Insanity = Improvement

It seems like every day someone asks me how my exercising is going.  So, it seems only fair to update everyone on my progress.  So without further ado, here's a super dorky spreadsheet, complete with formulas!

 

As you can see, I improved in nearly every exercise, which is good.  We have kind of tapered off from 6 times a week to 3 or 4 with Rachel working late a few times a week and unplanned weekend trips and what not, but all in all I'm pretty pleased with the results.  A few other observations:

• It never gets easier.  You just do more in the allotted time, so you're just as gassed.  I was doing carpet angels and dry heaves tonight just like I was that first night.
• Rachel is light years ahead of me.  I showed bigger percentage gains in some exercises, but she's doubling me in terms of reps most of the time.  My wife is awesome.
•  Two year olds make great trainers.  I think I heard "Why you stop, Daddy?" and "You're supposed to keep going!" multiple times tonight.

  

Good Idea, Bad Execution

Thought we had turned a corner in our passive potty training yesterday.  Jonah announced to us that he had to pee, and that he wanted to do it in the potty.  So I converted his Elmo potty chair into a stool, helped him get his diaper off and stood him up in front of the toilet.  "I want Cheerios," he says.  Great!  We throw some cereal in the water so he's got something to aim at. 

Nothing happens.

A minute goes by.  Jonah's standing tall, holding his shirt out of harms way, as happy as can be.  "You still gotta go?" I ask.  He nods, as if it were a dumb question.  Thinking maybe he's got a bit of the stage fright that his father has, I say "well ok buddy, I'm going to go ahead and unpack, let me know if you need anything." 

A few more minutes go by with nothing but silence coming from the bathroom.  At this point, Rachel and I are a little curious, but impressed with his patience.  I peek in there and he's as still as a statue, staring intently at the water in the bowl.

A few moments later, Jonah yells "I did it!"  We go running in to congratulate him, only to find him standing there smiling, with a baseball sized turd on the floor behind him.

"Clean it up!" he says happily.

Well, ok then.

....but the world still goes around and round

• Just saw the headline "Economy worries push stocks lower."  Really?  The economy is bad?  Who knew!  I just picture the people at the stock exchange going to work every morning and reading a report that says "home sales drop by 2%,"  spitting their coffee all over themselves and yelling "SELL!  SELL!" to anyone within earshot.  The next day, they read a report that says "jobless claims drop by 2,500 over same period last year," spitting their coffee all over themselves and yelling "BUY! BUY!" to anyone within earshot.  The whole system seems hellbent on overreaction.  I know there's people far smarter than me that understand this better, but it just seems like if everyone put a steady stream of money into the stock market, everyone would benefit.  The companies would have additional streams of cash to operate with, thereby growing the economy, thereby raising the value of our investments.  Instead, everyone's trying to "get over" on everyone else, and we all end up taking it in the shorts.  What a bizarre system.
• Being a good husband is hard.  Rachel and I have an agreement about our netflix account.  Anytime she wants a movie, it automatically goes right to the top of the queue.  (sidenote, is there a cooler word than queue?  I don't think so).  The other night we got the film adaptation of Nicholas Sparks' novel "The Last Song," starring Miley Cyrus, Greg Kinnear and some anonymous good looking dude.  I figure watching a chick flick every now and then can't hurt me, and could only score me some bonus points.  Wrong.  So, so wrong.  I can't watch these movies without making some sort of noise during the sappy love parts.  A chortled laugh here, a "Really?" there, and I've sent all the goodwill I may have earned by watching the movie up in smoke.  I really believe that it's a miracle that any relationship works, to say nothing of my own. 
• Insanity is frustrating as hell.  Right now my body's just not strong enough to get any benefit out of it.  I'm starting to get a little more stamina, not having to take as many breaks, but the workout is so damn hard that my body just physically can't do all the switch kicks and push-up jacks that the workout requires, despite having the cardiovascular ability to go on.  As a result, I feel like it's going to be quite a while before I start to see big results.  I definitely feel better and have more energy, but the weight loss/body sculpting portion just isn't there yet, not that I'm ever going to be an underwear model (dear god, that even grosses me out).
• The other day, I was having trouble getting Jonah to leave daycare because he was playing Mariokart on the Wii with the other kids.  I had just resorted to threatening a time-out when our daycare provider offered to let Jonah borrow the game for a few days.  I'm trying to tell her that's not necessary, but Jonah is immediately going "See Dad, Malea said so!"  Where in God's name to two year olds learn to argue so effectively?  How do I argue with "you said I could play Wii at home, and Malea says it's alright to borrow the game, so why can't we just do it?"  I was just about to employ the classic parenting line of "Because I said so!" but I couldn't bring myself to do it because I always hated that response.  I always thought it was a cop out by your parents because they didn't want to do something that you did.  I was right, but at least now I understand why.  Parenting makes a lot more sense when you're the parent, I'll tell you that much.

The Night my Life Became a Sitcom

Last night was pretty quiet around Hickory Hills.  Jonah, who decided against an afternoon nap, passed out around six thirty and slept straight through the night until seven this morning.  That allowed Rachel and I to get our Insanity on.  Well, Rachel got her Insanity on.  I was doubled over by the couch, trying not to dry heave.  In high school, I once ran a six minute mile fifteen minutes after finishing a supersized double quarter pounder meal at McDonalds.  Yesterday, the chicken mango sausages I had for lunch were still affecting my performance six hours later.  Salads and PB&J for lunch for me for the forseeable future.  I gave myself an F for last night's workout.  Have to pick it up tonight, especially because tonight's workout is titled "Pure Cardio" and it just about put me in a coma on Saturday. 

Anyways, I also ended up watching two episodes of Melissa and Joey on ABC Family, starring Melissa Joan Hart and Joey Lawrence.  Watching it is almost like going back in time about 17 years.  The show comedy style is exactly like a TGIF show from the early 90's.......a non-traditional family struggles with everyday life issues by zinging each other with lame one-liners and catch phrases.  The only difference is that the jokes are much racier in nature.  There were jokes about 15 year old drinking, penis size (Joey says something about needing to get his "inches" back during a TV discussion), and a whole lot of "Melissa needs to get laid" references.  Really, I had to watch just because of MJH.  She was one of the original members of my "five celebrities I get a free pass to hook up with" list, joining Alyssa Milano, Lila McCann, Elisa Donovan, and a pre "trashy as I wanna be" Christina Aguilera around 1999.  To be honest, it was kind of nice to watch a show that didn't require you to watch the previous episode to know what was going on, and really didn't require you to pay attention.  TV watching has become increasingly cerebral, where even comedies such as How I Met Your Mother refer to a five minute segment from three seasons ago during episodes, which can confuse even people who have all the seasons on DVD.

Around 8:30 Rachel called it a night, leaving me with about three hours of time to kill before I was tired.  This is about the time that my night turned into an episode of crummy comedy show.  About 9pm, I'm watching and episode of Lost when I hear bagpipe music.  At first I thought it was part of the show...some obscure reference to something that only super-geeks would pick up on.  I paused the show, but the bag piping continued.  Trying to figure out where it was coming from, I went to the front window and looked up and down the street to see if I could find the kilted madman who was wailing away.  Then, and suddenly as it began, the eerie wail of the pipes is gone.  As my eyes scan back down the street, a light comes on at the neighbors house, and I can see a silhouette of a woman fresh out of the shower toweling off through the white window shade of her window.  Here I am peeking through the blinds of my house like some sort of pervert.  The only thing missing at this point was Rachel walking silently up behind me and asking me what the hell I was doing, as I get all flustered, grabbing the blinds and pulling them off the window as I crumple to the ground to the sound of canned laughter while saying "it's not what you think!  There was a bagpiper!"  If that's not a scene from an episode of a prime time sitcom from the '90's, I don't know what is. 

Also, I need to give myself a big pat on the back for finally back loading every blog post I've ever written into this blog. You can now read about the past six and half years or so of my life. Some of it's good, most of it is crap, but enjoy. And please don't hold something I may have said five years ago against me. There's a statute of limitations on blog banter. My only regret is that I didn't start this blogging thing when I first got to college. The writing would've been much worse, but the stories would've been much better. My real hope is that someday Jonah (and any future children of mine) will someday be interested in what my life was like before they were born and want to read this. Or maybe my grandkids, if the Internet is still around at that point.

Sure is a Monday

I did the math this morning, and I figured out that over four years of my life have been Mondays.  No matter how many Mondays I have, I'm never prepared.  I invariably wake up late, forget something, or Monday pulls a Monday and ambushes me with something rough.  Today was no exception.

I woke up on time alright, but Jonah did not.  He had a rough time sleeping last night (he woke up numerous times and in a whiny voice announced that he was tired and went right back to sleep) and was extremely resistant to waking up.  He even went so far as to get out of bed, turn the light off, then march back to bed and get under his blanket.  I finally got him dressed, at which point he told me he didn't want to wear shoes.  I said that was fine and he could take them to daycare with him.  He then proceeded to get upset that I had put his milk in the wrong sippy cup (apparently I didn't get the official memo letting me know that he would be using his "Cars" sippy today and not his dinosaur one).  Once I got that situation corrected, it was off to the car and to daycare. 

About halfway there, I realize that I left Jonah's shoes sitting by the front door.  So he's Shoeless Jonah today.  Fortunately he's two, and shoes aren't an essential clothing item at this stage of his life.  Around the same time I realized this, Jonah starts crying.  I ask him what's wrong.

"I want Panda!" he says through the sobs.
I realize that we're about to drive by Panda Express.
"Really?  You want Panda Express for breakfast?"
"Yes Daddy!  I want Panda!"
"Jonah buddy, Panda's closed."
"No it's not, Daddy!"
"Jonah, yes it is.  They don't serve breakfast."
"Yes they do, Daddy!"
This continued all the way to daycare, where he refused to get out of his carseat.  Tomorrow I think we'll be stopping at Panda on the way so he can see that, in fact, they do not serve breakfast.

I was also irritated when I logged onto CNN and found that "Studies show that homesickness has nothing to do with your home or where you live, but more to do with feeling loved and safe."  So, you know, missing home.  Also found in the study were that while 8 and 18 year olds might have the same physiological reactions to homesickness, 18 year olds can cope with it better.  So infuriating.  Here's the link

In other news, I'm still on the Insanity program.  Rachel and I took our day off on Friday rather than Sunday, which meant working out yesterday.  My legs are starting to get used to the workout, and I don't walk like a ninety year old anymore.  I have more of that feeling where I can start to feel the burn by the time I get to the top of the stairs soreness than the 'someone is stabbing me in the quadricep with every step' pain.  In any event, the workout yesterday was the same one I wrote the blog about last week, and was much easier.  By easier, I mean I could almost do 3/4ths of the exercises, rather than half.  In discouraging news, the Wii informed me this morning that I've gained four pounds since starting Insanity.  Not sure how that's even possible.  I keep telling myself that it's all the extra water I've been drinking to stay hydrated, or that I've just started adding muscle mass, but who knows. 

We ended up at the beach this weekend in an attempt to beat the heat.  Worked wonderfully, as it was only about 58 degrees in Lincoln City.  During a walk on the beach Sunday, Rachel and I tried to teach Jonah his full name and city, in case he ever found himself separated from us.  We succeeded in the fact that if he's ever lost in a store or an event setting and they announce they found a kid on the P.A. system, we'll know it's our kid. 

Unfortunately, Jonah thinks his name is Jonah Buzz Lightyear Gazelle, from Sideswipe, Oregon. 

Maybe you could claim him for us.

Get Fit or Get Dead

My wife is one of the most practical people ever to grace this planet.  Our grocery store trips are based on what coupons come in the mail that week.  She refuses to do any maintenance on the cars other than oil changes.  She'll go to Kohl's or Target, see something she wants, then come home and think about it for two days.  Then she'll buy it but won't take the tag off for another few days just to make sure she's happy with it.  Then she'll probably return it because she saw something similar on sale for cheaper at Target.  If we don't need it, we don't buy it.  If we buy it and realize later on we don't need it, we don't keep it.  We sell it on craigslist for a profit.  We really couldn't be more opposite.  She's a saver, I'm a spender.  I'm impulsive, she's pragmatic.  This is why I don't spend one dollar without running it by her first.  One time I went out and bought a new HDMI cord for the TV.  Guy at radio shack told me it was the one to get....cost me $90.  When I heard the price, I whistled and said "well this is going to be fun to explain to my wife."  The clerk says "Trust me, play a DVD without it, then plug this baby in, and she'll be sold."  I said "Buddy, obviously you don't know my wife."  By the time I got home, Rachel had already reviewed our checking account, saw what I spent and was already on the Wal Mart website finding a $30 cord that worked just as well. 

So imagine my surprise when a few weeks ago I come home from work and Rachel says "I just saw an infomercial, we HAVE to buy this!"  That's probably the least likely sentence to come out of Rachel's mouth, narrowly edging out "Have fun at the casino, just don't tell me what you lost because I don't want to know."  I was then sent to the TV to scan channels for this infomercial.  The infomercial?  INSANITY.  A sixty day exercise program designed to "get you in the best shape of your life."  I'm watching this infomercial, as people in way better shape than I am are sweating profusely and making faces like they're giving birth to a twelve pound baby without the aid of anesthesia.  Meanwhile, a voiceover guy is saying things like "IF YOU DON'T MIND WORKING OUT IN A POOL OF YOUR OWN SWEAT, THEN THIS IS THE WORKOUT FOR YOU."  I watched the full 30 minute infomercial, and all I could think was "This looks like a lot of pushups and jumping." 

Rachel in the meantime was ready go three rounds with a grizzly bear.  "Doesn't that just look awesome?  I'm so excited to push myself like that!"  Actually no, honey, it does not look awesome.  It looks painful.   And it costs $120 plus shipping and handling.  This was not the practical, pragmatic girl I married.  This was a sweat-thirsty rabid badger hell bent on rocking washerboard style abs in sixty days. 

I don't know how it works in other people's relationships, but when Rachel gets that look, I just go with it.  We started scouring craigslist trying to find this 13 DVD festival of pain.  I finally found a guy selling it for $80, was able to talk him down to $70 and even got him to bring it to us, so that was great.  Last night, we opened it up and took the "baseline fitness test" which is basically a couple exercises you do to measure your current fitness levels, then do again every two weeks to track your progress. 

Before the test comes on, there's a disclaimer that basically says "Look, we're not messing around.  Talk to your doctor before starting this.  If you're not in decent shape already, buy another fitness tape before starting this one.  If at any time you feel dizzy, stop immediately.  Seriously, you might die if you do this."

Then it was time fore the test.  Shaun T. our host for this joyride, is one of those super in shape guys that probably owns one shirt that he wears to church.  The rest of the time, he walks around shirtless.  Every exercise is one minute of as many reps as you can do.  We start by doing judo style kicks.  After our one minute, we get about a minute off to record our numbers.  I'm already dying.  Rachel's writing down our counts and Shaun T. is saying "Tonya here just did 45, how many did you do?"  I'm about to tell Rachel I did 25, when she says "I must've counted wrong.  I got 58."  She didn't count wrong.  She's just a beast.  This continues to go along with Rachel powering through every exercise and me thinking "Save a spot at the table for me God, I'll be there for dinner." 

25 painful minutes later, we're all done.  Shaun T's telling us to stand up and make large, slow circles with our arms to cool down.  I'm lying in the prone position on the floor making carpet angels staring at the ceiling through eyes stinging with sweat.  Rachel's laughing like some sort of evil genius who has finally gotten the best of the superhero.  Then she says "I'm not sure I can do this with you....you sound like an elephant when you do pushups."  Thanks honey.  I really appreciate that.  I try to say something along the lines of "because this workout uses your own body weight as resistance, you realize I'm doing over twice the work of your skinny ass, dear" but all that comes out of my mouth is "F you, I'm fat." 

Anyways, if I don't die, there's no way I won't be in better shape by the end of these two months.  My legs are more tired today than they are after an hour on the elliptical or a 4 mile run.  Technically the program is supposed to be six straight days, with a day off on Sunday, so guess what?  We're doing the damn fit test again tonight to get on track. 

Oh joy.

Random Rant of the Day

It never fails to amaze me the money we as a society waste on studies.  All the time I come across articles on the web citing a "new study" that shows something blatantly obvious.  Like this one about women buying sexier clothes while ovulating.  Really?  When your hormones are going nuts, you're more likely to do something sexy?  This is like saying "Women more likely to engage in sexual activity while drunk" or "Men most likely to engage in life threatening danger between the ages of 18-24.  We paid scientists actual money to study these things?  Why?  Why do we need to confirm something that's basic knowledge? 

Also frustrating is the study that finds something obvious, but attributes it to a byproduct.  Something like "Video Game Playing linked to Obesity."  The study will go on to show that kids who play 4 hours of video games a day are 25 times more likely to be obese than kids who play for 30 minutes or less.  The video game has nothing to do with the chubbiness, the sitting inside and not engaging in outdoor activities has everything to do with it.  I hate studies like that.  Don't blame video games for your kid being fat, blame the fact that he's too lazy to pick up a basketball and go play a game of horse with the skinny kid down the street. 

This ends my rant of the day.  I feel much better now.