First Degree Murder

Totally guilty.  Book me, Dan-o, because I JUST KILLED MY WORKOUT.  That was the hardest I have worked since before my marathon.  Go ahead, ask me how I feel.  FAN-F#$KIN'-TASTIC.  I haven't felt that way since before my marathon either.  Because I have also been guilty of...*gasp*...slacking.

Yes, even me.  I slack.  I have slacked.  I was slacking.  I hate to admit it or say it out loud, but it's true.  I lost that workout focus, even with the Spartan looming ever closer and my QiDance debut coming up.  Not only was I not pushing myself as hard, I was allowing my diet to creep dangerously close to its old menu.  And I'm supposed to be setting the example, right?  Bad coach.  Bad, bad coach indeed. 

Thank the gods of sweat that the "coach" was already established.  Because that's what got me back here today.  That's what made me push play on two ultra challenging workouts back-to-back.  And then add in a little QiDance practice after.  Abs are on tap for later tonight (because I just know Hubby wants to do them with me).  I know people are looking to me for advice, and I can't just dish it out.  I gotta take it.  So I did.  Once again, thank you, Beachbody.  And thank you, readers and SweatItOut followers.  You have kept my muscles from goin' soft. 

And that's the other awful part: when I lessened my effort, my muscles weren't the only part of me affected.  It's like my brain went soft with relaxation.  Sounds good.  Isn't.  Instead of bangin' out goals on a daily basis, I was instead devoting more time to DVR and Zynga.  Ew.  I narrowly missed turning into a Facebook-game-playing-donut-eating mass.  If I ever invite you to a game of Farmville, you'll know something's amiss.  Thankfully, I pulled myself right outta that trap and am once again full of clarity and ass-kicking intentions.  Fair warning, I'm likely to be posting a lot more.  So if you've been missing all those opportunities to stalk my ever-changing hair, body, or workout schedules, here's your chance to catch up.  Enjoy!

Hot Enough For Ya?

I predict I will hear each of these sayings over the next two days:
"It's a real scorcher."
"Hot enough for ya?"
"It's not the heat. It's the humidity."
And I expect mulitple variations of each.  Watch for my face on the news.

Actually, I typically enjoy the heat of summer.  I will lodge my complaints when the snow starts, but for now, I'm a fairly happy gal.  I am lucky enough to have an air conditioned living room in which to get my sweat on, so no worries about dehydration, sunstroke, or just feelin' too damn hot.  Well, I'll feel too damn hot, but a completely different sort of hot.  I mean, that mirror is right in front of me the entire time and QiDance offers up some pretty sexy moves.  It's moments like these when I realize just how lucky Hubby is.

And as for the remainder of my day, when I'm not bustin' a move or curlin' a dumbbell?  I am lounging poolside (read: chasing the toddler in various loops from pool to towel to bathroom to pool to wherever the Big Kids might be playing).  For today, I have hidden four frozen bottles of water and four unfrozen bottles of water in our pool bag.  (My tirade about the pool's concession stand will commence right about...NOW.  Now that the place is open and hawking all manner of chocolate, colored sugar, ice cream, and fried meats, we are no longer permitted to bring our coolers full of fruit, veggies, water, or various other healthy items into the pool area.  They are attempting to force heart disease and obesity on us, their loyal customers year after year.  I sense a letter to the editor or a protest of some sort on the horizon.  End of tirade.)  Coolness and hydration are partnered with mulitple sunblock applications.  Because Fit Lives aren't just about working out and eating right.  It's about treating your body right ALL THE TIME.  Except for your birthday when there's chocolate cake and it's the really good kind.  Then you can treat your soul.

But you...You runners, you walkers, you bikers...I count myself amongst you, just not today, or tomorrow for that matter.  I saw enough racers taking the ambulance ride during my marathon for the reality of dehydration to hit home.  Please tell me you're downing the water like it's...well...water.  Please tell me you're slathering on the sunblock and wearing your ventilated hats and wraparound sunglasses.  I worry about you.  Without you, who would read my blog?  So take care of yourselves out there, ya little crazies.  Keep it short, keep it easy, and try to keep it cool.