Workout Wednesday: Coupons Make Laura Spend All Her Money

I have taken to spending several hours a day on Pinterest, looking at all the fitness pins.

I know that makes me pathetic in every possible way.

I also rant periodically about how cruel it is for people to pin dessert recipes in the health and fitness section. Because that's just mean.

Also I have discovered a giant coupon racket that is making the local sports store possibly thousands of extra dollars per year. You buy something, they give you a coupon (this happened on Sunday with Mum). Then when you come back to use the coupon, you can't, because everything is on sale. But when you check out with your adorable purple running shorts that you're still buying because they're so darn cute (Monday afternoon), you get another coupon. So now you have two. And if you go back again, you'll have THREE. This is clearly a devious plan by said sports store to make me spend any and all available funds on workout clothes and possibly a kettleball weight.

Still, if you want a good deal on exercise-wear, there are two places you should go. First, hit up T.J. Maxx. I love this place. It is fantastic. I found this long-sleeved Nike running top yesterday. These things are usually $70. But I got it for $20. Because that is how much you save at T.J. Maxx.

And, of course, TARGET. They have bright fun workout clothes that are TRENDY while still being inexpensive. But really, I need to stop spending money on workout clothes and start spending it on, I don't know...car repair. That. But like that's going to happen anytime soon.

UPDATE: Monday Evening The adorable running shorts? They are too big. Like, they seem designed for someone who is expecting a child. Which I am not. In fact, they really look like a last-trimester kind of clothing choice. Which would be okay if they were worn by a pregnant person, but I am not a pregnant person. In fact, I am as barren as the desert sands. These look like they have to be maternity shorts, but I checked--they aren't. They are just HUGE. So the shorts are getting exchanged. But who knew I was a small? I mean, REALLY. What kind of vanity sizing is this, Nike? I am a MEDIUM. Sometimes I am even a large, but NEVER a small. Nike is trying to trick me into thinking that my exercise plan is more effective than it really is.

MORE OF AN UPDATE: Tuesday The adorable running shorts went back to the store today. I went to the sports store at lunchtime BEFORE I ate just to increase the possibility of finding the only other pair of the adorable running shorts on the mannequin where they'd been on Monday. They were there. Then I waited while the sports store lady tried to find the other employee, who was a dressing-room key-thief, so I could try on a different pair of running shorts in size SMALL. Still looks strange when I type that...I am a MEDIUM. Normally. Except no. So I tried on Alternate Running Shorts, and the small FIT. I was shocked. Then, sports store lady and I stripped the mannequin down to its skivvies so I could have the adorable purple running shorts in size small, because the mannequin was fortunately wearing a size small and not some other, less me-sized shorts. So I have the adorable running shorts--and they fit me!

Source: google.com via Laura on Pinterest

Workout Wedn---Thursday. Workout Thursday. Oops.

I forgot to blog yesterday.

I suck.

But I did move up to level three of 30 Day Shred! After the hideous stomach ailment derailed my plans, I kept going with level two until I felt like I could eat solid food without taking any kind of stomach medicine. That waiting took until Monday.

I probably should have gone to the doctor.

Meh.

So Monday night, I tried level three. And I have to say: it's not so bad! I expected the transition between level two and three to be similarly horrific to the switch between one and two. But no.

For one, you are doing cardio on your FEET. Level two had lots of cardio in plank. But it is hard to move your legs around wildly when you're in plank, because you have to put all your weight on your wimpy girl arms. It is made more difficult when your legs are freakishly long in comparison to your overall height. Why? Because when you can accidentally kick yourself in the face. Or you can break your furniture because your room is too small to accommodate your kicking legs. Or you can bruise yourself badly hitting your leg against another part of your body, like your other leg.

Also, there are no skaters. And no weird twisty jump things. And especially, NO PENDULUM LUNGES!

The difficult moves in level three are mostly difficult because when I lie on my back and do scissor crunches, what is supposed to be a mostly-immovable joint, my sacroiliac joint proves yet again that it is, in fact, highly moveable. It is only supposed to shift around and expand your pelvic girdle when you are giving birth. So that means when I work out, it should stay put. But no.

And let me tell you, it is pretty freaky to hear a popping noise every time you move your left leg from side to side. Pretty darn freaky.

I could really live without that experience.

Since Monday I have stuck with level three, and though it is exhausting, it is doable. So level three will continue.

Unless my left leg flies right off and breaks through a window or something. Then I will be in hospital. And leg-detachment physical therapy. If that happens, I bet the doctor would rather I didn't do level three anymore.

Insurance Claims Are Annoying and I Hate Making Them

Let this officially be known as The Week of Things Laura Would Rather Avoid.

I kinda crashed my car a little bit. It still runs, but it is dented and scraped because of a thing.

And so I called the insurance people, and they gave me a claim number, and now I have to find a freaking body shop that will repair the dents and scrapes and bill my insurance company, because the dent-y-ness has to be fixed.

But I also have to call my actual insurance agent, because he is in charge of all of the things, and unfortunately, all I have is a claim number but hardly any other information. So yeah.

Not only that, I have to go to various businesses and interrogate their managers because of reasons, and I hate doing things like that. I am almost done. But STILL. Nothing is worth this kind of sales-person-y thing. I do not work in sales for THIS REASON.

Can't I just curl up in the fetal position and sleep? I did not sleep last night. I miss sleep. I like sleep. Sleep good.

But no. I have too much stress to sleep, because I have so much stuff that I am dreading.

Can I have a vacation? Please?

Update: Solid Food Is the Best Ever

I ate solid food, and it stayed down! Things are looking up. I think I will celebrate, with Greek yogurt. The blood orange kind, which is clearly the most superior of flavors.

Also I will celebrate with 30 Day Shred. Because I missed yesterday due to violent death, and I feel like a lazy slob.

Workout Wednesday: In Which Laura's Stomach Explodes

Strictly speaking, this is not a post about exercise, but it is about health and diet, so I am counting it as worthy of Workout Wednesday.

Having a gallbladder can mean a lot of things. It can mean that your body is digesting fats. It can mean that your body refuses to digest anything. It can keep you healthy. It can almost (or actually) kill you. But not having a gallbladder means only one thing: You aren't digesting any of the fatty foods or oils that go into your body. What does that mean? They pass out of your body in the way that things pass through. Only faster. And sometimes that means pain, folks. It means PAIN.

When my gallbladder left me behind and went to the great big medical waste incinerator in the sky, I altered my diet. I cut out LOTS of fat. I tried my very best to avoid things that would make me sick. I started buying eggs from free-range chickens because they are low in fat and cholesterol. I switched to low or no-fat yogurt. I stopped eating chips, I cut down on butter and other spreads...and I tried my very best to make my diet healthier.

That wasn't hard, because the change in my diet was really that I added back in a lot of the foods I'd had to stop eating. Before my gallbladder surgery, I was eating bagels with low-fat strawberry cream cheese and fresh mozzarella.

Yeah. That's the end of the list. There was no other food. And yet, I survived! What a surprise.

The changes worked, and I felt good. I didn't have to go get the medicine they make to help gallbladderless folk digest fat. I was in the clear.

But this last week has involved lots of crazy. Thursday I went to Chicago, grabbing food as I went. Friday I ran to Kokomo, then I quickly made a salad and cake for Jen's reception, and I ate a few slices of pizza for dinner, because it was there. And then Saturday, I ate at Jen's reception (lots of yummy salads with creamy dressings) and then pizza in the evening at her grandma's house. And Sunday I ate leftovers at home of the first pizza and the broccoli salad. And Monday I grabbed fast food for lunch and then had pasta for dinner with a yummy creamy sauce--

And all of that translates to lots and lots of unnecessary fats in my diet.

That might explain today's horror. Or I may have eaten something today that didn't settle well. It could have been a bad batch of sweet tea. It could have been a funky yogurt, or bad melon. Heck, Drugged Out Waiter could have given me food poisoning. He could have dropped meth in with the bread. Who knows.

All I know for sure is that I was half-convinced that I should head straight to the emergency room at around 3:00. It was the worst pain ever. The kind of pain no one should ever feel.

Part of me kept wanting to check and see if someone had walked into the library and actually shot me, or perhaps left a knife lodged in my stomach, right below the last rib. Somebody could have come in to kill me, and maybe I was in shock! That was why I thought I should keep working on the teen fall brochure instead of passing out from blood loss and sheer agony! But no. No one had actually stabbed me. Not yet.

Source: memegenerator.net via Laura on Pinterest

The worst part was, I'm pretty sure I did this to myself. TO MYSELF. So this is me saying: I am not letting that happen again. That might mean I drag you out of your way so I can get healthier food when we're running around having fun. And if that's the case, I am sorry. But I simply cannot go through that again.

I am feeling much better now; well enough that I came home from meeting Rachael and worked out. What I didn't do was move up to level three of 30 Day Shred. I didn't quite have that in me today.

Here's hoping tomorrow I feel even better and can move up a level. I am starting to do so well at level two, it feels like I'm cheating just because I'm not finishing my workout pleading with my television for mercy.

Why does begging Jillian Michaels to please let me die feel normal now? (I'm pretty sure that's a rhetorical question...)

Girls' Night

Jennifer and I had a girls' night last night, because it had been far too long since we'd had one and it was NECESSARY. And we went to our favorite Italian place, because it is delicious and because pasta.

Our waiter approached the table and began describing the specials. I noticed something was wrong when he used the word "smokey" around ten times to describe a chicken salad. When he had to pause and think to remember the word "sweet," our suspicions were proven correct. Either our waiter was as dumb as a bag of potatoes, or he was stoned out of his mind.

First, he made the yummy butter dipping stuff. Then he promised us bread. But no bread came. We waited and waited. I began wondering who I would have to slay in order to obtain the bread, as I stared at the cheese and browned butter and pepper. This dipping sauce is amazing. It is the sort of stuff you want to mainline, but instead you eat it.

But for all I know, Waiter Guy WAS mainlining the browned butter. Either that, or something much stronger.

Something like meth.

When he returned and discovered no bread had appeared, he said he'd find one of the bread people. They were confused, he said. But he wanted us to have a phenomenal time. He then used the word "phenomenal" four more times. I counted.

He took our orders, we both wanted the same penne dish. Moments later, he returned.

"The chef is a little confused about your order," he explained. "You wanted the butternut squash ravioli?" He asked, staring at me intently.

"No," I said. "I wanted the mushroom penne. And so did Jennifer. And we wanted bruschetta."

"Ohhhh," he said. "Right!"

And then he promised us bread again.

I wanted to go find the bread. I was hungry. The 30 Day Shred has made me hungry all the time, and I imagined that taking down Waiter Boy, stealing his notebook, and writing out various orders to the kitchen that would result in food appearing much faster, and much more accurately. It didn't help that he appeared so dazed. Jennifer and I found it difficult to believe that both the bread guys AND the chef would be so confused. We were positive it was our waiter that was confused, especially since he had forgotten our relatively simple order in less than a minute.

Source: icanhascheezburger.files.wordpress.com via Laura on Pinterest

When the bread finally appeared, I was half-certain it was a mirage.

But then the restaurant manager came over to our table.

"I wanted to let you know that I'll be taking over your table," she said kindly. "Your waiter had an emergency. I didn't want you to think you'd been abandoned!"

When she left, Jennifer and I met eyes over the table.

"I think the emergency was that he got fired," Jen said.

"It was the emergency of sleeping off controlled substances," I said. Undoubtedly, our waiter was passed out in the walk-in, or in the backseat of his ramshackle car, which was almost certainly the kind of car with fist-sized holes in the side paneling where rust had eaten away the metal much the way drugs were eating away the waiter's brain.

This is your brain, I thought, picking up a bruschetta toast. Then I took a bite. This is your brain on meth. Apparently, meth thinks your brain is delicious. Because I thought the bruschetta was delicious.

"At least he wasn't like Staring Guy," I continued.

I had discovered from sources within Staring Guy's restaurant that he had, in fact, been discovered in the kitchen...taking matters into his own hands, as it were. Apparently, he found the female restaurant-goers attractive enough, this was how he had decided to spend the time he wasn't spending refilling water glasses or removing plates from tables one at a time. Thankfully, my source knew which night the chef had walked in on Staring Guy, and it wasn't the same night he was staring at us. We can only hope it was a one-time event.

I am going to maintain the belief that it didn't happen more than once. Otherwise, I would never be able to eat in a restaurant again. Especially not at that one.

Jennifer agreed. Staring Guy had been incredibly unpleasant to be around for all of us. Apparently, he had also been unpleasant for his employers (not to mention unhygienic).

I looked around for Drugged Out Waiter when we left the restaurant, in case he was loitering around waiting for his drug dealer or parole officer to come pick him up. But no.

What's Next? Day 31 and Beyond!

Some of you have asked what I will be doing with the blog now that my official 30 days of shredding are over. And since I had barely considered that before yesterday morning when I'd finished the 30th day, I did some thinking.

And I came up with Workout Wednesdays.

I will be continuing to run, continuing with level 3 of 30 Day Shred (I am moving up tomorrow after knit night), and continuing to make healthier eating choices. The only difference will be that I'll be blogging about my fitness quest one day a week instead of seven.

This is for several reasons: 1. blogging every day is sometimes difficult, especially when my schedule is crammed so tight I'm hard pressed to make time for exercise in the first place and 2. after a while, the body gets used to being pushed around and the agony one feels post-workout diminishes. This means that the funny wears off. And what's the use of blogging about exercise if it can't be funny? Me trying to be fit is SUPPOSED to be funny, because me being fit is so...out of character.

I hope you'll still keep up with the horrible things I do to myself in the name of healthy living. Because I have to. And when people say "misery loves company," well...they're right. Somehow, knowing that you're here reading and laughing about my exercise-related miseries makes them more bearable.

See you Wednesday!

Source: reasonstobefit.tumblr.com via Laura on Pinterest

Day 29 and 30. DAY 30!

Day 29

Laura wakes up, dutifully performs the 30 Day Shred (level two) as required prior to going to Jennifer and Brandon's reception.

Laura goes to reception.

Laura returns home. Laura runs.

Semi crosses into opposite lane in order to give Laura a scare. Because that's friendly.

Laura continues to run, feeling disgusting but proud that running is still taking place.

Pickup truck slows down in order to permit driver to whistle at Laura. Laura flips driver off.

Laura might be sweaty and disgusting, but she is not an object.

Laura concludes that she may have alienated only remaining single male in 50 mile radius. Nevertheless, Laura does not regret hand gesture.

Day 30

Laura wakes up. Laura performs 30 Day Shred. Laura realizes that today is day 30.

TODAY IS DAY 30!!!

Where the heck is Laura's confetti?

Day 28: In Which Laura Proves She Will Be the First to Die in the Case of a Zombie Apocalypse.

There is broccoli on my laptop.

Okay.

Today was day 28 (GASP) and I celebrated by running and doing the 30 Day Shred. Also, today we learned something.

I cannot run for three minutes.

I can wimpily run in a manner that is similar to a jog-walk...but that does not count as running, so no. I cannot run for three minutes. I can run for about two and a half minutes. And then I want to die.

I am trying to convince myself that this was because 1. I was running on a road that cars were using and I had to keep darting off and running on the uneven shoulder/ditch until the cars passed and 2. Because it was super windy due to a massive temperature change, and I was running into the wind. But really it is because I am not so good at running.

Good news, everyone. In the case of a bear/zombie attack, you will easily be able to outrun me and therefore survive to plan my funeral!

But then, when the running travesty was over, I went back inside and managed to do the 30 Day Shred. So there's that at least.

And then I made broccoli slaw and blueberry buttermilk cake for Jennifer's reception. Because why not?

Day 27: Have I really been doing this for THAT long?

I realized this morning that it is day 27, and that means ONLY THREE DAYS UNTIL MY 30TH DAY!

This is huge.

This is OFFICIALLY the LONGEST I have ever stuck to any kind of workout program. It is also the most effective. Two weeks before I started 30 Day Shred, I bought two pairs of new work pants. Which are now huge on me.

Part of me is like, "This sucks! I just bought these pants!!"

The other, bigger part of me says, "That's what tailors are for!"

I'm sure that part of the change I'm seeing is related to diet. I have all but stopped drinking sugary things like soda and sweet tea. I am allowed one such thing per day, since giving up sweet tea is out of the question. I've also started snacking on things like cheese, yogurt, or fruit instead of grabbing chips or a cookie when I'm hungry.

But really. I have never gotten any kind of result from changing my diet before. Or from any self-planned workout program. Nothing. So I am very happy.

That being said, tomorrow I will be in Chicago with Rachael for most of the day (if not all of it) so we can see our friends Kate and Megan and Forest (and maybe hit up a yarn store while we're at it), so I will be taking the day off, aside from all the walking I'll be doing in the city. I'll pick it back up Friday with running and 30 Day Shred.

No quitting will occur now that I've seen what a big difference that challenging exercise can do to my body. Nope. I am sold. Exercise is a thing now.

Day 26: See Darcy. See Darcy walk. See Darcy...walk slightly faster.

Today when I finally got home from work, I got Darcy's collar and we went out to train together.

I knew what Darcy would need to be able to do as my running buddy, and I thought it would be a good idea to start training her when I was only running in two minute bursts, so she would be used to the whole running-on-a-lead scenario later on. Apparently, lots of dogs have trouble with this, so I was prepared for today being more of a teaching thing and less of an actual run for me. But that's not how it went at all.

She was brilliant.

Darcy, as a Sheltie, is immensely trainable. She is wicked smart and tends to pick up on what you want her to do by following your body language. She knows to look where you're pointing, and she follows hand signals like the dogs that do agility challenges at the dog shows on TV. Seriously.

So after about a minute, Darcy figured out what we were doing. And then she was perfect. She stayed with me, never letting me get too far ahead or trying to run ahead of me. She listened when I told her to speed up or slow down. She had no trouble with the transition between my running and walking. She was brilliant.

But she didn't even have to run. I suck as a runner.

All she had to do was walk slightly faster. But I suppose that's okay. I'll get faster, the temperature will get lower, and it will be better for both of us to run outside. But in the meantime, I have a dog that is absolutely awesome at running on a lead, and I didn't even have to try to teach her.

I love my dog.

If you are interested in running with your dog, click the little running puppy for good advice.

Source: runnersworld.com via Laura on Pinterest

Now I'm off to do the 30 Day Shred while Darcy enjoys her special treat (roast turkey from the deli).

Happy Tuesday, Everyone.

Today I woke up, and it was HARD. Sometimes mornings are so difficult, they HURT. But I managed to drag myself out of bed and start getting ready for work. And then I heard a knock on my door and it was Mum.

Because I had a flat tire.

There was a huge roofing nail stuck in my tire, and it was completely flat. Luckily, Dad had noticed it before rushing off to get bloodwork done at the doctor's office, and he was changing it.

But then he saw how low the spare was.

So he drove off to the local gas station and filled up the spare while I sat at home and e-mailed various people at work, hoping they would notice the message, "LAURA WILL BE LATE" before they gave up hope altogether and sent out search parties.

When Dad came back with the spare all filled up nicely, I left for work. I wasn't even late. It was a lucky break.

And then moments later, Dad was back, because he'd sent me off without having tightened the lug nuts.

"Your tire could have just flown right off!" He told me.

This was reassuring.

But he fixed that, too. And then I called the tire place and the tire guys said that yes, they could fix the messed up tire during my lunch hour. We hope. (I think tire sounds like a delicious lunch, personally.)

I may end up having to beg a ride home from my father. And then I will be car-less. So all hope of knitting this evening may be lost. This is depressing.

And then, if the tire drama wasn't enough, I found a giant spider on the library wall. I swear it was a brown recluse. It had clearly come to kill me.

Source: hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com via Nicole on Pinterest

This morning is evil. I think we should protest.

Let's all just leave wherever we happen to leave right now, and we will all go to our respective places of residence and go back to sleep. I feel that this is only right.

Day 25: See Laura. See Laura run. Run, Laura, Run!

After work today, I went to the park. And I ran.

I am doing this version of the Couch-to-5K training dealie Pinterest can't shut up about:

Source: repinly.com via Laura on Pinterest

And, as you can see, week one is the kind of running I'd like to do all of the time. You walk for a while. Then you run. Then you walk for a while again. It is basically the same as taking a stroll, then seeing the ice cream truck, and running to catch it. When you realize the ice cream man doesn't care that you are stumbling behind his truck, flailing your arms, you slow back down again and trudge back to your car so you can drive to the store and get more ice cream*. It is like that! But without the ice cream.

Dang. Now I want ice cream.

So after work, there I was in the park. This is the park where Jen and I walked back in the spring before the temperature rose past "Hot" and hit "Hellfire." So I thought, "I shall run the course that we walked, so I will not get lost!" And so I did.

I walked a bit. I ran. I walked back to the car. It was timed almost perfectly, and completely by accident.

And then I went home, all the while feeling like I completely cheated because I finished my run without sweating profusely or swearing like a sailor or crawling hand over hand back to my car whilst praying for death.

See what Jillian has done to me?

So after I got home, I did the 30 Day Shred. I earned my freaking ice cream. GIVE ME SOME ICE CREAM.

* What? That never happened to you? No ice cream truck guy has EVER stopped for me.

Day 24: Wardrobe

When I started doing the 30 Day Shred, I opened up my bottom right dresser drawer and pulled out my exercise clothes.

And what did I discover, you ask?

I found adorable clothes. But they were...too small. Probably because I purchased them when I was 18. That would be ten years ago (for those of you keeping track of such things). I was a smaller person at the age of 18. Determined not to let this stop me, I wore them anyway. And now they are slightly less too-small.

But now I am starting a running plan! Which is terrific and exciting, but when I realized this would mean I'd have to go out in front of people, I decided it was important that I get some shirts that were...flattering.

And so today (since I forgot to do this yesterday when I was at Target), I went (BACK) to Target, and I got plain tees on the cheap. Because that's how I roll.

Now when I go running, people will not be struck blind by my appearance, just by my lack of running technique.

Also, I did 30 Day Shred. And I'm starting to think I have to move up to level three.

Crap.

Source: slaymyboredom.com via Amber on Pinterest

Day 22 and Day 23: Jennifer Gets Married (and Laura Gets Running Shoes)

So yesterday, 30 Day Shred happened. Then, this morning, it happened again.

But more importantly: today, Jennifer got married. And I got running shoes. I told her that while she was committing to her husband, I was committing to shoes. Which is the same, except different.

For one, your shoes need to be supportive. They need to travel with you for a really long time. You should probably love them. And while they keep you from hurting, you do the same for them by not randomly lighting them on fire. Just like marriage!

Except shoes don't really have feelings.

I think.

Let's all take a moment and cheer for Jennifer and her new husband, Brandon, in the comments!

So on my quest for shoes, I drove to Fort Wayne and went to Three Rivers Running Company, in the hope that they would know how to MAKE THE HURTING STOP.

As ordered, I brought along my old shoes. I put them in my bag with some socks. Socks are important. When I went inside, there were all kinds of people of all different ages getting shoes! And they had a treadmill and a camera and this long strip in the middle of the store for you to run on. And I almost got run over! It was very exciting.

When the Running Store Lady, whose name is actually Liz, said hello to me and asked what I was looking for, I opened up my bag and handed her a shoe. And then I said, "Not these. These shoes are the devil. They are instruments of evil."

"Okay," she said.

"I run in them, and I hurt. I stand in them, and I hurt. Then I run in my TOMS, and I have no pain. These shoes are manufactured by Satan."

"YOU RUN IN YOUR TOMS?!"

Liz was clearly horrified.

"Just a little bit," I said. "I mostly wanted to see if the pain was because I am prone to random bouts of agony, or if it was because of those shoes. And it's the shoes."

She nodded. Then she got me a pair of TEST SHOES. These were the brightest pink I have ever seen. You could not look directly at the shoes, because blindness.

I ran on a treadmill. I was terrified. I have never run on a treadmill before. I proved this by running on only the very front of my feet. It was like tip-toeing, only faster. Liz quickly realized that I was not a treadmill sort of girl.

Then she had me run on their indoor sidewalk. And I ran heel to toe, like you are supposed to. Only apparently, I over-pronate. But only with my left foot.

"Did you injure your left foot?" Liz asked.

"No," I said. "I injured my right one."

Explain that, orthopedists.

So she quickly decided I needed the kind of shoe that forcibly prevents you from hurting yourself by any means necessary.

Seriously, are we surprised?

She pulled out a bunch of shoes, and I tried them on, and I ran some more. And some of the shoes felt funky, some of them felt loose, some of them felt like I was running with wooden boards strapped to my feet.

And then we found them.

They are Nikes, which I did not expect to like after the brutal violent murderous experience I had with the Devil Shoes. But they run a bit narrower than the other sorts, and with my freakishly narrow feet, that ended up being a huge plus.

Also, they feel like I am running on marshmallows, not on hard concrete. They are wicked comfy.

So, the shoe for me ended up being "Nike Zoom Structure +15," whatever the heck kind of name for a shoe that is.

And I am very happy.

Laura and Rachael Go to Noblesville

Today, Rachael and I went to see Sarah Rees Brennan, Christine Johnson, and Saundra Mitchell in Noblesville. And it was epic. On our way, we stopped for cupcakes, which we promptly delivered to the authors, because authors love cupcakes.

I called this "Operation Cupcake."

And we went to the Barnes and Noble. And gave the cupcakes, which Sarah thought were just for her. But we tried to convince her that sharing is good.

Then Sarah told a story about climbing on Millennium Bridge in London to see if it would support human weight. (It did.)

To properly tell the story, she had to climb on her chair.

And all three of them read from their books, and we fangirled. And Sarah threw a Team Human shirt, and I caught it. Which means I have two shirts from Sarah's books, and I am in fangirl heaven.

And books got signed. And this happened.

And then this happened.

And this.

And there may have been a group hug. Yeah. There was a group hug.

Thanks to Saundra, Sarah, and Christine! It was awesome to get to see you all! You are wonderful. You deserve all of the cupcakes.

And a special thanks to the Noblesville Barnes and Noble! You brought us authors. We love you lots.

Day 20. And Day 21.

I came home last night and worked out. Then I woke up this morning and did the same. Day 20, check. Day 21, check. And no, I did not move up to level three yet. That would be insanity.

Now I am preparing to go to Noblesville. Because that is where Sarah Rees Brennan will be. And Saundra Mitchell. And Christine Johnson. And there will be books.

It will basically be YA Lit Heaven. Be jealous.

And yes, I am wearing my "Alan Ryves for Life" shirt. Because I am cool like that.

Another Reason Why I Love England.

Day 19!

Yes, I did work out on Tuesday. No, I did not remember to blog. Or, rather, I tried to blog, discovered our internet was down, fixed the internet by resetting our router repeatedly, then sat down and forgot that I'd intended to blog. Instead, I watched Law and Order: Criminal Intent and looked at Pinterest until I went to sleep. It was a very productive evening.

At this point, I am counting down the hours until I can replace these blasted shoes. I am working out barefoot to avoid the agony of my shoes. It is honestly better without them. Shoes should make you fell BETTER, not worse.

I think my shoes were manufactured and distributed by Beelzebub Industries.

I looked, but I couldn't find the sign of The Beast anywhere on them, but then, they do have the Nike swoosh...it's possible that the swoosh IS the sign of The Beast, and all athletes and Indiana public school students are already wearing it. You never know.

Today I plan on reveling in the fact that TODAY is day 20. That means, when I am done with today's workout, I will be a mere 10 days from the OFFICIAL end of 30 Day Shred. Although with as horrible as I feel after level 2, I doubt I will be moving up to level 3 right away. So this will go on a bit longer than 30 days.

What will come next? A running program and some other horrific torturous workout DVD. So you have that to look forward to.

And I will undoubtedly continue to complain my way toward fitness. If there's a better way to get fit, I don't want to know about it.