Mutiny.

Who needs to laugh, anyhoo?

Not me, for sure. Nor do I need to sneeze, to cough, to sit up, to get out of bed, to reach over and pick up paper...

Nope. I don't need no stinkin' stomach muscles. 

Or back muscles. Or arms. 

Surely this must be the case, because why else would the middle portion of my body be rebelling so?

Should you see me today (or really any day post boot camp), please know that I do not normally cry like a little girl when lifting a water bottle to my lips. My hands don't shake with Parkinsonian tremors while typing, and I am capable of walking up a flight of stairs. 

Really I am. 

Promise*.

*tries to talk self into believing

So the body presented a full on mutiny this morning as we played duck-duck-goose. Well, maybe it was half mutiny. I didn't actually "chunder everywhere" like this guy claims to

Yeah. About that...

I digress. Mutiny started on Tuesday when I am pretty damn sure I was on my hands and toes, attempting to do a push up (or 50) and my face hit the mud. grass. Did I mention I rang my shorts out after that workout and muddy water dripped off of me? 

Mutiny.

I don't even know what happened yesterday. 

Today hates me for it, which must mean I had a fantabulous time. 

At least, that's what it used to mean.

Today I tried not to cry as I did sit ups, flutter kicks and a zillion other core muscle using exercises. Thankfully we workout in the dark so no one saw the awful faces I was making while preventing a vomcano from ruining everyone else's workout. 

The fear of puking is alive and well. 

But mostly because it would use totally destroy the muscles that are rebelling, and then where would we be?

I Am A Runner.

I am a runner. 

This does not automatically mean I am fast or that I have run a marathon or that I run every day.

Because I am not/ have not/ do not.

It does mean that I put one foot in front of the other at a pace where conversation is no longer comfortable.

I run in the rain.

I run in the heat.

I run in the cold.

No. Not like that.

I run in the cold.

Sometimes I run with other people.

Sometimes I run alone.

I run because I am happy. 

I run because I am not.

I've run through strange neighborhoods, my parents splitting up, my dad's death, break-ups, job losses, weddings, funerals, friends and family moving away. 

The first few runs after your running buddies move away blow big, fat donkey balls, btw. I know because this just happened. My heart is broken, and I am lost. I can hardly slow down long enough to think about it. Because then I'd have to think about it.

I run because I don't know what else to do. Running has been a constant in my life since forever.(A.K.A. shortly after I learned how to walk.)

Mostly, I run because I can.

All of this said, we ran in bc this morning. Down Peachtree Road, front to back like army ants in the pre-dawn light. This group of people that I know almost nothing about (because I am SO friking out of breath speech is impossible. plus it's stupid early), but have been working out with for a minute, is REALLY amazing. 

I am a runner, but they kick my ass. 

Every. Day. 

They inspire me to become a better version of myself. Just like a running buddy.

Dear bed

I'm sure I should be posting something here about how freaking awesome it is that New York loves everyone, but really all I can think about is this:

Is kinda awesome, yet also kinda douchey. 

I love the idea of being on a beach, alone, with a bed. 

Who am I kidding?! 

I'll take anywhere with a bed.

I'd be out. 

Face first. 

O.U.T.

 

Dear bed: I miss you.

I know we haven't seen much of each other lately, and I'm sorry about that. I'm told sleep improves brain function and other magical things, decreases cancer risk, and makes a girl more beautiful. What's not to love?

Also, I found this pic of a bed:

That is a bed. I shit you not.

Ridic, no?

And I was so ready for bed.

Now, I gag.

Boot camp belly

It has dawned on me that I should prolly put some pics on here to monitor my progress.

This means pictures of me on the interwebs. 

Naked. 

Er, nearly naked.

*sigh.*

Balls.

Don't be blinded by my whiteness, people.

Bla-dow!

I maybe have one too many food babies up in there.

It's clear that there is no six pack involved. 

No, wait. 

There are lots of six packs involved. 

Bring a Friend to Work(out) Day

I always loved "go to work with your parents" day in school. I loved that I got to see into my dad's secret world of ties and briefcases. I remember being very surprised at the drawings and pictures he had in his office. A painted paper plate on a popsicle stick, a piece of construction paper with stick figures of our family, and a toilet paper tube with streamers that may or may not have once been a turkey sat on the top shelf of his bookcase.

I remember Dad being concerned about my being in the way or bored when he was on a conference call. I remember being nervous and excited at the same time. I also remember trying not to make an ass out of myself.

This morning at boot camp we had "bring a friend to boot camp" day.  All those feelings of wonder, excitement, nerves, and the never achieved goal of trying not to make an ass out of myself came rushing back as I looked around in the pre-dawn light and realized everyone else had similar feelings. 

At least, those of us awake enough to have feelings.

I like Bring A Friend Day. I like the new faces (says the girl who has been going to boot camp so few days she can count them on one hand!) and the added excitement in the air. I guess that's the deal with special days- they can't be everyday because then what's special? How does the day stand out? I mean, most of my childhood schooling is a big ol' blur. Except, of course, for the two days I went to work with my dad.

Also? I really like coffee after camp.

Day 2

Holy Lord.

I. Am. Sore.

i am so sore i can hardly type.

I feel great though! I'm drinking water like it's going out of style. Or not. I mean, it could be the next big thing. Did you know you're supposed to drink 75% of your body weight in water every day? (1 ounce for 1 pound.) That's a lot of water!

I have a new water bottle for the occasion. It matches nothing I own and has a smaller mouth than my regular Nalgene bottles. This is a good thing; now I can drink my water instead of wearing it.

It's this style.

In this color. without the filter.

See? Matches nothing.

I'm OK with that.

Day 1

OK, so that wasn't so bad.

If you consider swinging kettle bells not so bad.

I was afraid that going to boot camp would be somewhere between a) real boot camp and  b)signing up for dietary brain washing. Instead, I found a group of about ten people sleepily standing on the sidewalk. They were all shapes and sizes, and they did not match perfectly. In short, they looked like regular people.

Regular people who can kick my ass. As we jogged and sprinted throughout the workout, I was consistently one of the slowest. As I struggled through the workout, I was surprised to hear encouragement from the coaches who knew my name.

And they didn't yell at me. No telling me I'm not good enough or any of the real boot camp yelling- in-your-face-at-five-o'clock-in-the-am crap.

Boot Camp? Boot Camp!

I've been a runner since... ah, well, pretty much since forever. This is not to say that I'm any good at it. It just seems easier than chasing a ball, or trying to prevent balls from flying at my head. Keeping one foot in front of the other is enough for me, thank you.

So I spent the fall and winter running 5 half marathons. I did about one a month, with mediocre results. I mean, I'm glad I did them, but I was hoping to get faster. (This did not happen!) In fact, I developed pain in my right knee that was excruciating! At the last one in March,  I was barely able to hobble the second half of the race. I took a month off, hoping it would go away.

It did not. Not with ice, not with rest, not with drugs. (OTC ones, people. Sheesh! I'm not that kinda girl.)

I've been feeling fat, and my core is weak. Maybe more like sluggish. Please understand that I use the term "fat" VERY loosely. A ten pound weight gain, for me, means going up somewhere between one and two pant sizes. And I just don't have that much room in my closet for pant storage.

Anyhoo, I went to see a chiropractor. Good news: my knee no longer hurts. Turns out, my scoliosis twists my back as though Iam always pulling my left shoulder across my body toward my right hip. My job is now to keep my core strong and prevent that twist/ collapse which leads to hip tightening and knee pain from compensation.

Aaaand how the crap am I going to do this???

Insert chiropractor, who gave me some exercises, which were nearly impossible to make myself do. Make that totally impossible.

So as I'm trying to figure out how to do these stupid exercises, and my awesome sister, Molly (whose blog you can read here), reminds me about boot camp. She gained a rockin body wicked fast with The American Boot Camp Company.

I (gulp!) signed up. To workout. At 5:45. IN THE MORNING.

I think I may die.