A Picture is Worth a Thousand Pounds

I still step on the scale nearly every morning.  Call it curiousity, call it habit.  I sometimes still feel that initial prick of irritation at the numbers' refusal to lower, but it's pretty easy to kick that downer to the curb.  And this is what I always want to tell people when they start their own fitness journeys.  STEP AWAY FROM THE SCALE.  Picture me holding a tape measure instead of a badge and a camera instead of a gun.  Because really, those are far better measures of progress. 

Depending on your starting point, yes, I get it.  Pounds can be pretty important and an easy tracker.  They were for me, too.  I dropped over ten pounds in my first round of TurboFire.  Even better, I dropped from maternity clothes to a size 8.  Even better, my arms went from flab to FAB.  Even BETTER, I went from schlepping through life to racing through my goals. 

Which is good, because those numbers on the scale stopped dropping midway through ChaLEAN Extreme.  I got angry, frustrated.  Then I realized I was in a size 6.  Muscles were forming and they just take up less room than fat.  A pound of muscle weighs the same as a pound of fat - it just looks a hell of lot sexier and fits into far cuter clothing.  True story.

It's an ongoing battle with me - what is actually happening versus what I thought when I was younger and far less knowledgable (and also certain that I was immortal).  I was always concerned with poundage and convinced that was the ultimate key in what I was trying to achieve.  But I was also convinced that tanning was a "healthy look" and cigarettes had no effect on my skin, let alone the rest of my carcinogen-racked body.  Oh, to be young and stupid...No thanks. 

Luckily, my brain has settled into FitLife Truths and only requires a spanking every now and again.  I still have those moments of basking in the sun and thinking "I could get some good color today" before I give myself a little mental ear pulling and admonishing.  And I still have those moments when I read the numbers on the scale and put one foot over the edge of the Grand Panic Canyon.  You know that canyon; it's filled with things like the Atkins Diet, Thighmasters, and ShakeWeights.  I don't sightsee there anymore, though.  Which is good, because I'd be a fat and miserable bitch.

Me, 1/17/12

Me, 7/31/12

In my not-even-close-to-humble opinion, the two best ways to track your ACTUAL progress are photos in which you wear as little clothing as possible while still being able to share them with others and monitoring how you feel.  I am a HUGE proponent of the Before&After Pics.  They grant you amazing bragging rights and help keep you in check when you wanna go into that ScaleRemainsTheSame tailspin. 

Now the other - how you feel - is incredibly subjective, isn't it? But let me share this incredibly fascinating tidbit with you: I can bust through Insanity workouts in ways I couldn't just weeks ago.  No lie.  When I began this program, I wanted to vomit and had to take breaks with nearly every move.  The first time I did Pure Cardio and realized there are NO SCHEDULED BREAKS I thought I might die in a puddle of my own sweat and tears.

Today, I did EVERY SINGLE MOVE.  And I did the majority of them without ANY BREAK AT ALL.  Now that, friends, is progress.  Slice it any way you want, I am stronger today than I was four weeks ago.  I am stronger today than I was YESTERDAY.  Who the fuck cares how much I weigh?  Not this FitGal.  And if you do, I double dog dare you to tell me...

So yes, I'll grant you the pounds lost when you're just starting out.  But when the plateau hits - and it will - I will not pat your back or hand you a Kleenex.  I will roll my eyes and tell you to grab the tape measure, go shopping and try on a new size, and for the love of all that is sweaty (mmmm...Shaun T's chest....what were we talking about again?) - TAKE A PICTURE.  It's worth a thousand pounds.

Selling Point

What's life like after the Spartan Race, you ask?

Much the same. Awesome.

The SweatItOut Screamin' Spartans are already training for 2013.  I am on Day 3 of the Let's Get Crazy Insanity Challenge Group.  Hubby is on Day 3 of his P90X Challenge Group, Horton's Heroes.  I am setting up next month's Chalene Johnson Challenge Group.

And it's time to start training for the Runner's World Trifecta in October.

Why? Because I love it.  It makes me feel good, mentally and physically.  This is my raison d'etre.  Well, this and So You Think You Can Dance.  And only one of those will change when How I Met Your Mother comes back for another season.  I am fully entrenched and committed to this lifestyle.

Do you know that when I walk in my closet now, I no longer run my fingers over clothes that I wish I could wear?  Everything fits now.  There is no desperate search, no trying on and rejecting, no sweaty, tear-filled proclamation that "I have nothing to wear!"  (Shoes, slightly different.  Although I recently decided to not care what anyone else thought of my missing toenails.  I'm a runner and an athlete.  If you can pull your eyes away from these abs and biceps to look at my toes, have at it.)

I don't feel guilty when I eat the occasional treat anymore.  Even when it's more than occasional.  Because I know I'm going to kick my own ass in to a gear so high, not even a wedge of chocolate cake will have time to settle in.  Of course, my body typically craves fruits and veggies and fish now, so treats have changed. 

Last summer, I searched for board shorts and capris.  This summer, I found myself shopping amongst the "shortie shorts," as my daughter and I call them.  These quad muscles are too fierce to hide away.  I would be sad when fall comes if I didn't know that my newer, higher butt was going to look oustanding in some new jeans. 

Join me, won't you?  You know where to find me by now (Facebook, Team Beachbody, hotmail, twitter, linkedin...).  Challenge group or no challenge group, you still get me.  And there's my selling point.