First Week-- Feelin' Good!

This is Tuesday night. I got my ass handed to me on Saturday morning through my attempt to pump my body…damn you Les Mills! Let me say, it has been a long weekend! On Sunday morning, in an attempt to ease our pain, Anna and I went on a hike…moving your screaming quads up and downhill is the way to do make the pain go away, right? While walking, I was fine. However, getting in the car to head back home was a five-minute process. It was then that I was convinced all the blood in my body had been replaced with lactic acid.

I was in pain all day Sunday and walking up and down the stairs was truly evil. Also, getting in and out of the car or, well, moving at all, was hellish. I hated myself for going to that damn class.

By Monday, the lactic acid had turned to lactic cement. It felt as though I was wearing knee braces because my quads were so tight that I could barely bend my knees to walk. Stairs were beyond evil, beyond hell, they were Lucifer himself.

Of course, I had no choice but to try and evict Lucifer and his evil muscle-tightening powers from my body. I went to zumba. Son of a bitch, she had us squatting and lunging all over the place. I whined my way through that hour, but at the end, I felt a little better. It has to be good to just keep going, right?

This morning, I woke up, stretched, and thought, “Okay, you can do this. You will dominate those stairs today.” And you know what? I did. The stairs weren’t evil at all. They were slightly rude, but not nearly as Lucifer-tastic as before. It took me four days to totally recover from that damn class. Four fucking days?! That’s what I get for abandoning the gym for so long. Next time, it won’t be so bad. It can’t. Can it?

***

January 20, 2012

Anna and I went back to body pump last night. This time, instead of leaving the weight-plates on the bars as they were set up (which we totally did the first time…and probably led to the excruciating pain and soreness that followed), we decided to regulate the weights for each exercise on our own. You know, the whole “you know what’s best for your body” and “don’t push yourself too hard that you hurt yourself” mumbo-jumbo.

I went home feeling good. I wasn’t made entirely of jello and I wasn’t in hell. I made myself a high-protein-it’s-too-late-to-really-cook dinner of scrambled eggs with mushrooms and asparagus, and finished my tenth glass of water for the day.

When I walked upstairs to go to PEE (holy crap…being a teacher and drinking all this water is rough! After the first few glasses are down, I’m running to go potty every class period! Oh well. It’s good for me, right?) and go to bed, I didn’t hurt! My quads were fine enough to ascend the stairs without me wincing. I mean, I could feel the workout, but Lucifer hadn’t returned.

This morning, I woke up, and could feel a little lactic acid sitting in the fibers of my muscles. No biggie. Then I did the math. As of now, it’s been twelve hours since I got out of the class. Is this the calm before the storm? I guess only time will tell…but I’ll be sure to be walking around the classroom a lot today to keep evil Luci and his soreness army from attacking.

***

Today was weigh-in for the biggest loser competition at school. I have been weighing myself at home and according to that scale, I’ve lost about two pounds and my body fat has gone down one percent (I have a biometric body fat analyzer…same one Robyne used when I was training).

Now I know that I purposely bulked up the day of the first weigh-in, but this morning’s results were unexpected. Before I left for work today, I weighed myself clothed so I wouldn’t be so shocked when I got to school. I also did this to prove how much of a liar the scale at school is. There’s a two pound difference. Not enough to truly piss me off. Damn.

Last week, I hopped on the scale and was a devastating (for me, I am NOT judging anyone else or their body or even saying that my weight is a bad number…it’s not about the number; it’s about how you feel!) 163.8 pounds. This morning, knowing the school scale is a jerk-faced liar, I stepped on expecting to be about 161 pounds. I mean, if I had lost two pounds at home, that would be legit, right?

Hello! 156.2 pounds! I’ll take that! That’s about seven pounds!

Look, losing seven pounds in a week is not normal. I changed up my diet and started exercising. The reason (and I know this) that the numbers are so drastically different is because I previously weighed myself at the end of the day and was filled with water and junk-food weight. Today I weighed myself in the morning and had worked to make a difference. I’ll take the seven pounds to go towards the competition, but I know I’ve really only lost two pounds.

But you know what? Two pounds is a celebration. Two pounds is something to be proud of. And again, it’s not even about the number. It’s about how I feel. And I’m already feeling better about myself. It really does amaze me how doing something so little can help so much. I’m feeling good today.

Now I just need to keep this good feeling going and keep up on what I’ve been doing this week.

I’m like The Little Engine that Could. I think I can!