Day 2 of 23: I am a Lazy Whore

The power went out last night. I only know that because the dog went apeshit around 2am and when I woke up everything was pitch dark. It's strange how used to random ambient light we are in our techy society. The TV receiver has a little blue light, two alarm clocks usually glow on the side tables in our bedroom, even the streetlights and outside lights of the neighbors' houses cast light into our homes at night. I thought "Huh, power's out" and went back to sleep. No reason to worry about oversleeping due to the outage, because if there's no power for my alarm? No power at school either.  As it was, the power came back on at about 5:45, just in time to get up and feed the spawn.

I hit the snooze twice. (Lazy. Whore.)

When I finally did get up, it was a battle to get the smalls up and moving. Rain has a sedative effect on everyone, it seems. I made them some waffles and assembled some lunches. Mom stuff. Then I made myself a cup of coffee and plopped down in the living room chair to peruse the news.

Breakfast was my usual "off week" fare.

Ezekiel toast with Sunbutter is delicious.

Also 2 containers of water. Gah. So much water. 

We went to the box for today's Hero WOD. There were burpees. Fucking burpees again. I hate burpees. Because I? Am a Lazy Whore. We ran outside (which was lovely in spite of a light rain), did deadlifts (I loaded up 185#! A new WOD high for me!), and burpee pull-ups (for me, because I can't do bar muscle ups). My DL reps were pretty good until about 30 in when they started to look ugly. I know this, because Justin made his disgusted face at me. On the plus side I don't think 195# is my 1RM anymore, and I managed to get over the bar on every one of my burpee pull-ups. My back feels totally fine, so I didn't do any damage with my ugly reps at least. 

I mashed in my post-WOD snack in at the gym.

Stock photo, it was a yellow pepper today.

Then we went to Target because my stupid blowdryer shorted out yesterday and now that my hair is long I can't get by with a cold air dryer. Stupid hair. And you can't go to Target without going to Starbucks, so...

I had a flat white. Woo dairy!

We got home, I poured some more water down my throat, and then ate again. Because that's what I do. Eat. Constantly.

It's only half a potato. Promise.

After lunch I crawled into bed for a nap. No shower. Lazy Whore. 

I love napping on rainy days. It was legit today, since I'm working tonight, but it just feels decadent to burrow under the covers and snooze while the rain hits the windows.  I didn't sleep very long, unfortunately, but I often don't on my first day back to work. Some sleep is better than no sleep. I probably would have slept longer, but I had to pee. Fucking water. I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep, but I couldn't. Dammit.

So I got up and had a snack.

It's like chips, but not.

And felt very glad that we replaced the sump pump last year.

Any more rain and I'll need a goddamn ark.

And sat in a chair knitting a dishcloth, because I am a lazy whore.

I considered going for a run, because the sun came out and it was relatively warm in spite of the rain, but I didn't because lazy whore. I did get my copy of Runner's World today. That's a Vizsla on the cover with the perky blond. I don't look like that when I run with Lucy. Because I? Am a Lazy Whore. 

She is way too damn happy. 

I do wish to learn how to love every run.

I feel myself falling out of love with running. Which is sad. Running and I were so happy last fall. I wonder if we broke up and running didn't tell me? Maybe running needs more from out relationship. Maybe running has discovered I'm a lazy whore. 

We plopped a roast in the crockpot for dinner. A perfectly nice rainy day meal.

The other half of my mutant potato, and legumes! Woo!

Have I mentioned the water? So much water.

After yesterday's workout my core is shot. Deadlifting today didn't help much. My abs always hurt after deadlifting. I'm sure my ass and hamstrings will be shouty around 2am. That's generally when I start to lock up. 

Speaking of work I should be making my lunch, but I'm not. I also still have not showered. This lazy whore smells delightful. Instead I am eating again.

With cocoa nibs for funsies.

It takes a lot of food to fuel this much sitting around.

So here's my daily snapshot. I have 800ml left to drink, but I'll do that at work. I do have 2.5 hours there before the checkboxes reset at midnight. Plenty of time. 

Look at all those checked boxes! WIN!

Tomorrow Bernie Sanders will be at the Kress Center. I'm going to try to get in to see him, which may or may not work seeing as I'll be daysleeping. I think I'll run over there, then if I can't get in at least I will have gotten 4 miles in round trip. Gotta do something. Saturday is an awake day, so I might get some planks and shoulder work in if I'm feeling particularly ambitious. (Hahahaha ambition. Whatevs.)

I might be too lazy to finish my dessert. 

Is laziness savant a thing?  I'm going to make it a thing. 

The Sloth is my Spirit Animal.

Day 1 of 23: This is Going to Get Tedious (for You)

I'm going to apologize in advance for the slog through my life you'll be taking for the next 23 days. In the past I've found blogging to be pretty damn effective as an accountability tool, so I'm going to use it that way again. Basically this is going to be a lot of pictures of food. So if you're into that, cool. If not, well, feel free to fuck right off. It's not like you're being forced to read this. Unless you are, in which case blink twice and I'll call the police.

So you know those cookies and that glass of wine from last night? Yeah. Those. I'm done doing that to myself. I woke up with a sugar hangover again this morning. My body is literally punishing me for eating badly, and my brain is over here like push through the pain, sissypants. I won't push through pain while running or squatting, but I'll push through the pain of eating badly. I've got my former fatty priorities in order.

In the spirit of "beast mode on" I rolled groggily out of bed, made myself a cup of Deathwish, and swallowed 800mg of Ibuprofen. Party on, Wayne. Then I made breakfast (read: I poured cereal) for the spawn and listened to them whine about how they wanted the other cereal. Party on, Garth. Then I walked them to school and hustled home so I could get down to eating, which is SRS BZNS. 

srs. bzns.

I'm shooting for 4.8L of water every day in addition to all this perfect eating. That is so much water. Ye gods. My pee is clear. I've fought through 3.2L so far today and I'm dreading the last 1600mL. But I've learned over the last 10 weeks that 80oz leaves me dehydrated, 100oz is barely hanging onto the edge of hydration, and 140oz makes my cell membranes sing or some shit. So I'll shoot for 160 and hope for the best. 

I braved the Instant Pot for the first time today. I've heard tell of super easy hard cooked eggs that peel so quickly it brings a tear to your eye. So I gave it a go. This fucking thing is scary. The release valve makes me feel like I'm in a nuclear plant about to go meltdown.

Please don't explode, please don't explode.

So the pot didn't explode, but one of the eggs did.

Goddamn.

I'm going to make the assumption that it was cracked when I put it in the pot, because the other ones didn't go kerblewy. I'll try out the ease of peel bit tomorrow. 

I went to CF this morning for today's beatdown. Since the completion of the Open, Grant has decided to kick the shit out of everyone with a Hero WOD week. Today's took me 31:04 and included 150 burpees. At one point I was lying face down on the floor and said "I changed my mind. I don't want abs. Abs are overrated."  I'll go back again tomorrow. 

After the workout I hung around for a while and ate some stuff.

Red pepper, you complete me.

Once I'd wasted enough time, I headed home and did some humdrum stuff. Empty the dishwasher, laundry, that kind of thing. I managed to bathe, which is somewhat impressive. Showering seems like an awful lot of work sometimes. 

I did try on a swimsuit I bought (online, I'm not in a mental place where I can deal with that in a department store dressing room) a few months ago. It fits, but I'm thinking I can make it look a lot better over the next 3 weeks. I can't believe I'm putting this here. Please look at it through squinty eyes. At this point I think just getting a tan would make it look 10 times better.  No filter here, just me and my scars and cellulite. And tattoos. And laundry. 

Sweet baby dolphins, what am I thinking? Also my ass needs work. 

After the trauma that is trying on a swimsuit, I ate. Does anyone else do that, or just me? Every time I've ever gone shopping for a swimsuit, I head straight to the fucking food court right after. At least this time I didn't eat Sbarro.

Pritty colors.

It was such a shitty, rainy afternoon that I opted not to run. I should have, but I didn't. I made a dishcloth instead. Sue me. I did walk over to the school to retrieve the smalls, so there's that. We headed home so they could get a snack and a start on homework before CF Kids. I also had a snack. Gotta check those boxes.

Yellow pepper and hummus. Not very colorful.

While the kids had their workout, I resumed my squat cycle. Shockingly, it went rather well today. After this morning's quad/hamstring beatdown I wasn't sure, but all my reps felt pretty solid. My warm-up reps felt really, really light (yes, they are light for most people, but I suck at squatting) and I was able to finish up pretty quickly. In time to watch my daughter squat with her heels on the floor! We're breaking the cycle, people! With luck and little baby dolphins she won't have to spend a year learning how to squat properly at age 34.

Once they finished up we came home so I could attempt the Instant Pot again. Yes, again. I had a half-thawed freezer meal that I thought might make a good first attempt at pressure-cooked dinner. After a few worried texts to my IP guru friend, I was ready to give it a go. Verdict? Success! Behold! Bruschetta chicken (with rice and chickpeas because checkboxes, yo). The kids even ate it!

I only had to bribe them a little.

Right now I'm feet up in front of the fire while the dog is comatose on the tile. I've discovered that turning on the fireplace draws her over there and within minutes she's in doggy dreamland. If you look closely you can see her nose.

She's snoring, which kills me.

In about an hour I'll eat my dessert. My last boxes to check for the day. I look forward to this evening snack. It feels like a treat (and I guess it is) but in the best possible way.

Oikos Triple Zero is fantastic.

So here's my day in a nutshell. I fucking win at vegetables today. I even got both legumes, which hardly ever happens. Oh, and the dairy is optional, and today I opted not. Still two slots to fill for water, but I'll get there or explode trying. 

Checking boxes, making gains.

Tomorrow it's back to the salt mine, but only for 6 nights this rotation. I burned a day of PTO just because. The thought of my next off week being 8 days makes me practically giddy. I have my final 3 mile time trial on my second day off. I really need to kill this one, confidence-wise. If it's slow I'm pretty much kissing a sub-2 goodbye. 

25 minutes to bedtime, and based on the noises coming from the downstairs playroom that'll be none too soon. Giving a pair of 6 year olds yo-yos may have been ill-advised. I fear for my lamps. 

There you have it. If you're feeling sleepy, please don't drive. I'll do my best to bore the shit out of you every night for the next few weeks.

Sigh. Time to refill my water. 800mL to go. gurgle 

Fight to the Finish

It's business time, motherfuckers. I had my second-to-last visit with Kirk the Nutrition Guy this morning and I'm pretty much exactly where I was at my last visit. Take home there is that you can have a less-than-stellar 2 weeks (out to dinner, drinking, and...uh...competitive cereal eating) and not trash all your progress to date. This gives me hope that I can enjoy the fuck out of my tropical vacation in May and not come back 10 pounds heavier. Pretty sure there won't be any Honey Bunches of Oats in St. Martin.

Measurements exactly the same, weight negligibly higher. After my massive water consumption on Saturday and Sunday my hydration status was aces (I actually managed to get my total body water up for a change, and it wasn't bloat! Yay, me!). I did tell Kirk about the Cereal Bowl. He laughed and asked how I felt on Sunday. I answered honestly...pretty fucking terrible. We also reassessed some of my initial paperwork and I re-took the inventory of symptoms. Some things resolved like heartburn and digestive upset. Mostly because I've curtailed my coffee consumption pretty substantially and I eat a lot more fiber now.  Some things are the same because no matter how perfectly I eat I'll still be allergic to goldenrod.

I missed a Hero WOD today for my appointment, but I did get a nice hour of challenging yoga in. I fed a sushi craving this afternoon (side note: if you buy a bottle of wine and a sushi roll at 1pm, the cashier will assume you're a boozer) and had a few Thin Mints after dinner tonight. I might have a few more later.

This was dinner. Food-groupy.

Hmm...might be time to pour a glass of wine.  A farewell glass because I have my final appointment in 3 weeks and I want to crush it. Right now my body fat sits at a 22.7% and my body muscle sits at 19.9%. I want to see that fat number at 21% or below and the muscle number at 20% or above. I don't think that's unreasonable. I'll have my final set of labs drawn on 4/8 and my final weight/measurements/BIA on 4/22. So beginning tomorrow with breakfast, it's a fight to the finish. Even though it's not really the finish.

My new kitchen cupboard friend.

Instead of making endless copies of my checkbox sheet, I made this handy board to track my daily food consumption. Right now I have it set up for a 2000 calorie approximation, but the 2400 cal is just one more protein, legume, dairy, and grain and since I know that I'll track that on heavy training days or when I just feel hungrier. It happens. I didn't include a line for fats and oils because I really don't track those. I get them every day with the way I cook (olive oil, grapeseed oil, butter) and I'm not worried about their caloric impact. This is my plan going forward. It serves as a big in-my-face reminder to eat properly...and to eat enough. My appetite has leveled off, and I'm not so desperately hungry anymore, so sometimes I have to remind myself to eat to recover. It's important. I wasn't doing it before and look what that got me. Weak and pissy. I like being strong and happy. Eating enough is a big part of that. 

My running is about to amp up as I approach my two spring races, my squat cycle resumes tomorrow and I have a plan for adding in some planks and shoulder work as well. I've been pretty consistent with my CrossFit attendance, and I've been getting in for yoga 3 or 4 times a week. 3 weeks of perfect adherence to my checkboxes and I should be golden. 

Maybe I could squeak my waist down below 29 inches...it's 29.25 right now...#pipedream 

Yesterday I got my hair fancied up as my roots were starting to look a little trashy. See the purple? I heart the purple. There's some teal in there, too.

Sunshiiiiine in my blonde hair, makes me happppeeeeeeee!

I haven't been this blond in a couple of years. It's a bit of a shock. I dried and straightened my hair this afternoon and did a little double take at my reflection. Would you believe my hair was cornsilk blonde as a child? I didn't go brunette until I was 13. Stupid puberty. 

It's finally light enough for us to take the children for a walk after dinner in the evenings. The boys got scooters for their birthday and the girl child already had one, so they opted to ride those little two-wheeled death traps around the park. Before leaving C asked me "Do I have to wear a coat?" I said yes, of course. To which he replied "But it's warm today, Mom!". 5 minutes later as we walked/scootered into the wind: "Mom! It's so cold! Why didn't you make us wear mittens!" Worst. Mom. Ever. I was a little gratified watching the boys devour steak and vegetables for dinner. P enjoyed his "sparaguses" and C declared "I love broccoli soooo much." L has always been good with non-orange veggies, but it's been a challenge getting the boys to this point. It's a good thing we don't have excessively picky eaters or food allergies/intolerance of any kind. I'm pretty sure I would be shit at dealing with that. Actually I'm positive I would be shit at dealing with that. 

This wine is delicious. It was $5.99 so you know it's quality.

It almost tastes like something. Almost.

Ah, soon it will be time for some mindless knitting and TV. I binge watched Downton Abbey a couple of weeks ago. All 6 seasons in like 12 days. That was a crap idea, because you have all the feels without time to process them. I love quasi-historical dramas about the aristocracy. It's fun to imagine yourself as lady of the manor, but with my bloodlines I'm pretty sure I'd have been either scrubbing out the fireplaces or hauling buckets of milk around. My people were farm stock and servant class. Big and sturdy, but not terribly refined. I'm sure that comes as a shock. 

Now I need something new to binge watch. Taking suggestions. Nothing too murdery. Maybe it's finally time to watch Grey's Anatomy. 

Lol. I kid. I'm not going to watch that.

Alright. Off to bathe the spawn, then perhaps another glass of wine and a handful of cookies. Tomorrow starts in beast mode. Look the fuck out. 

Solitary Sunday Musings

Of the last 4 days I've had two of them wholly to myself. It's been lovely. The other two I got to spend with fantastic husband, and that was lovely too. I even socialized. Twice. That's kind of a big deal for me.

Lucy is super chill on this rainy Sunday.

Last Wednesday was my boys' sixth birthday. The day before I took them to SkyZone in Appleton for a twin playdate with a friend's also-six-years-old boys. They had a blast. A red-faced, sweaty blast. I'm hoping for many more playdates in the future.

Thursday I came off shift in a snowstorm, which meant my planned puddlejump through the UWGB arb was off. I was disappointed. It'd been so warm the week before that I was amped for temps in the 40s/50s and lots of muddy puddles on the trail. Instead? 8 inches of snow. But instead of being upset about it, I dropped the dog off at funcamp and went to the box for 2 hours of shoulder punishing fun. 

I walked on my hands. For real. No assist. Granted it was toward a wall and I did more ugly half cartwheels than walking, but as I've said before all progress is to be celebrated. Mentally this is huge for me as handstands in the middle of the floor scare the shit out of me and the last time I practiced handstand walking I got called out for fear sweating and needed lots of help. 

After the gym I came home, made a big bowl of popcorn, and Pay-Per-Viewed a movie. Sisters, which was pretty funny if somewhat predictable. I was going to take myself out to a matinee, but since the snowstorm essentially put every school district on Spring Break a day early the theater was packed when I went by (which defeats the purpose of seeing a movie alone). I also did some knitting on my year long Zodiac project.

Post Fun Camp. The dog was comatose.

I managed to stay awake long enough for the Open WOD announcement. Then I threw up in my mouth a little. It was a repeat. Of 14.5. The workout that broke me in half. When we did that shitshow of thrusters and burpees in 2014 it took me 47:19. I cried twice. It took me so long that my original judge had to hand over to someone else because she had to go to work. Two full classes of people saw me at my absolute worst. The thought of doing that workout again has haunted me for 2 years. That's not an exaggeration. Every time I see thrusters in a workout I feel ill. My heart races and my palms sweat. I try really hard not to cherry pick those workouts, but if I can't go that day for a legit reason? I'm relieved beyond measure. 

But I had to do it this time. So I did. I had intended to go to the fiveonefive but slept straight through my alarm. That ended up being okay, because I got 12 solid hours of sleep and a good breakfast before going in. I started feeling jittery on the way to the gym, and by the time we were setting up I was fighting a full blown panic attack. Mary, my 2014 judge, came to offer moral support. My judge let me go first, and it was once again a shitshow. This time it took me 22:49. Could I have done it faster? Maybe. I hope I never find out. I realize that I really need to work on thrusters. I don't do them with anything approaching fluidity of movement. Maybe after my squat cycle ends. I'll work on doing unbroken thrusters. Why not. I run in the dark to challenge that fear. Maybe I can desensitize myself to thrusters, too.

After the intense relief that was finishing the Open, fantastic husband and I went to yoga. It sounds stupid, but I figured a good deep stretch would keep me from turning to stone. My shoulders and arms were so fucked from the previous two days that I was shaking in downward dog. That is a resting position. It was a hard hour, but a beneficial one.

Then we ran errands. Well, FH did. I sat in the car with the windows down.

I could smell myself. 

Friday night we went out for dinner. We tried out the 1919 at Lambeau. It's a nice place. Attractive atmosphere, lots of good beers on tap. I was able to get a good meal that didn't break the nutritional bank. Win-win-win. Also a win? Having dinner at a leisurely pace without having to get home to pay a sitter or run mundane errands on the way home. Lovely.

Saturday morning I had a 10 miler on my calendar. My runs lately have been disappointing. Very ho-hum. Running isn't all freedom and fun. In fact training is just a grind more often than not. The last few weeks I've had a hard time motivating out the door. It is simply habit and stubbornness that's kept me moving. My pace has been lackluster, and my legs have been heavy. It's sad because I really do love to run. Missing my puddle jump made it worse. I was sort of counting on that to revitalize my running mojo. Stupid Mother Nature, fucking up my life. On the suggestion of my coach I took Thursday and Friday off running (vs. hitting the treader). I had hoped to be excited to run on Saturday, since it's my first 10 of the season. I used to get really jacked up about double digit runs. The weather was beautiful, but I wasn't feeling it at all. I ate breakfast, got ready, and decided to run to Bay Beach and back. It's mostly flat and can be kind of pretty.

Yeah. It sort of sucked. I just didn't want to. I mean, I did it so there's that, but mostly because I needed to get home by 9:30 to make it to yoga. And also because I was going to be eating a lot of cereal later and needed to mitigate it somehow. 

These shoes have had it.

Again, an hour of yoga may not sound like the greatest idea after a 10 miler, but it was perfect. Nice and warm to keep me from falling into the post-run freeze, and lots of hamstring stretching (I'm pretty sure Jen is psychic, I always get exactly the stretching I need). I got home, had a conversation with fantastic husband, and after a nice hot shower I was ready to eat a shitload of cereal.

A couple of months ago some friends thought up the idea of an eating contest modeled on a CrossFit competition and The Cereal Bowl was born. The host (Sal) really went all out, with planned workouts, fliers, pit crew, equipment, etc. There was even a media correspondent (Rosa). I hesitated for a minute because I see Kirk the Nutrition Guy on Tuesday, but I figured this was a one off. So we ate cereal, marshmallows, and waffle bowls. We drank questionably flavored milk, played flip cup, and tossed markers into cups (well, I didn't-didn't make it to that level of competition). We even ate broccoli. No one vomited. I didn't take a single photo. Fail. It was a riot. Fantastic husband dominated the competition, winning all 3 events. I'm pretty sure I tied for last. My speed-eating skills have fallen off considerably since my retail pharmacy days.  The most alarming thing was the shaking. During the second event (4 shots of flavored milk flip cup style, then a bowl of marshmallows and milk, then more flavored milk) I could barely hold my spoon steady. My hands were shaking so badly that the final round of flip cup was my undoing. I finished last.

Here's a photo I stole...

I may never eat cereal again. Until next year. 

Saturday night we went out to eat again. This time to the Appleton Beer Company (I think) where I drank no beer but about 6 gallons of water. Sugar makes a person thirsty, apparently.

By the time we made it home at 9:30 I was ready to crash. And I did. My night was not a good one. I had many fucked up dreams (including one where a friend and fellow competitor yelled at me...but I couldn't understand what he was saying...so he yelled louder and gestured), woke up several times throughout the night to drink water, and got up with a headache. It was for all the world like being drunk, only I didn't get to dance on a table or make out with strangers. I've put down about 2 gallons of water today and I am still parched.

The take home lesson here, children, is sugar is bad. Wow. Sugar is bad. Delicious. But bad.

Today I'm just relaxing. Finally crawled out of bed at 8:30 (so late!) and finished up some laundry. Currently I'm watching a Golden Girls marathon with my feet up by the fire. The smalls will be home this evening, so I'm taking the opportunity to enjoy the silence for a few hours longer. I'm glad I sucked it up and ran yesterday, because the weather is shit today. I don't mind running in the rain in the summer (in fact it can be really great) but a cold spring rain is the worst. 

Also eating Not Cereal.

I've decided to venture back onto social media in a limited way. I went back on Instagram a few days ago and that's been okay. I was on Facebook for the Cereal Bowl and that was okay. The last 3 weeks have been valuable. I'm going to leave Messenger off, and I've completely disabled notifications on my phone for everything but text messages. I'm on the fence about Snapchat. I think I was feeling compelled to look every time my phone chimed. I don't know why that is, since I've never had an issue ignoring a ringing phone. Hell, I didn't even have an answering machine until I started dating future-fantastic-husband. But, I don't feel so lonely and that was the goal. If it flares up again, I know what to do. 

Tomorrow I'm back to the gym and back to squatting after my 2 weeks off. I didn't get a one rep max after the first 6 weeks, which sucks, but I suck at squatting so I don't know what I expected. If I can't lift more, at least the repetitions will improve my rear view I guess. I also need to get back to weighted hip thrusts. I need to get a bench for the basement, or work up the courage to do them at the gym. Time to get serious about my core as well. Cellcom is in May and if I'm going schmabs out I need to get down to business. I'm hoping the weather improves. Now that the daylight is lasting past 5pm I can get out for some evening runs without needing a chaperon (although if you want to run, let me know, I need all the help I can get). Hopefully I'll be able to find my running mojo again, or there's no way I'm going to sub-2. 

I have a hair appointment tomorrow. Should come out of it more blonde with some new colors to play with. Violet...or teal...maybe both. What the fuck, right? YOLO and shit. 

Tales from the Dark Side

I've been on a little social media break. Truthfully, I still am, and I will be for the foreseeable future. Through the miracle of Blogger I can share this to Facebook without actually having to go on Facebook. I don't know if blogging counts as social media, I guess I look at it more as an online diary of sorts. To quote Mike Birbiglia it's a "Secret Public Journal".

I saw Kirk the Nutrition Guy today. I'm 8 weeks into a 12ish week program at this point. Last time I was in to see him I got my checkboxes bumped up to approximate a 2400 cal/day diet. When I went in today, my numbers were once again unbelievable. I swear this shit is witchcraft. It seems impossible. So what did I hear today? I was down another 2 pounds. Seriously. WTF. 1.4 pounds of that was fat. Whoa. I've been consciously drinking enough water to make me feel ill, so my total body water was up and my hydration status was A-OK, so the weight loss was legit...not dehydration. My ultimate goal in all this was to increase performance, with a secondary goal of fat loss. I'd like my body fat percentage to be 20ish percent. As of today, it is 22%. That makes me feel fucking amazing. My waist has dropped to 29.25" as well. And that is after drinking like 2 liters of water before going to my appointment. 5 years ago when I first started CrossFit, I weighed about 5 pounds more than I do right now and was close to 32% body fat. I wore a size 12 jeans on a good day (in spite of only weighing around 160 pounds) and my waist was 33ish inches. Yesterday? Yesterday I bought a pair of size 4 jeans. I'll grant you that they were stretchy, but still a FOUR. 

Pardon my silly hair. I got a Tyme iron and may

have gone a bit nuts with it.

Seriously, I know the hair is crazy.

They're tight as shit, but I don't think they look half bad. And truthfully stretchy jeans need to be tight as shit when you first put them on or you look like you're wearing a bag 2 hours later.

I also took myself over to Victoria's Secret to be measured for a bra. I spend so much time in sports bras that I sort of forget about regular bras. Lately all my sports bras fit funny, and since I purchased several pricey ones fairly recently I was a little pissy about it. The bra I'm wearing in the photo above is a 38D, which is what I've worn for ages. Imagine my surprise when I measured at a 34DD yesterday. I put on the new bra and I'm telling you, that thing was a revelation. So of course I dropped a shitload of money on new bras. You know what the best thing about *ahem* enhancement is? When you lose weight your tits look bigger. HA. Oh, PS I had plastic surgery 5 years ago if you didn't know (I'm fairly certain everyone already does-it's not like I kept it a secret). I think I found a home for all my barely used 38Ds, which makes me insanely happy. Moving Comfort Junos should not be wasted.

At my appointment I did a little questionnaire about stress and we discovered that I am a very low-stress individual. I'm a bit of a worrier (in that I am a compulsive contingency planner) but in general my life carries infinitely less stress than the average bear's. A score of 35 or below on the scale is considered "normal". I got a 9. Apparently I am super chill. The hospital job has a ton to do with that. I bet if I'd taken that survey while working home care I would've been waaaaaaaay up on the charts. All the shitty stress coping strategies that Kirk mentioned to me were ones I'd employed daily during that phase of my life. I am so grateful to be back in a shift-work environment. Especially one that affords me so much autonomy. All I hear from people is "I don't know how you work that crazy schedule", but it has saved my life. 

We also talked about carb loading (how's that for a segue?) which is something I've never done. I got some pretty clear cut instructions on how to do it, and it makes sense as it was explained to me. Turns out donuts and pasta are NOT the appropriate way to go. Go figure. I was also instructed to take a trial run at it before a weekend long run so I'm not in uncharted waters when I get ready for the Cellcom. I'll try it out in April. 

I tried eating 4 eggs for breakfast a couple of weeks ago and it was painful. Two eggs it will stay, but I do appreciate the extra servings of protein throughout the day. I spend my extra grain serving indulging in toast in the morning. Today I had it with a little blueberry vanilla chevre.

That's snobbish for "goat cheese".

I've been front loading my day with vegetables. Spinach cooks down to nothing, so it's no big deal to toss 2 big handfuls into my eggs along with a big handful of sliced mushrooms. Since I'm not on a calorie leash I've also been snipping up a slice of bacon and rendering it in the pan before tossing in the veg. This breakfast is super filling, delicious, and gets me halfway to my goal veg before 8am. Big win. 

Lunch is usually fish when I'm at home, and I get a double portion now on 2400 calories. I like that.

Stock photo.

My snacks are usually peppers and hummus with cheese or berries and yogurt with seeds. Raspberries with greek yogurt and chia seeds has become a new comfort food for me. I eat it almost every day, and it makes me happy. What could be better than tasty food that makes you happy and leaves you 100% guilt free?

Yesterday I learned it's dandy pre-run fuel as well.

Last night fantastic husband made steaks on the grill. He made me a lovely tenderloin medium rare, and because I get extra protein I ate the whole damn thing.

Eat all the things, wear tiny jeans.

I guess you could say that I'm pretty fucking thrilled with how my Mom-bod is shaping up. Even if my cruddy little sons still ask me when I'm going to get "the rest" of my abs. There are 4 now, but that is clearly not enough. After years of gaining and losing and gaining and losing and gestating and birthing and nursing I'm left with plenty of cellulite and never-going-to-be-tight-again skin, but I don't do too badly for an old gal. I got myself a tattoo to celebrate my progress. A tattoo that can only be seen if I wear shorts. Last summer was the first time I said "fuck it" and began wearing shorts instead of capris or skirts. This summer I may wear nothing else. The world can look away if they don't like pasty white middle aged thighs. I'm tired of hiding.

Behold my leg.

I thought it turned out rather well. I've been toying lately with the idea of expanding the thorny vine on my lower spine into a root system for a tree of life up my back. That's probably years away, but the seed has been planted as it were.  On a semi-related note (as this is a Carl Sagan quote), another parent at daycare noticed the atheist symbol on my car and got very excited about it. He wanted to know where I'd gotten it, and said "I just had to ask-you don't see many of us around!" Us. It's so rare that someone just outs as an atheist. That's why I put the sticker on my car, and why I put this image on my body. I don't need to punch you in the face with my godlessness, but man it sure is good to know there are like-minded people out there. If identifying myself makes other people feel more at home, then I've achieved my objective. 

Now, the social media hiatus. I'm not sick, I'm not dead, I'm not mad at anyone or anything. I've been mostly offline since 3/4. I pop on and off to check messages since it's how my troop parents communicate with me and it's cookie season, but that's about it. I'm off IG, FB, Snapchat, Twitter, and Messenger for the time being. I'm working some things out for myself, and it's going well.  I'm knitting and reading (an actual paperback book) and watching Downton Abbey and going to all the places I usually go. Work, the box, the studio. I'm predictable. Happily, I feel almost like myself again. 

Tomorrow I'll be back at CF (missed today because of my morning appointment), hopefully a short run if it isn't pouring rain, and yoga in the evening. That'll be yoga 4 days in a row. Nice. It's been a while since I managed that. I also have to pick up several cases of cookies. Yeehaw. 

Thursday morning I'll get to 515, and the smalls are going to daycare. It's St. Patrick's Day and fantastic husband has declared it a time for daydrinking. I should be able to manage some morning Guinness before heading home to sleep. It is back to the salt mine Thursday night after all. 

My baby boys are going to be six years old next week. Time flies (not really, it's felt like every fucking minute of 6 years). Tonight they read me a book about horses. 12 more years and they'll be reading me their college entrance essays. Hopefully. 

Now if you'll excuse me, it's time for my evening snack. 2400 calories ain't gonna eat themselves. 

Oh, and this is totally unrelated, but I'm currently obsessed with this song. 

Superstar

Social Media and the Lone Wolf

Hi. My name is Amy and I am a lone wolf. What I mean by that is that I'm a generally solitary soul who doesn't feel much need to interact with other people. I do interact, of course, and it isn't as though I deliberately eschew social interaction, I just don't particularly need it. Or at least I never did.

Recently I've been feeling lonely. This is a new sensation for me, and it's unwelcome. I've always been sort of a universe unto myself. Being alone has never really made me feel lonely. In fact, I usually feel sort of giddy at the prospect of true alone-ness. I can read, knit, listen to music, watch a dialogue driven film at whatever volume I want. I can be as productive or unproductive as I choose. I'll go to restaurants alone, movies alone, I've done plenty of travelling alone. Being alone has always been a happy thing. That's fortunate, because I've never been what you'd call popular.

Making friends is difficult. I've done it (at least I think I have-that might be presumptuous), but it takes me a while to form connections to other people. I like to laugh and talk about odd topics and have philosophical conversations about really anything...but small talk feels stilted and drains me. I am utter shit at talking to strangers, and new people stress me out. A lot. Plus, I'm really an asshole.  I can be emotionless to the point of being robotic. People don't like that. Some of it is defense mechanism, because feelings scare me. Sometimes they pop up and surprise me. Every now and then I'll verge on tears and that is major fucking freak out time because WTF is this water from my eyes. I'm a good deal more social now than I ever have been before, and part of that is me forcing myself out of my comfort zone. I'm usually glad I did, but it's an effort. (Hard to believe I found someone willing to put up with me for the rest of my life, isn't it? I'm not an easy person to love.)

But when I'm alone I feel at peace. There are a thousand thousand characters from books I've read wandering around in my brain, and they keep me company. I have a very rich fantasy life, and it's easy to sink into a novel or a daydream and be intensely happy there. I used to do this all the time, with very little regard to what others may or may not be doing without me. Honestly, I hardly ever thought about what other people might be doing.

What does that have to do with social media?  Well, now I always know what people are doing. My alone time is punctuated by Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, Messenger, and Snapchat alerts. Even with the notification settings basically turned off, I'm still bombarded with what's going on with everyone I know all the time...and I feel compelled to interact, lest I be left behind (and when did I start to care about that?). I've started to care what's going on without me and I've started to crave the validation that comes with the "likes" and comments and retweets etc. It's fucking with my equilibrium. I haven't needed social validation since I was a teenager, and I remember how shitty that felt (and how little of it I got). The way it's increasingly sneaking back into my psyche is disturbing. As stupid as this sounds, I feel left out and I feel lonely. So I'm shutting that shit down.

I spend so much time staring at screens. 10 hours a night for 7 nights in a row at work I stare at a screen. I stare at my phone, the source of my current over-socialized angst. Even reading is done on a screen since my book addiction has become a space issue. It's time to take a step back. I ordered the paperback for the novel I'm currently reading, and I've dropped off social media sites. I need to remember who and what I am instead of trying to be what I think people want me to be. Alone is my thing.

I hate it when people flounce off Facebook like Facebook slapped their mother or something. "OMG you guys, I can't take the DRAMA anymore! I'M TOTES DELETING FACEBOOK! I'M TAKING MY BALL AND GOING HOME!" There's nothing wrong with social media. There's something wrong with my interaction with it. I let myself become overly dependent on it, and on constant connection. I didn't delete Facebook, or Instagram, or Twitter, or Messenger, or Snapchat. If you message me I'll see it eventually. Necessity dictates that I visit Facebook for information on events and such. I'm not mad at anyone or anything. Except a little bit myself. I don't know how long I'll be off. A few days? A few weeks? However long it takes to feel settled again. To snap the addiction. To stop feeling lonely.

I'm not dropping off the earth. If you wonder to yourself "Where is Amy?" I can tell you with 95% certainty that I'm one of four places: work, home, the box, or the studio. My schedule is pretty predictable. And by all means, text me if you want to talk or get together. But don't call. I never pick up.