FAT AF

I really busted my hump last week. I've been doing a lot of exercise, but this last week I was killin' it at the gym. Saturday I did Spinning AND Body Pump... in the same fracking day. Sunday? 9.9 mile bike ride on gravel. On top of everything else, I've given up meat, and have been really watching my diet. I've been straight up killin' it. 

Unfortunately I stepped on the fudging scale.

If you are anything like me, and on an incredibly hard journey to weight loss, stepping on the scale and seeing the same number every single day, or a pound or two more, is disheartening. When I kill myself in the gym and on the bike, and still the scale does not waver, it is demoralizing, to say the least. When I see that same frickin' number, over and over again, no matter how hard I try, I feel FAT AF.

Some of you may say, "What the french toast, Erin?" 

I am surrounded by incredibly fit, healthy, muscular people. While I find it incredibly inspiring to be in their presence, it also bums me out to be the slowest person on our bike rides, or lifting lighter weights in BP, or not doing positions 2 & 3 in Spinning. I can't do a flicking burpee, for God's sweet sake. These dear, muscular, fit friends of mine are so encouraging and supportive, but in my mind I always add an unspoken addition at the end of their wonderfully uplifting sentences. 

You're riding your bike so well (for how fat you are).

You are a beast in BP (for how fat you are). 

You are swimming like a champ (for how fat you are). 

You are killing it (for how fat you are). 

So, in this forum, in front of all you witnesses, I'm saying fuck you, scale. Fuck you, voice in my head. Instead of feeling FAT AF when I step on that scale, I'm going to be FREE AF when I throw that fucking scale out the fucking window. Instead of adding that unspoken bullshit at the end of sentences, I'm going to only listen to what my friends are saying, and nothing more. Fuck being hard on myself. Fuck being hard on my friends. Fuck excuses. Fuck it all.

I've become so absolutely obsessed with losing weight, that my actual life is chore. I don't want to talk about it anymore. I don't want to make excuses anymore. I want to quit frick fracking whinging and get the fuck on with my life. Right now.

Growing Muscles

The other day, as per usual, I was complaining about how sore my body was from taking a class at the gym. It was TABATA, and what a killer! My abs, arms, and thighs were seriously pained. Note to self - avoid burpees at all cost. The next day, the gang and I went for a lengthy bike ride, which made me even more sore - oh the hills! Once again, I bitched. My best girl, Rootin' Tootin' Newton, looked me straight in the eye and said, "Dude, growing muscles is hard work!"

She speaks the truth.

Newton said some other stuff, but I must confess I was crying too loud inside to actually listen. (Just kidding, Beckers, I listened, and did my own research for this post.) All-in-all, this has been a very informative week, and I'm about to drop some knowledge on you.

*** The following medical info was borrowed (stolen) and paraphrased from BuiltLean contributor, John Levya. He's wicked smart. ***

Did you know there are 650 skeletal muscles in the human body? I'm pretty sure 639 of mine were screaming during my workouts this week. Here's what's interesting: after a workout, your body repairs or replaces damaged muscle fibers through a cellular process which fuses the fibers together to create new muscle protein. These fibers increase in thickness and number to create growth.  

Added to the new muscle fibers, there are satellite cells that also contribute. When you work out, specifically when you lift weight or pump it up, you damage your muscles. This causes inflammatory molecules and immune system cells that activate the satellite cells. Those little guys help to repair your damaged muscles to grow big and strong. So, in conclusion, growing muscles is, in fact, hard work.

I've been sore all week. Wednesday night I almost got stuck in my bed, because my abs were so sore I couldn't sit up. I had to call my dog to jump in the bed, so I could use him for support. Still, with Newton's wise words ringing in my ears, I went to Body Pump on Thursday... and lived. I did more than live, I actually really liked the class, and will definitely make it a part of my weekly schedule. 

Today, my muscles are repairing and growing. Because of the shoulder work in BP, I can't lift my arms above my head; however, I am now educated enough to embrace the pain, as it means my muscles are responding! I can definitely feel those little satellite cells jumping into action and building me some nice, strong, healthy guns. Next summer I will wear nothing but sleeveless shirts when it's sunny. 

I'm mostly writing today so that I can encourage you to just get out there and damage some muscles. Don't be afraid of being sore - relish it! Don't be shy about taking a new class, or trying a new exercise - just do it! I know its corny, but try every day to be the best version of yourself; get outside, breath the fresh air, be kind always, and GROW SOME MUSCLES.

SIDE NOTE: Your muscles also need REST and GOOD NUTRITION to grow. Don't ever forget your rest days!

Meat is Murder (To My Health)

Did you know that just one serving of deli meat per day raises your chance of developing cancer by 50%? I didn’t either, and I feel a little pissed off right now.

If you’re like me, and a product of ‘70s parenting, you grew up consuming copious amounts of animal flesh, believing it was healthy. Our parents encouraged us to get our protein, all the while believing that three squares a day of meat were the way to go. They didn’t know any better than most of us do now. We are excited for summer BBQs, a huge ham for Easter, and roast beef on Christmas Eve. We have adopted, much like our parents did from theirs, a “meat and potatoes” lifestyle, never knowing that this lifestyle is more detrimental to our health than SMOKING.

Yep, I said it. Eating animal flesh, in some ways, is worse than smoking tobacco.

I recently watched the documentary ‘What the Health?’ on Netflix, and I urge you all to do the same. Little did I know that the meat I’ve been eating my whole life is full of carcinogens and various other poisons, and is more of a contributor to diabetes, heart disease, and cancer than is SUGAR. What the health!? Unfortunately for me, I was eating a deli chicken sandwich while watching, and almost puked up my lunch. When you realize you’re eating poison, it’s hard to justify taking another bite.

I can admit that I am absolutely shocked at how Americans are slaves to the food industry in our own country; that our government makes money off of our sickness and ignorance. That our food industry has been hijacked by big business and profiteering. Sweet baby Jesus, it's insane how hoodwinked I feel right now. To be blunt, I feel stupid to have been lulled into a false sense of wellness.

I've been thinking about giving up meat for a while now. Learning what I have, there is really no debating the benefits of a plant-based lifestyle versus that of a meat-based one. Simply put, the animal proteins I ingest are clogging my arteries, starving my blood vessels, and contributing to my dependence on modern medicine to avoid illness. The science is there, people – and I, for one, am anxious to reap the benefits of going meatless. Honestly, the logic is pretty simple; to be fully healthy on the outside means healing from within.

Dear friends, I’m not going rogue here. I’m not jumping on a bandwagon, or adopting a holier-than-thou vegan attitude. I’m merely trying to tell you that I’m making a new choice that I feel will be right for my weight loss goals, my well-being, and my life. I am fully aware that this change will be a difficult one to make. I know that my dad will think I’m crazy, my kid will be flabbergasted, and my commitment will be questioned. I know that I’m infinitely flawed, and I might not succeed 100% of the time. I know all this, and yet I’m still thrilled to take the leap. 

30 Pounds Ago

I would never walk around Chicago, in 90° heat, without giving up (or dying).

I would never register for, or finish, the Holland 100.

I would never wear bike shorts in public.

I would never consider joining a triathlon relay.

I would never wear skirts, for fear of chub rub.

I would never consider dating.

I was never brave.

I didn't realize my worth.

I was so, so very sad.


Thirty pounds is important. I've been stuck at 30 lbs down for several weeks now, and was having difficulty keeping my motivation. It took yesterday, a dismally bad day, for me to realize what a difference that loss has made in my life. 

As I wandered unfamiliar streets, sweating my ass off, and feeling vulnerable, I realized that I was...comfortable. I was not out of breath. I was not struggling to walk even long distances. I even ran a bit. I was able to imagine how much more difficult my ordeal would have been, had I been carrying a 30 pound weight around with me. 

Funny how that thirty pounds felt like the weight of the world.

TIRED

Man, I’m tired.

Single mom. Full timer. Cyclist (sorta). Workout enthusiast (that’s a stretch). Pet owner. Cook. Chauffer. (Smoker, joker, midnight toker.) I do it all, every day.

I know there are a lot of others out there, right now, who can claim exactly the same resume, and so I’m not having a pity party. However, I can fully admit that I’m damn tired, most of the time. My job is mentally difficult, and often stressful. I don’t sleep well at night, despite the CPAP and the good bed, so I wake up as tired as I was when I went to sleep. I worry a lot. All of these reasons, and so many more, meld together to create one dragging lady (and I use that term loosely).

One thing I tried today was getting up early (5 AM!) and meeting a friend to go swimming. I thought, why not? If I work out in the morning, I’ll have more time in the evening to spend with my kid, get chores done, and relax. Also, school will be starting up again soon, so I’ll have loads of homework to complete. Problems solved, right? The perfect solution, for sure.

You know what, though? 5 AM is EARLY, my friends!

Actual photo of me at work today:

I’m not coming to you today with answers I’ve already found that work for me… simply because I have no answers to give. I haven’t figured this one out, ya’ll. So this time, I’m asking all of you for help. What are your tips for putting a pep in your step? How do you combat those early afternoon drowsies (without caffeine and chocolate)? HOW THE HELL DO YOU GET EVERYTHING DONE? What are you willing to sacrifice in your life to fit everything else in, and still binge watch It’s Always Sunny? I’m looking for help this time, folks. Seriously, help a sister out.

Rise of the Phoenix

So, here’s the scoop.

I’ve lost 30 lbs. I went down an underwear size, and my pants are all too big. I’m stronger, I can walk without wheezing, and I’m faster. People are beginning to notice these little changes, and it’s been great.

HOWEVER, I’ve been stuck at 30 down for a couple of weeks now, and have been getting a bit discouraged. Cue a week of “rest,” which is typical Erin. I didn’t count calories, I spent time in my room watching TV, and I finished some easy projects that were plaguing me. What I didn’t do much of was exercise.

This is the damage that I constantly inflict on myself. I use a million excuses to rest, to let things slide, or to just quit. I am a master of convincing myself and others that I’m still working hard, still plugging away, but in reality, I’m damaging my chances of a lasting life change.

Now wait, before you cry foul, let me assure you that I’m not quitting. I’m like that phoenix in the Harry Potter books, who grows, bursts into flames, then grows again. You all should know by now that consistency is not my strong suit, and I can fully admit that this is a (sometimes) fatal flaw. I am a fallible, inconsistent person… and that’s OK. I grow, flame out, but will grow again. Thankfully I keep learning through it all.

Now that you’re all caught up, I’ll let you know what is on the horizon for me. I’ll be training for a couple of very specific events, and that training starts NOW. On July 15, I’ll be participating in the Holland 100, biking for 18 miles with my buddy Dan. I’m told this is not a race, and that there is a pancake breakfast halfway through the ride, so I’m looking forward to damaging some flapjacks.

Up next is the Shermanator, a triathlon relay in August (http://shermanatortri.org/index.html). I’ve really got to put my game face on for this one, since my sweet friends, my fellow Dusty Dames, will be counting on me to pull out a good performance. I will be doing the cycling portion of the race, which is 10 miles. I have given myself a speed goal, and hope to crush it.

So, I guess if you see me riding on the streets of Barry County, please don’t honk, but feel free to wave. I would like to say that I hope to make you all proud, but I really don’t care so much about that. I want to, and will, make myself proud; only then will I rise.

I Love the Smell of Camphor in the Morning

So, I’m 41-years-old.

I’ve heard that 40 is the new 30, and I guess mentally that is probably correct. However, I still have a 40+ year old body; one that I abused in my childhood thru early 20’s when I was dancing. (Did you know I was once, ages ago, a professional dancer?)

So here I am, 41-years-old, pushing my body to produce the results I know I can achieve… and my body is pissed about it. Right now I’m experiencing every ache and pain this vessel can throw at me. My foot hurts badly enough that it’s painful getting out of bed, my thighs aches after Spinning, and my knees hurt from riding my bike.

Every night I find myself lubing up with balms, and using all manner of pain relieving patches. Seriously, if they made a suit out of Tiger Balm patches, I’d buy three. Many of these salves for aches and pains contain camphor, which smells DELIGHTFUL, is soothing, and cooling. I’ve just discovered that this delightful substance comes from a tree, which hails from Asia. SIGN ME UP. I want exclusive, on-demand access to this glorious tree and its menthol-ly goodness.

According to the webpage, http://besttreestoplant.com/trimming-trees/the-camphor-tree/, the camphor tree is the official city tree of Hiroshima, Japan. After the city was destroyed at the end of WWII, this fast-growing tree helped bring the city back to life.

IF THIS ISN'T A METAPHOR FOR MY LIFE, I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS. 

Whether I'm biking, lifting, swimming, weeding, or just walking, the sweet camphor tree (in a roundabout way) is bringing me back to life; helping me to recover for the next workout, and the next adventure. I love the smell of camphor, because it means I've done my best during the day, and pushed myself to a new level of fitness. Therefore, I embrace the aches and the pains, and the lovely smell of healing, because it means I'm changing, and coming back to life. 

By the way, I do have a birthday coming up. (Hint, hint.)