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Month: March 2017

Fat Girl Diaries – Chapter Two: The OTF Trial

Posted on March 28, 2017 Leave a Comment

I wish I would’ve kept notes when I first started OTF.  It’s now been a little over two years so of course, I’m unable to remember everything.  Thankfully their web site tells me when I started … March 2, 2015 at FIVE AM.  Yowza.  Should burn some extra calories at that time of day, just saying.  Or get some free gear, I dunno.

I got to the OTF studio early, as requested (so, even EARLIER than 5AM … this was obviously very well thought out on my part).  Filled out the necessary paperwork (who to contact in the event I keel over, or drop a dumbbell on my head – my greatest fear is that I’m going to do that one day – the dumbbell part, not the dying), and got strapped up to a heart monitor.  Was introduced to the head trainer, Gina – who led me into the studio for my introduction into how it all worked.

She explained that as far as the treadmill was concerned, she would coach me (and the others) when to go from base pace (“challenging, but doable” <<I totally read that in Gina’s voice, it’s imprinted into my brain at this point) to a “push pace” to an “all out”.  I confirmed and ascertained at this point that I would be of the “power walker” variety of treads, and not a “jogger-runner” (me + running = NO).  The treadmill didn’t scare me.  Yet.  Little did I know “push” and “all out” for power walkers equals incline.  YAY INCLINES!

Next up was the rowers, which I was looking forward to in a weird sort of way (spoiler alert:  hated it).  Figured out how to get my feet into (and more importantly, out of) the footplates, and got a demonstration of proper rowing technique.  Gina also explained the weight area, where she’d demonstrate the day’s exercises for everyone, then be available to help as needed.

So back into the lobby, waiting for class to officially start with the rest … “Half on the rowers, half on the treads, let’s go!”

I chose to start on the rower.  If you start on the rower, you warm up for a few minutes then head to the weights.  Thought if I did treadmill first, I might burn my legs out for anything that followed.  Turns out, you can burn your legs out in the weight room before you hit the treadmill.  Who knew?

The idea with OTF strength exercises is the trainer sets you up with 2-3 exercises (sometimes more, depending on the length of the block), a rep count for each, and a goal to run through all exercises/reps at least twice in the time allotted.  Sometimes with some rowing torture thrown in for fun (1000m+ rows … YAY ROWING!)  I’m pretty sure on day one I did get through all of the exercises … at least once.  But I’m certain I didn’t hit the rep counts twice.  I remember struggling along the way, with lots of breaks (probably laying spread eagle on the floor, in a puddle of my own sweat, looking at the ceiling, asking God to save me).  And my muscles screaming at me WHAT ARE YOU DOING WOMAN.  But I did at least attempt each of the exercises, so I felt like that was a success.  I didn’t die.  Or drop dumbbells on my head for that matter.  I don’t remember every strength exercise we did that day, but I do remember V-Ups.  In part because Gina started off by saying, “I really don’t like V-Ups”.

If Glamazon muscle-y trainer woman does not like V-Ups … this does not bode well for me.

If you are unfamiliar with the V-Up, you start by laying on your back, hands above your head.  The idea is you lift your legs toward the ceiling, and then bring  your head and shoulders up to meet (sorta) your legs – so that you look like a “V” with your butt at the bottom of the “V”.  Lower shoulders and legs to the floor, repeat.

I had NEVER done core work – EVER – except for the fitness tests they made us take in grade school where you had to do sit ups, and climb a rope (which I could never do).  Oh, four hours of hard labor with Katie; I’m totally counting that (four hours straight of push ups!  BOOYAH).

Pretty sure my V Up looked nothing like a V.  Not even a U with potential.  A lower case L having a seizure, maybe, but definitely not a V.

About twenty five minutes of tortured strength training later … time to hit the treadmill.  Thank the holy heavens above.

But after V-Ups, and probably other body weight strength exercises that work the legs (squats and lunges seem to be a recurring theme at OTF), doing the treadmill is not quite so easy when you have jello legs.  Honestly, I don’t remember much about the treadmill.  I don’t remember my calorie burn or my “splat points” from that day – the whole concept of OTF is the heart monitor is wired to TVs in the studio so you can see when you hit 84% of your max heart rate – “The Orange Zone”.  Every minute in the orange zone equals one splat point, with the goal being to hit 12 splat points in the hour.  It’s interval training, though, you’re not supposed to be in the orange zone the whole time.  (Some people hit 45+ splat points during a 55-60 minute session.  Who ARE you people?  You sort of scare me.)

At the end of the trial session, I could feel every movement of the prior hour in every cell of my arms and legs.  But apparently I had enough strength left to sign up for a “10 pack” – 10 studio visits I could take at any time.  Or, maybe I was so oxygen deprived and delirious they took advantage of me, who knows.

Nah, I knew I needed to do this – but also knew I wasn’t ready to commit to a monthly membership yet.  I needed to figure out how to (a) work this into my schedule and (b) survive attending classes more than twice a week.  I also wasn’t sure what the next day was going to bring – would I even be able to get out of bed?  So I thought I’d start slow.

I will tell you that the next day … OMG.  Walking up stairs was sheer torture.  Everything hurt – I DO remember that part.  It hurt to roll over in bed.  My previously sleepy, slothy core had been rudely awakened and it was barking at me with all it had, wondering what it had done to deserve this abuse; it was still hoping for party size bags of M&Ms.  OwOwOwieOwOwOw.

So yes, I went back for more … eventually.

Posted in: Fitness | Tagged: OTF

Fat Girl Diaries – Chapter One

Posted on March 22, 2017 Leave a Comment

Two observations of late; OK maybe three.

One, it’s been way too long since I’ve written anything “fer fun”.  WAY overdue.  This is like therapy.

Two, I’ve been amazed and inspired of late. Chris and Kip the Crossfitters, Sharyl the Skinny who’s dropped over 50 pounds, Beth & Shari who are running (all.the.time!), all my mom friends finding time for Camp Gladiator. My spouse is also on my list – Skip got “the talk” from our doctor not long ago; he wasn’t in the danger zone, but was headed there.   So Skip said screw pharma (thanks, honey, did you forget where I work?), changed a few eating habits, and bought a bike.  And … another bike.  AND … a third bike.  And … the funky bike shoes, bike pants, and bike shirt.  He’s dropped 30 pounds and now gets good reports from Dr. Ferguson, so it’s all worth it.  And it’s simple, but not drastic changes – he’ll still go to Whataburger, but he foregoes the fries.  He’ll consume a diet Dr. Pepper now when he gets a craving for pop (that’s Nebraska for “soda”, BTW).  He tries to load up on veggies when he can.  And he hits the streets of Plano every nice weekend morning for a long ride.  I’m very proud of him and the positive changes he’s made (still waiting for the $10K bike to suddenly appear in the garage, though …)

Three, I know how hard that is – to lose weight or to start a new fitness program when you are so NOT athletic and you think competitive eating might be your ‘sport’.  That is me!

So, there’s some thoughts running though my head about my own weight loss and fitness journey that need to get out (they keep churning around in my head).  Who knows, maybe my path will inspire someone else.  Or, it’ll just make you laugh.  Regardless, it’s time to shut up the voice in my head and get it all out!

Diary of a Fat Girl

I was never athletic as a kid.  But I loved to eat.

Correction:  I loved to eat staggeringly crazy quantities of horrible, fattening food.

Turkey platter, loaded with fries, under an avalanche of cheese and a pound of bacon?  With a gravy boat of ranch dressing on the side?  And that’s an APPETIZER before my steak and sides arrive?  Yes, please!  Oh, you can’t finish the last ¾ of your cheesecake (even though you only had the side salad and water for lunch)?  Pass it over, sister, and as soon as I’m done licking every last schmear of whipped cream off of my own dessert plate, I’ll polish yours off, too.  Party bag size of M&Ms?  Jen, party of one.  I’ll always take the corner cake piece, especially if it’s laden down with extra icing flowers.  Cake’s sole purpose in life is to be my frosting vehicle.  Buttercream, for the record.

Now, I didn’t do this all the time – but enough.  And in between the staggering quantities of bad food, there wasn’t much good – very little by way of vegetables, fruits, or lean meats.  Lots of sandwiches, chips, burgers, fries.  Always with a Diet Coke, of course, because, well, who needs the extra sugar and calories, right?

I’m not sure when my bad eating habits started, and it’s not for lack of good food offerings at home.  Gardener Mom Sandy always had fresh tomatoes, green beans, peppers and other goodies coming out of the backyard in Omaha – and she is an awesome cook to boot – but I just wasn’t interested.  My parents would say I was picky – and they’re right.  (Hello, Karma … Katie’s just as picky, maybe worse.)

I’m sure some psychologist could have a heyday with my eating habits, but whatever.  I just ate.  I liked – and still like – to eat.

In the fourth grade, I crested both 5 feet in height and 100 pounds.  Ratio-wise, that’s not bad – but I was bigger than about everyone else in class.  And I was a dork/nerd/outcast already, so being taller and heavier than everyone else – while starting puberty to boot – was JUST.AWESOME.

High school graduation … probably about 165 and my height topped out at 5’7”.  End of freshman year of college, 185ish (thank you, Amigos crisp meat burritos dipped in sour cream, Valentino’s pizza, and daVinci subs, among other things … foods I still crave when we go home).

Somewhere between freshman year and graduation, I entered the 200 club.  By the time of graduation, I was at 210 or 220.  And there I stayed until I was married in 1995.

And then … not sure what or why, but I hit my highest weight sometime before moving to Texas in 1998.  A whopping 270+ at 30 years old.  Ouch.

Through it all, I would occasionally make attempts to lose weight, usually in response to some comment – not necessarily something harsh directed at me (although a lady asking me when the baby was due was a trigger for some changes … NEVER ASK A WOMAN WHEN THE BABY IS DUE UNLESS YOU SEE THE BABY EXITING HER BODY AT THAT VERY MOMENT).  At one point, it was a male coworker who was eating tuna and crackers for lunch who made an offhand comment “Tryin’ to keep it under an eighth of a ton.”  This was when I was in my 270 phase, and when you start thinking of weight in terms of tonnage … holy schnikes.  So I’d do Weight Watchers for a while, and get back down to 220ish … and then stall.

And then of course there’s pregnancy, but as long as my OBGYN didn’t say anything about my weight, I sure wasn’t gonna worry about it.  Weird, I don’t really remember what my PG weight was – I think 250, 260.  My only craving was cake – with lots of icing (figures).  After Katie arrived, I leveled back out at the 220 mark – and there I stayed.

And, at some point, I got tired of it.  Tired of shopping in the Fat Girl Section where everything is sized ending in a “W” (for “whale”, I’m sure), and is usually colored shit Army green or is in some horrible animal pattern because of COURSE overweight women look FABULOUS in clothing that is associated with military convoys or the fat wildebeest, separated from the herd waiting to be picked off by Mumfasa.  Thanks, fashion designer people.  (And never comfortable, breathable fabrics, either … the worst!)  Tired of overflowing the airline seat, and just not being comfortable in general.

I briefly flirted with the idea of bypass or lap band surgery.  But I knew the same part of my brain that sabotaged my Weight Watchers program would sabotage my surgically reduced digestive tract, too.  Because this is how my brain starts to work:  one Snickers = 8 points; therefore, 3 Snickers = 24 points.  That’s within my daily Weight Watchers point limit so today I’m having Snickers bars for breakfast, lunch and dinner – and technically it’s “legal”.  If I could eat Snickers bars without issue, post-surgery, guess what – at some point I’d be eating Snickers bars.  LOTS of Snickers bars.  Sorta defeats the purpose of the surgery and weight loss if I’m still putting junk into the machine.  I also heard of a lot of people having issues, post-surgery; I wanted to eat less, but eating is still enjoyable – I didn’t want to lose that entirely.  I couldn’t overcome the idea of NEVER eating certain foods.

I tried MediFast at one point.  Got a coach who was less than enthusiastic about her role in the process, so before long, I quit that too.  However, a former coworker had turned her life around with MediFast and loved it so much she became a coach.  So I hit up Neva to try MediFast again.  I needed something structured to help me get where I needed to be.

I’m not going to tell you it was awesome.  For the girl who loves to eat, being limited to five MediFast meals a day, plus one “lean and green” … well, it sorta sucked.  The only thing that helped was there are a lot of chocolate MediFast options:  bars, puddings, shakes.  That’s probably the only thing that kept me from becoming entirely psychotic (I’m sure I was partially psychotic; Skip would say there’s always some amount of psychosis happening).  I will say that not having to THINK about what to eat was a bonus.  Obviously, based on this little narrative, if I’m left on my own when it comes to eating, well, y’all see how that turns out.

Passing the 200 pound mark on the downside was a big milestone, and pretty exciting.  Eventually, I got down to my targeted goal weight of 155, and there I stayed, in maintenance mode … for a while.  I re-introduced normal foods in replacement of the MediFast meals and tried to get back to something more “normal” for eating.

I didn’t get back into cheese fries, cheesecake, and mass quantities of M&Ms, but bad habits started creeping back in.  My mantra is butter+flour+sugar = it’s all good; I’ve got a serious thing for all baked goods.  It’s hard for me to stay away from them for very long.  And I still have control issues – it’s hard for me to have just ONE cookie; my brain says oh screw it, have another.  And maybe one more.  And another … and then I’m suddenly staring at an empty Thin Mint sleeve (I know – it’s not just me who does that; everybody falls victim to Thin Mints).

Of course, carbs means the weight starts creeping back up.  But dang it, I refuse to let it hit 1/10th of a ton again; I am NOT going back to shit army green clothes, no way.  For the record, it got close to 200 before I pulled it back in.

So I’ve been working on eating better.  More nuts, more proteins, more veggies, fewer desserts and carbs.  That part is still a struggle; I’d much rather have ice cream at the end of the day than go without.  I’d say the carb battle is maybe a draw at this point; probably still eating too many overall, but fewer “binges”.  The weight is back down; I’m not to the 155 mark, but well below the 1/10th of a ton mark it was toying with for a while.

The other part of this equation is exercise.  Even while doing MediFast I didn’t do much by way of fitness.  I’ve always been big on walking; I did do a ½ marathon at one point, walking the entire thing (me + running = NO).  There is something nice about just getting out with headphones on and moving.  I’d tried gyms too, but they never lasted very long – I’m not good at managing my own time and effort there either, apparently.

So one day I decided I needed to do something – both for weight loss and just to build up some strength.  Regardless of my weight, I’ve always had some back issues and the older I get, they ain’t getting any better.  Time to work on that core, and I knew to be successful, I was going to have to find something structured that would keep me in line.

A former coworker and friend, Shari, kept checking into Orange Theory Fitness on Facebook.  (For the record, she’ll also participate in danged near every 5K offered in the greater DFW area, but: me + running = NO.)  So I got curious, checked ‘em out online and thought, well, it’s worth a shot.  Plus there’s one literally in my backyard, so getting there isn’t a problem.

So I picked up the phone and scheduled that first “consultation/free session” …

To be continued!

 

Posted in: Fitness | Tagged: MediFast, Orange Theory

Recent Posts

  • Fat Girl Diaries, Chapter 4: the metabolic exPLOzhun
  • Fat Girl Diaries – Chapter 3: Getting up to speed and slowing down
  • Fat Girl Diaries – Chapter Two: The OTF Trial
  • Fat Girl Diaries – Chapter One
  • Travel Dairy: The Trip Home Begins

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