Lazy

I've been doing the gym thing now for eight weeks now, going on nine. I'm one lazy bastard. I really and truly am. I am sedentary. So this actually is a big deal for me.

I wasn't fat going into this commitment, but I certainly was in poor shape. I was given a full work-up and learned I was as unhealthy as I had suspected I was. Very exciting. Validation at its worst. My measurements were taken and I was weighed, my endurance and flexibility catalogued. And interestingly they did this ultrasound-type thingy to measure my muscle/fat density. I was squishy.

There's the foundation program you start out with to get used to working out, get some sort of base ability, and then after that they work on building your muscle. This makes you more able to sustain the exercise to lose weight and such. I don't need to lose a lot, really. But I certainly wouldn't mind five fewer pounds on my frame.

I've noticed some differences. One, I'm stronger. My shoulders, thighs, arms and butt are looking firmer and mildly leaner. My sides are a little trimmer looking, but again, it's mostly increased firmness. My abdomen, though, is my cross to bear. The pebble in my shoe. The ant in my picnic. IBS, man. The constant bloat I sport means almost constant distention. And I know it's distention because a colonic deflates that bad boy and I get to experience normalcy for a short while and enjoy the lovely flatness of stomach happiness. Then I eat something that tastes good or I have a bad day and boom. Like there's a balloon in my tummy.

I'm signed up for six months. I have four and a half months left to go. I could have signed up for a year, but something stopped me. I think because eventually I'm going to scale us back a lot to prepare our finances for a baby. But who knows. Maybe I'll keep it up. Getting in better shape has been a 2012 goal of sorts. No reason I can't try to maintain it.

My other goal, my book, is at 45,000 words. I'm doing a lot of editing right now, reworking sentences, making foreshadowing choices, refining the story, expanding the dialogue. Sometimes it's difficult to plough forward, and to keep invested it's nice to improve on what you've got. Sometimes my editing choices give me ideas for the next chapter, too.

But oh mercy, it's a long road. Long, long, long. The idea of finished strikes me as this wild fantasy. I have no idea how that will feel. Will feel, not would feel. This is definitely happening.

Groupon Staycation

I am taking a Relaxation Staycation next month. For two weeks in mid-March, I will be using spa-related Groupons to chill out all over the city. So far I have three: a facial, foot reflexology and a pedicure. Way I see it, if I can get a massage, a manicure and something else delightful I'm set to go.

I've been Grouponing it up as of late. I'm pretty sure the company's going to go under soon enough, so best to get as much use of it while I can. I bought 12 training sessions at The Motion Room for something like $39. You make an appointment to train in a small group, get personal attention from someone to show you how to do the exercises right and ensures you don't slack off. For someone as lazy and undisciplined as myself, this suits my needs. I've had three classes and two were great.

The first one was awful, but that wasn't their fault. I was backed up a la IBS and after 20 minutes, my abdomen was doing clenching agonizing waves and I thought I would puke. I lost all the colour in my face, which is quite something because I have so little, and staff rushed over to me. I had to sit, and because I was shaky from exercise, my hands were rattling as I reached for water. Because I was nauseas I couldn't articulate very well, and due to embarrassment I could only manage cryptic explanations.

They took my blood pressure, which was normal, and I went home feeling ridiculous. Half a bottle of Citro-Mag later and I was ready to try again. I've been sore, which is good, and I think the remaining nine workouts are going to go well. I'm seriously considering making a commitment to this place. I respond well to programs that build in accountability. I can't be trusted to exercise entirely on my own.

But back to the Staycation, I sort of accumulated a glut of vacation time. I was earning three weeks a year and taking about two, which caused the days to pile up. My company changed hands, which altered the vacation tally and suddenly I had something like seven weeks to take. And now I'm earning four weeks a year, so if I don't get on this, I'm going to have more time than I'll be able to manage taking. And what's the point of having the days if you don't use them?

I took a week before my wedding, a week at Christmas and a week for the honeymoon. And still I was swimming in time off and for some reason wasn't taking it. And that's just silly. But what's pretty cool is that not since school have I had two weeks off for vacation. I'm seriously looking forward to this. My last year in my 20s is a great time to take a rejuvenating break. And frankly, a good time to get in shape. And if I finish my book (30,000 words, y'all!) then I'll have really entered my 30s with a real bang, and good health to boot.

I'll blog about my Relaxation Staycation when it happens in less than a month (squee!)

Oh, and quite randomly, here is a picture of my hair. It's not been shampooed since I got it coloured back in February, and I often only use hot water now, with only occasional use of Priya Means Love or baking soda and apple cidar vinegar. I'll make a more in-depth entry about that soon:

It's seriously never been this healthy before.

Hot Yoga: Sweat Bath of the Ages

I did hot yoga yesterday. I was effing drenched in ways and places I never knew was possible.

So I get there 20 minutes early, thinking I should sign up, change, stretch, blah blah blah. First step into the studio I was hit by a wave of humidity. The working conditions of the reception area struck me as a type of hell. But I was determined.

So I change and go into the classroom 10 minutes early and holy Christ on a bike, it was even hotter. I suddenly question my decision and kick myself for coming so early because now I'm stuck in this room longer than I have to be.

There's this guy in there about 60 years old with a body that looks like it means some lean angry business. You know when you see a young beefcake and he kind of looks bloated and puffed up? Like if he stops working out for a week he'll deflate? These muscles on this older guy were mature looking, the kind you can only imagine from long-term constant reliable use. These muscles were a lifetime in the making. He was bald, topless and looked like he'll probably live another 40 years.

So eventually others file in and the instructor arrives and points out I'm a newcomer and that I should just try to stay in the room, if I can manage it. So I'm thinking WTF and then she tells me I might get faint or nauseous. Well fuck.

So we do these deep breath stretches, and I don't who who else is aware of this, but breathing in humid hot air is a damn chore. It's hard, man. Like I could not do it. This is just the initial breathing, too. I had trouble with the breathing part.

So I'm looking over at the older guy, who resembles a more badass version of Mr. Clean, and he's already beading up a sweaty storm. I'm definitely damp and clammy at this point, but this guy's really melting like a snowman.

After several poses, I want a drink of water and I'm told I'm not allowed yet. No, we have to finish this one pose before we drink anything. Well.

So around the hour mark (and this is a 90-minute class) we finally get to sit down. I am soaking in my own juices. My hair looks like it is trying to abandon ship and each strand is every woman for herself. I look down at my legs and not only do they remind me of under ripe strawberries, but I can actually see water seeping out of the pores. I feel the unsettling sensation of water dripping all over my body without having had any water poured on me. I look over at Mr. Clean and a steady stream of sweat is literally trickling onto his towel.

During various poses sweat dribbles into my mouth and up my nose. My clothes are wet and heavy. And finally with 15 minutes to go I allow myself to collapse, where I lay on the ground and just ride the rest of the class out.

Leaving the class into the slightly less humid reception room was refreshing, peeling off my sopping clothes was a relief, the shower felt incredible. When I finally left the studio I couldn't even handle how good I felt. And suddenly the whole hot yoga thing made sense. You don't go for the actual yoga, you go for how you feel afterward.

In my still clammy and sweaty glory men were checking me out en route home, I slept like a baby at a reasonable hour and got up feeling refreshed at a normal time. The Dude told me I was glowing today.

So frig. Do I, as an adult, take up a hellish activity for the benefits? Or do I quit after one class and feel guilty every time I walk past the studio on the way for ice cream?

Time will tell, I suppose.