Observation From the Office

Something clicked earlier.   Those people at work that put food into categories - you know, good and bad?  They look like shit.  And are weak.  With no endurance.  I realize I am not the fittest person on this planet, I'm not even as fit as I was two years ago.  But at least I am not delusional when it comes to food.  I know what makes me leaner and what makes me fatter, what gives me energy and what makes my fingers turn into fat little sausages.   But good and bad?  These people are crazy.

An example - today I learned cheeseburgers are a bad food.   Really?  Beef is protein that comes from cows.   Cheese is fat that comes from cows.   Cows once walked.  That makes them edible.    So what is good?  Lean Cuisine.  Uh what?  So THIS is good?   Maltodextrin?  Medium Chain Triglycerides? Calcium Chloride?

WHAT IS THIS STUFF?  (clicky the red link)

I get that a cheeseburger has an extra 300 or so calories but at least I know where it came from.  I can pronounce all the ingredients.  It fills me up.  It tastes good.   That shit?  In a box?  That smells like a chem lab in the microwave?  How is that "good"?  I'm pretty sure in chemistry class we weren't supposed to taste the shit in the beakers.   

I also have observed that "good" foods don't fill you up.  My current go to meal is protein pancakes - 1/3 c ground oats, 5 egg whites, some cocoa, protein powder - roughly 400 calories worth of healthy foods that makes a mountain of pancakes.  That people make fun of.  But really, I am not the one eating my "good" food then walking around looking for cookies or brownies or pretzels in 45 minutes.  I eat that and don't want to see food for hours after shoving down the last 10 bites because I am already ridiculously full.  

Oh, and these crazy people?  They are the same ones that won't try the protein brownies.  Or pumpkin muffins.  Something about them not being food? 

Amazingly despite the pathetic amount of sleep, I have the energy to work out 5 days a week.  I'd actually work out more if I only had the time.  Those "good" food folks?  Not a one of them exercises.  They pay for boot camps and are too tired to get up.  Too tired blah blah blah..... Too tired to do anything but make excuses.  They whine every single day and do nothing to change anything.  I guess it isn't as easy as Weight Watchers, NutriSystem, Jenny Craig and Medifast made it out be be.

On the bright side, after today, I am pretty sure no one will ever engage me in a conversation about food again.... seems people were offended when I spouted off about chemicals being why they are cold in 78 degree offices.   Oops?

Topic BANNED!

I refuse to discuss diet and exercise anymore. I am done.  Over it.  I am tired of the same people asking me the same questions and giving me the same bullshit excuses over and over and over while not taking any of my advice.

So tell me again how you can't lose weight and have a nice ass?  Perhaps because you are a skinny fat mother fucker who needs to do squats and eat a cheeseburger because all the Lean Cuisine in the world is not going to fix that pancake ass?   Or that six pack you want to wow the ladies with on the beach?  How is that super grande double stuffed burrito making that happen?  And why do you keep talking to me about it?  Really.  Why?

My advice will never change.  And some people will never get a clue.   You want a banging booty, get some weight on your back and squat.  Then lunge.  Then deadlift. Then repeat.  Over and over and over.  Same goes for that jiggly ass shit hanging from your triceps.  Oh you can't lift because this hurts?  Or that hurts? Or you will look like a linebacker?  Or you don't have time? Or blah blah blah blah.  Really?  What the fuck is wrong with you?  Seriously.  I haven't lived a day without pain in almost 21 years and I lift.  Hell I been lifting for years and I don't look anything close to a linebacker.  I can't grow my back for shit and I try.   While eating cheeseburgers, not Lean Cuisine.  That shit don't just happen. Time?  Yea, about that.  No one has time.  They make the time.  Try turning off the TV for an hour, it will be amazing what you can get done.   So admit the truth.  You don't want to.  Say it.  I do not want to change a damn thing about how I look.  I just want to whine.  Admit it.  Accept it.  And then shut up.

You want to lose 20 pounds (and actually have them to lose) then why the fuck are you eating three slices of pizza for lunch?   Because its better than four?  Please.  My 1/2 pound of salad greens topped with chicken breast, fruit, nuts and a sprinkling of cheese has 50% the calories, 300% the volume and nutrition.   You don't like vegetables and want carbs?  Protein is bad for you?  You are an idiot.    Cooking is too hard?  No time for that either?  Fine.  Eat the pizza or the frozen box of chemicals.    But again - say it.  I do not want to change a damn thing about how I look.  I just want to whine.  Admit it.  Accept it.  And then shut up.  For real.  Now.

Is this truly the fate of us that work out, eat decent and have educated conversations with our own kind on whether a hook grip or split grip is best in the presence of lazy people?   I do this to look hot naked,  not give people another way to piss me off.


                                          

How is this different?

"Fit is the new skinny"

"Strong is the new skinny"

How the fuck is this different?  I don't see the amazing new motivation that some women do.  I see another way to be judged on what I look like, not on what I do.  The sayings are often printed on pictures of lean, somewhat muscular women.  You know, another body type to be compared to.

This is no different than the Victorian Era and restrictive corsets to achieve the tiniest waist possible.   The 1920's and the flappers binding their chests to achieve a washboard look.  The 1950's and the return to the hourglass figure perfectly coifed hair.  The 1960's with its Twiggy thin ideal.  The 1990's  D cups and no body fat.

So how is this different again?  I hate to burst the bubble of the believers but it isn't.  You may be striving for a different physical ideal but you are still allowing yourself to be judged on your appearance not on your accomplishments.

I get that things like "She does 30 unbroken pull-ups, do you?" isn't as catchy but isn't an accomplishment better to brag out?  Fit?  Strong? Prove it.  Tell me what you can do.  How fast can you run?  How much can you lift?  What is your sport?  Your skill?  Because the fact you look cute in a picture doesn't tell me shit.  It shows me that as a women I am still being held to a physical standard.  Nothing else.

Let's take this one step further.  What have these women done?  Are they scholars?  Innovators?  Artists?  Musicians?  Humanitarians? What have they contributed to society?  Not everyone is an athlete.  Not everyone will look like some standard.  And no standard is any better than its predecessor.

Clarity comes from strange places

My moment of clarity came not too long after I woke up this morning and I saw a video my friend Lisa posted.  A supposed "female fitness motivation" video.  My response was swift and violent.  With the exception of DLB, every woman in it appeared to be trying out for a staring role in a low budget porn.  Fuck that shit.  That is not at all what I am into.  Working out in a Victoria's Secret add two size bra?  Even in a photo shoot scenario that is just bullshit.   Thanks but no.   I'll click on over to Lift Big Eat Big and check out women that move more weight than I do.  Now that is motivating.  Someone who weighs ten pounds more than I and squats double?  Now you have my attention.  I want to do THAT.

Maybe it was just the video.  Or the video and all my introspection leading up to last night's blog.  Or some epiphany that happened laying in bed until 10:30 am because Squishy was using me as a pillow and I couldn't disrupt his beauty sleep.  But no matter what it was, I know what I need to do.  And that is focus on training and being strong.  Sure, the random pictures of "fitness models" that I come across will be my nemesis on occasion like the waif fashion models are for so many but I can accept that.

The concept of diet is being replaced with the concept of nutrition.  What do I need to eat to support my training goals?  I know the foods my body reacts poorly to - pasta, bread, anything starchy, sugar, fruit.  Which leaves protein, fat and that weird green shit that people seem to like.  Simple enough right?  Keep the portions in line and I can easily drop that 10 pounds in a few weeks with the workouts I have been doing.  

Right now I have a three day plan which I am loving and will stick with until my Vegas trip at the end of March.  Then I will switch to a four day plan that I have ready to go.  Either way I have flexibility on lifting days - a few in a row, every other, rest day can go anywhere it is needed.  Logical and easy.  

Today I also realized my bench and overhead press are back to where they were pre-shoulder injury.  My bench is actually better as I can push out more sets/reps at the same weight.  Now the real work begins - the slow and steady to far bigger numbers.  As long as each workout gets me another rep or 5 more pounds I will be satisfied.  

I haven't been this at peace and excited to train again in awhile.  Too bad tomorrow is a rest day.

To My Previous Trainers....

Thank you.

I've worked with a few people over the past five years and not one I regret.  Each taught me something different, a lesson to take forth in my fitness journey.  I've been spending a lot of time these last few months trying to find my way - what is the right approach?  the right goal?  what really matters? do I want to compete in any way?  or is stress relief the purpose?  And most importantly, does it make me happy?

Sully taught about about dealing with my imbalances, broken parts and the importance of mobility work.  He also introduced me to ART (active release therapy) which is at least 75% responsible for keeping my parts working when they don't want to.   Every time something acts up I go back to these basics.  Of course the actual movements have changed over the years has things have healed, imbalances have gotten better and new injuries have happened but these basics keep me lifting.

Tres had a tough job - getting my diet resistant ass in a blinged out bikini on a stage.  As someone hat didn't crack 100 pounds to my mid 20's diet was not something I was familiar with.  Neither was the early 30's weight gain but that is for later in the blog.   I learned how my body reacted to diet changes.  I learned just as much about lifting - intensity, ordering exercises, selecting exercises and pushing myself in different ways.  I now know that if I lift less weight or hit few reps, it doesn't mean the world is ending, it was just a day and move on.

LA made me think.   I never put any thought into how everything impacts everything else - life, work, workouts, nutrition, etc.  Whether we want to admit it or not, everyone lets one thing effect the other.  I always thought/wanted to compartmentalize and was forced to realize I didn't do a very good job.  Thinking about all facets of life in relation to each other wasn't easy at first but now I do it.  Sure I still have a shitty day and go shove a cheeseburger in my face but at least I see the relationship and accept it.  

Teena and Scott at Crossfit renewed my lost love for barbell work and handstands.  A funny combo I know but it is what it is.  My squat depth improved.  I started doing presses again and have no clue why I stopped.  I realized rowing is not a bad form of cardio.   I also realized that one of the biggest values of my workouts was they were my personal time and that the group setting is not for me.  I like my music and to just lift without worries about others or time constraints or running or burpees.  Barbell work is once again the foundation of every workout I do and always will be.

What I still don't know is what end result I am after.

I last competed in figure in August 2010 and did not like the way I looked.  I was skinny.  Scrawny even.  The exact look I spent so much of my life hating.  This time I dieted to get it as opposed to shoving in enough food for ten people and not being able to gain weight.  I stayed within 15 pounds of that for a year while trying to put on muscle then gained a good bit of weight in various forms in the fall 2011 and winter 2012.  Then I thought I would diet down to compete again.  I started the diet.  I made it a few weeks.  I cheated.  A lot.  I had a meltdown.  I ate a few burgers.  Drank a lot of wine.   I eventually said FUCK THIS and that is when I tried Crossfit.   After I realized that wasn't my thing I went into mass gain mode.  I lifted and ate and lifted and ate and lifted and ate.  I did nothing that looked like cardio.  I fought a shoulder injury.  I pushed.  I spent a fortune on ART.  I grew.  Guys I haven't seen in months notice and comment about my back being bigger.  I am finally not scrawny, not skinny, I have a lot of hard fought for muscle mass.  I love working out again.

Part of me is ok with the extra fat this process put on.  Dressed properly all anyone notices is my ghetto booty and boobs anyway.  Who cares if my stomach is flat?   But I also realize I am pushing what I feel is acceptable appearance wise.  Another part of me wants to lean out - see the true results of all this hard work.  But then I diet for a week, look down at my arm at the wrong angle and freak the fuck out because it looks scrawny.  It's not.  Trust me.  But that panic is still there.  I'm not even thinking about stepping on stage at this point.  Just leaning out.  Maybe 20 pounds?  Maybe less?  Maybe more?   Just get the stomach close to flat.  Shoot for this look I have in my mind that isn't really quantifiable.  Lean out, build up again a little smarter this time.   Then life happens.  Like this week.  The perfect storm of drama, bullshit and frustration ending with my last 3 meals being fried chicken, cheeseburgers and chinese food.  There is a beer next to me.

Somehow I need to get myself to buy in to leaning out.  It isn't so bad.  Losing 10 pounds won't kill me or make me skinny.   I should be able to do that.  Then take it 5 pounds at a time.   Mentally I think I have a number in my mind of a happy place - the proverbial middle ground between stage weight and where I am.   Bikini ready.  Muscles intact.  Now to get the brain on board.   Easier said than done.

The problem with blogging....

In order to blog, one must be able to type.  In order to type, one needs two functioning hands.  Ok, well you can type with 3 fingers and a thumb on the other hand as I recently have witnessed at work but really, that shit ain't efficient.  After spraining my wrist just over two weeks ago.  I couldn't type.  So no blogging.  I even took just over a week off from the gym.  It sucked.

I lifted Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday this week - easing back in slow to not piss my wrist off.  I was pretty successful until Thursday when I couldn't deadlift after squatting pissed it off.  I guess I should have thought of that whole bending back thing before I started and thrown someone off a leg press.

The week was pretty uneventful.  Sunday I lifted at 6:30 am after getting up at 4:15 am to go to the airport.  That was not cool.  The empty gym was awesome but I didn't even have the energy at that time in the morning to ask the other dude lifting why he had to be on the rack next to me, why not leave an empty rack in the middle or why he couldn't stop staring.  In reality I should have snapped on him but yea, it was 6:30 am and I was lucky to be upright and able to add the plates up.

Tuesday I went to the Y.  I do not like lifting there but I wanted to get it over with early and didn't want to deal with the crowds.  The vibe there sucks.  There was only one other person really lifting and I know this because I had to keep snapping at the same dude to re-rack his weight.   But the really annoying part was the jackassery exhibited by the women in the place.  Ladies, doing 4 variations of leg lifts and donkey kicks for an hour will not fix your flat ass.  I don't care what magazine you read it in.  You look stupid and sound stupider having this conversation loud enough the whole room can hear it.   The Y is staying on emergency use only status.

Thursday was a kind of surreal day at the gym.  I get there on the early side and 2 of the 4 racks are open.  The other two are being used properly.   I was happy to have a rack, in the corner, far away from the soon to happen stampede of zumba women trying to get an inner thigh machine or sit-up machine.   And there is a big ass bowl of chalk.  Yes chalk.  That shit that could have helped me not sprain my wrist.  Same shit I get yelled at for bringing in.  Interesting.  It was actually a nice change of pace to have people that knew what they were doing around me for once.

I also started dieting this week which apparently has coincided with Girl Scout Cookie Season.   Nothing good can come of this.  Every store I went to today had the sugar crack out front.  Thin Mints by the case.   So yummy.  So good with coffee.  So not happening on a low carb diet.   They ask and ask and ask.  I'm not buying.  Anyway, I already have a dealer.  I need supplies for my refeed.

Kelly made me!

Yep, Kelly made my ass go to the gym from 2,400 or so miles away.  Somehow she managed to guilt me into it because she needed a blog post.  Fine.  Here's your blog post.

Wanna know why I think staying home on my ass is a better idea?

I don't want to deal with people after work.  I use more than my daily allotment of indoor voice and public manners by noon.  The afternoons are somewhat sketchy and by the drive home I really wish I had that go-go-gadget arm coming out of the sunroof of my Jeep to move morons out of my way.   So what's the problem?  The problems are actually quite simple.

1.  My job bores me.  The highlight of my day is walking around the office checking thermostats because some selfish twat thinks the emails instructing us to leave them at 72 does not apply to her and therefore I find myself sweating in my seat.  Bullshit, I agree. But sadly, no one where I work gets fired for blatantly disregarding instructions so I go off, I change them back, repeat.  At least 3 times a day.

2.  Hills.   Uh?  What?  Yes.  I said hills.  You know, those things you go up and down while you are driving?  There are A LOT of them out here and they seem to be very confusing.  I get that the CA school system suck hairy balls but give me a break.   You press the gas to go up.  You let your foot off the gas (maybe) and go down.   Oh hell no that is too simple.  Its more like this: somehow your car magically gets to the top of the hell 30 mph under the speed limit then you stand on the brake all the way down.  Why?  I don't know why.   What I do know is my 14 mile commute takes at least 45 minutes.   When I work nights, I can do it in 20.  Without speeding.

So by the time I get home I want to sit on my couch with a bully and bottle of wine.  People can go to hell.  I like bullies better.

But I went.  And I knew when I walked in, I was gonna get more annoyed.  It was hot.  And crowded. I head off to the back corner to row.  And both t-bars are being used.  Sigh.  Every squat rack has a body in it.  One is being used, the other two I'll get to.   I toss 16 forty-five pounds off a leg press and warm up waiting to row.  About 5 minutes later, the guys walk way and I go row.  Then I finish rowing.  And I want to barbell row so I need a rack.  Now.  Problem is there are two douche bags of the non-Marine variety talking like junior high girls and did one set of super fast shrugs this whole time in the other two racks.

The following conversation then takes place:

Me: Are one of you almost done, I'd like to use the rack?
DB 1: Do we look done?
Me: Well, it looks like all you are doing is running your mouth.

I then clean DB 2's ridiculous 70 pounds and drop it on DB 1's rack then grabbed an empty bar. Sadly all that drama was for naught as my shoulder didn't really want to stay retracted so I could row.   I did a few reps and walked off.  Douche bags were still hanging in the rack when I left 45 minutes later.

I then got to strip weight off of every single machine I wanted to use.  I make very pretty piles on the floor because I sure as fuck ain't re-racking weights all night.  It was an otherwise uneventful evening.  No particularly goofy looking people.  No fools needing a bench to work jerk off muscles.   Nothing really.

Oh, except that jackass that started doing kipping pull ups in the cage I was rowing in.  Thinking next time I should yank his sweats off, you know, to get his attention and tell him I will beat his ass if he kicks me.