cindy's world

After the hardcore gym sesh on Wednesday night and a decent lunchtime gym sesh less than 12 hours later on Thursday’s lunch hour, I skipped gymming on Friday because, well, I took the day off work (my judge wasn’t going to be there and I didn’t feel like floating). Plus I was so sore my armpits hurt. Did you guys know there’s a muscle in there?! Showering on Friday morning, I noticed this on my shoulders:

Was I the victim of a wolverine attack?

Really. These photos don’t even do the lines justice. They’re deep maroon under my skin. I’d forgotten that the Standing Calf Raise, putting heavy pressure on my shoulders, causes the seams of my shirt and sports bra strap to burst capillaries. Maybe I should lighten up the weight and just do more reps. Nah. Waste of time.

I tried on a bunch of my old swimsuits Friday afternoon to check for fit, to see if I need to buy new ones for an upcoming watery vacation. I took documentary photos, which actually do further show the results of the gymming on my body overall, but I’m not sure I have the nerve to post them. I’ll think about it.

On March 12, 2003, in a flash of clarity and determination, I’d written the following:

The “It’s Never Too Late for New Year’s Resolutions” Resolutions

Your life is in a downward spiral. It’s been just over 2 weeks. 5 pounds. This week you think, “I wish I would’ve stopped it last week.” It’s too late for that. Next week, do you want to again think, “I wish I had stopped it last week”? Now is the time. Stop NOW. Before you lose all progress you’d gained.
1) REPLACE the guy drama in your life with the gym. In a month, you can have more drama if you wish to let them in. Now, leave it, you’re too good to be a part of someone’s harem.
2) YOU come first. Run to relieve stress. Work out to get back at them.
3) IF you feel generous, work them into your schedule. They do not REPLACE your schedule.
4) DO NOT give what they don’t return. Learn vicariously through observation.

I’d printed this out on bright pink paper and put copies everywhere; in my car, magnetically held to my refrigerator, in my desk blotter at work. (Did you ever get the MMS photo of my desk blotter I sent to your over-featurized iPhone, Mike?)

I’m in the progress of reclaiming the spirit of those resolutions. I actually reached my goal set some weeks ago, before this crazy trial took away my lunches and evenings, and my regular dates with Mr. Gym. Reaching the goal shocked me, because I dropped below 22% body fat last week without having hit the gym for 2 weeks, AND all other factors stayed constant: bone weight, muscle weight, hydration were the same as before, the only things that’d changed were scale weight and fat percentage. Skipping so many meals, I was surprised my body didn’t kick into starvation mode and start storing fat while burning muscle. I attribute my muscle retention to the “lite” protein shakes I’d have each morning. Guess the stuff really does work.

This is the perfect time to really, REALLY hit the gym. Anything I do now should show up very nicely. Last night, for the first time in weeks, I reclaimed my gym time. It wasn’t easy — my body struggled a bit, didn’t sweat for awhile, so I know the metabolism isn’t the most lethal it’s ever been. I also normally hate the gym after work because it’s overcrowded, and it was, so I didn’t get to do everything I wanted. The only advantage to its overcrowdedness last night was that I was on the assisted pull-up machine supersetting pull-ups and tricep dips, and saw out of the corner of my eye in front of me a guy in really great shape on the standing leg press machine; I didn’t look at him directly, but soon as I was resting between sets, he walked up to me from the side and waved. It turned out to be a district attorney that I’ve worked with recently. Great guy, the only DA to come to trial having done my verdict forms for me (I was floored), and I was happy to see him. We chatted a bit before both going on with our workouts. For me, it was:
Assisted pull-ups (works back broadly, some biceps) supersetted with assisted tricep dips (works triceps and chest);
Single-legged squats (legs overall plus glutes) supersetted with supine bench press (center chest & triceps) supersetted with bent-over barbell rows (mid-back, biceps);
Prone hamstring curls (hamstrings, some calves).
An hour spent doing the above, 3 sets each, 15 reps per set or until failure.
And then I did 60 minutes of cardio on the elliptical trainer.

Keeping an eye on the time, I decided I’d shower and wash my hair at the gym and that way my hair would dry before I got home, and I could just relax at home. I normally don’t like doing that at the gym, though, because it’s just gross. This time, it wasn’t just a bit gross, but also odd. While I was toweling off my hair in the shower stall, I heard a woman in the shower area moan. Not a pained moan, more like a relaxed, happy moan. And then she sighed happily. And then moaned again. And sighed happily. “Great,” I thought, “I’d better not hear any pleasure more intense than that.” I walked out of the shower stall and passed a very heavy-set older woman sitting in the handicapped shower stall bench, curtain open, in a swimsuit. Soon, I was at the locker and was drying off some more and changing, when this woman came and sat at the bench next to where I was standing, carrying on a conversation with another woman. I recognized the voice as the moaner.

The other woman soon finished dressing and left, and I was left with the moaner on the bench, her swimsuit peeled down so that the top hung folded down over her abdominal fat rolls. I don’t know what she was doing as I was changing, because I did so with my back to her. But as soon as I reached up to take down my heels, she said to me, “Oh, you must’ve come from work.” I turned and smiled, and said yes, I did come straight from work. There was some small talk about that, how it’s a great idea to not go home first and get lazy, etc. And then the conversation made its natural end. I swung my workout bag’s strap over my shoulder. Now in a shirt but still in her swimsuit bottom, she said to me, “All I have left to do is put on my underwear.”
Eh? I didn’t know what I was expected to respond to that, so I didn’t.
“I think I’ll just not wear underwear under this,” she said to me.
“I think more people do that than you’d know,” I said to her friendly-like, thinking of myself.
“I’m just going home after this. Sometimes when I’m at home, I vacuum in just my shirt without a bra on.” She giggled hedonistically.
I shrugged at her, smiled, and said, “Hey, in the privacy of your own home, do whatever you want. If you want to vacuum naked, go ahead, it’s nobody’s business.” Thinking of myself.
Her eyes widened a bit. “Oh, no, I couldn’t do THAT.” She paused. “Well, maybe I could, with the drapes drawn,” she decided thoughtfully.
“Sure!” I said with open acceptance to her up-and-coming nudist lifestyle. “Have a nice evening!”
As I left, she said after me, “One thing you CAN’T do naked, though, is fry stuff.”
I laughed and agreed with her.

I called Mr. W after work yesterday (he’s been at home on doctor’s orders since his heart attack). This was the conversation.

Me: Hey. The jurors left a bunch of donuts behind. Want me to bring them home?
Mr. W: What kind of donuts?
(Strike one.)
Me: All kinds. There’s an apple fritter in there. And a bunch of assorted stuff.
Mr. W: Well, at long as they’re not Krispy Kremes.
(Strike two.)
Me: So you want me to bring the box home?
Mr. W: Okay.
(Strike three. And I even gave him a moment to correct himself. He did not.)
Me: You can’t eat DONUTS!! You just had a HEART ATTACK!@#$
Mr. W: But I’m on Lipitor now, and the doctor said I don’t have to eat as strict as I did before.
Me: But you’re not working out, so even if your arteries are better, do you want to get FAT?!
Mr. W: Oh. Okay, then no.
Me: You can’t say no NOW, I already know what your REAL answer is!!!

And that’s failing the Donut Test.

Ugh, I am nauseated to an extreme from konking out early in the spare room and having a fitful, restless sleep haunted by conversations that never happened. *choke* You’d think people could just shake this stuff off, but I’ve so far been unable. So I thought I’d blog.

Work: We’re now engaged in a 3-4 week civil jury trial on a product liability case. The female plaintiff is suing the manufacturer of a pallet jack machine (kind of like one of those lawnmowers you can ride on, only it lifts pallets instead of cuts grass. You’ve probably seen one at Costco.) for taking off her feet. (You think YOU’ve had a bad day at work…least you got to keep your feet!)

Home: Mr. W is a defiant patient. He can’t sit still, doesn’t want to, and has been in an unfriendly mood due to the side effects of his medication. I was directed to tell him a story a judge in the building told me this morning, about just why patients are ordered not to exert themselves after a stent is put into a heart artery. Apparently, a new stent that hasn’t incorporated itself properly into the body yet can dislodge with strenuous exercise and “torpedo” into the heart. Instant death. Mr. W’s response: “Don’t tell me stuff like that! I was going to go back to the gym in a couple of weeks regardless of what the doctor said!” *sigh*

Dodo: Adorable. Furry. Perfect.

Me: Exhausted by day, insomniac by night. I’ve been aiming for a 9pm bedtime as in my short-term goals, but it feels like there is just not enough time in the evenings to get anything done! I’m usually able to be in bed by 9:30ish, but sleep doesn’t come just because I’m horizontal. I have been able to get out of bed by 6ish. Anticipation of a long drive in my great car listening to great stuff coming out of my speakers helps a lot. I’ve lost a couple of pounds on the scale, which really isn’t the goal, but I’ve also dropped some fraction of a percent in body fat, so I’m okay with that. (Yeah, my boobs are shrinking. Oh well.) I’ve managed to hit the gym every lunchtime this week except for today, when I had to work through lunch due to case complications. I hope to get in a long (3+ mile) jog this weekend to make up for it. I wish I had the iPod tuned up, but I’ll deal.

I’d like to point out the biggest lesson from Mr. W’s recent experience.

People are consistently shocked that HE of all people had the heart attack episode, and I’ve been hearing lots of comments about, “Tell him to eat a burger and fries, cuz clean livin’ didn’t make a difference at all.” I think what people are not realizing here is that the clean living and gymming was something I made him do and he’d only started this 2 years ago. The first year of our relationship was his fighting me with comments like, “Healthy food? Yech. Organic? Sounds like bland and tasteless to me. Salt IS a flavor! Give me more salt!” But now, after laying off the crap for awhile, he realizes how much better he feels without chemicals in his body and his tongue is finally able to distinguish all the great actual flavors between ingredients. That’s the immediate advantage of cleaning up your food intake. (I’m still working on reduction of his espresso intake and alcoholic beverages, but at least he stopped the crazy energy drinks!)

In his situation, everyone in his family (both parents, all brothers) has a genetic predisposition for high cholesterol, hypertension. They’re on many prescription drugs to handle this. Some people’s livers just don’t handle cholesterol intake well — can’t filter it out, keeps producing more of it. Mr. W was determined to not get on meds, so he relied on maintaining his weight. You guys know he’s in great physical shape, which is NOT indicative of what’s flowing in his arteries. A 95% blockage in his main heart artery, plus 40-50% blocks in many different places in his body according to the operating cardiologist, means plaque build-up starting from his early 20s. If he wanted to rely on diet/exercise alone, he would’ve had to start way back then, not just two years ago.

Most health problems in people’s 40s and 50s start developing in the late teens, which is something I realized in college, so rather than count on the advent of a time machine in the future, I decided to take matters into my own hands early and do the preventative thing. I haven’t had fast food in years, and I can’t remember the last time I had a soda. I did eat at In-N-Out this month (my only exception to fast food because it’s fresher and less processed), but I only got the burger and skipped the fries and soda. I’m assuming most people don’t have the dramatic genetic predispositions of Mr. W’s family, so maybe you don’t quite have to go back SO FAR in time to make a difference. I’m gonna say, DO IT NOW.

Don’t have a future day of, “If I only knew then what I know now.” You KNOW. Do it.

Mr. W is now spending his 2nd night in the hospital after what turned out to be a heart attack yesterday at work. This evening he underwent an angioplasty which the operating cardiologist explained to me afterwards opened up the main heart artery which was blocked 95% through a long segment and a 3-4 inch stint was placed in that artery to keep it open. Mr. W was in a lot of pain coming out of the procedure so after a dose of morphine, he started dozing off. So I left.

I wasn’t even sure how to blog about this, and this post would’ve taken on a very different tone, except 3 minutes ago when I turned on the computer, an email notification came though. I didn’t read the email, but the notification displays the first 10 or so words, and it’s from his ex-wife in one of her infamous rude demeaning emails demanding money. I just absolutely lost it. I went upstairs immediately and texted Daughter, “Can you please have your mom lay off the emails? Your father is still in the hospital after his heart attack. Thanks.” I’ve been keeping both kids updated with their father’s situation, making it as non-dramatic and factual as possible. So I’m sure the ex-wife knows about the situation, and she thinks it’s appropriate to write this email. Now all the past insistence I had to stay out of their business just went out the window. She can interpret it however she wants. If she wants to be nice she can read it as an FYI that he’s not getting the emails because he’s still in the hospital. But if she has a conscience she’ll read it as it’s intended: learn about propriety, bitch. There’s a time and a place. Your money is of no importance.

Someone had suggested to me a long time ago to photo-journal my workouts at the gym, but I never did because they don’t allow cameras or cameraphones in my gym.  Yesterday, however, I thought I’d take some photos.  Gym Trainee and I threw the cameraphone around between sets.

You see how my Nike gloves match my shoes? Huh? Huh? It wasn’t on purpose.

Push, Gym Trainee! Push! Or, err, something less maternity-ward sounding.

Pull, Gym Trainee! Pull!

I love the look of determination on her face. Like a woman with a mission.

I had kind of a crappy workout, despite the smile. I thought I may have been anemic, but then afterwards I realized it was cuz I skipped breakfast and hadn’t had lunch yet. =P

Vicky offered to sign up for a half-marathon with me. I want to do the Pacific Shoreline run in Huntington Beach (cuz it’s pretty scenery and it’s nice cool ocean weather). I had already run two 5Ks there. Their finisher medals are also pretty cool-looking, metal surfboards. We’ve got one year to train. I think it’s a nice goal. Altho the last half-marathon I ran, I didn’t train fully for it and lost a toe nail. Yech.

I’d expected my weight to go up a bit when I started hitting the weights again, but holy crapola, it went up almost 5 pounds this year!  And I’ve been hitting the gym consistently, too.  I am now terrified I’m gonna get into the next “tens” on the scale.  That is simply NOT acceptable. 

I assume what happened is that as I stopped working out, the weight didn’t go up significantly because more horrifically, my body was losing its heavier muscle and gaining lighter fat pounds.  My inches increased without the scale budging much.  Now that I’m putting the muscle back on, they’ll  need more time to start burning off the new fat, so I’ll be heavier with the increased fat and increased muscle until the proportions tip over the other way, and then my fat percentage will drop more quickly.

I haven’t been eating poorly, so all I can think to do is increase my cardio.

I’m also clinging desperately to the hope that I’m just bloated right now due to “that time.”  My boobs certainly feel tender, rounder and heavier.  (Sorry for the TMI, but that’s my hormone litmus test: grabbing my boobs.)  I hope the pounds will fall off the scale in another week or so.

***

But I would be SO HOT in Mississippi.  Where does your state rank in the Fattest States of 2008?

The Santa Ana winds came back last night. Each new gust would start as distant rustling, like a forest of leaves moving around. Then, in seconds, it reaches us in a whoosh and roar and the house would rattle in response. A high-pitch whistling also accompanies the sounds, along with clunks, rattling, sounds of scraping as people’s outdoor belongings fly around the street as if caught up in the dance of a tornado. I stumbled down at 3am to rescue my little avocado tree, which had indeed fallen over at the front door. It’s just inside our front door now.

This pretty and bright morning proved a great day to not go to work. I left the house about 8:15a and drove almost 2 hours to Pasadena for my 10am appointment with Dentist Andy. I made sure to bring a box of assorted glamour cookies for him and his staff, because the crazy guy is working today on his 34th birthday. We hugged hello, chatted a bit about his recent vacation to our homeland in Asia, and made plans for a group brunch this weekend in one of his favorite restaurants. “Gotta warn you though, the food is really good, but pretty rich.”
I hesitated just a moment and then resolved the internal conflict with, “That’s okay, I’ll just run my 6 miles beforehand.”
Almost 20 minutes later while he was working on my teeth, he said, as if it just hit him, “Do you really run 6 miles?!”
I just said “Ah-hah” which is the best I could do since sharp things were in my mouth preventing me from explaining that I used to run way more than that and am working my way up to it again. Besides, I’ve run 5K twice last week; nothing says I can’t do a 10K by the weekend.

The 50+ mile drive back home was only an hour long, now that I was past the morning traffic rush. I think I tanned, sitting in the car that long in 86-degree sun. Now that I’m home, I’ve cut up some carrots, onions, mushrooms and beef to throw in the slow cooker, and was going to use red potatoes but realized that their normal storage spot on top of the fridge (thanks to Mr. W) has been conducive to sprouting. Very, very conducive. So now I’m online researching how toxic sprouted potatoes are, before I ruin an entire pot of stew. (I learn that the sprouts are poisonous, but not the potato itself. I’ll know I didn’t successfully cut out all the sprouts if Mr. W gets headache, nausea, fatigue, vomiting, abdominal pain, and diarrhea. Stay tuned! >:) )

My immediate future plans: get the stew going, hit the gym, come home when Mr. W arrives from work, have stew. If I can get all those things done I’d feel productive today.

As pleasantly surprised as I was at my cardio ability yesterday, I was inversely dismayed at how weak my abs are today. I wonder how I even sit up in the mornings. Nevertheless, I hit the weights, did 3 sets of each major muscle group in resistance training, 5 minutes of stairclimber, bunch of abs. That cute little inspiring DA smiled at me and settled into the ab bench next to me. MAN I felt fat next to her. Well, in time…

Meanwhile with two workouts under my belt, I’ll feel less guilty about seeing my friends. I met up with Anny last nite and had a tasty shrimp angelhair pasta in a light tomato cream sauce, and today I’m meeting up with Vicky at her new house (which I’ve never seen), then catching some drinks and maybe dinner with Dwaine after that. As I’m heading to Vicky’s directly after work, I made sure to bring a change of clothes that are looser-fitting for food and alcohol consumption.