Tuesday, 18 July 2017

The Results

317 Days - 80 sessions - 60 hours - 87 million gallons of sweat  and twice as many swear words

-I am down 12 lbs
-Final body fat was down 5 % (it was up 1% from last measurement - will watch this with our new fancy scale - there is a story about that for another day!)
-The 3 areas I measured have me down a total of 6.5 inches
-Went from a medium/large and 8-10 to a small and 2-4
-I am clearly stronger. I don't have flying squirrel arms, I have biceps and I am still crushing on my abs.
-I can hold a plank exhausted for at least 1.5 minutes (fresh I started at 37 seconds)
-I can do heavier weights across the board.
-I can control the dogs when we come across wildlife etc. I am no longer fearful of ending up face first in a ditch!

I told Sam he needs this t-shirt:

Thursday, 13 July 2017

So Long And Thanks For All The Sweat

So this post isn't too long, I will write about the last session today and share the results next week.

Today was session 80. Considering I didn't think I could get through 8, this is amazing. Today was also the first time I was actually excited to go to the gym.  I told F'in Alex and he laughed. Yep, I was excited to be leaving.

I had tried to convince him on Tuesday I was totally cool with doing the weigh in and then going for breakfast poutine. [Poutine: Quebec dish made of fries, cheese curds and gravy - breakfast version uses home fries]. He said he wouldn't let me eat something like that in front of him. (Note: I actually don't like poutine as I don't like gravy). I also suggested just going for coffee. He said I didn't drink it. I said I could have a tea. He still said no, we were going to have fun. Or at least he was going to have fun. 

Our session started with handing over our fobs, the gift exchange and final weigh in. F'in Alex seemed very surprised I had gotten him something. I told him it was my way of apologizing for all the terrible things I have said out loud to him and about him. (My mom would want everyone to know she raised me to be more polite then I was!) F'in Alex loved his gift and said it made his month. He couldn't believe I had figured out red was his favourite colour (here are the clues: He wears red shoes, he has a red bag, he almost always wears red . . . clearly I am an amazing detective) and surprised I hadn't put swear words on it. I said I didn't know where he would want to put it and putting swear words might limit where he could display it. (See note above about my mother raising me to be polite).

He surprised us with a token of appreciation too, which was very kind of him.

The session was more or less the same as the past 79 except we got to pick most of the exercises. He gave us sort of categories and we each picked one. In spite the fact I made his month and my results are amazing, he did not go easy on me. He was looking for the final F-Off - which he got when I gave him the finger. I had been polite to him for 11 consecutive sessions - which is amazing for me! Today  I got to do things like push 290 lbs and shatter my mountain climber record of 300 with 450. 

We said goodbye - I pointed out it wasn't a sad day as I have achieved my goals. I wanted to be stronger  and I wanted to know enough to safely work at home. 

That was it. I showered and drove the 45 minutes home to work from home for the rest of the day.

I will spend the next couple of days celebrating this accomplishment - mainly not killing a man or throwing up in a gym. Today I told him if he pushed me that hard, I was aiming for his shoes because what did I care, I wasn't going to see any of the people in the gym ever again. The plan is on Sunday to officially start working out at home.  

The next chapter begins . . . . .

Tuesday, 11 July 2017

The Khakis

When the parcel with my birthday clothes arrived (thanks to my dear friend K for the gift card) I was excited and apprehensive.  I didn't even wait to carry the package to the bedroom. In the  kitchen I  slide out of my capris and slide into the khakis.

The not special khakis
Me: "What do you think?"
Sam: "They are fine. Nothing special."
Me: "They are very special. They are my first size 2."

311 days since my first training session I went from a size 8-10 to a size 2-4.

The dropping of the pant size has been mentally challenging for me for reasons I don't fully understand other than I hate change. It has had me very stressed and to be honest I have been a little obsessed with it. Sam often says 'enough about your pants'.

I am still in shock as I truly didn't think my waist could get smaller and was concerned it may be about to go the other way because to be honest I have been as strict on my eating. [Note: By not strict I mean I had some ice cream and skittles last weekend and have eaten rice and pasta more frequently].

I have decided enough is enough about being pants obsessed. I am just going to accept this is what it is. I can now fit into some size 2 pants. I also fit into small shirts (although as shirts are more forgiving can still pull off some medium and large ones depending on the style).

I could argue I am leaving the gym better dressed then when I started:)

Thursday, 6 July 2017

Coming To A New Beginning

Today marks 3 sessions left with F'in Alex. It means starting in a week and a half, I will be completely responsible for maintaining my own exercise program. I am excited and slightly terrified. 

I am excited for the reasons I have stated before, convenience mainly, and the money I will save. I am terrified that I won't maintain it. I look at the calendar and see some weeks I am traveling and won't have access to a gym and worry I will fall off the boat. So many people don't maintain behaviour change. Will I become a stat?

I am hoping I can use my skills as a behaviour analyst (I do help people change behaviour for a living after all) to create a plan I can follow. I am hoping the momentum I have gained and the reinforcing side effects of being healthier will help carry me forward.

I suppose if all else fails, I can go back to the gym . . . . maybe the threat of that will be enough to keep me on the path forward.

Besides, no offense to F'in Alex, but I like my home coach better:)

Tuesday, 4 July 2017

Canada Turned 150

and I really didn't care. If my sister hadn't asked to come up (and my brother-in-law, which lead to inviting friends), I likely would have done nothing.

For years it seems (the joys of living in the national capital region) the country was planning this big birthday bash. People were excited. People planned big things. Downtown Ottawa was practically shut down for days as they created a secure perimeter to ensure people's safety (the joys of living in a terror filled world). The weather was not great on the big day, there were issues with security, the indigenous people protested, Bono sung, Prince Charles visited, and I only cared a little. I did watch most of the noon day show because I was slightly interested and so I had some water cooler talk at the office.

I was thinking why don't I care that Canada is 150. I am 6th + generation Canadian. My ancestors have lived in Canada (and some in the US) before the countries existed. I don't have any immigration/refuge stories in my recent family history. I don't even think about being Canadian. It is just a thing I take for granted. That is one of the reasons I didn't care.

I didn't care either because I hate crowds. I have done the Hill (referring to Parliament Hill where the bulk of the celebrations take place) before, and it is a zoo. This year with all the security screening (people apparently waited up to 8 hours at times) it was even messier than usual. I also don't like the bathroom situation either. The Hill boasted 72 portable toilets for the 31 000 people who could have been on it. (I believe the numbers were only like 25 000 people, but still). 

I also don't care because I think the money could have been better spent. A quick Google search says it all cost at least 1/2 billion dollars. That is an insane amount of money for a party. That money could have been used to help our indigenous peoples, health care, education etc. etc. That sort of money could have meaningfully helped people. That just ticks me off. 

The next big celebration will be in 50 years. Hopefully, I will be lucky and be 92 at it. Maybe I will appreciate the party more then or maybe I just won't care.