Melinda got on me again tonight for not posting. "I'm sorry," I said. "I just don't have anything good to say."
We're in our last week of boot camp, and that means I've got to make a plan quick for something to pick up next week. She's got a gym membership and an unlimited guest pass, so I imagine we'll be heading that way. I missed the window to no-join-fee membership at the YMCA, but I may suck it up and pay it and join anyhow. It's the closest gym to our house, and there's a pool that's open from 5 a.m. 'til 10 p.m. each night. It's not exactly cheap, but it's certainly not more than my health and fitness is worth.
Tonight, at boot camp, I flipped a 280 pound tractor tire, by myself. I feel like the Queen of the Fucking World. I'm Strong. I can do things that I dread right up until the second I'm doing them, and then, once I'm in the thick of it, I'm just focused on getting it done. I'm so fucking AWESOME! At least, that's how I feel during each 10 second break, after 30 seconds of pushing myself as hard as I can. When I've had too much, and I feel like I just can't do any more, I stop, and let myself take a break, and I immediately hear a voice in the back of my head saying, "Stop it, get going, get back in it, you can do this, don't be a pussy, you can do this, do one more rep, two more..." and I get back in there and do another. I make myself finish the set if they call time when I'm in the middle.
My body is changing. I met my collar bones tonight for the first time in years. I have muscles in my arms, and that fleshy part that hangs underneath is smaller and gets firmer when I flex. My legs are more toned. I bought dresses two weeks ago and the larges were too large - I bought mediums for the first time in I-can't-remember-when. I still have a gut, and that'll only disappear with more work and time, but I can see the changes. I'm still getting on the scale nearly every morning, but I've not lost a pound in weeks. This is okay with me. I've not changed my diet at all, unless we count moving in the wrong direction - pizza twice a week, ice cream in the freezer, cookies in the pantry - so the fact that I'm maintaining and still noticing positive changes makes me exceedingly happy.
Jimi's been amazingly supportive of my new regiment. The day I bought my dresses, Jimi bought me four new workout tanks, and some desperately-needed workout shorts and capris. (I'd been working out the last few weeks wearing the same pair of yoga pants - I just washed them every other day. Even Melinda noticed.) I'm much cooler in my new gear, and the clingy tops really emphasize my hard-earned boob- and back-sweat marks, showing the world just how hard I've worked. (And warning people not to stand down-wind.)
Melinda has been an amazing workout partner, and I'm so so SO glad she agreed to do this with me. If it weren't for my obligation to her, I would've stopped going weeks ago - that's just how I am. Even now, as much as I love it, I come up with a hundred excuses every boot-camp-day for why I shouldn't have to go that night - I always need to stay late at work, I would rather just go home and drink beer, I just don't want to because it's hard - but because Melinda is going to be there, and because she's counting on my ass to show up, I do everything I can to make it to class. I WANT to do it, and I feel awesome after it's over, but 78% of the reason I sit through that traffic and force myself to show up is because I don't want to let Melinda down. She's the best cheerleader, too - she high-fives and encourages our classmates, and jokes with the instructors, and tells me that I'm awesome when I'm ready to throw in the fucking towel. She makes me want to try harder. She works her ass off, too. She pushes when she's had enough. She always picks the heavier barbells and kettle bells and medicine balls, and when she can't do the assigned exercise any longer, she does squats or jumping jacks or whatever alternate she comes up with to keep her heart rate up and keep moving. When we have a water break, she always hands me my bottle if she reached it first. She's offered to share her towel when I've forgotten mine. She always hugs me and tells me she loves me before we split off to our individual cars at the end of the night. I love her too, and I'm so glad she's my friend.
There ya go, Disney. I wrote the SHIT out of this blog. It's because I'm strong. ;)