Bad attitude corner

Studies have shown that people are more likely to succeed at things if they have outside encouragement, right? (Don't ask which studies; this is not a scientific blog. Just assume the great and powerful "they" means someone out there actually did do studies. And I'm sure "they" have since every time I try to do something like exercise or lose weight or what have you, I am told that it'll be easier if I do it with a friend. Studies have proven it. No one provides the actual studies so I'm not going to either. So there.)

Anyway, having company doing things that might or might not be unpleasant is not a bad plan and is why I tend to skip any form of exercise unless I have a friend helping to motivate me. And I do have a number of people willing to kick my rear, or at least send me on an extended guilt trip, if I don't accompany them to the gym or on a run. Today's exercise fun was cycle class at the gym. Sadly it was the instructor I don't love so very much. There are many things wrong with this class (from my perspective--although she seems to have an unexplicably large and enthusiastic following) and I tend to go into it with a lousy attitude. It doesn't help that K., my friend and cohort in crime for this class, my "outside encouragement," is as sarcastic and snarky about the class as I am. But it works best in our busy mom schedules (::snort:: Just got back from a leisurely lunch again. ::cough::) so we continue to go to it.

Today was lost the moment that the instructor, a maddening, perky, blonde twiglet arrived. I don't know that I've ever seen her off the bike before as we generally screech in at the last minute. I leaned over and said to K., "I am definitely going to hell but I am inordinately pleased to see she's bow-legged." And that, I am sorry to say, set the tone for the class. Once we both stopped howling with laughter, we got ourselves set up on our bikes and had to listen to the inane nattering of this particular instructor for the entire 50 minutes of class. K. and I exchanged incredulous glances when she asked if anyone knew why we wear green on St. Patrick's Day (and she wasn't wearing green so we heard a soliloquy on pinching which only served to make *me* want to pinch her--and I was wearing green, so was safe myself). But we absolutely convulsed in laughter, which is not terribly conducive to maintaining a hard workout, when she told us all not to be upset by the weather since if it wasn't raining and grey, it would be dry. Uh. Yeah. 'Cause then it would be sunny. It is really a good thing that K. and I tend to like our little back corner of the room. We were originally crowded out by the fit and toned regulars but we're quite happy there. We've dubbed it the "bad attitude corner." Since we're hidden behind rows of other people, our snarky facial expressions are harder to read in the mirrors at the front of the room. ;-)

We do try and put in a hard workout, despite our curmudgeonliness though sometimes it is hard. Today we not only got to hear about Perky's heart rate, which has less than no bearing on anyone else in the room, but she repeated the hideous exercise she did last Tuesday where she told us how long it would take to burn off the 25 calories in one Hershey's Kiss. Aside from the fact that each time she does this I have the Homer Simpsonish response of "MMMMMMMMM Hershey's kisses," and drool a little onto my sweaty shirt, it is an obnoxious bit of theater. Yes, we all know it takes longer than you'd think. But we don't actually want to know. Really. Because then we'd have to actually stop at just one Hershey's Kiss, and I don't mean one bag or one giant super-sized version either. One measly kiss. K.'s general response to this ridiculousness is to query why we're there then at all if it takes that long to burn off one. She points out that it sort of highlights the hopelessness of working out as a diet aid, which is probably not Perky's intention. Unlike last week, today she also named a litany of candy filled holidays we've just passed through or will shortly, starting with Halloween and proceding through Christmas, Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Easter, Mother's Day and Father's Day before we get a break from the evils of sugar. Kinda makes you think you missed out as a kid since you never got candy on St. Patty's Day, Mother's Day or Father's Day, doesn't it? And heck, while cookies are undoubtedly sugar-laden, that's the only form of candy involved at the K. house for Christmas. So now I know I've been gypped my entire life on the candy front *and* I can't even begin to work off one teeny, tiny Hershey's Kiss in any reasonable amount of time or without sweat-drenching my clothing. See why I need K. to keep me accountable and going to work out? I'd easily give in to the futility and snuggle up on the couch with the whole bag of kisses and just go to town, pessimist that I am.

As if the Hershey's kiss information wasn't enough to kill the desire to cycle hard, we are also forced to listen to absolutely cr@p music for the whole ride. Other instructors mix it up. The music can range from 80's music to current stuff and back again or have a theme, which makes for a fun class. Tuesday's class, however, is mired in the egregious sin against music that is Christian rap. I'm sure somebody out there likes this stuff. I most emphatically do not. Actually, I'm not a huge rap fan in general but the Christian rap is particularly bad. The first time we heard it, K. sais she was horrified by it since all she could make out was what she assumed to be loud blasphemies. Now that we are assaulted by the lyrics on a weekly basis, we can actually tell what they are saying some of the time and while not blasphemous in one sense, I will suggest that it is blasphemy to call it music and to think that it is inspiring anyone to cycle harder. It just makes me want to leave the room to escape the cacaphony. But today the music was only one of the noises making me want to flee (or strangle someone). While we did the same workout we do every Tuesday (she's not very creative at varying our workouts), she had us at a stage where we were supposed to be working to our capacity and because she's very big on the mental aspect of training, she chirps over the labored breathing all around, "What's in your head right now? What's in your head?" Now keep in mind that I'm struggling to give it everything I've got when she starts asking this at 30 second intervals. My answer each and every time was "Shut up. Shut UP. SHUT UP!" After class K. told me that what she had in her head was "F--- OFF!" Much more succinct. I'll have to use that one next time. And despite my complaints, there will be a next time because we are in a routine and because I have company in my bad attitude corner and as "they" say, that should make me more successful at it. Which begs the question: Am I going to be more successful at taking the piss out of the instructor or at cycling class? The answer is, of course, yes. Or maybe it's 42*.

*Yes mom, I know you don't get the reference but you wouldn't like the book anyway so don't worry about it.

Exercise

I thought exercise was supposed to help negate the obscene amount of eating I did over the holidays, not exacerbate the problem! Somewhere I read an exact number of pounds that the average American gains over the holidays. I don't remember the number but do know it was in the ballpark of 5 lbs. from November to January. Because I am an overachiever in all that I do, I gained that 5 in November alone. And since it's unseasonably cold (D. actually felt compelled to call and tell me that this was the coldest November on record here in the sunny south--and he suspects it's our weather curse at work again), I didn't want to go for a run this morning. Actually, the brutal wind was what convinced me today that running was only necessary for fur-covered creatures caught in the middle of the road with a car barreling down on them and even then, it might be warmer to huddle up and pray. And while I can indeed grow an impressive pelt on my legs if I quit shaving, the rest of me doesn't grow fur very well (thank heaven!!!). So without nature's own insulation (not counting the winter blubber layer I've socked in around my middle), I headed to the pool. Because wet hair in cold, windy weather is a better option. :-P It took all my get up and go to get up and go too. But I went, put in my yardage (hint to all those who automatically choose the "fast" lane at the pool: by default, being male doesn't make you fast and it probably won't kill you to be in the "slow" lane while your puddling around in my lane while I'm trying to put in an actual workout with intervals and such might just stress me out beyond all that's rational), and headed to the grocery store. And I used up every last ounce of willpower I owned while at the grocery store to avoid buying peanut butter pretzel sandwiches dipped in milk chocolate. Damn you Snyder's of Hanover folks for creating such a tempting (and mighty delicious--you don't really think the willpower works every time now, do you?) snack that you then strategically place on end caps where I cannot avoid seeing their deliciousness taunting me as I make my way up and down the aisles. Well, I made it out of there without the tasty yummies masquerading as something marginally okay to nosh on by claiming pretzelhood, but as mentioned before, I used the last of the willpower to swerve out of reach of said goodies. And now I'm home and eating like a hoover vaccuum. I can only rationalize about one small snack's worth when I consider the amount of exercise I actually did. ::sigh:: I may never lose this holiday weight (never mind the moving weight I also added over the past few months). My only solution will be to go and live at the Y, although that is within walking distance of Dunkin Donuts and that's not a good option either. Off to try J.'s stop eating trick of cleaning a bathroom. After all, who wants to eat when their hands smell like Clorox and have been near a toilet?

Things I learned

Not having graced a gym or pool for so very long, I had to re-learn some of the things I used to know (and found out a truth about my underwear).

1. If you are not living a sheltered life and participating on a team that has assigned lockers, you will need to bring your own toiletries and things like a brush. Since I've never had to cart this stuff with me, being spoiled and having my own locker full of it, this meant I had nothing necessary yesterday.

2. Foaming body soap from the shower dispenser might be fine on the body, but it leaves quite a bit to be desired in the hair. Shampoo is clearly one of those "bring 'em yourself toiletries."

3. Your face will clench up and feel all tight after a long time in the pool. While this is ostensibly a good thing for wrinkle elimination, it reminded me that I am old and leaching all moisture from my face is a bad thing in the long term. (Moisturizer is another of those toiletries.)

4. People you don't know persist in talking to you while you are changing in the locker room. Maybe it's just me, but unless I'm flashing back to 15 years ago when I was surrounded by friends in the locker room, I have no desire to linger there and even less desire to chat with perfect strangers while standing in my underwear. This brings me to my final point.

5. If people other than my husband are going to be seeing my underwear, it's probably time to retire the tatty stuff I've been wearing since college. Yes, exercise-inspired underwear shopping. Not my idea of fun but the alternative is to continue to wear the holey, dingy bits I already have and that thought is almost enough to keep me from exercising entirely!

Cross-training or new and improved ways to kick your own butt

I'm sitting here with jello-y arms, smelling a familiar scent on my skin. No, it's not the scent of sweat, with which I have indeed become very intimate these past months, it's the scent of chlorine oozing from my pores. This is what I smelled like constantly through 15 years of competitive swimming. But I have treated pools and swimming as if they had some communicable disease for the past 15 years. Nice symmetry there, eh? 15 years of daily swimming and 15 years of avoidance (with only minor one day here or there lapses). Today, though, I made the commitment to getting back in the water. I not only need to give my decrepit joints a break, but I realized that my running felt significantly better when I was cross-training, as opposed to only running. So, in the spirit of overkill, I'm considering joining the Y's master's program (they only practice twice a week for an hour) to make sure I have directed practices. I'm looking to see which spinning class I can join since I thoroughly enjoyed that when I did it last year. And I've joined a new running group that meets twice a week to keep me in that as well since I think I mostly committed to a half marathon in a couple of months, suggested I'd run another full marathon next year sometime, and said I'd look into yet another half marathon next spring. Loads of running, master's swimming, and a spinning class. Anyone else smell a triathlon coming on? Honest to goodness, I should probably have my head examined, especially given how sluggish and sloppy I felt during today's 1100 yards. It should all keep me busy though and it's cheaper than happy pills, right?!