Did I tell you that I ran a 5k? I did you know. Two days ago.
I forgot who I’ve told. It has been more than gratifying when I talk to someone (like my sister or my parents or folks at church) (or the garbage man or Amelia’s teacher or…) and I mention that I’m very excited to have done my first 5k on Saturday. I’m sure that somebody somewhere is making fat girl jokes at my expense just because I have a giant head about what I’ve done. And I don’t care. So what if my boobs have their own zip code. I’ll just strap them to my body and go for another run.
Let me repeat: I am not fast. I didn’t even run the whole thing. Someday I maybe might. It’s not likely anytime soon but it could happen. Molly rolls her eyes in actual disgust (which I almost never see) when I knock myself down for not being fast. I figure I can’t get too cocky because that’s when I get the smite. You wait. I’ll break an ankle if I tell one more stranger about my accomplishment. That’s why I have to add that caveat about not being fast when talking about it. This? Is self-preservation.
I wasn’t even all that sore. Okay, I’ll shut up now.
Tonight started season 3 of Fat Camp. We have plenty of new players but I didn’t get to meet most of them. I guess there are almost 20 people signed up for the class, some of whom shouldn’t be in fat camp because of the distinct lack of fat. But I’ll get to that later. We are in the middle of a giant snow dump that’s about to turn into blowing and frigid (sounds vaguely dirty but isn’t). Most of the gym had called off classes and it was a ghost town. I can’t say I was disappointed. I don’t approve of the intense crowds of resolution makers. I was actually considering what it would be like to wander through in the middle of the night. Who goes in at 2am? And do they have their own club?
Molly had turned the treadmills so that they faced each other in two lines with a wide aisle in the middle. I can see that, with that many campers, it might be better for her to talk to everybody at once and see faces instead of always seeing somebody’s backside. I am a little unnerved at having to look at somebody else work their ass off. I feel I might get the church giggles but this is my problem. If it helps the group, great.
I don’t like change.
Out of the five campers in attendance, I did not know a soul. One of the five has done TEAM fitness (a.k.a. Advanced Fat Camp). Okay two of us have done fitness which puts me in a state of competition that I don’t like.
I went into this feeling weird about having done nearly a full year already. I know the drill. I totally understand the whole new kid in class thing. I know how overwhelming the nutrition and learning all the machines and the verbage can be. I get it. I feel like I could get a Counselor In Training badge or something.
And yet…I’m still the biggest girl in the room. Or, at least out of the five.
Clearly, I’m just not getting it yet. Unless there is something physiologically or metabolically wrong with me, I have no excuse. I can’t explain why my goal weight for this session is the exact same goal weight as 8 months ago. Is it a new penchant for white russians? Was it the great cheesecake rally of 2010? Is it really because I don’t buy their brand of supplements? Or because I am unable to consume tree nuts and therefore can’t add almond milk to the endless nutritional suggestions provided to me?
We have a new nutritionist. The jury is still out on her. She’s new to the position. I don’t know what kind of training/school she’s had in this department. I mean, it’s obviously more than what I’ve had. I was told to cut her some slack because this is the first class she’s taught. Great.
Week 1 is generally about detoxing. Detox Blitz I believe is what we’re calling it. No white flour, no sugar, no alcohol, no caffeine (bitches). Organic. Grass-fed. Flitered. My eyes have glazed over…
Remember that last time I chose to detox back in April? How many days did I make it before I became homicidal? I believe that answer to be 5. Or 6. Either way, I didn’t come close to the three weeks they want. In an intellectual sense, I get why. You want your liver to be able to get rid of all the fat and it can’t do that if it is filtering heavy metals, booze and pollutants.
This is not so much a refusal to change than it is a reality check. You get out what you put in. My grocery budget is very limited. I do purchase my beef locally so I know my burger came from one cow and not a thousand cows. Sidenote: did you know that if you buy your hamburger at the grocery store prepackaged that it probably really does contain the meat of a thousand cows. I know. Weird. My eggs are also local. My parents employ the teenage daughter of the woman who raises the hens. But I rarely can afford organic. I try. But I’m also realistic. And I also don’t buy two kinds of apples or strawberries or chicken just so I get the good stuff and my kids can eat on the cheap. We all eat the same thing. I am still conscious of HFCS, regardless of what they are calling it these days.
All calories are not created equal which is where I part ways with programs like WW. Their new thing is that you can eat all the fruits and vegetables you can stuff in your face. Know what the real ratio should be? 3:1 Three veggies to one fruit. Makes sense right? Fruits are full of blood sugar spiking fructose (granted combined with fiber and other good things so better than HFCS) and extra carbs and veggies are…well…yeah. Better. Three times better.
I decided, right or wrong, that instead of installing a whole house reverse osmosis water filter I am going 3:1 this week. Three veggies for every fruit. I’ll cut out the sugar and the white flour. I’ll check the air filter in the furnace. I’ll nix the white russians for a while.
Bitch does not get my coffee.
Because if my one cup a day is what’s holding me back, I’ll just have to stay fat.
But a strong fat. A fit fat. Did I tell you that I ran a 5k on Saturday? Because I did.