Day 160: I like to smell bad...

I'm not French or anything.  I take baths or showers daily, use properly working deodorant and a splash of perfume or body spray on a regular basis.

I'm talking about smelling after a workout.  Not in a "you have such bad B.O. that I can't stand to be around you" kind of smell.  But I guess it's that thing Matthew McConaughey likes about himself.  Or maybe he's just weird, bongo playing in the front yard notwithstanding.  It's the smell of hard work.  Of pushing yourself beyond your limits.

Other things I really like:

I like it when my clothes are totally drenched with sweat. So much so that I have to peel them off, and everything from the rubber band keeping my sweaty hair out of my face and off of my shoulders down to the socks that at one time might have passed for white are still wet.

I like it when the towel I used during class is so soaked that I could wring it out.  I'd hate to be the folks who have to wash all the sweaty gym towels.  Ugh...that's for them.  I like my own sweaty smell, but not all the other hundreds of sweaty smells they must get stuck smelling everyday.

I like the creaky feel of muscles that just got worked, and will probably yell at me a little tomorrow, but that kinda sore is the really good kind, not the "fall down the stairs and bang yourself up" kind.  And I should know.  Because I've done that quite a bit, and it just hurts.

I like it when Channing Tatum shows up on time for my weekly massage.  Sometimes he's late, and you can't really blame him because he's famous and all but I like that he still makes the time.  Nice guy, good masseuse, and he can dance, too.

For all the ladies out there...

Yeah, well that last one is still in the "things that haven't quite materialized" category--I didn't actually get a massage from Channing today--but the other stuff, yeah, that's real.  I am smelly, my clothes were soaked when I peeled them off, and my muscles are creaky tonight.

And I like that.

Day 161: FORE!!!!

I recently took up golf.  Sort of.  Again.  Kind of.

I got roped into representing the company at a corporate golf tourney a few weeks back, and while I do own a set of golf clubs and a really cute bright yellow happy sunshiny golf bag, I can't really say that I knew much of anything about how to play.  Or really, why people play.  It seemed so lame.  A very "old man" thing to spend your weekend doing.  So I figured I'd just drive the cart and provide entertainment with my nonexistent golf skills.  And I was excited about the opportunity to wear a cute golf outfit.  But enjoy the game itself, no way.

Until I got out there with my work buddy who knew just about as much as I did but who was equally excited about shopping for a cute golf outfit.  Luckily, the organizers paired us with these two supercool dudes who were pretty close to our dads' ages and took it upon themselves to teach us how to play over the course of the afternoon.  We learned all sorts of new things, and we amassed an impressive new golf vocabulary by the 18th hole. I will share my new-found knowledge for the benefit of the other non-golfers out there.

It was a scramble (golf tourney term meaning they could pick the best person's shot to play from each time on each hole--so you get the best of the best), which was great for anytime we were anywhere near a water hazard (a big pondy thing designed to swallow all your golf balls), or really anytime I was called upon to use one of my woods (the golf clubs with the big funky heads that hit the ball the farthest, in theory at least).  But I held my own at chipping (those little shorter, choppier shots where you try to get the ball onto the green (the place with the flag and the the little hole where you want your ball to go) and putting, too (everyone knows this one--putt putt is universal).

I also learned all about the mulligan.  There was a bar called Mulligans but it apparently has a pretty specific golfy meaning.  I don't know why they can't just call it what it is--a do-over.  But I guess golf is kind of a snotty sport (sport?), and they want it to be as confusing as possible to nonplayers.  The tourney organizers gave us each 5 mulligans, and they proved pretty handy.  We let the boys use our mulligans, and with double-mulligans, we all scored pretty well in the end.

So, I'm giving myself a mulligan.  And I can do that, because I'm the keeper of the rules, and because I just worked my a$$ off.  I was up and doing P90X by 7 a.m. (despite being up till 1 the night before), and after completely burning out my arms and shoulders (typing hurts), and hit the the gym for 2 hours of leg-shredding spin class.  After the first hour, I was soaked to the bone and had drained my water bottle dry.  But I stayed on for another hour, and I did manage to walk--not fall--down the stairs after class.  So 3 hours of pretty intense stuff, if I do say so myself.

Sounds like I had a pretty awesome day, training wise, and it's only noon.  Why the need for a mulligan??Well...

I didn't work out at all on Friday, unless you count walking around the Crawfish Festival for a few hours last night.  (We did have to park outside of town a ways over some railroad tracks, so there was a bit of a hill involved).  I did stick to the diet, and I passed right by all the deep fried [insert whatever some crazy Texan thinks up to batter and drop into a vat of hot grease] and all the booze (still on the wagon--it's been almost 2 months, I think) and just ate the teeny tiny morsels of boiled crawfish meat that my buddy dug out for me (I offered him a nice deal--I buy the crawfish--you're in charge of peeling it all for me).  But I slept terribly Thursday night and couldn't get out of bed Friday morning.  And I knew I wouldn't get a workout in before the Crawfish Festival, so I was sad thinking about how much I'd miss the Killers, again.  :(

But I'm the one who made the deal, so I have to stick to it.

Well, if you look at the reason behind making the deal with myself, it was to encourage me to keep up the pace, not to get all lazy...and I didn't skip the workout because I didn't want to workout--I got about 4 hours of sleep and just couldn't open my eyes.  And then I wasn't choosing to sit on my butt and watch TV instead of working out--I had stuff to do.  It was Friday night for goodness sake!!

So I told myself if I busted a$$ on Saturday AND Sunday, I would make up for the Friday miss, and I could cash in my Mulligan.  I think that's more than fair--if you miss a day (where the goal is to work out at least 1 hour) and you triple your workout time the next day, a Mulligan would technically not even be necessary.

Indulge me for a sec....

So bogey (overshoot by 1) a Par 3 (a hole that should take 3 shots), but then birdie (undershoot by 1) the next hole, and you're back to Par (the number of shots you should have used on those holes per the dudes who designed the course).  Or even better, get an eagle on the next hole (2 shots under par)...based on the number of double and triple bogeys we got, I'm guessing those Eagles are tough to come by.  Anyway...

That's more like what I did...yesterday was a bogey...I owed myself an hour of workout time, but I missed it.  Today, I made it up by working out for 3 hours--I got an Eagle of a workout, so I actually finish with one surplus hour of workout time.

No do-over necessary.  I more than made up for my missed workout opportunity yesterday.  So I'm still on track to see The Killers.

(I can talk myself into or out of almost anything.  I guess law school was worth something...)

Alrighty then, off to wash the stench of a 3 hour workout off me and get ready for the rest of the day...Celtic festival with a bunch of Scottish folks, who, as I and everyone knows, invented the wonderful(ly frustrating) game of golf.  Maybe I can learn some more new words today...

Day 164: I didn't look good in that pirate eye patch anyway.

The Killers are one of my favorite bands.  They are here in concert on May 8th.  The last time they were here, 6 years ago maybe, I was the coolest stepmom EVER and surrendered my coveted ticket so my stepdaughter could take a friend instead of hang with boring old me at the concert.

BIG MISTAKE.  HUGE.  I thought they'd be coming back soon, but no, the Killers were noticeably absent from Houston's concert scene for the last half-decade plus.  With each new album release, I'd scan the concert sites, waiting, hoping, praying they'd be returning.  It's been a long, long time.

But they'll be here.  In two weeks.

And I don't have tickets.

They sold out so fast that I missed the first go-round, and now I have to wait to pay 4X face value on StubHub.  It's worth it, for sure, but one of my learned ticket broker tricks is to wait until the day of, when the sellers get nervous that they won't be able to make anything off their purchase (that's what they get for trying to gouge us, right??), and I can pick them up for much, much cheaper.  I got to sit in field level end zone tickets for a Cowboys game--preseason, I grant you--for $30 (Insert obligatory Cowboys jokes here), and I got FRONT ROW AISLE seats to the Lion King last summer for a song, all by waiting until the day of...

What in the world does this have to do with the Mudder, you ask?  I'm getting there.  Sheesh.

I kicked butt today.  I got up, did chest and back on P90X, which was 150 (girl) pushups and 180 pull-ups (with the bands, not the bar, but it's supposed to work the same muscles, so I'm counting it for something!!), among other things.  I also ate pretty darn close to perfectly (didn't eat or drink at thing at the Mexican food place where we sang karaoke tonight), and then I came home and did 30 minutes on my elliptical on the highest resistance level.

So yeah, a really good day.  And can we get a "hallelujah" that I didn't have to stick a needle in my eye today.  That woulda sucked.

I'm getting back in the groove, and I want to keep it up.  So I'm making a deal with myself.

I will only buy tickets to The Killers if I keep up this momentum for the next 14 days.  You know I'm serious if I put it in BOLD.

This could be my last chance in this decade to see them, based on their track record of concert stops in Houston.

I guess I'm on the honor system, but that's true of all of this training right?  I mean, I'm the only one who gets screwed if I lie to myself and y'all.

So my challenge begins, or I guess, challenge within a challenge...and every good challenge needs a theme song.  Since the Rocky song is taken, I'll have to pick something different.  One of my favorites, and it's certainly applicable here, This Is Your Life, by the Killers.

"You gotta be stronger than the story.  Don't let it blind you."

Sticking a needle in my eye might just have done that.  Glad I didn't have to follow through on that.

Day 165: Does furniture moving count as cardio?

Counting down to the Mudder--165 days from today...

A slow start for this Mudder-To-Be in her training...started this morning with the incessant beep-beep-beep of the alarm clock.  Set for 5:00 a.m.--plenty of time to get an hour in before work and not have to show up to the office stinky wearing workout clothes.  But you know, come to think of it, 5:30 would still be plenty of time to get an hour in before work and still have time to shower and wash my hair and get out the door.  Honestly though, 6:00 really is plenty of time.  I mean, my hair is fine.  It doesn't need to be washed today.  And I don't have any client meetings, which means I can wear jeans, which means I don't have to shave my legs.  Well, really, truly I could still get a good upper body workout in if I just get up at 6:30 and I can do cardio tonight.

"MOM...WE'RE GONNA BE LATE!!"

What time is it????  6:50???  How the heck did that happen???  It was just 5:00 a.m. 9 minutes ago.  Or a few 9 minutes agos.  Damn that snooze button.

Alrighty, so after my RA-RA inspirational bull$hit blog entry last night, I couldn't even manage to inspire myself to get out of my own frickin' bed.  What a great Tough Mudder Team Leader I've proven to be so far!!  ("Ya Fiyed" I hear The Donald say to Lazy, Couldn't-Get-Out-Of-Bed me).  I deserve it, Donald, I really do.

But...I did move some furniture at the office today.  A couch, a table, a few chairs.  That's something, right?  Um, and I walked up and down the stairs to get people water a few times.  Oh, and I technically walk around on my tiptoes in these 5 inch wedges I have on today, so that's a good calf workout at least.

Yeah, pathetic, I know.  I hope you udder Mudders did better than I did today.

TOMORROW MORNING I AM DOING P-90X.  I promise, pinkie swear, cross-my-heart and hope-to-die (which I will in the Mudder at this rate) stick-a-needle-in-my-eye (ouch) if-I-lie!!  This is my solemn vow--at least as solemn a vow as I can take without some official vow-taking professional to administer it to me.  So expect me to be whining tomorrow about how sore and broken down I am after reuniting with my good pal Tony Horton in the morning.

I really don't want to have to stick a needle in my eye tomorrow.

It's official...officially...again!!

I should already have that orange headband and the title of BadA$$ to go along with it, but it seems like, with so many things, life got in the way.

Well, to be fair, initially it was the knee.  I really was pretty immobile after I injured it, and then reinjured it trying to see if it was done being injured.  I mean, I wasn't wheelchair bound or anything, but running was out of the question, and even my standard go-to spin classes resulted in swelling and pain, and not just the kind people normally get from sitting on those hard bike seats in class.  I don't think I could have done the Mudder with my knee the way it was last fall.

But that was the excuse I needed to fall off the wagon with my killer workout routine...and when I fell, I fell hard.  I stopped doing just about everything.  Maybe a spin class every few weeks.  And I missed it--I did--but I didn't do much because I didn't want to make the stupid knee worse.

Fast forward to my doctor visit in January--surgery is recommended, but it is possible to keep training for the Mudder with a few adjustments.  Running:  probably not possible, at least not without a brace that weighs as much as a toddler and is about as comfortable as running with two 2x4s taped around your leg.

Add in the little experiment I conducted on a couple of online dating sites, and I completely lost focus.  That is a separate story entirely for a different audience on another blog.

Anyway, I got off track.  Fell off the wagon.  I told someone it wasn't just that I fell off...I got dragged behind the wagon for a few miles, hitting every bump and rock in the road until, bruised and bloody, I got up and decided I was ready to get back on.  But I'm starting from scratch again, and that sucks, but what can you do?  Another life lesson through Mudder Training--you may fall down, you may get banged up, but as long as you're breathing, you can get back up and try again.

So this is me, getting back up, and trying again.

Several little things led to the decision to spend the $140 to register again for the Mudder even with a bum knee.  Thankfully, none of them was heartbreak.  That sure was a bitch to get through.  No, the knee is the only part of me in pieces this year.

Part of it is finishing what I started last year, part of it is needing something to focus on, part of it is wanting to  do something most people never try to do....lots of great reasons exist to do it, but it seems that everyday lately we are reminded that life can change in the blink of an eye, and it's really time to go out and live life and not just survive it.  I may have quoted Crazy Mel from Braveheart before (it's a long blog...who can keep up??), but his "All men die.  Not all men really live," quote inspired me to run a half marathon a few years ago.  And it's just as applicable here.

Maybe your idea of living isn't sloshing through mud and running through fire and swimming through icy water and getting electrocuted within feet of the finish line of this crazy race called The Tough Mudder--I really was worried that I might die doing this race last year.

I know now that I won't.

Because I know the girl inside of me who I want to be is a BadA$$ who doesn't mind a little mud, a little fire, a little ice, and a little shock.  She's a girl who wants to challenge herself to be stronger than she ever though she could be.  A girl who doesn't listen when people tell her she can't do something.  A girl whose resolve doesn't waiver when people tell her she's crazy.

I want the orange headband.  Because to get it, I have to become that girl.

Alright, enough Ra-Ra inspirational bull$hit for one day...I'm doing this thing.  Who's with me??

Day 3: I am a rock. (I am an island).

If you remember that song, you're officially old.  To my credit.  I remembered the song, but not who sang it (Simon and Garfunkel), so maybe I can still pass myself off as not old.  As I was typing "I am a rock," I heard "I am an eye-eye-eye-eye-land" in my head.  I knew it had to be one of those old folksy 70s bands; just couldn't place which one.  For those too young, too cool, or both to know what song I'm referencing, here's a handy dandy link for your convenience.  I AM A ROCK

Back to why I am a rock, not necessarily an eye-eye-eye-eye-land...it was the first test of my "no crap food, no booze" pledge.  I went out for Mexican at one of my favorite local dives and am happy and proud to report that not one chip did I eat, not one sip of margarita did I have.  I ordered tacos al carbon and ate the meat out of them, left the tortillas all lonely, unfilled, and uneaten on the plate.  That probably doesn't happen much to tortillas.  At least now that folks aren't really into Adkins and South Beach anymore.  I remember going out for Tex-Mex with a couple of coworkers who both ordered cheese enchiladas while on Adkins.  They pried open the gooey tortilla, scooped out all the cheesy guts, and that was all they ate for lunch. Cheesy enchilada guts.  In what world is that healthy, I ask you?  But anyway, my tortillas stayed right there on the plate, and all the chips stayed in the basket, and all the margarita stayed in the glass.  Well, not all of it, but it didn't end up in my tummy.

AND when I got home, I almost threw on my jammies and settled in for a nice evening of reality TV and Pinterest browsing, but instead, I donned my exercise stuff and headed up to my workout room for some Helliptical time.  Which, by the way, was horribly boring.  But I did it.  So yesterday, a victory in all ways.  Go Me!!!

Now, this morning, when I rolled over to shut off the alarm, I noticed that all of the upper body parts I have were sore.  P90X is designed to work different parts of you on different days, not all the upper body crammed next to each other.  So because I can't do the plyo days (jumping is out) or the lower body days (no lunges for me), or KenpoX (kick boxing has too much pivoting) and because I HATE YOGA, I decided today would be my P90X rest day, and I'd hit upper body again tomorrow.  Tonight is more Helliptical.  I bet you can hear how thrilled I am at having to do that again tonight.  But I can't make spin class, so the Helliptical is my only option.  I'm gonna have to get a spin bike for home or find a way to love the Helliptical and Dreadmill, or this is gonna be a long 261 days, folks!

I hope whatever your New Year's Resolutions may be that you can sing to yourself the "I am a rock, I am an eye-eye-eye-eye-land" song today!!  Or a cooler version of a song about being a rock.  Share if you know any.  I know songs about wanting to rock, knowing how to rock, loving rock, I like the movie "The Rock" and I like the wrestler dude "The Rock" but being a rock...that's the only one I could come up with.
 

Day 2: if you need a workout buddy, I do not recommend cats

Day 2 of :Mudder, Take 2" training going well...yesterday P90X + killer spin class = day 1 goal met.  So that's 1 down, 262 days to go.

Oh, also, I have turned down yummy Mexican food and booze twice this week already.  And it's only Wednesday!! I should get major snaps for that.  I have pledged that I'm not going to drink or eat crap during training.  Of course, that was before I did the handy-dandy little app that calculates how many days are between today and the Mudder.  262.5 days is a looooooooooooong time to be on the "no booze or crap food" wagon.  The only other time I've gone that long without a margarita was when I was pregnant with my daughter.  The good thing is that I'm not a person who likes the taste of wine or beer, so it's really the fruity (loaded with sugar/empty calories) mixed drinks that I like, and I don't make one of those after a long day at the office, just when I'm out with my girls.  Knowing that I was able to stay away from them for 9 months once before tells me I have what it takes to do it again.  So, friends, snatch me up as your all-time designated driver--I am officially as dry as Yoakum County, Texas.  (PS, why would anyone want to live in a place where you couldn't buy a margarita????  Thanks to Google, I can tell you there are 22 such counties in our great State!).

It's all water, all the time, for this Mudder-to-Be.  That's all I drink anyway.  That and booze.  And I used to drink ChickFilA lemonade on occasion, but I haven't had one of those in months.  I tried to make some with my lemons that grew on my lime tree last month, but I had to add so much sugar to make it drink-able that I decided I'd leave the fresh lemonade making to others.  So anyway, now it's just water.

P90X this morning was a good one.  I like Shoulders and Arms day...it gets results quick.  I remember when I was religiously doing it the last go 'round, I'd get sidetracked at work by my biceps.  I liked watching them flex.  Weird, right?  Well, still, I'm excited to get them all ripped looking.  Even though it's 30 degrees this week in Houston, sleeveless top weather is right around the corner, and this year, my arms are gonna be ready.

The only challenge this morning was my cat, Joey.  He decided to sneak out last night when we let the dogs out for their bedtime potty break, and I couldn't find him when my own bedtime rolled around.  So he got to sleep outside.  Let me tell you, Joey likes camping just about as much as I do, and was waiting for me this morning when I let the puppies out again.  He is an odd cat, loves me to death but apparently hates everyone else.  He has to be sitting or laying on me whenever I'm still, and when I'm not, has to be trying to jump up on me somehow.  This morning, he was leaping off the bed at me while I was doing shoulder presses.  He almost got clocked in the head with a dumbbell.  He then changed his plan of attack, and started winding around my feet and standing on his back legs to try and paw his way up into my P90X-ing arms.  Not helpful, so Joey got banished from the bedroom.

Tonight will be a home-cardio night.  No spin classes on Wednesday, and I can't go back to my favorite dancey class because it was responsible for my probably meniscus tear in the first place.  So elliptical in the home gym is on tap.  The challenge will be not stopping after 5 minutes when I get bored.  It's  not as bad as the dreaded treadmill (the "dreadmill??"  hahah!!), but it's too easy to stop and go do something else.  I have to constantly remind myself to keep going.  No, watching TV doesn't help.  Listening to music does a bit.  But still...I'm not a huge fan.  But I am NOT going to break my streak on Day 2, so an hour on the Helliptical it is.

Speaking of cats sucking as workout buddies, I'm not hearing from my non-feline Mudder team members...roll call people!  Are you IN???  ;)