’t know, but I’m going to tell you, anyway. I am going to hit the big five-oh at the end of June (the 30th for those of you wanting to send gifts, haha), and I am starting to feel older than I should. I get that as we age, we don’t heal as quickly as we used to, but damn, y’all! FOUR months and I still have pain? So I need to avoid the higher impact activities and get back to basics. But there’s more. I am starting to see crepe paper old lady hands that are really starting to remind me of how my grandma’s hands looked, and they are attached to my wrists. Where I’ve lost the 57 pounds? There is some skin on my neck that reminds me of a turkey. There are also some other physical things that I’m going through that are really starting to piss me off, and I’m not having this. None of it.

A year ago I had contemplated training to compete in body-building types of competitions over the summer of my 50th birthday. I mean, this is just how slack I’ve become in comparison. Granted, I know I won’t be doing that, because to strut across that stage and pose would require the use of high heels, and this girl is not risking her ankle on heels. I’m paranoid. I get it, but one stupid injury should not be enough to derail everything I have busted my butt achieving since January 2013.

That said, I am putting this out there because I know it will help keep me accountable.

Has this ever happened to you?

Has this ever happened to you?

What are goals that you have struggled to reach only to let them fall by the wayside because you got distracted by something else? What signs of aging are you experiencing that have taken you by surprise? Yes, I know that being hobbled with a broken bone is legit, but how long has it been since I got the green flag from my favorite Ortho doc? Yeah. That. So spill, because, again, I want to feel better about myself knowing some of you experience this, too!  😉

Until next time…

I’m Baaa-aaack!!!!

I missed running in these SO much!

I missed running in these SO much!

A week ago I was crying into my herbal tea because I didn’t think I was ever going to be getting back into the gym or running again, or even walking any great distances, but here I am…

Two nights post-ortho green light I have DOMS (delayed onset muscle soreness) so bad I can barely move, logged over 11K steps from work yesterday, and actually got my ass back on the treadmill and managed to JOG…Yes, I jogged…for a whole 7 minutes, but it was seven minutes longer than I’ve jogged over the past 2 months!

Once I got the okay to be on the foot, I decided that it was time to shadow some of my new team, so yesterday afternoon I was all over the hospital, learning how to move patients, set the brakes on wheel chairs, plug in Stryker beds, get up with nurses for hand-off communications, and I even got to push a bed WITH a patient in it. Good thing there was another Transporter leading the way, because who knows how many times I would have smacked that door frame getting that bed back into the room. The girls ran me ragged, but it was good to be up and about.

I got home and knew it was time to suck it up and go into the weight room. It’s so pretty now, all girly with the black chair rail, the new shelves, and the speakers for my favorite Spotify lifting play lists.

My chalk-board decals with current PR's...

My chalk-board decals with current PR’s…

I pretty much knew my lower body numbers were going to be embarrassingly horrible. I figured I’d struggle to squat 5×5 with just the 45 pound bar, but I actually did a set at 45 and a set at 50, and thought, “hell, I can probably eek out 55…” and I did. That is NOT to say that my thighs didn’t feel like Jell-O, or that I didn’t get a muscle cramp on the inside of my thigh. Those things totally happened. For the first time ever, I benched more than I squatted. When I looked at my log from before the fall, I was squatting 105, dead-lifting 165, and benching a respectable 80 pounds. Yesterday, I was so not that impressive, but I can’t whine, because it’d been about ten weeks since I did any kind of lower body lifting, and I’d done one upper body lift since the fall, so at 5×5, I nailed squats @ 55#, bench @ 60#, and deads @ 85#. Yeah, not impressive, but it was still more than I’d picked up in all those weeks, soooo….

I know, too, that I must’ve done SOMETHING right, because I had planned on shadowing at work today for a little while, but was so stiff, I wasn’t even going to try, so I stopped in and talked with my team for a little while, asking questions and brainstorming for a bit before I came home and flaked out on the couch.

I let the dogs out and walked around the pool a few times and felt like the stretch made my thighs, hammies and glutes feel a whole lot better, so I put my running shoes on and hit the treadmill for about a half an hour. I set the incline to about 4%, and the speed to 3.5 mph, and then thought, what the hell? I have to try some time, so I bumped the speed up to 4.5 mpg and jogged for a bit. It hurt a little toward the end, so the feet gave out before I got winded, but I figure that was still more than I did yesterday, soooo…

Kind of amazing how things can turn around in 7 days time…and my take-away from this whole stupid “falling over a dog and breaking a body part” situation is that patience is a virtue and while it doesn’t happen over night, that I WILL heal at some point.

So, mentally? I feel 100% better, because exercise had been my stress reliever, and I really missed endorphins. Tomorrow? Try to get 5 more pounds on the bar for more squats, do another compound 5×5 session, and maybe even get my Zumba on, because my wonderful sister got me a new Zumba workout disc for Christmas and I haven’t been able to use it yet, soooo…

Besides…Rob…If I’m ever going to rock that Princess Leia costume we talked about, I need to get after it. 😉

Until Next Time…

 

I Had a Pity Party Tonight…

Do not…I repeat…DO NOT be afraid of these, ladies. I mean it!

Do not…I repeat…DO NOT be afraid of these, ladies. I mean it!

*whew*

I feel a little better now.

I had my first pity party, complete with tears, since I fell and broke my fibula on November 13. I cried when it happened because it hurt, and after that? I didn’t really complain, because I was just super grateful I didn’t need surgery. I found ways to make good use of my time, adapted at work, crafted, crocheted, and have been a pretty good sport about the whole thing. Till thirty or so minutes ago.

I was in the tub with my tablet and was reading a thread in a weightlifting group I belong to, as well as my feed on FB, and I lost it. I cried ugly. I’m discouraged, sad, jealous, feeling weak and flabby, impatient and pissed off.

At some point, over the past two years, I’ve turned into some kind of fitness diva…no, maybe junkie is the right word (even though ‘diva’ sounds much more cool) and I depended on fitness and exercise to make me feel good about myself. It took these 8 weeks to realize that I don’t feel whole without it. I have experienced Zumba envy. And lifting envy. Oh, and running envy. I haven’t wished ill will on anyone, mind you, because that isn’t like me, but boy, am I jealous! Realizing that made me lose it. I don’t make a habit of envy, for the record.

I’ve been good about following all the doctor’s orders. I really have been, but c’mon. I did my sentence, paid my dues and all that.

I was able to ditch my moon boot a week ago last Tuesday, and have kept the offending body part supported as prescribed by my orthopedist. Last week I managed a day at 10k steps, but not since, because I listen to my body; ESPECIALLY that ankle. I backed off when I needed to. I even went so far as to heat my rice bag at work, elevate my foot and find ways NOT to be all over the hospital.

Yet here I sit, left ankle swollen almost as big as it was when I got my stylish grey moon boot, and in about as much pain. WTActualF is THAT all about?

I mean, c’mon! I followed directions; became a hooking (crochet reference, just so we are clear), NetFlix addicted couch potato, stayed off of it, wrapped it, encased it, exercised it per doc’s instructions.

I am just so futher mucking frustrated with my body’s inability to heal. They say when you get older you don’t bounce back like you used to. Hell, I don’t bounce at all! I, apparently, break, and then take my sweet @$$ time mending.

Zumba-envy.

REALLY?

What was the last hurdle you had to overcome?

How did you handle it?

Did you cry ugly?

Until next time…