Pound For Pound Challenge Widget

Don't jinx it.

Checkin' in wit cha.

Without making a big deal about it, I've been running. Wooohoooo. The Boyfriend works with a guy who works for a well-known running store in downtown Sacramento, and he has a whoooole training program ready for us to sack up an d stick with this.

And away we go...

"I'm not superstitious... but I'm a little stitious."
- Michael Scott

<3
Cupcake

Continuous

Who knew this blog in it's infancy would be so... all about me? I should be sewing a skirt or something... but here I go with another bitchfest.

Sooo... I didn't go. I ate Venezuelan hot dogs and read Stephenie Meyer's partial draft of Midnight Sun until 1am.

I'm not going to lie to you folks. I'll come clean about my successes and my failures. The whole point of this blog is really to be honest with both my readers AND myself; to hold myself accountable for what I say and do.

(Well, that's not true. The purpose of this blog is to show off stuff that I think is cool, and maybe do a craft or two. But right now I'm going through a fitness-crisis: e-sue me.)

Referring to my current state of gymlessness, I almost just wrote, "When this happens..." but that is disingenuious. Me losing another day to laziness doesn't "happen," like a sudden rainstorm or a broken glass. I straight up didn't go. Granted, I could give lots of reasons: The Boyfriend gets off late and we had to go grocery shopping, then I had to make dinner, blah blah blah... whatev. The reality is that there are plenty of women out there who have full time jobs AND children to take care of, and they *make* the time to work out. They don't just sit on the couch and hope "working out" walks up and slaps them in the face. Couch-sitting doesn't appear to be helping my race time, ya know?

So lemme try again: When I *choose* not to go to the gym, I mentally destroy myself as punishment. Trust me: no one is a bigger critic of me than me. And I get so disgusted at my lack of sustained chutzpah that I use all my energy tearing myself apart until there is really nothing left with which to get hopeful again. I wasn't kidding yesterday when I said, "tomorrow the process will start again." Because here I sit, stoked to go work out again... and I kinda doubt I will. And that's the problem. If I doubt I will do it, I probably won't. Self fulfilling prophesy, stimmt das? (right?) Ya, das ist stimmt. (Yup, that's right.)

Working out used to not be a choice for me: I was going to the gym after work, and that was that. There wasn't any other choice because... well, there just wasn't. Now I allow myself the choice, and I usually choose a whole lotta butt-sittin'. Again, it sounds so simple: just go. Just do it. And it is simple, really; I just have to believe that. I'm getting closer, I think.

Blech. What a pity party I'm throwing here. All this negativity doesn't help, just brings me down. Hopefully through this writing, (which I am diggin' more and more, btw,) I will introduce you to bits of me... not too much at once, don't wanna frighten my (zero) readers. One thing I have learned something, though, that gets me though my deeper days: sometimes I have to just stop everything, look at where I am, and say, "Okay. Enough with the shame spiral. I didn't go to the gym yesterday. Stop judging yourself and let's figure out how to do it." Is that letting myself off the hook to easily? What should my punishment be, in that case? (Maybe I should be dommed to communicate in nothing but rhetorical questions for all of enternity. Would that ?)

If you were to meet me in real life, you would reaize my writing is like my speaking: quick, random, flowing. This cupcake has a quirky filling that some luuurve and some... not so much. I hope you ride it out with me.

I think I am thinking waaaaay too much about this. I like to work out and sweat, so I should do that. However, I like to eat and watch "The Office" reruns on Netflix, too... therein lies the conundrum. What will a Cupcake do?

~*~*~*~*~*~

Later.

I ate well. (Maybe I slipped in a Junior Mint Inside Out or two). I did situps and pushups. I WiiFit boxed it up for about 30 minutes.

"It may sound strange, but many champions are made champions by setbacks."
~ Bob Richards

And tomorrow, the whole process will start again.

<3
Cupcake

Sabotage!

Who is the dastardly saboteur?

Me, or course. (And Taco Bell, but really I think I bear the brunt of the blame.)

I eaaasing back into this "working out like a soldier" thing. Last Friday I was the picture of discipline: I wrote down every calorie I ate, down to the ounce. I went to the gym and did a solid 45 minutes of interval training along with some light weights and approximately 3 million sit ups. I went to bed feeling pretty darn good.

Saturday... not so good. We went out with The Boyfriend's Sisters sans kiddos, and I ate some garlic fries. A lot of fries. And a burger, with bleu cheese. Aaaand some calamari. Aaaand a beer. Sunday wasn't much better. (Damn you Volcano Taaaacoooooo...) Yesterday, (Monday) I did okay, but no working out... The Boyfriend is feeling under the weather, so we just hung out all night.

Way to start 2009, Heavy-weight Cupcake.

Today, I am back on the wagon. I juiced some carrots and apples this morning, (Jack Lalanne Power Juicer, baby!), and I have drank so much water I think I would be extra-buoyant in a pool.

The one thing I am lacking is the "exercise" part. I want so badly to get to the gym, but I find a million reasons not to go, which is *such* a cop-out. Somehow, somewhere along the way, I have lost my confidence to just get up and GO. I cognitively know that I need to go work out, and I remember how good it feels... but I hold myself back. I'm scared to try, scared to do something that might be hard, something that used to be so easy for me... even though I remember the not-so distant past in which I relished the hard work, and it made the payoff sweeter. I think I am mad at myself for letting all that sweat and elliptical-hours slip away from me, and now I am back to "relatively in-shape" as opposed to "best shape of my life." I am disappointed, and angry, and now I am resistant to getting back on that treadmill because I don't want to fail again.

But what a stupid, frustrating way to think. "I want so badly to go to the gym." Who on EARTH is stopping me? I am the ONLY one who stops me from working out. The Boyfriend doesn't do it: it's MY choice to weenie out on going, using his sickness as as excuse to not go make like a hamster and run. I have a goal: running this half marathon. And I am GOING to do it. And I want to get back into better shape... I want to stop TALKING about things and start DOING them. I wish someone read this damn blog, so they could hold me accountable... but again Cupcake, what could they tell you that you shouldn't just DO for yourself?? Nothing, that's what, you Frosting-Covered Procrastinator.

So I need to stop being so passive; it is NOT a typical trait of mine, lemme tell you. If I want to do something I need to do it, and not just read about it on the Internet and put it on a list. If I don't like something, I am going to change it. I want to work out more, so I will. There's no secret to weight loss and getting in shape: if you eat less and work out more, you lose weight and get in shape. Bottom line. If I want to go work out tonight and the boyfriend doesn't want to... I'm gonna go, dammit. I am being such a wiener about this. Take back control, just do it, be a do-er, a uniter not a divider, whatever. Just stop being such a tool and go friggin' work out, man. And put down that taco.

So I'm going to go work out tonight. And I'm going to fight it, and I'm going to bitch and whine... but I'm going to go. And tomorrow the process will start again.

Enough verbal diarrhea for now. Two today:

"People know you for what you've done, not for what you plan to do."
~Author
Unknown

"Men are made stronger on realization that the helping hand they
need is at the end of their own arm."
~Sidney J. Phillips

(women, too.
~ Cupcake)

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