Reality Check

Last night we did our Cardio workout, 45 minutes of some intense yoga, plyometics and kick-boxing. Josh and I laugh that it's the "shortest and easiest" workout of the entire program. The whole time I'm kicking and sword-jabbing in our living room, there is only one thing on my mind:


My mom. 

I won't go into all the details about how freakin' awesome my mom is, but she's pretty much the best person on the planet. I'm worried because she can't move. Things like bending over to get in the cupboard or pushing yourself off from the ground after kneeling is painful and almost impossible. She's been to a dozen doctors, had two thousand blood tests and the answer is always the same: normal. But it's not normal. She's 56 years old and can barely get out of bed because she is in so much pain. She stretches for an hour every morning trying to loosen things up but nothing helps.


And today she called me after another doctor told her all the tests came back negative. We've tried everything from Lyme's disease to Lupus and still, nothing shows up. So as I write about training and working my body to its limits, my mom can barely walk up and down the stairs. I'm to the point of tears because I can't do anything. I've searched WebMd, Mayo clinic and random internet chat sites hoping to stumble on a cure or something that would help her.


I don't want this post to be a huge downer for people. But I also want to be honest about what's going on, and life isn't always humorous. Today was a reality check for me. That our bodies are not guaranteed to work for an eternity. We need to take care of them now so they can take care of us later.


So if you believe in prayer, or meditation or throwing pennies into murky water at the mall to make a wish come true, one of those gestures for my mom would mean a lot to me. For now, I'm going to keep up my routine and (childishly) hope that some of my new strength finds its way to my mother. 

It's Over

Well, all good things must come to an end. It's been an incredible journey, one filled with laughter, love, headaches, mood swings and (towards the end) an inability to sleep. In the back of my mind, I knew it couldn't last forever but I'm amazed our partnership lasted as long as it did. 

Oh Mountain Dew, I will miss you.

After a 15 year love affair, I've decided to slowly separate myself from this scrumptious green fizzy drink. I'm actually having mild anxiety over this decision because, let's be honest, I still LOVE the stuff. I don't care that the target audience is pimple faced 17 year old males that watch the X-games and hate their parents. I don't care that it has so much sugar, dentists can quickly identify patients with "Mountain Dew Syndrome" because of all their tooth decay. And I don't care that most adults take one sip and tell me it tastes like pure corn syrup with a hint of citrus. 

But I do care that it's finally starting to make me sick. After years of chugging this delicious neon narcotic, I can no longer ignore the fact that I am getting headaches for no reason (I'm drinking so much water there is no way I'm dehydrated, but it was my first guess). I feel like puking around 4:30 almost everyday and yesterday, it all became clear that I couldn't continue on this path. 

Josh and I had to work out late (I had library duty until 8 and he had choir until 8:45). We were scheduled to do Ken Po X (my favorite!) but as soon as I started the jumping jacks, I knew I wouldn't make it. 20 jabs and a few downward dogs later, I'm sitting in the chair, watching Josh complete the workout without me (insert my super sad face). And I realized this wasn't the first time I've felt this way, and surely wouldn't be the last. As I crawled into bed with an icepack over my face, arranging myself in the fetal position, I knew I couldn't ignore it any longer. Mountain Dew and I needed to break up.

So today, as I type this, I'm saying good bye. I had a few "farewell" sips and chucked the rest into the garbage. Will this last? Will I have major caffeine withdrawal? Only time will tell. 

Attempting the Crane Pose

"Grab a pillow and try not to fall on your head."


There we are, once again attempting non human-like positions in our living room while watching Tony and the gang bend like flexi-straws. I'm looking at the television with equal parts fascination and self doubt. This life size Ken doll wants me to bend my elbows and balance the entire weight of my body on my hands???

We're nearing the end of our workout and I can't believe how difficult this is. I'm sweating, my hamstrings are jello and that thing called my "core" is on fire. And here I am, on my squishy purple mat ready to attempt a balancing act seals would bark at (I'm laughing at my own joke here). 


So I squat down and place my elbows up into my arm pits and try to steady the rest of my body. Josh is lying crumpled in a ball near the fan after one too many reverse half moon poses. Listening to the smooth jazz radio in the background, I prepare my chi and begin to raise my toes off the ground.


THUD.


I don't even get one foot to defy gravity before I come crashing down onto the floor. I sheepishly dig my face out from the carpet fibers and roll myself into the fetal position. I rock at the fetal position. It's like napping but with focused energy. 


So this is my new short term goal. I will be able to do a Crane Pose before competing in Tough Mudder. My balance and severe lack of upper body strength will be a challenge, but I'm going to do it. Hell, this pose is so awesome I will bust it out at cocktail parties and family reunions. But first, I need a way fluffier pillow....

The Discovery of Butt Bras (no, really)

I always get a kick out of browsing the top stories on Yahoo! before checking my email each day. There are a variety of story highlights to pique my interest: healthy foods I've never heard of, celebrities doing stuff "just like me" and travel facts on cities I may be lucky enough to visit sometime in the future. A while back, they had the headline "7 Cities About to Sink." Places like Bangkok, Venice and Shanghai are all on the list. But it's Houston's habit of extracting ground water and proximity to the Gulf of Mexico that is causing it to sink about two inches a year. 


Now, why is that random fact even worth mentioning here? Because my ass is experiencing the same phenomenon. Over the past decade, my butt cheeks have started their own descent. And their migratory pattern wasn't much of a concern until last week when I started doing jumping jacks for the first time in 17 years. 

There we are, Josh and I dressed in our sweats and lightly jogging place while Tony tells us why Core-metrics should be our favorite workout. After running in place and stretching our cold muscles so early in the morning, we begin one minute of jumping jacks. The sensation I feel as my legs go out and my hands shoot above my head is immediate horror. The first part of the move is easy, graceful as a swan. But as my feet come back together to begin another rep I feel an odd sensation.


GATHUNK. GATHUNK. GATHUNK.

Part of me wants to turn around, to confirm what I already know. It's my butt hitting the back of my thighs. It feels like a water soaked sponge attached to my lower back, and it's refusal to move upwards with the rest of my body is confusing me. I don't remember this physical sensation from my childhood. In fact, I was the fourth grade Jump Rope for Heart champion, jumping my tiny feet for nearly two hours straight and winning a bright blue windbreaker that would make MC Hammer jealous (and I mean super jealous, that jacket was righteous). It's like I need a butt bra or something to keep my bum up!!


So I went on Google and looked up "butt bra." Imagine my complete shock to find such this contraption actually exists (seriously, I'm not making this shit up). The company Bubbles Body Wear makes, not one, but SEVERAL versions of a butt bra. The one below is called the "Double O Bum Bra Brief" and enhances the shape and lift of your derriere and gives the illusion of a professional butt-lift (those are their words, not mine).

A bum bra. I'm laughing and disturbed all in the same moment. We've clearly reached another dimension of reality where a product like this can exist and make money. So as I'm scrolling through the Bubbles Body Wear online catalog, I decide that regardless of how ridiculous I feel doing jumping jacks in my living room, I'm going to stick with this crazy P90X program. No matter how many times I fall over doing Twisted Triangle during our Yoga-X workout, I'm going to get back up. And no matter how many times I want to reach through the screen and kill Tony when he announces yet another set of lunges, I will think of butt bras.  And keep right on going.

Before and After Photos

If you came here expecting to find a picture of me in some kind of spandex outfit with the words "DAY 1" photoshopped below my feet, I'm sorry to disappoint you. I had every intention of doing a before shot on Saturday morning while Josh was at choir. That's when the problems began....


What picture to use?


There are two competing philosophies here. The first encourages you to post one of your worst photos so the "after" shot is truly awe-inspiring. This photo typically involves a questionable use of spandex clothing, bare midriff, and old crappy sports bra and no makeup or hair styling (see exhibit A).

(exhibit A).

The second philosophy believes your current self esteem is more important than the end result, especially if other people are going to see this photo. This shot requires makeup application, a full hair blow out, spanx and a contorted angle to give you the appearance of an existing six-pack (see exhibit B).

(exhibit B)

I truly wish you could have witnessed the disaster that unfolded in my tiny 10 x 3 foot closet. It was one of the greatest meltdowns in human history. Tears were shed, curse words uttered and finally, I smiled and realized that this photo was not going to happen. So here's the truth: the only people that get to see me in my unflattering workout gear is my husband and our unfortunate neighbors across the street forced to witness our nightly P90X attempts.




We did take measurements of all those important body parts (abs, arms, waist, etc) to make sure we're making progress. But unless you want to stalk our condo in St. Louis Park, you'll have to wait for the "after" photos (that may or may not appear on this blog, I haven't decided).




Love,
NutterMudder