Tag Archives: gym

January Body

19 Apr

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My January body was so much more kicking than my April package. Perhaps it was the beach wedding motivation?

Who knows. All I know is +11 lbs is bullshit. Time to get back on that bike (and back to the gym… and back to the juice fast… etc) TOWANDA!!!

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You’re Doing It Wrong

18 Nov

Sometimes we just don’t catch a break.

I was looking forward to this Sunday, a day I actually have a break from almost everything. A slow morning recovery, returning to find everything is still in order and nothing was lost in the night, a little gym time, a trip to the comic book store, and eventually a movie. Some junk food? Hell, why not? Skype with old friends? Sure, I’ve got time.

And then this happened.

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New plan:

scream so loud the neighbors come to check on me, cry with an anguish and woe so real it’s primal, take all the Ibuprophen in the world, ice toe with New Mexico’s heaviest ice pack.

Return to bed- beaten, defeated, broken and small.

Sometimes we just don’t catch a break.

She has to discipline her body

10 Nov

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Shit went upside down there for a minute. Like way crazy. Name any aspect of my life, any at all, and it pretty much changed in a matter of about a week and a half. Woof.

So to deal with the new joys and stresses (all at once- a crazy feeling) I brought out my ‘bulldozer.’ That’s the part of my personality that powers through bullshit with such a lovely and sardonic sense of humor, my bulldozer.

And as always, one of my favorite motivational songs became the theme song for the last week of fuckall, which I originally thought was impossible- turns out it wasn’t, which is awesome. The song: Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots by the Flaming Lips.

In this instance, an expansive set of 3D data was given to me, someone essentially said “Go” and about nine people watched as I scrambled to make heads or tails of things. I was given 48 hours. Perfect (that’s sarcasm by the way).

So, with it all being done and myself having a LOT of excess adrenaline, I exercised my demons. What better way than death by cardio? If I have to live in a virtual model of the Super D site, I will at least look amazing doing it. 3D data is the evil-natured robots, and I have to be strong to fight them, so I’m taking lots of vitamins.

…I know I can beat them.

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Just Like Riding a Bike

30 Aug

So since the move, I’m now like…. I’m going to say approximately four hundred miles from where I need to be on any given day. I’m a horrible driver and I can’t see at night and the scooter is on its last leg of life.

So today I tried to ride a bike.

I also skinned my knee.

I know what you’re thinking, and yes those two facts are directly related. Apparently the phrase ‘it’s like riding a bike’ isn’t a phrase in reference to muscle memory at all. At least, not my muscle memory.

Probably didn’t help that I went back to the gym today after a very long hiatus and everything now hurts beyond reason. Peddling around my weight on an old heavy Schwinn apparently made of WHATEVER THE HEAVIEST METAL IS (osmium, tungsten, iridium, plutonium- I have no clue) sounds like a severe way to whoop my butt back into shape, but I guess I don’t have much choice. Must get around. Mustn’t pay for parking. Mustn’t get fat.

Sigh.

I wish I had a jet pack.

A Walking Case of Broken Window

22 Feb

It was a birthday that would go down in ‘Lindsay history’.  Actually, most of my birthdays have been accompanied by some sort of doom and gloom.  I am not a fan at all of the idea of aging/sagging/wrinkling/etc.  February is my least favorite month because it includes my birthday (and Valentine’s Day- ew).  But this one might be the most memorable birthday to date, and that’s saying quite a bit ever since that birthday that my now ex-husband proposed to me.  If getting engaged isn’t one of the most shocking birthday gifts, I do not know what is.

I spent the one week of February before my birthday being disgustingly sick.  I was in a haze of cough drops, Benadryl, band aids, and Epsom salt baths.  I hate to miss a party however, especially if it is for me, so I willed myself out of my sick bed and greeted the day like Snow White opening her window and calling to all the birds and bunnies and fuzzy animals that make children smile.

Starting off excellently with champagne and French fries, it was shortly followed by more champagne, then  whiskey, and then more champagne and seafood.  I’m amazed I was still standing by 9pm.  But in the true nature of my chaotically organized (or, more accurately unorganized) brain I decided I could meet every single one of my friends for a celebratory glass of champagne.  I had a new date every two hours, essentially.  I demand to get what I want!  I was tired at the end, go figure, and so I decided to head to my local downtown bar, and announce to everyone that it was my special day, and that they should all follow me down to the strip club- a seemingly logical idea at the time.  Once I was sufficiently settled into the tittie-bar, I had my credit cards (all of them) stolen along with my driver’s license, bus pass, and library card.  I was in no mood to deal, and simply decided to worry with it on the following day.  In the immortal words of Scarlett O’Hara, “I’ll think about that tomorrow.”

Well, the following day when I woke up and strode outside to take my car to class, I discovered that during the night someone had run into my the car, on the back left side, and left it sitting in three pieces in the street. It was completely totaled even to my non-mechanics’ eye.  No note, no witnesses, no nothing.  Total crap!!

So that’s what I got for my birthday. Robbed and wrecked. It’s looking to be one of those years. I should’ve realized that on New Years Day when I woke up and the first thought of 2011 to run through my head was the song ‘Push It’ by Salt and Pepper.   Not to mention that ever since the accidents I have had “Caught Out There” by Kelis stuck in my mind.  It’s a wintry mix of terrible pop music playing in my noggin’.

But no, the night of robbing and wrecking would prove to be only the beginning of an epic crap-of-a-February.  The day following my dealings with police, insurance agents, and incompetent city bus drivers was a little bit shadowy and ominous from the start, and it was in no hurry to brighten up.  I got a call back from a company for which I had interviewed for a job, and of course they had found someone else.  Bummer.  So I decided to cheer myself up by whopping my ass into shape at the gym (alcohol is exceedingly more attractive when it is fizzy and sparkling, and less attractive when my body converts it into a donut), but as I was feeling a little tired and worn down, I only succeeded in giving myself an incredibly painful strained back injury.  I couldn’t decide if it was caused by stress, over exertion, or if it was simply the Lord’s way of telling me that I can only have so many 23rd birthdays before he would remind me of my real age.  I digress- first thing the next morning I went to the doctor, got muscle relaxers, and went home to enter into a tiny coma for the weekend- and in so doing hopefully shield myself from anymore frustration or stress for a day or two.

I succeeded for a moment in saving myself from the fiasco that is my life, but when I emerged from my tiny coma it was Valentine’s Day.  The premise of Valentine’s Day is to be as annoyingly in love- in public- as one can get away with without being arrested.  I find it revolting.  Not to mention I was still crabby about being in pain and having now to walk my crippled butt to dinner (which was nice).

So other than Valentine’s Day crapping up last week it was fairly uneventful.  You know, just the usual- spent all week getting stood up by my insurance agent, fell off a runway during a fashion show practice, hurt my back again, had a death in the family, missed a test, broke a shoe (the horror!), forgot to buy a plane ticket, my computer took a dive from which it cannot recover, and had the back tire on my scooter blow out while I was going 30mph without a helmet.  Karma had its way with me twice over that tire blow out ordeal because the person who ended up showing up to drag my scooter out of the street and take it to the shop was one of my least favorite exes.  Why don’t they all live in Texas?  My life would be much less complicated if they would.

So I’m surviving.  I took this last weekend to have another hibernation session (a friend of mine actually called because she was worried I was entering into a ‘Courtney Love’ phase.  I don’t think she was referring to the music on my iPod.)  I’m not exactly known for handling stress well.  Booze, shoes, and a lack of moderation seem to be my go-to coping mechanisms.

February can be so lovely in New Mexico.  It is the month that the days get longer, the sun starts shining, and the temperature goes from 6˚ to 64˚ (sometimes in one day).  This February has been decidedly dark in my eyes but I am confident that things are turning around.  I recently padded the walls in my bedroom and have taken to wearing a helmet and knee pads when I walk down the street.  (Oh yea, we all know I love to be the center of attention.)  I’m also on the market for a big cushy bubble in which I can live my life free of worry.  Well, I suppose I would worry about something piercing the bubble.  Or perhaps suffocation.  Skittish can’t accurately describe how I feel lately.  I mean, honestly there are 6 more days left before March, and I know just about what can happen in six days!  On the bright side, I successfully made it this far, it would be a bit silly if I couldn’t come through this February, too.  I just might greet March with a limp.

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