Screw calm. Train like a beast.

I'm sore....but I like it. Let's rewind to what got me here.

Last month, while lying in the supine position and folding my 800^th something paper crane, I was suddenly overtaken by the desire to knock out some crunches…like a hundred of them. After all, I’d once done a thousand in a row – never mind that I was 19 and full of vim and vigor and dreams of joining the cast of Miss Saigon at that golden period of my life.  Nope. I wanted to do a hundred right then and there because I wanted to show Nate, who has a slightly irritating habit of working out while watching TV, that I was basically still 19.

After assuring him that I GOT THIS, I went balls out and did 100 UGLY crunches that I’m sure were NOT RIGHT, and I ended up with my whole stomach area contracting into a gigantic ball of pain and suffering. I rolled myself into the fetal position and demanded that no one look or talk to me, to which Nate replied, “I’m the only one here, who are you talking to?”  I decided it would be highly beneficial to get a trainer after this, someone who could help me navigate the pitfalls of my own brain, body, and oh-so misguided ego.

Well, I finished my 2^nd week of training at Redefining Strength in Costa Mesa, and I have to say it was the best decision I've ever made! It is an awesome community of people who are just so supportive of one another and do not judge.  I finally feel at home in a gym! My trainer Cori is fantastic, and in just two weeks I have noticed a remarkable difference in my physical AND mental state. 

The guy so far up my ass on the freeway that I could time his nostril flares to the beat of “Shake It Off”? Well, I simply let him pass and didn’t even follow him home this time.  In the past, I’d go all 007 and find an address to send a picture of an eyeball to, just let him know someone was watching. Not this time, friends. Just pass me by, sir! 

I'm not watching you...or am I?

So, I’m sore as all get out - but this is the best kind of pain there is. I hurt in places I never thought I should ever hurt. Just when I think I’ve pushed my body to the limit, I discover that I have more to give. Amazing. Instead of chest pain or the odd stirrings of what may or may not be an unfortunate bout of diarrhea after a large meal, I instead feel blessed exhaustion from a total body workout. I’m sleeping better and eating better these days. My muscles are crying out for relief, but they are also getting stronger. My number of push-ups is increasing, my crunches no longer cause me any cramping, and I feel strong.

Nate and I played in our first softball game last Friday night and I took a hard ass fall on the way to 2^nd base. I hit the ground at full speed landing chest and stomach first, but I still managed to crawl to base. A collective gasp could be heard across the field and stands. After remembering that there’s no crying in baseball (but still crying inside in secret), I gave a double thumbs-up and kept playing. 

The next few days were torture. Not only was I sore from my workouts, I was now convinced that I had ruptured something internally or was in the process of slowly dying from a pulmonary embolism. We had no ice packs in the house, but since Nate is a resourceful person, he covered me in frozen bags of Trader Joe's linguini and gnocchi until I started to smell. I love him. 

Even with the pain, I decided I was fit enough for a Sunday hike to Holy Jim Falls Trail with Nate and our good friend Mai. I’m proud to say that I completed my first hike EVER! Usually when "we hike", I hide in a bush just to make Nate feel terrible about himself for leaving me so far behind or quit a few minutes in after threatening to punch every tree branch in the face. Not this time! I continued on and before I knew it, we’d reached the waterfall. Success! 

Wat. We thought it would be bigger. 

So that’s the recap of my training over the last two weeks. Like Tony! Toni! Tone! says, “It Feels Good”. As the current state of my life is chaos and laundry is only a sad afterthought,  I threw on the last pair of clean jeans I had left. While walking to the office, they started sliding down my hips. Instead of focusing on the fact that I’m wearing an outfit unbecoming of my position again, I am focusing on the fact that the last time I wore these, I had a crease in my belly that lasted for 48 hours. Holy Jim Falls Trail, does that mean I’m losing inches?!? Holla!

Mishandling balls...or should I say Miss Handling Balls

When I was in the 2^nd or 3rd grade - maybe it was 4^th I have no idea -  there was this game we’d play during PE called Bombs Away. How I adored that game! It was basically catch, but with a volleyball net in the way. The class was split into two teams and the whole point was to throw the ball to the other side to whoever looked like they couldn't catch a clue, much less a ball. If they dropped it, they were out.  Last person standing was the winner of Bombs Away.

One beautiful day in the  2^nd or 3rd grade - maybe it was 5^th who knows -  I happened to be one of the last two kids standing. This had never happened before in ALL OF MY LIFE. I had the ball – the ultimate advantage. I could throw that damn thing anywhere I wanted – short or long, left or right, and my opponent would either have to skin some knees and kiss the concrete to catch it or grow 20 foot arms to snatch the ball from the very back right corner of the play area I would aim for. As long as I didn't throw it outside the lines, I was destined for what I thought was a mathematical certainty – VICTORY.

I plotted and planned, walked the length of the net, and thought of myself as a tiger. ("Ok Katy Perry, calm down," says you and the rest of the world). I then went for the lob of all lobs and threw that fucking thing right into the net where it proceeded to bounce back onto my side and roll off my shoe. Did that burn? Like the sun. LIKE THE SUN.  Did I want to pull a Bruce Irvin? Yes. But no, I shook hands and offered my congratulations.

A scorching hot, ten-thousand pound boulder of shame and frustration bloomed in my prepubescent chest  that day and I have never forgotten that moment. Oh, there have been many, many – MANY -  times since then where I have been hoisted by my own petard, but that one holds a very special place in my heart. And it all came back after watching the end of yesterday’s Super Bowl game.

I know not much about football except that the goal is to run the ball to the opposite end of the field.  Especially if you’re already at the 1 yard line, right? You just run…since you’re like right there, right? Anyway, I only watch the Super Bowl for the good food, great friends, and funny commercials...although there weren't too many funny ones this year. Most were really depressing.

  Um...are you freaking serious? 

I admit, my Bombs Away experience is only slightly less impressive than failing at the Super Bowl, but I  recognized that look on the quarterback’s face.  For a moment, I was one with him – whatever his name may be. Shine bright like a diamond, friend. I feel you.

That’s what I've decided to do anyway (again).  Shine bright! After eating my weight in tacos, chips, guacamole, meatballs, sausage dip, fritos, and alcohol infused Oreos yesterday, I  decided to put my fork down, flip it, and reverse it.  Missy Elliot, you look good, gurl.

I realize that there are a lot of reasons why I eat. None of them are very good ones (except for the occasional bout of hunger), but I’m tackling these issues one bomb at a time. I have an addiction. I'm glad it's not crack. Sometimes I’m going to drop the ball. I will most likely continue throw it at the net time and time again. But every day I’m going to keep moving towards the opposite end of the field so I can score my own poop down. 

 I have my first session with a trainer tonight. I'm really excited! Just knowing this is happening has kept me on the straight and narrow today with my eating and drinking. The past few weeks I have been downing large cups of Vietnamese iced coffee every morning. Do you know what that's made of? Sweetened condensed milk (AKA cream of the gods). I can't. I need this in my life, but I won't. I just can't. 

Anyway, like Madonna says, I'll update on the progress of my training IF I live to tell. I will. I have a dress to wear in June that I've been waiting a very long time to put on. 

Love, light, and Ligaya - CS