Making Fitness a Habit

Happy Monday everyone, I hope you had a great weekend! One thing I’ve been meaning to talk about for awhile is FITNESS! Last month, a friend of mine joined my gym and it’s definitely helped keep me on track as we pick a couple classes per week to go to. I have another friend who’s been going with me too, and I find the buddy system is amazing for hitting the gym – it’s so much easier to decide not to go when you don’t have someone there waiting for you! I was looking at my calendar and I realized I’ve been working out at least four times a week for the past four weeks, which is AWESOME!

Last week, I burned 515 calories in kickboxing… I just love my pink gloves. Fierce and fashionable!

photo 1

Then, I left it all on the floor after an hour of heart pumping bootcamp, complete with resistance bands, weights and ab work.

photo 2

Then this morning, I started my Sunday off with an hour of zumba, complete with a song that makes me feel like I’m starring in a rap video.

What’s great about the past few weeks is that despite what the scale says, I can feel and see results; like the tiniest ripple of a bicep muscle or  my stamina when I’m sprinting up the four staircases to my allergist’s office. After my last post about throwing out the scale, after my dietbet ends, I’m going to not weigh in for a whole month – and instead base my success on MEASUREMENTS, STRENGTH and STAMINA. I put too much focus on the number on the scale, when in reality, big changes are happening.

I also have something that should really kick it up a notch – Starting the 20th, I’ll be doing a bootcamp every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning from 7:15 – 8:15 AM. While I’m not looking forward to getting out of bed to do things like flip tires, I’m feeling better and better the more I make fitness a priority, and I have a friend who will be right by my side cheering me on. So, I’m actually looking forward to continuing my fitness journey.

I’ve made fitness a habit, and it’s a habit I don’t plan to break anytime soon.

How’s your fitness going?

Post Vacation Weekly Weigh In

This morning after getting my butt kicked in kickboxing, I headed over to the scale. I wasn’t filled with dread, like I usually am, because lately I’ve been feeling… skinny. Maybe it’s because I heard four separate times from relatives on my vacation that I’d lost weight, or maybe it was because I ate Greek Yogurt for breakfast, and in my mind, Greek Yogurt is some magical weight loss elixir. Either way, I stepped on the scale with a kind of cautious optimism, curious about what a week of eating junk food, but only three times a day and in moderate portions, had done to me.

I'm fairly certain my heart stopped for 30 seconds after eating this, but DAMN, it was good.

Result?
*Drum roll*

Down. Down half of a pound. Italian beef, hot dogs, pizza, cookies, cheese curds, bratwurst, potato chips, popcorn, vanilla cream Dunkin Donut, twinkies. Down. No kickboxing, no yoga, no treadmill, no tracking. Down.

This has happened to me before. Is it the break from the daily stresses of my life – a busy job, graduate classes, homework? Is it the fact that I’m not eating when I think I “should” and was actually eating when I was hungry? Was it because I was so busy bouncing from Chicago to Minnesota back to Chicago and then all around the state that I wasn’t always eating? I don’t know. But in the future, if vacations could always go this way, I’d be pleased.

All the things I ate last week definitely made me feel like a pig – but the scale showed me this morning… that a pig I am not.

Divine Swine!

Have you ever been surprised by a weight LOSS when on vacation?

Don’t Sweat It

I sweat. A lot. Like to the point of “Hey now, heard there’s a water shortage in Southern California. Want some sweat?” Let’s get right to the point. Here’s a picture of me last night after an hour of boxing. We did these awesome drills called “suicides” where you take turns with your sparring partner and beat the bag in minute-long sessions – first uppercuts, then jabs, then hooks. It was badass.

After 55 minutes of pure cardio - I sweat!

See that dark smudge on my shirt? That’s sweat. See how my hair looks brown? That’s sweat. See how my face is shiny and red and blotchy? That’s sweat. See that smile? That’s confidence. See this picture? That’s proof.

A friend of mine joined my gym and we took this kickboxing class together. Afterwards she expressed her surprise at my level of  sweat by saying “You’re like.. WET!” My response to her was “That’s why I’m here!” My sweatiness is something that trips me out sometimes, because as ladies, we’re expected to be dainty, feminine and polite, and if we sweat, it should be little glistening dew drops that glimmer like diamond shimmer powder on our foreheads. Not big, rolling rivers of salty sweat that drips into our eyes and puddles onto the floor. Or at least that’s what we’re supposed to think. I now know that for me, a good workout is measured in the level of “dew” on my body – is the small of my back damp? How about the back of my neck? Do my hands feel clammy, like a 14 year old boy’s at his first school dance? When I work out, it’s not pretty. I’m not there to walk a runway. I’m there to put the WORK in working out… and I’m pretty sure hard work doesn’t always look pretty, unless you’re Heidi Klum or Alexander Skarsgard.

I joined a women’s gym because there’s a comfort level I needed to have to start working out. I sweat like a beast, and when I’m doing squats, I didn’t want to worry about Joe the Plumber staring at my butt as it rippled in agony. I wanted to wake up on Saturday mornings, as I now do, and roll out of bed with wild, frizzy squirrel hair and smudged mascara and have a hell of a workout.  I wanted to wear a tank top and not worry about my chicken wings flapping in the powerful air conditioning, and most of all, I wanted to feel like NOBODY WAS WATCHING as I began the intimate process of getting my body into shape. Because it’s my business – not theirs. (heh, the irony is not lost on me that I end up blogging about it anyways)

I’m a hot, sweaty mess after my workout and I don’t care. Actually, I do care. If I’m not sweating, I didn’t make my body work hard enough. No guts, no glory. So a little bit of wetness, perspiration, moisture or dew? Bring it on. I’m waterproof, and washable. I’m not sweatin’ it.