When I got back to California, I made the commitment to really try hard to be healthy and stuff. You know? Healthy and stuff? Yea, I know, I have the same thoughts. Healthy and stuff...Whatever the hell that means.
Even though the idea of being healthy seems like some abstract deity sitting up in the clouds looking down upon all of us mortals and laughing it's butt off, I did want to be more conscious about my daily choices and habits. I couldn't continue the goldfish gouging or peanut butter and jelly joyrides anymore. My goal has been to tone up a lot more so I could be all muscle-y and stronger and less jiggly and stuff. Not to lose weight, just be firm and have cool lines when I flex. Like an internet picture! So I set out to track what I was eating and keep my net calories under a certain amount every day and to exercise lots and lots. Since I am back to being unemployed and yet busier than ever before, I couldn't sign up for a million classes like I did over the summer, so I resolved to start running again.
I had gone on a running hiatus over the summer because I was lazy and it was just too damn hot. I tend to get heat blisters from the ridiculous way I perspire when I run in really warm weather, and getting up before work when it was still cool out was just too much. I needed every ounce of my energy for the work day, after all. The irony is that it has gotten even hotter than it did all summer in the past few days here in SoCal. Goddammit, irony! But I digress. I had stopped running, and it could go on no longer! For I had signed up for another Mud Run that is coming up in less than a month and needed to get back into running-mode in order to not make a fool out of myself. My team this year has a slightly lower median age and might actually be able to run the course with me, so you know, I kind of need to be able to do it too.
I had gone on a running hiatus over the summer because I was lazy and it was just too damn hot. I tend to get heat blisters from the ridiculous way I perspire when I run in really warm weather, and getting up before work when it was still cool out was just too much. I needed every ounce of my energy for the work day, after all. The irony is that it has gotten even hotter than it did all summer in the past few days here in SoCal. Goddammit, irony! But I digress. I had stopped running, and it could go on no longer! For I had signed up for another Mud Run that is coming up in less than a month and needed to get back into running-mode in order to not make a fool out of myself. My team this year has a slightly lower median age and might actually be able to run the course with me, so you know, I kind of need to be able to do it too.
So running and good-nutritioning it had to be. I am not going to say dieting because that makes it sound like I am on some kind of weird plan for eating or that I am a crazy woman obsessed with being skinny, which isn't true. I am a crazy woman obsessed with being able to attain the strength to beat up anyone who might try to rape me or abduct me or accuse me of having smelly toes or say mean things about my cats. I like to call it good-nutritioning because that makes more sense to what I am trying to do. Eat good, nutritious things, and no more than I need. Not only will it help me achieve my dreams of becoming a super badass fit lady, but it makes my ego purr in that superior, pretentious sort of way. And maybe, just maybe, if I dream hard enough, it will help me live forever. And then I can take over the world and declare a worldwide end to "footsies" playing. The masses will love me.
Since I have returned to California, I have made notable progress on many fronts involving these two things. Let's do this the right way and start with the food. It's always best to start with the food.
First of all, I have been eating lots and lots of salad. It has gotten to the point where my day actually feels kind of weird if I don't eat a salad. Which makes me wonder if I should start digging to see if hell has frozen over. Maybe I should attach wings to my toaster and see if it flies? Ah, who am I kidding? I can't lie to you guys--I don't actually own a toaster.
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| Look at that rainbow-ass salad. That is what I call a rainbow salad. |
Anyway, though it might seem strange, it is true. No, not the toaster confession, but my salad addiction. My salads have gone through somewhat of an upgrade since my early post about discovering the joy of salad. I have read about how having more colors on your plate means you are being healthier (excluding skittles), so I have been trying this new method of "rainbowing" my salads. Rainbows have kind of been my thing lately. I was all about turning my kids into rainbow colored creatures all summer long. I'm not gay--just weird. And said weirdness has translated to my food. I pile on all the good ol' standbys: spinach, tomatoes, carrots, feta cheese, blueberries... But I have also been including red bell peppers, strawberries, yellow squash, eggplant, and avocado. All have been wonderfully bland additions, just the way I like it. Except for the avocado. Don't tell salad, but I am having even more of a love affair with avocados lately. It's half the reason I want to eat salad. I was always so-so on the avocado fan scale. I don't know why it took me this long to come around to them, but boy have we had a whirlwind romance.
This rainbow method has lead to a whole new world of salad enjoyment, and I am always sure to include some sort of protein on the side, whether it be tofu, a big hunk of chicken, or at least a low-fat mozzarella cheese stick. I want to keep all my muscly muscles in good shape so I can be Superman one day. I am sure Superman ate a lot of low-fat mozzarella cheese sticks.
On top of my salad euphoria I have also been doing healthy-person things like making quinoa and drinking two liters of water every day. I know, right? Quinoa! Who ever thought I would be the kind of person who grew up to eat quinoa. The first time I tried quinoa I thought "oh, what's this? Some kind of rice thing? I like rice. EW WHAT THE HELL IS THIS. THIS IS NOT RICE" and swore never again to eat it. But things have since changed. I am a new person now. Granted, I am not one of those super cool people who eats it cold. I'm still not ready for that. Nevertheless, I am sure one day I'll get there.
I have also been tracking all my foods on a fancy free app on my iPhone, because I am finally one of those people who has an iPhone. I am finally one of those assholes who is always on their phone! It's great. I wouldn't be surprised if I woke up one day to find my skin growing over my phone, only to realize it to be a new attachment of my body. The calorie counting makes me feel a bit neurotic. I cheat most of the time anyway and never count the grapes I always pick at through the day because I can't handle the red numbers of judgement when I go over my allotted calorie amount. They are too intense for me. But I am still doing pretty well. Even if I want to tear my hair out with the anxiety it causes, I am eating healthier and more carefully because of it.
Ok, now comes the exercise part of this here blog entry. I am pretty excited about this, because not only have I been doing awesome things on the pole, but my running has pretty much only improved since I stopped. Wow. I should quit running for months at a time more often. Not that all the other conditioning I've done in the past three months has made any difference...
First of all, my hill skills are better than ever. There are a ridiculous amount of hills in Southern California. At least in the vicinity of my apartment, anyway, and I basically can't run anywhere without having to run up for at least a little bit. Unless I want to run down the scary, windy road with no sidewalk and crazy Californian drivers. To which I refuse. So upwards it must be. I was happy to find that right away I was able to run all the way up my arch-nemisis hill, the dastardly half mile 10% incline beast that it is. It took me months to conquer the first time, but now I do it several times a week. Because that is just how badass I have become. Take that, asshole hill!
This leads to my other new breakthrough: I have magically become able to run without having to take walk breaks almost 80% of the time. There are still a couple of different hills on certain routes I take that get to me, such the other side of my arch-nemesis hill...which to get to I must approach from the other way around, which takes many miles and the hill itself is even longer...it's brutal. Although quite the gluteal workout I must say. But other than that little blip, I have become quite skilled at persevering through the rough parts and keeping my feet moving. So now, none of the cars that whiz by will judge me for being a super sweaty "walker," and think I am lame and weak for being so worn out from simply walking. They will always see me as a super sweaty runner and feel guilty and ashamed for not going out running and instead sitting on their lazy butts in their fancy smancy cars. I feel bad for them. Really I do. They need engines to get up hills. I get by on just my pure awesomeness.
Also included in my return to running has been improvements to my garb. This is another subject I have written about before, so I am pleased to tell you things have gotten even fancier for me. In the past few weeks, I bought my SECOND sports bra ever. Now I have one sports bra for pole dancing and one for running. That way, when I sweat buckets while running, I won't have to put on the same, still slightly-damp bra the next day when I want to have some pole practice and end up feeling a whole lot less than sexy when writhing around my floor in it and getting little bits of hair and other household grime latched on to my sweaty body. I know that sounds appealing in a weird, fantasy way, but trust me it isn't. Better yet, my new sports bra is reversible, so it seems like I have three bras now. I really am living the fancy life now.
First of all, my hill skills are better than ever. There are a ridiculous amount of hills in Southern California. At least in the vicinity of my apartment, anyway, and I basically can't run anywhere without having to run up for at least a little bit. Unless I want to run down the scary, windy road with no sidewalk and crazy Californian drivers. To which I refuse. So upwards it must be. I was happy to find that right away I was able to run all the way up my arch-nemisis hill, the dastardly half mile 10% incline beast that it is. It took me months to conquer the first time, but now I do it several times a week. Because that is just how badass I have become. Take that, asshole hill!
This leads to my other new breakthrough: I have magically become able to run without having to take walk breaks almost 80% of the time. There are still a couple of different hills on certain routes I take that get to me, such the other side of my arch-nemesis hill...which to get to I must approach from the other way around, which takes many miles and the hill itself is even longer...it's brutal. Although quite the gluteal workout I must say. But other than that little blip, I have become quite skilled at persevering through the rough parts and keeping my feet moving. So now, none of the cars that whiz by will judge me for being a super sweaty "walker," and think I am lame and weak for being so worn out from simply walking. They will always see me as a super sweaty runner and feel guilty and ashamed for not going out running and instead sitting on their lazy butts in their fancy smancy cars. I feel bad for them. Really I do. They need engines to get up hills. I get by on just my pure awesomeness.
Also included in my return to running has been improvements to my garb. This is another subject I have written about before, so I am pleased to tell you things have gotten even fancier for me. In the past few weeks, I bought my SECOND sports bra ever. Now I have one sports bra for pole dancing and one for running. That way, when I sweat buckets while running, I won't have to put on the same, still slightly-damp bra the next day when I want to have some pole practice and end up feeling a whole lot less than sexy when writhing around my floor in it and getting little bits of hair and other household grime latched on to my sweaty body. I know that sounds appealing in a weird, fantasy way, but trust me it isn't. Better yet, my new sports bra is reversible, so it seems like I have three bras now. I really am living the fancy life now.
Yes, they're the same bra...is your mind blown or what?
I also got entirely fed up with the heat blisters my skin-tight, water resistant 3/4 running pants were giving me. I mean, I love them to death and all, but water resistant not only keeps water out, but water in, and given how much I sweat, it just did not do. The last time I went running in the only shorts I own-- my tiny black compression shorts usually used for pole practice-- at least two cars honked at me and my crotch biscuits were rubbing all up on each other like two preteen virgins who were just making it to second base for the first time ever. This, also, just did not do. So I bought the most majestic pair of running shorts I could find on the Target clearance rack a few weeks ago. They are bright magenta and made of that swishy material that all the legit cross country runners have. Mine are not quite that short, although they still ride up in between my thighs a whole lot, and I have to become that mean, cock-blocking parent who tells my teenage crotch biscuits to restrain themselves until marriage. Or at least college. Sheesh. Kids these days. One day, they'll hopefully grow up. Or rather, shrink, and my thighs won't be as wiggly and maybe they won't try to rub all over each other in public as much. Until then, I just have to deal with it. Fortunately my majestic magenta pants make it worth it, because they are just so darn breezy, they don't show my underwear line, and they even have a tiny little pocket for my house key. Also they only cost me $5 and their color is so obnoxious that they make me look way more legit.
Finally, speaking of sports bras and looking like a legit runner, I hit a new milestone the other day. For the first time ever, I ran shirtless. I had never really felt the desire to run in nothing but a sports bra, even though I had seen numerous people do it all the time. Shirts always just seemed second nature to me. I had nothing to show off. Me and shirts were friends. But the other day I was running a particularly difficult route while wearing a pretty baggy shirt that weighed nearly a pound and was practically falling off of me after the third mile and the third pint of sweat I had no doubt lost. I hadn't seen anyone else out that morning, and it was cloudy anyway so I didn't have to worry about serious sun to skin damage. So when I reached the top of the hill, I stopped for a moment and cautiously removed my garment. The gloriousness was immediate. Right away I could feel a cool breeze rippling all along my torso and everything felt a million times better. It was like God had smiled down on my sweaty, pale white and slightly flabby stomach, with approving eyes of my sparkly belly button pendant, and he could see straight through my wobbly stomach to the manly abdominals beneath, and he granted me a reward for all the hard work I have put into running and my abs, even if you can't actually see them. (Yet). Why it had taken me so long to run shirtless, I have no idea. Of course, almost right away I passed my first fellow runner of the morning, but he also didn't have a shirt on, so I felt like it was acceptable. There was no judgement between us. And better yet, no one on the road on the way home honked at me. Mission accomplished! I have yet to go running shirtless again, but I am quite sure it will happen once again some day. Especially if California keeps up this heat wave business.
So, that, my friends, is my life these days. Oh, and also ridiculous fucking amounts of homework that even I, the notoriously good at keeping up IB straight A student overachiever kid I used to be, am struggling with. Life is a bitch. So this blog may be kind of quiet for awhile, but I shall persevere, just like those hills I *must* run up to feel awesome about myself.
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