|Me in all my post-workout, un-showered glory|
Three years ago I started the process of getting healthy. I lost 45 lbs in 6 months and never felt better. Then life happened. I stopped eating the way I knew I needed to eat. Just one cheat here, and another there, until I gained back 35 lbs.
Over the Christmas holiday, I decided that it was time to get serious again. My weight was slowly creeping up, I was feeling sluggish, and my clothes were getting tight. Not cool.
I recommitted to eating the Trim Healthy Mama way and joined the YMCA. Yes, I need to drop some weight, but I also need to improve my overall fitness. Build up my endurance. I'm not going for marathon-runner or anything, because I actually hate to run. I just want to be able to do a few flights of stairs without getting winded.
My first day to the gym was last week, just after I was feeling better from pneumonia. My goal was 20 minutes of walking on the treadmill. After 16 minutes I started to feel really bad. Like dizzy-gonna-pass-out-I-need-sugar-right-now bad. I immediately regretted my toast with just a teaspoon of butter breakfast. I stumbled off the treadmill and made my way to the locker room for my stuff. I somehow made it to my car where I downed a granola bar and waited in the parking lot for my sugar to come back up before driving home to eat breakfast. Lesson learned. Must eat a real breakfast before attempting to work out. (Yes, I have hypoglycemia that likes to surface at the most inopportune times)
I should mention that I have accountability partners to keep me going--aka Mom and Dad. They joined first and I asked if I could join through their account and pay a lot less money. The Y said yes, so woohoo! I now have a gym membership for $22/month. Of course, my Mom kicks my butt every time we're both there because she is an aerobic machine.
My second day at the gym (after eating a good protein-rich breakfast of course), I found my mom on the elliptical machine. I got on the one next to her so we could talk. She'd already gone 20 minutes, which is the longest I ever choose to go on an aerobic machine. So I asked if she was about done, that she didn't need to stay on just to keep me company.
"Oh no," she says. "I go as long as I can before my knee starts to hurt. I aim for an hour."
An HOUR!!!??!?!?!!! Kill me now. I lasted 10 minutes and left her to her "fun."
This week I only got to the gym twice due to Joy being home sick, again. Thankfully this time it was just a viral cough and not pneumonia. I took her to urgent care for a chest x-ray just to be sure.
Yesterday I did 10 minutes on the elliptical-on-steroids (It felt more stair climbing ish) and 20 minutes of weights.
Today I tried the normal elliptical, but my legs said no thank you. Apparently they were sore from yesterday. So I did weights and then 20 minutes on the treadmill. Good enough.
Yes, I am out of shape. No, I am not an exercise machine. Sure, it's a little embarrassing that my mom is in way better shape than I am, but everyone has to start somewhere. And this is my starting point. I can only get better, right?