On Being Built By the Gods

Me: (working with a client, explaining the next exercise).
Him: Do you see that girl?
Me: What girl?
Him: The blonde.  She's checking you out, hardcore!  Looking you up and down.
Me: Okay... Do your set.

[After the set]

Him: Seriously, you're lucky to have girls checking you out like that.
Me: (in my head) Seriously?!?!

Next client, having overheard the conversation: Does he not know?
Me: I guess not.  Oh well.
Her: Well, your legs have been chiselled by the Gods! Of course she was checking you out.
Me: I can't help that I'm just drawn this way.

Favorite Words

A very dear friend and my workout partner of the past year or so has come to London for a visit with his parents.  Along with heading out on the town the other night for some lovely libations, today we did what we seem to know best - hit the gym and catch up on each other's gossip.  As we were getting changed to hit the weight room he looks over at me while I'm getting undressed and am rambling on about something and interrupts me with:

"Oh fuck!  You've stayed in shape!  Bastard."

"Pardon?" I respond.

"Look at you, all trim and...  There's a bit more of me than there used to be."

"You say the sweetest things..."

I had half a Tic-tac three days ago

Cleanse [klenz] verb, cleansed, cleansing.

Verb (used with object)

1. to make clean.

2. to remove by or as if by cleaning.

Verb (used without object)

3. to become clean.

I started a 9-day cleanse this week. First two days were nothing but this magical elixir four times a day and lots and lots of water. No food, no drinking. All total, I consumed less than 400 calories for these two days while still maintaining normal physical fitness regimen. By the end of the second day I was about to gnaw off my left arm I was so hungry, but I made it through.

Starting on the third day, I switched to a magical shake several times a day which has increased my caloric intake to just under 900 calories. Has this impacted my physical activity? Not one bit. I'm still cycling everywhere, hitting the gym, running several times a week, and getting in as much yoga as I can. The result? Well, I am starting my fourth day of the cleanse now and I have already lost 7 lbs. From the right places? Perhaps. The abs seem to be starting their spring rise to the surface. I'm not sure, however, if this whole thing is having much impact on the extra bits on the side.

But maybe it is. Today is the beginning of Day 4, and I have several events, fundraisers, and parties this weekend that might make it challenging to stay the course. Yet with such good results within such a short time, I'm gonna try my best. And, watching drunk people while sober can be a fun spectator event.

Vanity, Cary. Cary, Vanity. Oh, you've already met!

Lake Season is fast approaching here in Central Texas. The weather is getting warmer, the Bluebonnets and Indian Paintbrush are starting to sprout, and the boys are starting to run around town shirtless. What does all this mean? Well, it means that Cary is busy getting his body ready for Lake Season. Not only am I running in the Capitol 10K and riding in the Hill Country Ride for AIDS, which are requiring a bit of training in and of themselves, I'm increasing my gym time, decreasing my eating, increasing my yoga, and decreasing my drinking. Sorry to make your head spin with all those ups and downs... and up and down... and spinning around... Oooooh, that makes me think about...

nevermind...

Since this is likely to be my last Summer in Austin for some time I figured it best to ensure that I am looking as good as possible for all the limited-clothing hot weather that Austin serves up so well. "How's it going?" you ask. Well, not all that well. I mean, the shoulders are definitely responding to the routines. As are my arms, my legs, my chest, and my butt (which I think *was* starting to get a little smaller, much to my dismay). But... my mid-section is standing there, arms crossed, sticking its tongue out at me, essentially going, "pbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbtttt!!!!"

I am not a happy camper. Now, the cum-gutters are developing nicely, but the rest is just so... BLARGH!!!! I'm not sure what else to do. Here's my basic weekly routine:

Cycling to work (15 mile RT): 5x/wk

Running (4+ miles): 3x/wk

Weight training: 2x/wk

Teaching yoga classes: 5x/wk

Taking yoga classes: 3x/wk

Training rides (40+ miles): 1x/wk

Since my weight is staying pretty steady and I can tell my muscle mass is increasing, it follows that my amount of body fat is decreasing, but just not from where I want it to decrease. People in the running group with which I've been running lately have been cajoling me to run with my shirt off, and I keep brushing them aside, insisting that my body is not ready for that just yet. However, if I can't get my body to a point where I feel comfortable doing that with all the work I've been doing lately, I'm just gonna go the other direction and start downing Bon-Bons, pizza, Tex-Mex, and bags and bags of boxed wine. Yeah, you heard me. Boxed wine!!!

Workout: FAIL!!

Twelve years. That's how long I've been focusing, on a consistent basis, on my physical health and working out in the gym. I had worked out while in high school and college, but was always a little intimidated by the weight room and always let it slide from my schedule if I didn't have someone to "hold my hand," so to speak. For most of these 12 years, I've had a workout partner. Someone to chat with, hold me to my workouts, push me for that last little bit of effort, etc.

As of late, however, I've been on my own. My workout partner, who also happens to be my SBF, has been out of town on a cycling tour of the Western United States. Albuquerque, N.M. to Portland, Ore. Personally I think he's a bit crazy, but I hear cycling over the Rocky Mountains is something magnificent to experience. I'll take his word for it.

Since I've been on my own I've been reticent to push myself too hard for fear of injuring myself without someone to help me out if I were to find myself in trouble. However, after a few weeks of working out on my own I've started to gain some newfound confidence in this arena. Pushing myself to lift more weight. Having the confidence that even though I am tired, I can actually finish that last set.

Last night I was at the gym and was really putting myself through the paces. It always help to have a goal - I leave for Burning Man in less than a month and I still have yet to recover, in my physical fitness, from this past session. Also, how am I supposed to attract a new beau if my body is in its current state? Remember... the neurosis of my vanity is very severe and well-documented.

So, there I was, finishing up a rather challenging upper-body workout and I was winding things up with a set on the flat bench. First set... no problem. Tired, but I got through it. Second set... a little challenging near the end. A little wobbly and I definitely struggled on the last two reps. At this point, it would have been wise to ask someone else in the weight area for a spot for the third set. I know rather well that if you struggle on the last few reps of a set, on the next set things are gonna be a bit more challenging.

Did I ask for a spot from the cute guy that was working out next to me? No. Of course not. "I can do this... no problem," I said to myself. And in fact, things went quite well for the first 4 reps of the set. On number 5, things got a bit wobbly and strained, but I did it. As I was lying on the bench, arms extended and holding the bar I took several deep breaths as I contemplated the next rep. "Do you have one more in you? At least one more?" I asked myself. "Yeah... just one though... I can make it through one more."

I slowly lowered the bar. I popped it off my chest and started to push. About half-way up, my chest burning, my triceps screaming, I knew it wasn't gonna happen. I took in a deep breath and tried to push it up a little bit further. I tried to get the bar up to the "emergency" or "secondary" brackets on the bench frame. Those brackets that are there for this express purpose. When you can't quite get the bar all the way up. (Isn't there a prescription for this problem?) Nope. Couldn't make it.

The bar dropped back down onto my chest. I just stayed there, pinned to the bench for a second and contemplated what to do. In vain, for I knew there was no way I could do it, I tried once more to push the bar up but I was done. Luckily, as soon as I resigned myself to the fact that I needed help and lifted my head, some guy walked by and litterally did a triple take at me pinned to the bench. Apparently this was not a typical sight to be seen.

"Can I get a little help?" I asked, trying to joke about it. "Seems my triceps decided I'm done."

"Oh my god, of course," he replied. "Couldn't quite get that last one finished, huh?"

And with that he freed me from my bench press prison. I thanked him and started to nurse my aching triceps. Worn out are not the words I would choose for what I was feeling.

Vain? Moi?

On Friday night, I took a master “train the instructor” style fitness class for group cycling and boot camp. I’ve been teaching group cycling for a few years and have contemplated getting more information about being able to orchestrate a good boot camp workout. Well, this “master class” was being taught by a nationally renowned “fitness guru” and I gotta say that I was impressed not only with her, but her beautifully sculpted assistant. I couldn’t help but stare at him. Well, whenever I wasn’t being killed by the routine.

So, after an hour and a half of being tortured I had a decision to make. Cycle home or treat myself to a bus ride up the hills into South Austin.

I pedaled away from the gym on my way to the bus stop cuz I figured that after the ordeal I had gone through, coupled with the heat of a typical Central Texas summer day, it was prolly a good idea to give myself a break.

I got to the bus stop, leaned my bike against the bench and sat down. Just then, a shirtless guy on a bike cycled up to the intersection and stopped at the light. A particularly hot and tan shirtless guy on a bike. He looked at me. He looked at my bike leaning against the bus stop bench. He looked back at me. The light changed and he cycled away.

“Bitch,” I thought, “you don’t know what I’ve just gone through…”

Then I looked at myself. Even though I’m doing fairly well, let’s just say that I’m not yet recovered from the recent legislative session fitness-wise. Last summer I was all about cycling shirtless – you know, cuz it’s good for a nice even tan.

“Grumble, grumble, grouch… fine!” I exclaim to myself, silently cursing the hot, tan, sexy, shirtless guy on the bicycle that was now well on his way up the hills into South Austin. I get back on my bike and follow suit.

The neurosis of my vanity is not to be underestimated.

Surprisingly, College Station has something to offer

I spent the better part of today in College Station, Texas. Normally, I wouldn't go to College Station (the home of Texas A&M) if my life depended on it. But there's a fitness workshop that I attend most years that happened to be out at A&M this year.

There were, however, a couple of instances that made the trek out into bum-fuck Texas worth it.

1) There was a swim meet going on. When I went in to the locker room to change for my first session of the workshop - OH MY GOD!!! Tall, lean, muscular boys in speedos. DAMN!!

2) Also at the Rec Center was a weight-lifting competition. Muscle dadies GALORE!!

(At this point I was about to swoon)

3) And the best point of it all? My first boss from when I started working at gyms about eight years ago approached me. At first she wasn't sure it was me. She said that she thought it was, but that "I hadn't aged at all."

I think I love her.

Early... riser.

I've been teaching a 6:15am yoga class lately as part of some kinesiology grad school program at The University of Texas. Thankfully, it will soon be over. However, there has been a very nice thing about getting to campus before the sun rises.

Both the Army ROTC and Air Force ROTC cadets do their morning PT at the gym at 6am. I think I could definitely become a... solid... um... supporter of the military.

For to rest

o·ver·train (ō'vər-trān')  v.   o·ver·trained, o·ver·train·ing, o·ver·trains v.   tr.
To train too much: a coach who overtrained the athletes before the championship.

v.   intr. To engage in excessive training: a boxer who overtrained.

I don't know when it happened.  I don't know how it happened.  I was in the middle of teaching a class when I became very aware of a sharp pain in my chest.  My breath caught.  I hunched forward slightly.  I put my students in a repetitive cycle, and tried to determine what was happening.

Chest pain. On the right side, just beside the sternum.  Hrmmm...  right side... not a heart attack.  Very localized.  I rubbed the muscle (yes, I was rubbing my chest...  you turned on yet?) and determined it wasn't a muscular issue.  Figuring that I was ok for at least the time being, I finished class, went home and got ready to meet up with Chef Guy and some others for some shenanigans.

In the two days since this happened, it hasn't really gotten any better, but it's not really bothering me that much.  However, I've realized that perhaps this is a sign.  Perhaps I need to slow down a bit.

This has been what I've been up to lately.

Teach 14 yoga classes per week.
Take 3 cycling classes per week.
Run 2 times per week (4-5 miles).
Weightlifting workout 2 times per week.

I've been at this pace since the 4th of July.  Maybe it's time to scale things back.

Update:  I suspected as much, and it was confirmed.  I popped a rib out of place.  It's now back in it's proper position.