In Which Everything Gets Better

Hot water is awesome. There really isn't anything better that having water that comes out of the tap all lovely warm, with steam rising into the air and fogging mirrors and my glasses. Hot water is the best.

Yesterday, the water heater installer guy rushed over to our house. He'd worked on our oven before, so he'd recognized our name. When he called us, he said "I can't just leave you without hot water!"

And he came, he installed, and somehow, he single-handedly carried the defunct water heater AND the older defunct water heater up the basement stairs, out the door, and into his truck.

It bears mentioning that the older water heater was filled with what he referred to as "limestone." That's right. We have so much lime in our water, it FOSSILIZED OUR OLD-OLD WATER HEATER.

The new-old one was just broken. It had not been turned to stone.

The new-new water heater makes a different noise than the old ones did, which I suppose is fine, but it made me stare at it strangely for a while. But it makes hot water, so it can make any noise it wants to make. And it isn't an expensive noise, it's just a "I am working" noise. "I am working" noises are okay. We allow those.

And yesterday, I went home, worked out, and was able to bathe without boiling giant pots of water. So I call that a victory.

(See how I cleverly tried to make this a workout-Wednesday post without actually writing a workout Wednesday post? Yeah. I did that.)

Workout Wednesday: Ripped in 30 Has Begun

This week, I kept up level three of 30 Day Shred, or as Mom has begun calling it, "30 Day Tread." It was fine. But I noticed that I wasn't in complete and utter agony, I hadn't collapsed in days, and I'd completely stopped thinking up creative ways to pay Jillian Michaels back for all the torment she has inflicted upon me.

So I knew it was time to change things up. I started Ripped in 30. Not only are the workouts longer (the DVD case tells you differently, but my DVD player displays how many minutes a show has been playing, so I can tell you with confidence that the DVD case is a LIE), they also work more of your body and result in you begging for a sudden onset of unconsciousness mid-workout.

Do not start exercising with Ripped in 30. You will die.

And Jillian will say, "You're going to be fine. Four hundred pound people can do this move." And she is right. Four hundred pound people CAN do that move she's talking about, but only if it is the first physical thing they've done all day. And then I doubt they can do anything else afterward. In fact, I am pretty confident that there's a guy on the set of The Biggest Loser, stabbing people with needles full of adrenaline so they'll keep running.

"Keep running!" The adrenaline guy howls at his victims. "We need another 30 minutes of footage, and you'd better be sweating the whole time! And when you're done dripping on the floor, TAKE OFF YOUR SHIRT SO WE CAN TAKE YOUR PICTURE."

I'm almost positive that's exactly what it looks like on set.

Yesterday, Mom said to me, "Jillian would be proud of you!"

And I said, "Jillian doesn't feel pride. She only feels victory. And she cannot feel defeat. That is why all her victims fall before her."

And then Mom said, "Won't you pass me that plate over there, Laura?"

And we finished doing the dishes.

Mom knows better than to engage me when I start talking Jillian Michaels. Mostly because Jillian haunts my dreams and makes obnoxious comments about everything I plan to eat. I blame Jillian for a lot, especially for the lack of chocolate in my life these past weeks.

And don't tell me I can have dark chocolate. Dark chocolate is poison. They give dark chocolate to prisoners of war to get them to spill state secrets. Dark chocolate is what bad little boys and girls get in their stockings now that we know how harmful coal is to the environment. And the evil Santa who delivers it? That's Jillian Michaels. And once you've hacked down your dark chocolate, she stuffs you in a sack and takes you back to her lair for Christmas dinner.

Because that's what Krampus does.

I'm going to go have a glass of orange juice now.

Workout Wednesday: In Which I Suck at Running. Plus--NEW JEANS!

I suck at running.

See, there was an INCIDENT. This semi driver tried to kill me, and also this dude whistled at me. All within a minute. And it was unpleasant. Which made me decide that I ought to not run by my house. And where else is there for me to run? In the town where I work? Where the drug addicts and deranged library patrons will abduct and murder me?

So I am out of running luck. I need to find out a good place to run. Where I won't be killed. And where I won't have to pay five-hundred-something dollars just to run. So...running is on hold. Any ideas?

Meanwhile, I discovered that all of my jeans fell right off when I removed my belt. So that was a problem.

I went to American Eagle. I found two pairs of jeans.

And they do not fall off when I stand up. Which is great! And that means that I'm making progress with the whole fitness thing, because SMALLER PANTS!

And this has been Workout Wednesday.

Workout Wednesday: What Is this Strange Madness?

On Saturday (I think it was Saturday. Could have been Sunday. Or Monday. That too.) I took a brief nap. This nap was because Paul wanted to have a bath and not a shower after mowing the lawn. That's cool, but I'd wanted to work out, and if he took a bath, I would likely have no hot water for mine. Because that happens.

I need hot water. Baths made of cold water are a form of torture. Seriously. Check out what they said about them during the Geneva Convention*.

So I took a nap, knowing I would then work out when I woke up.

During my nap, I had a dream.

Now, the last nap I took resulted in the Dogs of the Dance dream, which was pretty freaky. In this dream, I was in a small studio--like a yoga studio--only this studio was for people who wanted to do 30 Day Shred. And Jillian Michaels was leading the group. Like in the DVD, only what it would be like if you were IN the DVD. So we worked out.

And then Jillian was like, "It's time to settle our accounts!" And it turned out that for each workout session, we had to pay $7.00. Not bad. Plus there was a $19.99 registration fee. I tried to give her my debit card, but she was like, "We don't have a card reader until after January 1st, so I said "Okay, I will go next door to my bank."

She then gave me a discount because I had stuck with her program for so long. See? All this dedication even pays off in my DREAMS**.

So I went to the bank and came back and paid Jillian, and that was my dream. But here's the thing. I started thinking after I woke up about how expensive it would be to actually pay that kind of money for doing the 30 Day Shred. So I MATHED it.

Say I had only done this workout plan thing for the minimum 30 days. At $7.00 per day for 30 days, I would end up paying $210.00 PLUS the $19.99 registration fee. Meaning I would pay $229.99 for 30 days at this dream-studio.

Which means it would ALMOST BE AS EXPENSIVE AS JOINING THE YMCA. Except not really. The Y is more like twice that much for a year. Because it wants to support the community, so it has to be affordable for everyone. Everyone who can pay $495.00***. (Hint: that is not me****.)

Did I mention that the YMCA is the only option if you want to join any kind of gym in the town where I work? It would be cheaper if I were willing to make a 30 minute drive to work out at my alma mater, but I can't join there and pay for the extra gas it will take to make the trip. I can do one or the other. Hence the DVDs.

But back to my dream. Did you notice that Jillian has invaded my dreams? Because I DID. She will not even let me take a nap without plaguing me. See? Instead of resting, I had to do the 30 Day Shred in my dream and then I had to do it AGAIN when I woke up! That is totally not fair.

No one should have to double up on exercise in their dreams.

In other news, I figured out how I was getting those strange bruises on my knees. Yeah. 30 Day Shred. It is when I am doing the lunges and lose my balance, as I often do. I randomly dropped to one knee yesterday and I knew, that was where the bruises were coming from. So now, to avoid knee bruises, I have to fall backwards or sideways instead of forward.

Because not falling is not an option.

* I totally made that up. But it SHOULD have been in the Geneva Accords.

** Usually my dreams are not this nice. They usually involve me being suddenly struck mute, being blinded, or being unable to stand. Kind of like my life while I'm awake.

*** This is the annual price for a single adult. It can be paid up front or monthly, but paying monthly makes it more expensive. Also, you MUST commit for an entire year. So, even if you like to run outdoors except when there is a foot of snow on the ground, you don't get the option of joining for part of the year. They have to pay off that fancy new building.

**** Yes, I'm bitter about this. And sure, they have an arrangement where you can apply for a "scholarship" to make it cheaper for you to join, but the problem with that is the same as with financial aid for colleges: the poor get help. The rich don't need help. The middle income folks get no help (and cannot afford to go while still paying for things like a car, a house, medical stuff, heat, electricity, and the like). I have the form at home to apply for this aid, since my student loans take out such a big chunk from my income, but I haven't gotten over the rage enough to fill it out. We'll see.

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.

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...)

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