Thursday, December 14, 2006
Goin’ Crazy (oooh… From the Heat)
Do you know what flamboyant singer penned that song? The answer will be at the bottom. Cuz I know it would ruin your day if I told you now. Anyway, I must be crazy. My sister has convinced me to compete in the Chicago Triathlon in August. Crazier still is that I think I want to do the International version (1.5K swim, 40K bike, and 10K run) as opposed to the Sprint version (approximately half those distances).
For those unfamiliar with me, I’m a short (5’7” on a good day), overweight (pushing 200 pounds) person who hasn’t been involved in too much athletic activity lately. Unless you consider Beer Pong or Baby Wrangling athletic activities. And so in 8 months, I’m hoping to be able to compete in a triathlon. I must be crazy.
Well, yes and no. Shortly before I met The Wife, I was in pretty good shape. I got my weight down to 170 pounds, which is probably my theoretical limit. Oddly enough, that makes me obese, according to the Body Mass Index (BMI). Of course, according to the BMI, so is Arnold Schwarzenegger. Not that I look anything like Arnold. (I don’t have a gap in my teeth. Otherwise, it’s pretty close.)
I’m starting to get uncomfortable with my weight. I’ve hit that awkward point where I have to go up in pant size. Nobody likes going up in pant size. The Wife hated doing it when she was PREGNANT! She had a perfectly legitimate reason and she still hated it. It’s a just one of those signs of defeat, when you admit that you’d rather buy a whole new wardrobe to be comfortable than get on the treadmill for 30 minutes a day. (Of course, that doesn’t apply for pregnant women, but you get the point.)
And so I’ve decided that, yes, I will indeed get on that metaphoric (and literal) treadmill. As it so happens, we managed to amass enough Thank You points through our credit card to get an elliptical machine. So I’ve been spending some time at night working out. And I’ve been going back to Bally’s to lift weights in the morning, which has been quite painful. Not so much the weight lifting as the waking up at 5:00 a.m. And apparently, my waking up also triggers the dog to wake up. And she goes absolutely nuts because she realizes she’s been holding her pee for like 7 whole hours. (“Oh my god I have to go I have to go I have to go now!”) She goes flying down the stairs and generally creating a ruckus. According to The Wife, I walk kind of heavy too. So it’s probably not a shocker than when I wake up, Luke wakes up not too long after me. You can imagine how happy this makes The Wife, especially now that she’s 7 months pregnant and has trouble sleeping at night.
Despite working out a lot more right now, I’m still gaining weight. It might have something to do with all the cookies I’ve been eating. (Hey, I’ve been working out. I EARNED those cookies.) My goal, though, is to get down into the 180’s by March, when I’ll start formally training for the Triathlon. I’d like to be around 170 when I actually compete. I’m pretty sure that none of you really care about how much I weigh right now, but I’m hoping that by putting this in my blog, it’ll motivate me to keep on exercising. Though more than likely, I’ll get bored with it sometime next week and just start another crazy vegetarian diet.
(By the way, the singer is David Lee Roth.)
For those unfamiliar with me, I’m a short (5’7” on a good day), overweight (pushing 200 pounds) person who hasn’t been involved in too much athletic activity lately. Unless you consider Beer Pong or Baby Wrangling athletic activities. And so in 8 months, I’m hoping to be able to compete in a triathlon. I must be crazy.
Well, yes and no. Shortly before I met The Wife, I was in pretty good shape. I got my weight down to 170 pounds, which is probably my theoretical limit. Oddly enough, that makes me obese, according to the Body Mass Index (BMI). Of course, according to the BMI, so is Arnold Schwarzenegger. Not that I look anything like Arnold. (I don’t have a gap in my teeth. Otherwise, it’s pretty close.)
I’m starting to get uncomfortable with my weight. I’ve hit that awkward point where I have to go up in pant size. Nobody likes going up in pant size. The Wife hated doing it when she was PREGNANT! She had a perfectly legitimate reason and she still hated it. It’s a just one of those signs of defeat, when you admit that you’d rather buy a whole new wardrobe to be comfortable than get on the treadmill for 30 minutes a day. (Of course, that doesn’t apply for pregnant women, but you get the point.)
And so I’ve decided that, yes, I will indeed get on that metaphoric (and literal) treadmill. As it so happens, we managed to amass enough Thank You points through our credit card to get an elliptical machine. So I’ve been spending some time at night working out. And I’ve been going back to Bally’s to lift weights in the morning, which has been quite painful. Not so much the weight lifting as the waking up at 5:00 a.m. And apparently, my waking up also triggers the dog to wake up. And she goes absolutely nuts because she realizes she’s been holding her pee for like 7 whole hours. (“Oh my god I have to go I have to go I have to go now!”) She goes flying down the stairs and generally creating a ruckus. According to The Wife, I walk kind of heavy too. So it’s probably not a shocker than when I wake up, Luke wakes up not too long after me. You can imagine how happy this makes The Wife, especially now that she’s 7 months pregnant and has trouble sleeping at night.
Despite working out a lot more right now, I’m still gaining weight. It might have something to do with all the cookies I’ve been eating. (Hey, I’ve been working out. I EARNED those cookies.) My goal, though, is to get down into the 180’s by March, when I’ll start formally training for the Triathlon. I’d like to be around 170 when I actually compete. I’m pretty sure that none of you really care about how much I weigh right now, but I’m hoping that by putting this in my blog, it’ll motivate me to keep on exercising. Though more than likely, I’ll get bored with it sometime next week and just start another crazy vegetarian diet.
(By the way, the singer is David Lee Roth.)
