Week 6

On Monday,I had a SpongeBob moment. Because of two wrecks on I-30, I was a few minutes later than my usual workout time. Once again, I was debating about going. I pulled into the parking lot, still debating. I took a couple of steps from the jeep and stopped. Somehow, I knew this was a crucial moment. I could turn around, get back in my jeep, and no one would know. (I met with Jeremy on Tuesday.) As I was standing in the parking lot, it hit me. My SpongeBob moment. I realized that I had the shape of Patrick, the consistency of SpongeBob, and the attitude of Squidward. With Squidward's nasal-twanged voice resounding in my head, "It's not going to matter, nothing you do will work," I felt myself turning around and heading back to the jeep. Then, out of nowhere came screaming the voice of Mr.Crab, "You're not about to be a-wastin' me money!" With a "Dah-ha-ha-ha" I pushed forward. Opening the door of the fitness center, I grabbed a white towel and didn't have the urge to suffocate anyone. I stepped on the treadmill, walking faster than I ever had. Then, I went to the bike, turned up the resistance, and revved up the RPMs to 77. My self-confidence climbed. For once I was hearing myself say, "Way to go," rather than, "You're such a loser."

When I got to work, I actually had several people comment on my appearance. With each comment, I would say, "You're my best friend today," which is reserved for anyone who blows sunshine up my rear-end that day. At the rate I'm going, I'm going to have to use SPF50 on all four cheeks!

Week 5

I noticed I was feeling paranoid as I was leaving today (Thursday). I thought I was being followed. Then, I realized it was just my butt dragging along behind me. It was creating such deep ruts that I began looking around for any maintenance crews that could have used my help. "Excuse me there, but could you use my butt to dig that trench for you?" Man!

Jeremy gave me a new nickname..."Spunky." As he was encouraging me to keep on rather than throw up he said, "Come on, Spunky!" I really liked that. I kept thinking about what "spunky" meant to me. The more I thought about it, the more I really wanted to be that. I wanted to be cheerful and determined and a fighter. I felt stronger and stronger. We started working with free weights, and I must have been feeling good because I didn't even have the urge to hit someone in the head with one!

I really can tell a difference since I've been working out. I feel better about myself, more confident, and not wanting to hide as much. Working with a personal trainer is the best thing I've done in the working-out category. I absolutely love working with Jeremy. He challenges me, makes it tough, focuses on what I need, and encourages me the whole way.

I just hope he doesn't fall into that butt-rut of mine and break his other arm.

Week 4

I'm beginning to feel like one of the trio from "Oh, Brother, Where Art Thou?" when the blind prophet told them, "You will not get the treasure you seek on account of the obstacles in your path." Those fans of "Oh Brother" know that, of course, it is pronounced "ob-STACK-les." That's rather accurate, given how they tend to stack on!

But, first, some brief background information. AT my clinic, when a patient does not keep their appointment, we use the term "DNKA" (pronouced "dinka"). I am known as the DNKA Queen, which can be sung to the ABBA hit of a similar sounding name. In fact, I had a DNKA at my dissertation defense! Yeah! Can you believe it? My graduate representative, the only member of a committee who is required to be at a defense, was a no-show. But that's another story. Just keep in mind the title I have worn for many years.

Monday: I had a meeting with my personal trainer set for this morning. I got there, checked the office, no Jeremy. I started riding the bike like a good girl, looking over my shoulder to see him. Not there. He was a DNKA! I thought, "Oh, great. Now my personal trainer has so little faith in me that he can't even come to our sessions! I'm HOPELESS!" (Ob-STACK-le #1) Just when I was about to give up and get off the bike, I noticed that all of the treadmills in front of me had people running on them. Runners to the right of me. Runners to the left of me. Runners before me. Then I thought, "I wonder if this is what it's like to be a cop." So, I would focus on a runner, pedal really hard, and imagine myself whacking them as I went by. One by one, whack! By the time I had whacked all the runners, my time was up (as was my heart rate), and I was a much happier camper. (That is frightening.)

Monday Evening: Jeremy called this evening and left a message for me...He had broken his arm! I told my husband that I should just stay fat so everyone else will be healthy! (ob-STACK-le #2)


Tuesday: I got to meet with Jeremy. Broken arm or not, he kicked my tail! I only rode the bike 10 minutes (thank you, GOD!) and then we started on floor exercises and weight training. While I was on the floor doing different crunches (and abdominal crunches are much different from Hershey ones, let me tell you!), one of the Geezer Adonises decided to hang from one of the machines and work on his abs, too! (This is right after he sat there and listened to MY instructions.) SO, while I was crunching, his little black-nylon-sock-with-white-tennis-shoe-wearing twig legs were swooshing right in front of my face. Show-off! I think focusing on Jeremy kept me from feeling homicidal.

Wednesday: Ob-STACK-le #3. On the way to work, an 18-wheeler wrecked in the construction area, so my husband and I were parked on I-30 for 2 hours and I could not go to the fitness center. Darn! (Is that my tongue in my cheek?)

Thursday: Ob-Stack-le free day! Great work-out. Feeling more confident about myself and this whole process.

Week 3

I bought a sports bra. You know, one of those that has no clasps but slips over your head like a tank top. Only mine resembles the training harness for Baby Shamu!

I rode the bike this week. I had a good excuse not to go one day. Believe it or not, there was a wreck on I-30 and traffic was at a standstill. (Who'da thunk it?) Dave was late getting to work, and I was going to be about 20 minutes past my starting time at the center. I was convincing myself that I didn't have time, I'd be too rushed to see my patient, etc. All good sounding excuses. But, I turned in the parking lot anyway. I told myself 15 minutes is better than none. I think that was a real breakthrough for me.

Today, I also made another discovery. Given that it is so easy to ignore a 3 year old, my mental image of Jadyn just wasn't cuttin' it yesterday. So, today, instead of starting from 0:00 and working up, I started the timer on the bike at 30:00 and counted down. As the seconds went down, I had sort of an Hermione Granger (HP3 Prisoner of Azkaban) moment. It was as if I had used a time turner and had already ridden those 30 minutes, so ticking backward was like doing something I already had done. That made it easier to do because, hey, I'd already done it. My future was to have ridden those 30 minutes, and given that I really don't want to do anything to disrupt the fabric of time, of course I was to finish!

Of course, saving the universe as we know it does tend to put on a little added pressure...

Depression Session

June 5, 7:00 am. The alarm goes off, reminding me that today is the day I meet with Jeremy for the dreaded measurements. I call this my "Depression Session" because that is how I am going to feel. After 27 minutes of snoozing (it goes off every 9 minutes), I forced myself out of bed. Dave and Jadyn also were up by now. Then I had a brilliant idea. I suggested that Dave take Jadyn to the air show this morning! He loved it! Of course, that meant I had to get Jadyn ready, which took some time. Yes, once again, I was doing that procrastination kind of dawdling.

They left, and I got ready. Of course, I had to put some laundry on to wash while I was gone. Of course, I had to clean out my jeep because, after all, the clutter of the week does get to me. Of course, I had to get gas. So, of course, I was running a bit late. Of course, I thought of cancelling because I may be late. But, leave I did.

Ok, even with the dawdling, I really wanted to be on time. But wait! With all the construction on I-30, they moved the I-430 exit! Where did it go? I missed it! Where there was an exit yesterday, there are concrete pylons today! Dang! Now, when I really want to be on time because, after all, I have to make a positive impression somehow, I have to take a detour! Luckily, Jeremy gave me his card with his direct phone line, so I called to let him know what was going on.

I got to the hospital, and parking was a breeze on Saturday morning. I walked in the office and Jeremy was there, stretching. (I bet I'm gonna have to do that.) Just when I thought there was some mercy in this world because Jeremy couldn't find the scales for the office because another trainer had them in his car for the wellness check, he said he would just weigh me IN THE WORKOUT ROOM! WHERE EVERYONE WORKS OUT!

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, he pulled out these callipers that look like they are used to divide the whale blubber between Eskimo villages. "Let's check your percent of body fat!" he said with a smile. How could he smile at a time like that? Just when my self-esteem was so low that linoleum would be an elevation, he said, "You really are firm, especially your legs." Yes! No hail damage here!

After a bit of paper-and-pencil questions, we went to the scales, right there in front of the Captain Americas and their bicep curls! Isn't he going to put on a black hood before I step onto the gallows? I thought it would be a quick on and quick off, but no! He needed an accurate reading and because I would not look and had my eyes closed, I was swaying on the scales! He kept trying to steady me witn one finger, but I kept swaying so he kept me on the scales. Finally, I stared at a spot on the wall and stopped swaying. Whew! Off the scales. Finally the humiliation is over.

Jeremy suggests I ride the bike until my leg heals to reduce the impact but still get the cardio. That was great because I actually prefer the bike to those treadmills. At least I get to sit down. Close to the end of my workout, I was getting tired. I wanted to quit...after all, it's only 5 more minutes. Then I had an image of my smiling Jadyn saying, "Come on Mommy! You can do it! This may mean one more day with me!" I went 10 minutes more.

Week 2

I decided to chronicle weeks instead of days because I don't want to write or read that much. Due to my leg injury and a full patient schedule, week 2 only had one day of workout. My 5:00 patient on Thursday cancelled, so I went to the center before picking up David. (Durn their hide for taking away my excuse!) Time for the treadmill again.

I walked in the center and immediately started looking around for another one of those "Super Seniors." I saw one, a little man just gettin' it on the stair climber. I fought the urge to hit him in the head with a free weight and smother him with that white gym towel he had around his neck. Before climbing onto the treadmill, I turned the tv to ESPN for inspiration. I don't know why, but there is a difference between seeing physically fit people on tv versus in person. I don't feel nearly as homicidal.

When I stepped on the treadmill, someone else stepped on the one next to me. Maybe it was the Smarty Jones report on the tv, but I felt like a horse in the starting gate, eyeballing the competition. The gate was open, and we were off. I started off slowly because of my leg, but eventually worked up to the speed I was doing the time before. Coming down the back stretch, I pressed the "Up" button on my speed, keeping the filly beside me in my sights. We were matching tenth for tenth. Gritting my teeth, I pushed through the pain and turned it up another notch. The clock was ticking. My leg was throbbing. The finish line was in sight...

Forget the blanket of roses...somebody shoot me.

Wouldn't Ya Know It!

Life has an eerie way of jumping up and biting me in the rear just when I decide to do something about getting rid of it (my rear, that is). I started actually working out on Thursday. The following Monday was Memorial Day. What did I do? I got myself hurt! I played softball in our church's annual Adult-versus-Teen game, and in the second inning, I hurt my leg.

For some reason known only to the sadistic groundskeeper, a substance closely resembling cat litter was all over the field. This was supposed to soak up moisture. (Haven't they ever heard of lime powder?) Anyway, we switched up the infield the second inning so a guy could pitch, so I took over catcher. I was going for a foul ball, and my right ankle hit some uneven ground, causing it to roll. Because I was planting on that foot, I fell on the outside of my left calf. That cat litter tore up my skin like Fi-Fi on a rubbing post! And I didn't even catch the ball! At least I could have gone out in a blaze of glory, but no! I went out with the image blazed in my mind of my big ol' 37 year old tookus bouncing around behind home plate, not to mention the next of kin to a carpet burn the size of Dallas on my left leg!

How much more humiliation can one take?

DAY 1 (MAY 26, 2004)

Today was my first day at the fitness center, and my first day to meet my trainer, Jeremy. He was a super guy! At first, I felt a very slight sense of apprehension about having a male personal trainer (didn’t want to be embarrassed, you know), but then I realized that this was better than being paired up with the “I just came in third at the World Beautiful Bikini Babe Fitness Fest and would have won if my thong wasn’t so wide” instructor. I don’t know if they even have a female fitness trainer at BMC, but this would have been my luck.

Anyway, I met Jeremy and set up a schedule of 12 meetings through August along with a personal check. I knew to make it through the first two months I would have to invest money and be accountable. We set up a Saturday morning meeting for the dreaded initial get-your-measurements meeting and the other 11 for during the week. I really hate that initial assessment. That’s one of the reasons I rarely followed through with any fitness plan…the initial assessment. It’s like a cruel joke! I already know I am overweight and overfat; that’s why I’m there! Do I really need it validated? Do I have to see the numbers that fall in the red “you’re so high risk it’s hard to believe you’re still alive” category?

After chatting with Jeremy, I told him I wanted to get started on the treadmill today. Given that I had been in there the day before and saw that they had about 8 treadmills and it was an 8:20 am light crowd, I thought this would be safe. But noooo! I was on the treadmill next to “Senior Miss Universe cover of 60+ stay fit magazine running 5 miles per hour on an incline” phenom! Every now and then she would slow down and rest at 4.5 mph, but then she would be off and running again. I kept looking at her and thinking, “That is not humanly possible,” but there she was, just a-runnin’. Oh the humiliation! I decided if I can make it through this morning, I can do this.

I walked only 20 minutes because I had to get to work. I walked out of the center, which is deep in the bowels of the medical center, and could not find the entrance I had used. And my legs were hurting! I didn’t realize Jell-O had pain receptors! All I could think about was sitting in my jeep, but I could not find the blasted door! When I finally made it to the parking lot, I could not find my blasted jeep! I tell you, that curb was looking mighty comfy. I found my jeep, sat down, and realized I was feeling a sense of satisfaction. I had done it. I completed my first day. And, I was happy.

COUNTDOWN TO DAY 1

I knew it was time to do something about my body when I was listening too intently to a client who had gone for a gastric bypass consultation. I talked to my friend and colleague, who can hide behind a Bic pen, and she told me that all I needed was to work out. I thought about that for about 15 minutes, and then called for information about the employee fitness center at Baptist Medical Center. I didn’t have my car that day (my husband and I carpool to work), so I could not go sign up. Another day of reprieve! I could use this time to think of all the excuses I needed not to go. Honestly, there weren’t any. I talked to my husband, Dave, who was completely supportive as long a he did not have to go even though it was cheap for an employee’s spouse. So, the next day, I took my husband to work and went to the fitness center to get signed up.

The trainer with whom I had talked had waited to meet me, but I was running late. And this wasn’t an official I-have-a-good-excuse late. It was a dawdling, procrastinating wait. But I went. I completed the paperwork, including the one to have the fee payroll deducted, and thought to myself, “Step One completed.”

I called two of my dearest friends, both of whom are pixie elf-type women, and told them of my plan. My best friend was relieved. I never realized just how concerned about my health she was. I told my mom, the travel agent for guilt trips; because I knew she would keep me motivated. And, I spent a lot of time with my 3 year-old son, who is the biggest motivation of all. I realized an investment in my health is an investment in my life with him, and I don’t know what can be more motivating than that.