A lifetime of confession

It's been five months since I started this blog; five months since I deemed myself ready to come out of the closet of my fatness and feel comfortable with the progress I've been making. 2008 is coming to a close, as is the 46th year of life. In January, it will be one year since I started this journey toward fitness. One year since I decided to abandon the body I had and work for a new one. One year since my blood pressure was in the danger zone, and pre-diabetic glucose leves. One year since I looked at a picture of myself in the South of France in 1995 and cried for the body I once had. But let's look at that. In 1995, my body was still "mine", but I was not doing it justice because I was abusing it. The smoking made it difficult to hike, though I managed it without much trouble, I was already feeling the toll my abuses were taking.

By 1995, I smoked 1-1/2 packs of cigs a day and was existing in some modicum of meth; just enough to keep me bouyant and productive. I was stepping a fine line between falling into total meth addiction and being a normal person. In the years following, the meth was first to go ... that was in 1996, and it took one day to get over it ( though a few more to detox). The cigarettes went away in 2002 or 2003. Leaving those additions left a void. A big hole in my psyche. I started therapy to work on anger issues, issues which were causing irreparable damage to my interpersonal relationships, my relationship with myself and my cosmic relationship. Therapy cost me friends who became hostile reminders of the enraged woman I once was. It cost me a piece of security, losing all that hatred and anger. There was an empty space where all those things once lived, and I needed something to fill it.

This empty space was packed with energy; too much for me. I filled it with booze and food and food and booze. I ate whatever I wanted, drank whatever I wanted -- but always felt holier than thou because, while I abstained from illicit drugs, I never had a taste for soft drinks, french fries, or much for fast food. What I filled myself with were cocktails and toasted cheese sandwiches on sourdough bread, and red meat several times a week. I didn't eat much at a time -- the perfect cover for a fat person -- but I ate until midnight. Those midnight sourdough cheese toasts were wonderful, and comforted me through the nights.

On top of this I never exercised anymore. I didn't MOVE. I didn't walk, other than an occasional dog-walk around the neighborhood. Gardening became a physically challenging chore, though once I loved hunkering down in my yard and pulling weeds and planting things. Though I used to ride a bike or roller skate everywhere, I started either driving or foregoing the chore.

In December of 2007, my mother brought out a photo of me in Nice, France. I was slim, beautiful (in my eyes) and smiling broadly. I was so happy then, a size 9 dress, and fully comfortable before a camera. My smile was broad, my body lovely. What my mom didn't know was how completely aware I was of the difference ... and I cried and cried. I cried for the loss of my physically comfortable self. I cried for the open smile on my face in the photograph. I cried because I had lost a piece of ME. A BIG piece of me... and my body has always been my best friend ... but I had lost her.

So you go back to late January of 2008, when I joined 5-point fitness, which got me a free nutritional and also physical evaluation. The nutritional eval was not terribly eye-opening, but it did determine that I needed to ditch the refined carbs in lieu of the whole grain breads I'd been taught to eat as a child. Trade in the whole fat cheeses for neufchatel or swiss cheese. Take in more green veggies, loose the potatoes. Keep doing what I know is right, and discontinue those that know is wrong. I keep eating red meat. I love red meat. I keep the cheese, but measure it. I ditch the sourdough for whole grain. I ditch the whole grain for hemp bread, german or "health" bread.

I stop eating rice. I stop ordering burritos. I stop eating quesadilla's, unless I me them myself. I order things that have "salad" in their description. And I stop making cheese toasts at midnight. I also stop drinking as many cocktails as I've become accustomed to.

The physical evaluation wasn't even an eye-opener. "Sure", I said, "I can do a squat!" and I did. I was asked to do sit-ups, which I did. I was asked to do several other things.... I thought I was doing okay. Stein was very kind, and didn't abort my attempts to do what I thought I was doing just fine. He just did the eval, and then said he could help me get better. I wasn't in denial about my weight, but I was in denial about my abilities. Stein didn't dispell my aberrant ideations about about my capabilities. When I chose him for my personal trainer, I was ready to accept my own weaknesses. What I didn't understand was how utterly unfit I was, and and how hard I would have to work. I still am surprised at what Stein throws at me, and how how much he understands my physical and mental abilties better than I do.

When I was 12, I was fat. Fat enough that in my hot pants and terry cloth t-shirt, the Mexicans in Ti'Juana jeered and made lewd jestures. I hated my mother for not warning me. Maybe she did, but I didn't heed it. But by the time I was 14, all that fat was gone, and I was an hour-glass without the boobs. I didn't mind the lack of boobs, being perfectly happy with the wasp waist (17 inches when I was 17 years old), and 36 inch hip. Vavoom. I was desired. Through the years I kept that figure, losing it only while I was pregnant, and coming back full circle within two months of childbirth. In fact, I was better -- my boobs were huge. Loved it.

Then, as I said before, I started a decline from about 1996 on. Unfortunately, this is when Carter and I settled into being a couple, and again unfortunately, we both started to gain weight, lose muscle tone and become more and more unhealthy.

So where does this start? I could go back to the start, when a squat was me, a weight-lifting bench under my ass and Stein telling me to do TEN of them. That moved into the bench squat on one leg, another feat of my "prowess".

I got to where I could do a semblance of a squat, and I worked with that for months. Eventually, I got to where I did an "air squat" and Stein said it was "pretty" which means I'm doing pretty good. I keep working on these, and eventually, I get to a truly good squat. I'm proud of that. Everyone in the world should be able to squat, but not many of us can actually hold one in good form. I'm one of the few.

Squats now: carry a weight bar and squat low -- not like a dog taking a shit, but a clean, curved lumbar squat. I'm still working on these, but I can squat so low you couldn't put a brick between my ass and the floor if I'm doing it right. And I do it right, at least some of the time.

Walking lunges. I used to just call these lunges, but there's a difference. I used to cross the floor with major pain in my thighs and glutes. Now, I can *kiss* the floor with my knee, all the way down and all the way back.

Push-ups: I've always tried to do these "men style", i.e. I will not do knee push-ups out of pride -- I don't know how I've improved except that I can do crossfit workouts and do them 10 or 15 at a time. No idea how I was to being with, except that I had to do them on a raised bench, and now I can do them on the floor, or with grips. I know it's gotten better, but I cannot measure how.

Rowing machine: the first time Stein told me to do 1000 meters, I struggled, sagged and fought for it. Five hundred meters can seem hard, but when you can nail 1000, five hundred isn't much (unless you do the crossfit known as "Tailpipe") Now, I do it as a part of my warm-up. It's just what I do.

Today I did a crossfit for 20 minutes time. As many sets of the following:

5 push-ups (i used handles, but on the floor, because of my tendon problems)
10 kettle bell swings (1/2 pood) -- this will be 3/4 pood after Xmas
15 air squats

I did 13 sets for the 20 minute time. Stein thought I should do 15 sets, but I got that fucking strain in my back, which slowed my squats. In fact, my squats for the last several sets SUCKED. But I'm okay with the fact that I did not quit. I even got in the five push-ups. So I'm okay with that.


Five minutes after the crossfit, Stein brought Laura (a friend and the membership Diva) to do a "partner" workout. Laura's about 10 years younger than me, and had her workout in the a.m., so had some rest --- I was heck of tired, but we did the "Tailpipe": row 500 meters, then hold a weight for the rowing time -- do this times 3.

Laura is righteous, she rowed her ass off for me. I don't know if I rowed as hard, but I tried. I was pissed that Stein set me up for this, but you know, I'd die before I'd let down someone I care for ... so I rowed as hard as I could and I felt like it would kill me ( after the aforementioned crossfit) ... and Laura is a strong-ass woman who deserves a lot of kudo's for working with me and for me. She rocks.

Crossfit really makes you stronger. It is hard, it breaks you, it makes you stronger. You sometimes feel good, but you always feel better for getting through it.

As I type, I feel like a disjointed ragdoll. I am bruised and sore, but I know that what I did today makes me better, stronger, more fit..

I'm ready for my 47th year. Thank you Stein, thank you Crossfit,

Thank you, Me.

You Caught me Smilin' (Again)

Oh yeah, the presidential campaign has, by a landslide, voted in Barack Hussein Obama as President of the United States of America. No news could be better. nothing could rejuvenate my feelings of hope. Nothing else could have renewed my trust in the people of my proud, strong and wonderful country.

I wrote last about change, and hope, and felt a difinitive connection between my hope for our upcoming president and my powerful body changes via crossfit training.

What I want to share now is the idea of Hope. Barack Obama has been lading the bill of Hope. Hope for change, hope for future, hope for security, hope for peace. I've been on his bandwagon my whole life.

The first presidential election I voted in was against Ronald Reagan in 1980. It was an important first; I voted against California Governor Reagan in a Presidential election I felt was vitally important to the safety of our country. My vote lost, and I had to wait for Clinton to give me a feeling of hope and chance that we could, as a country, regain our strength, dignity and safety.

Then there was the Bush administration. I had lost hope for the last eight years, but really it was the last four years that confounded me.

Hope. Inspiration. Change. I did a crossfit training today that seemed impossible. I felt terrible. I was worried for the presidential campaign and had nothing to eat. I couldn't eat as I was so terribly anxious and upset by this election. Additionally, my mother was setting out on a plane trip to go through a grueling divorce trial which doesn't hold her in much favor. At the gym, I asked for a carb drink -- something without caffiene or weird herbs, just an electrolyte drink, and I paid $3.00 for it. I drank it slowly, not wanting to settle a bunch of liquid in my gut, but wanting to get some glucose and sucrose and some electrolytes in my system. It felt embarassing to feel shakey and weak, but that's how I went into it, and Stein wasn't really into giving me much slack anyway.

4 sets of 5o rope jumps
4 sets of 25 jumping jacks

Then a circuit set of 3 sets each of primarily upper body work

Then the crossfit:

10 reps of thusters, 15 pounds each barbel for total of 30 lbs.
15 reps 1/2 puud kettle bell sumo swings
20 crunches
25 rope jumps (should be double-unders)

Time: 13:02.

This was a pivotal workout for me, 0nly because in my head, in my body, and in own ability, I finished. I felt like crap, but that crap wasn't enough crap to allow my mind to allow me to lose. I dared not ask where the polls were while I was diving into this particular workout, but I knew that my trainer has my same point of view.

My workout was hard, very hard, but what I had to give, I gave. I got into a zone I had never been in before. That Zone was one of those wierd zen places where you know you are not going to give up, and you're going to finish. And I dd finish. It was hard, but I got through it.

There is hope. I have hope in myself, but more so I have hope in my country and my government. But it helps if you can find your zone; once you are in that zone, it doesn't cost anybody; you just set your sites and you hit them. That's how Obama did it, and that's how I'm oing t do it, too.

Time for Change

I'm watching Barack Obama kick John McCain's ass in the current election. It's giving me hope as I watch our pessimism and culture of fear change to optimism; the glass-half-full weltenshaung. Fear has been haunting this nation for eight years, and I'm sick and tired of it. I'm not afraid anymore, including that day in 2001, September 11, when I awoke to NPR's announcement that "something" had hit both World Trade Center Towers. I spent the next several hours riveted to the television. There was no morbid curiousity, only grief in those hours.

But now I'm feeling hope. I'm no longer focused on getting Osama Bin Laden (you know the one;l the one who isn't in Iraq, the one who isn't in Iran... but we forgot where to look for him); I'm focused on getting this country back to the 'right' again. We are a nation built of tough, resilient people. We have always been strong, willful people who will fight for whatwe believe in. And we win, when we unify and dignify each other of us to imagine each individual being strong, willing and ABLE to fight for what we believe in. Not extremism, not individualism, and NOT adversarial "us versus them" mentalities that threaten the very fiber of what makes us Americans -- all of us, African-American, European-American, Latin-American, Asian-American, Middle Eastern-American, East-Indian-American and others. We are all part of the fabric that builds this country, and we have to be STRONG and fit and ready to fight for this country and for ourselves. Are you ready? I am.

That brings me to next diatribe in this blog, a blog I've sadly let go for a few months.

I'd been doing a lot of hard circuit training with my personal trainer -- dare I say, my mentor, Stein-Erik Skaar. This guy has both beat me up and encouraged me. Mostly, he's been teaching me -- how to stretch my ideas of endurance, my limitations, and what I can do to overcome my body's weakness -- the weaknesses I've allowed to creep in over the last 15 years. He's taught me a lot about what I can endure, what I can overcome, and how far I have to go. I've lost little in the way of real weight (30 pounds), but my muscles speak for themselves. I've gotten strong and lean(er) and have no doubts about my physical prowess. I like circuit training, in fact, I think circuit training is absolutely the way to go for newbies getting into physical fitness. There's only one caveat: to do circuit training safely, you need someone to show you how to do it. You do need someone to help you through a circuit, to discuss what you are working, how to use the right form to avoid injury, and how to conquer weaknesses. I've been doing circuit training for eight months now, and I've lost over 30 pounds, and likely gained 15 pounds in muscle. My heart beats like it has a purpose; no longer am I worried about a heart attack. My lungs feel as if they have expanded, though of course they haven't. What my lungs have learned is to take in as much oxygen as they can and disperse it as efficiently as possible, through my strengthened heart, and into my large muscles. This, folks, is how circuit training positively effects your body: you engage you heart, your lungs, and your large muscles in order to create a uniquely working team with your entire body.

You start with stressing the muscles, this also stresses your cardiovascular system -- which in turn, returns the oxygen to those large muscles (in particular your legs, but also everything else). In the end, the lungs are heaving to keep up with the oxygenation needs, but your heart, if it's in shape, is pumping as best it can to keep everything well oxygenated. It all works; it takes time, a little pain, a bit of discomfort... and in the end you know your body has worked for you. And it only gets better.

I had a recent conversation with a so-called trainer in a local gym who had no idea what I was talking about... he kept taking me around the Nautilus machines, telling me how isolation weight training actually helped leach toxicity from your muscles. He asked me to do some adductors on a Nautilus machine which isolates only the inner thigh. I complied, and since he'd put on about 40 pounds of resistance, I did about 40 of them (without any stress at all) before asking him if I could then stop. I tried to explain that circuit training, in my world, involved whole body movements, inculding solid core exercises that work out the whole body in a holistic manner, which better suits a person's ability to do every day activities, as well as building strength and endurance. He just didn't get it and kept carping on about the benefits of isolated muscle development. Let me tell you, in some respects, he is right. You can reap huge benefits from Universal type equipment, and you can do it without supervision or training (for the most part), but what you don't get is the overall body improvement -- cardio, vascular and muscular -- that you do from whole body circuits. Nautilus-type systems serve to build individual muscle groups; this isn't bad, but is does nothing holistically for your body, and adding in bits of cardio work isn't going to do it either. To get the best hard-hitting work, you need to both muscular involvement with cardio work, which is whole body involvement, not muscle isolation. This, the Nautilus system does not provide. Unfortunately, to do this you do need someone to train you with form and function; form is most important in order to avoid injury. A personal trainer isn't always necessary, but it certainly helps. There are many step-by-step guides that can help, but you must be careful. Movements as simple as lunges or squats can incur injury if done incorrectly, so it's important to pay attention to whatever is used as instruction.

So. Two weeks ago Stein pretty much set me up for something I've been resisting: Cross Fit. This is a workout regimen that requires 100% participation at 100% capacity for the duration. Let me elaborate: you take a workout and you do it hard, furious, and as fast as you can. In the end, what matters, is the time it takes you to get through the entire workout. It is fucking Savage. I submitted to this workout because I could tell that Stein wasn't going to let me off, and for the last three meetings, we've been doing Cross Fit. It kicks your ass, it beats you down, and in the end YOU WIN. It's like fighting yourself until you are completely beat down... but once you're done, you know no one can beat you down ... except you.

It's like taking that ass-kicking, and kicking it's ass right back.

Check out crossfit.com. It's the shit.

I Try.

Today's workout was disappointing. I seem to have pulled muscle in my butt, which affects all the tendons down my leg. Don't know how this happened, as I didn't feel the "pull" until two days after a workout a couple weeks ago. Subsequently, my workout with Stein caused a lot of pain. What a crock of shit, and I'm so frustrated with myself and my stupid little aches and pains... so now I'm on 100% upper body work, which in and of itself is a lot of crazy hard work, but when you don't have those big leg muscles working out, it feels like the work out itself is almost inconsequential.

Let me elaborate on that: When you can't work out your lower body, you have torso (back, stomach, sides) and arms (a bunch of tiny muscles in the deltoids, as well as the larger arm muscles), all of which are strong and sturdy, but none of which, collectively, work the oxygenation of your system overall. It's like to work to a painful end by stressing the muscles so hard you can't push anymore, but you don't have the overall exhaustion of the oxygen-stealing huge muscles, i.e. those in your thighs.

I spent most of yesterday sanding, spackling and then painting my 'granny unit... 400 square feet of teenage boy abused space... black-ink Sharpie penned inscriptions all over the walls, thousands of pin holes from darts thrown from various directions... an entire room of teenaged boy disaster that I had to recover and recoup in order to make a living space for my aging mother. God Damn. After four hours of secondary clean-up (having spent several hours in previous weeks prepping for this), I painted... and painted... and painted... Today the room is a bright light yellow glow, all clean of graffiti and other crappy avante garde, shitey artwork. but my arms were in total pain, tendonitis in my elbows having set in rather surprisingly.

Which brings me to today: Stein declares NO lower body at all. It's better to have no workout than to cause any additional injury that could result in a three month recovery. Of course he's right, but I'm frustrated, knowing I'll be doing all upper body work. Have to mention, I don't want to be whiner, but my elbows are hurting like crazy; I mean, it's like I have tennis elbow except I don't play tennis. Oh what the heck, I did some upper body work I've never done before, and it was kick ass. So I have a couple icee hot stickers on my body after the fact. It's all good.

I go into my workout anyway, make a small mention about the fact my elbow tendons are in pain... nah...

By the end of the workout, my arms and upper body are whipped, but the fact is I feel like I cheated. My legs and butt are singing melodious about how they didn't have to endure pain and I'm figuring my ass and legs need it most of all!

So today I write it off. I believe Stein is right; if I overwork a strained muscle I'm in for several months of recovery; if I let it rest for this week I'll be up and ready for the upcoming week. Still, in spite of lat and deltoid pain I'm suffering, which is severe and all-encompassing, I know that i'm gearing up for a serious whole body workout next week.

Carter got his first dose of Crossfit. I encourage anyone who thinks they've got what it takes to take a look at crossfit.com. This hard-core workout is for those who are ready to be worn out, but ready for all physical emergencies. Carter rocks; damn he rules! He did the Fight Gone Bad. It was a knock out, and he wasn't sure he could make it through the first set (after the bottle of sake last night), but he did... Damn he makes me feel so proud. Wish I could do what he does; so glad he does what he can. Crossfit.com; check it out. You might be inspired.

Gerald McBoing Boing

http://www.bremenonline.org/boing/boingboing.htm

Jungle Boogie

Monday was a great day! Son-ray came by the shop on his way home, and I invited him to come check out my gym, which he took me up on. Stein gracefully worked him into my routine, which I did not expect. I love Stein. He's such a great guy.

I could see that Dash was impressed after the first set (with two more sets of three to go!). Stein had him sweating and working hard, doing the same routine as me, but with heavier weights. Yeah, the kid was really sweating and I could see he was both dubious about doing the entire work-out, as well as ready to go through it to the end (hell, you can't let your middle aged mom get the best of you, can you???). He does go to the gym, and he is athletic, but he hasn't been doing these intensive training sessions, as I have, for the last six months.

At the end of the hour, Dashiell was pretty thrashed. As he should be. Stein is a great teacher, and an A-Plus task-master. But even thrashed, D. liked some of the dynamic/explosive movements so much he went in for another set. I gave Dash some of the protein smoothie I always have ready post-workout, which he was really going to need.

The apex of this whole thing was that he texted his GF as left for home; "My mom is a SAVAGE, and her trainer is NO JOKE." Yeah, that felt really good.

Hot Thang!

Today was the 5th day in a row I made it to the gym. Tues/Friday were days with Stein, but Mon, Wed, Thurs, I actually made it on my own and did those 2K rows. Today, I could think of every excuse in the world why meeting with Stein wasn't going to work; I don't know ... I have cramps. I woke up at 5:30 and I'm tired ... too much rowing ...

I woke up at 5:30 a.m., went toward the kitchen and something smells nasty. Oh hell, Stella the bulldog got diarrhea sometime during the night. Nope. Not going there... I turn around and go back to bed. And ignore it .... 7:00 a.m. I can't ignore this any longer. I clean up the crap, mop the floor, take out the trash. Damn. I have a doctor's appointment at 9:00 a.m. Go back to bed, pretend I'm just too wiped out to make the appointment. 7:30 a.m. Okay, that's lame. Get up, shower, scowl at the dogs who are cowering because they can tell I'm pissed. Open windows to air out the house.

Get to the Gyn, who is always droll. He does the PAP smear and palpates things that aren't supposed to be palpated and it doesn't feel good. He looks me in the eye as we discuss the issue of getting older, am I in menopause? No, not by a Looooong shot. Periods? Normal as they 've ever been, well I do have horrendous cramps.... He's been my Gyn for many years now. He's frank, honest, doesn't pull any punches. Offers me Motrin for my cramps, which I accept. I notice he has no problem with wiping his cheek right after taking the glove off his hand, and I'm kind of impressed that he's not grossed out that his hand was all up in me a couple minutes before, yet he doesn't even wash his hands. Weird that I took notice of this, but there ya go. Is this TMI? Yeah, to me, too. But what the fuck. Every chick goes through this, we just don't usually discuss it in detail. Suffice it to say, there is nothing more weird than a strange guy smushing your tits, then smashing your vagina in order to check everything out. Hey, Doc, it all felt okay when I got here.. now I'm not so sure... All the while we're discussing what my cervix looks like. Dude! I've never seen my cervix, and I see no need to see it now, in this sterile room with you. I can do this later with my husband, should we decide to do so. Do We Need to Be Discussing This? No. Not in this lifetime. I'm no prude, not by a longshot, but No One but a lover should be so intimate with these parts, which is probably why I do this only every three years, as prescribed by Dr. B.

Okay, so I go through that bullshit, after cleaning up dogshit, watering the tomato plants and trying to find some clean underwear. Once I get back home, I make coffee and healthy wholegrain soy-sausage egg mcmuffin's for my McMuffin, and then it's off to the Motorcycle Shop for more fun n' games.

It's a busy day, and I'm still coming up with excuses to skip my appointment with Stein. Except I know Stein's not going to accept my bullshit excuses today. I'm not sick, I haven't hurt anything, and I'm perfectly capable of doing my work out. So I go.

We start with kettle ball "throws", which means you bring it down through your legs, using your lower back, then up level to your face, using the momentum, continue up to a 20 count. Feels easy, up to a point. That point being when the lower back starts complaining about the effort, inner thighs straining, and lower back starting to strain. The sweat starts rolling and my lungs are aching. At about #10, I can feel it in my inner thighs, my abs and lower back. Stein tells me to focus on the lower back next time. I thought I was; guess I wasn't. Next, pull downs at 90 pounds, my personal best weight thus far (I've seen men who can't do this). Hell, I can't even remember the core exercise we did. But that's okay, I'll be reminded next week.

We do this two more times.

Second set: these ridiculous side-to-side skips, touching a 10 pound medicine ball from one cone on the left, ten feet over, touch down on the right. one and one, two and two, three and three... Are you kidding me? This hurts! I keep going. It sucks, what a great workout. Second exercise, hold a soccer ball between your feet, straight up. Take a weight in your two hands, and then stretch toward your feet. Count of 20. Ball plank, take two 15 pound weights and do some fly's. Yea! That's so much fun, I want to barf! Let's do that two more times!

Third set: One-leg push ups; sit on a bench, take a 20 pound medicine ball and then step up on one leg; do this 10 times on each side. You'd be surprised how hard this can be. One-armed wood choppers. I ask for an additional 10 pounds because, I suppose, I'm a masochist, but it's what I needed. Three-point plank: one foot in the air for 5 secs, the other foot up for 5 for at least 30 seconds total. It's harder than you think, especially after doing the first sets of exercises.

Here's where I discuss Stein's medicine ball: this thing is a three-foot circumference slightly smooshy ball that weighs 20 pounds. That seems easy, right? Well it's not. Try keeping one of these things aloft while you are doing lower body work. I sound like a whiner, but the truth is, the 20 pound medicine ball is a significantly difficult tool to work with and I don't like... no, not at all.

The end result of all this complaining? I feel like Super Woman, like I do every Tues/Friday and wiped out as I am, I know that my body is stronger than anyone would imagine. Powerful. Amazing. Healthy. Strong. Well, my Sun-ray calls me to tell me the sonogram of the 9 week old fetus shows four limbs, all in the right place, a nice round head, and a soundly beating heart... It's kicking and moving around like a tiny gummy bear, and all I can think is... wow! Wow! WOW! Sun-Ray is beaming, the happiest guy on the planet, and thankfully starting to consider finances and budgeting, which needs be done. Babies aren't cheap. Diapers are expensive. Thankfully, there are few of us more than interested enough to invest in baby stuff.

I get through this workout, in this week, the first week I'm pushed myself hard five days in a row, and I'm looking forward to a good five-mile hike with my doggies this weekend. Muscles are a bit sore, but they feel taut and strong, blood pressure is way down (as measured by Kaiser this a.m. -- at worst it was about 160/90, and is now 127/73 -- totally normal) and overall, I know from blood work earlier in this regimen, that my blood sugar is down from pre-diabetic to completely normal and my cholesterol is lowering dramatically.

And after I got home home and took a shower, I saw a body that I didn't have six months ago. It's a body reminiscent of one I used to know.

Hot Thang.