After Every Meal

It's been almost a month since I hopped onto Josh's diet wagon and, overall things are going great. I've been sticking to our dinner plans, eating lots of veggies and staying away from processed foods as much as possible. In fact, I was so excited about my progress that I bragged to Josh that I had cut back dessert to once a day.

Me: "And I didn't have dessert tonight because I had a cookie for lunch today."
Josh: "Wait. How often do you NORMALLY have dessert?"
Me: "After every meal except breakfast, like most people. But sometimes I have it after breakfast too."
Josh: "Seriously?!"
Me: "Yes. Why? How often are people supposed to have dessert?"
Josh: "Um, like maybe 3 times a week."
Me: "What?!"

Thus began a heated debate over the acceptable instances of dessert in a normal eating plan. Now, would I love to have a piece of chocolate cake or ice cream sundae after every meal? Yes- that would be awesome. Do I? No. Dessert is anything from a small handful of fruitsnacks to cocoa roasted almonds to a bite-size snicker bar.

But Josh argues that it's not about dessert per se, it's about my sugar intake. All those little sugar grams add up and that's what gets people into trouble. He blurts out "If you want to lose five pounds for this race, you can't have dessert after EVERY meal, Ashley."

In normal Ashley fashion, I cross my arms and start walking faster in a huff. It's not fair. I'm fighting with feelings and he's fighting with facts. Clearly, it's an injustice and he is wrong.

We didn't come to an agreement. But he did offer to make "Ms. Trunchbull's Chocolate Cake" from my favorite book, Matilda, as a peace offering. I happily obliged- but we'll save it until AFTER the race.

Recruiting Time

Ok people, we need you on our team. Right now, it's just me and Matt. While Matt and I are like, totally awesome and stuff, it will be a better event if we have a team of at least 5 people in May. I thought about all the ways I could motivate people to join our team. Bribes. Threats. And then I saw some pictures from the Southern California event yesterday and there it was: dinosaurs.

If you want the chance to see DINOSAURS, you will join our team.

Progress: more miles, detox diet and a glimpse of things to come.

Hey Everyone,
If you are reading this, kudos to you. By now, I'm sure most of my friends thought I either (a) hadn't worked out since January or (b) quite this journey entirely. The truth is more positive than I could have imagined since my last post:


Despite SEVERAL trips to various cities in Minnesota (including Moorhead and Austin), I managed to get workouts in at the pathetic Holiday Inn fitness room. Despite the carpeted walls and only one tv to share with the lady barely pedaling the recumbent bike and forcing my eyes to witness Lifetime television, I stuck with it. Hell, I even missed one morning and went on a run over my lunch hour to fit it in. When I started, a two mile run on the treadmill was pretty painful and exhausting. As of Saturday, I'm up to 4.5 miles with a speed of 9:50 per mile. Only 3.5 miles to go until I reach my goal of being able to run 8 miles non-stop.

Despite progress, pretty sure I still look like this on the treadmill.

I'm making SLOW progress on weight training. Even though I hate it, I force myself to do pull-ups at the gym. Granted, it's on one of those machines that you rest your knees on and helps you, but hey, I'm still proud. I've been TERRIBLE about going to the gym to use the weight machines in the morning, so I've been punishing myself with push-ups, triceps dips and burpees in the living room after work three days a week. I'll be honest: I haven't worked out every day I said I would. But each week, I work out more days than I don't and that's something to be proud of.


Josh did a detox last week. I did not. It involved lots of protein powder, raw vegetables and fruit. In an effort to show solidarity and support, I cooked up a huge batch of vegetable soup for him to eat that week (and then noshed on Noodles, stuffed peppers and Doritos in front of him). I'm really proud of him (I say that with complete sincerity) and he has inspired me to freshen up my diet to make sure my organs don't give up on me on mile 5 of Tough Mudder. Nothing too drastic, just more eggs, protein powder fruit smoothies and learning to love quinoa. 

Making this tonight: Broccoli-Quinoa Pilaf!

Finally, I'm really REALLY excited about this race. I know that I'm probably going to curse myself the entire ten miles but I know that it will be a huge accomplishment. As such, I've posted pictures from some of the Tough Mudder events that have taken place over the last few weeks in warmer parts of the country. Cheers to braving the things to come!

And for fun, I saw this post and couldn't help but enjoy the sarcasm. She's bleeding from her forehead and someone asked what happened in the comment section.

Reply: "There's a spot where they hit you in the face with a board with a nail sticking out."

How Marching Band and a Math Book Haunt Me Ten Years Later

I know. This post sounds like the worst horror movie title in the history of the world. But it is a true story. How a simple marching band practice and algebra II textbook continue to affect me over a decade later. 

It all started in early fall my senior year in high school. I was super awesome and belonged to an elite organization known as the Eastview High School Marching Band (yes, there is a heavy dose of sarcasm in this comment but, in truth, I enjoyed every toe-roll and horn move). On a blustery Thursday evening, we were ending rehearsal out on the parking lot and everyone was ready to go home. After standing at attention for several minutes, we were released by the director and headed to the grass to quickly pick up our instrument cases and books before the night sprinklers came on. Hugging my saxophone against my side, I awkwardly leaned over to pick up my math textbook and BAM, my knee gave out. 


Like many teenagers, I didn't want to draw additional attention to myself and admit I was injured. Hell, half my leg could be missing and I probably would have tried to limp inside hoping nobody would notice. It wasn't until I got home and removed my faded, worn out jeans that I noticed my knee-cap was now clearly on the side of my leg. After the obligatory scream and gagging at the sight of my mangled joint, my mom and I covered it with ice and hoped it would go away. 


The next morning, I could no longer see my knee. In fact, the swelling was SO bad, that it appeared as though a grapefruit had been implanted into the center of my leg, leaving the area purple and ungodly puffy. At the hospital, I was having a minor meltdown. I had even begun accepting the fact the doctor would probably amputate my entire leg when he came in, nudged my patella back in place and put a giant velcro cast around my leg.  After looking at the x-ray he said my patellas (knee caps) were actually abnormally small compared to the other bones in my leg. In fact, they would continue to shift without therapy. He handed my mother a business card to a local rehab facility and told her to make me weekly appointments for the next two months. 


Thus began my frequent visits to the Athletic Institute in Apple Valley. I couldn't drive with my leg all messed up, so my mom would pick me up in our mini-van and drive me to the center over lunch. There, I would sit with ACTUAL athletes while we performed various exercises and stretches. As you can see, my "cool" factor was already on hyper drive with my mom and the mini-van thing, so you can only imagine the reactions of other kids when they asked about my injury. I thought about lying, telling them I played a real sport. But in the end, I would shrug and say "well, it happened in marching band." Nobody asked questions after that.


Most afternoons, I would sit with one of the countless football players as the aides attached electroshock pads on our legs. Attached to the pads was a small box where we could control the electrical output. The shocks helped weaker muscles grow faster and, in turn, helped us get back into fighting shape. This might have been effective had we not exchanged control boxes and spent the 25 minutes seeing how bad we could shock each other. Needless to say, in the end, I came out with my left leg healed but extremely twitchy

This lovely story brings me to today. I did double workouts today and even got in a run outdoors. No matter how often I do my exercises or how hard I work, I can still feel that patella bobbing about ever so slightly in my leg. I've tried everything from knee-braces to those thingys you wrap around your leg right below your knee cap. Nothing keeps it in place. I'm in constant fear that I will hit the ground just a little bit off and wham, I'll be back in that cast. 


So in exchange for my self-deprecating story, I'm hoping I have some actual athlete readers who can offer some advice. Is there anything out there that will keep my pretty patella in one place? Is there another exercise or magical device to keep my leg in working order? Any advice is much appreciated.

Starting Pitcher Syndrome

I posted yesterday about my plans to start working out in the morning in preparation for Tough Mudder in May. Much to my surprise I received an interesting response from someone on facebook that read similar to this:

"Oh, I see your resolution coincides with New Year's and everyone else promising to get in shape. Really classy...good luck with that." 

At first I was slightly hurt. I'll admit it, I actually made a giant sad face and contemplated removing my post in fear that other people would also mock me. 

And then I got angry. Angry that someone who hasn't seen me in ten years is trying to rain on my parade. So angry that I tried coming up with several sarcastic responses, each nastier than the one before it, but unable to click "Post."

So I deleted the comment. Shut off my computer and went to bed sulking. 


But I woke up this morning with the realization that this person had a point. It was like he knew one of my major flaws: Starting Pitcher Syndrome. 

Being married to a baseball fanatic, we often refer to our relationship as the perfect bullpen: I'm the starting pitcher, but my husband is the closer. I'm really REALLY good at making plans, starting them and working towards our goal. But 3/4 of the way into it, I usually get tired or just get sick of it. This is when Josh steps in and finishes the game. Perfect example: I rarely finish a whole can of soda. I leave just enough in the bottom because I don't want to finish it. I start putting away groceries and get distracted after the refrigerated items and leave the rest on the counter. Sure, this approach works fine at home but not for this. Josh can't do my training for me. And unless I want him or someone else to physically DRAG me across the finish line, I need some extra motivation. 


So I came up with a solution after just finishing the book The Hunger Games (such a great read if you are in the market for a new novel).  I have to work for my Tough Mudder gear. At the end of each month, I get to purchase something that will help me in the Tough Mudder event. Things like Under Armour leggings, moisture wick socks, and a grip gloves. If I don't finish my workouts, I don't get the gear. So unless I want to be wearing cotton shorts, a t-shirt and zero protection on my hands and knees, I HAVE TO go to the gym. I have to record my workouts.  I have to stick to this plan. 


In short, thank you Mr. Negative Nancy on Facebook. Your comments might have been somewhat rude, but you were right. And now it's time for me to put my money where my mouth is.

Birthdays and Morning Routines

I have a very simple morning routine each day I go to work. I walk into the door from the parking lot and hike up the small flight of stairs. I drop off my purse, set up my Mac and head into the kitchen to put my lunch in the fridge. I split open a whole wheat English muffin, drop it in the toaster and let it warm up while I fill my water bottle up at the cooler. I smear a good helping of peanut butter on my breakfast once it pops up and head over to my desk. I crack open my delicious Cherry Coke Zero and ALWAYS take a sip before biting into my English muffin. Only then, am I ready to work.


This is my routine. It takes an act of God to stray from it. 


December was the month we fell out of our routine (and by "we" I really mean "me"). I had too many happy hours after work, too many holiday parties, too many family gatherings with delicious food and drink that were WAY more fun than working out. The last two days, I've promised myself that I would workout, get back into our "routine" and both nights I've gone to bed a little bit squishier.  But tomorrow is different. Tomorrow starts a new chapter.

Tomorrow I turn 29 (or I should say "Brooke and I" turn 29). And what better way to kick off 29 than finally getting into a fitness routine. And since my morning routine is of the only things I don't EVER stray from during the week, working out needs to be in the morning. Josh and I will still work out together a few days a week at home at night, but 95% of my training will be in the morning. 

So if you are at the LA Fitness in St. Louis Park anytime after January 15th around 6am, stop by and say hello. And if you don't see me, feel free to stop by my house and drag me kicking and screaming out of bed. Because it's going to take a while before I can call working out part of my sacred "morning routine."

Bad Blogger; Big Biceps

I'll just start by saying I've been a bad blogger. Every Sunday for the past three weeks I've had grand plans to write an update, and every Sunday goes by without a post. To my humble readers: I apologize and will try to be better in the future. 


Josh and I are now 64 days into our P90X program and at the beginning of each month, we take our measurements. Biceps, stomach, chest, stomach, thighs and calves are all carefully wrapped with a pretty pink tape measure and recorded on a notecard that hangs on our fridge. I'll be honest: the numbers are misleading. In fact, the only change is a half-inch loss in my stomach. And I wasn't totally convinced this program was working until a week before Thanksgiving. 


My sister Brooke and her boyfriend, Jake, came into town to celebrate the holiday early. That Saturday, Brooke and I went out to do a little shopping when Brooke came across a cute crop jacket. One of the best things about having a twin is the ability to have the other one try on clothes to see how you look in them. Who needs a mirror when you have a lifesize replica of yourself? Anywho, I put on the jacket so Brooke could see what SHE would look like wearing it. As soon as I put it on, I said "chica, it's cute but it's too tight in the arms." Disappointed, my sister asked if she could try on the jacket to make sure I was telling the truth. 

After slipping her arms through the sleeves, Brooke laughs and says "it fits me just fine." 

The bottom line: even though my measurements haven't changed, I've definitely toned up in lots of places. I feel better when I run. My back pain has all but disappeared. AND I can carry in all the groceries in one trip (which, when you park near the back of the lot, is a HUGE bonus). 


So, Josh and I have every intention of continuing our workouts well past 90 days. It's been quite a ride so far and I can't wait to start my hardcore training in January!