Jello, weights, and the rude truth

I recently joined a weights class.  I've had gym memberships before, but was notorious for fizzling out after a few weeks.  Plus, even with the mandatory orientation, I never quite knew what I was doing.  But then I heard Dr. Oz mention the rude truth that at my age, I'm burning about 200 calories per day LESS than I use to, and for no good reason other than apparently I'm losing muscle, which adds additional validation to the statement that Life Is Not Fair.  So, says the good doctor, I need to build up that dwindling muscle, particularly CORE muscles, whatever those are.

Concerning upper body strength, on scale of 1 - 10, I've probably hovered around Minus Two.  The most pushups I remember doing in one set was 30 and that was using the "girl" method, meaning on my knees rather than my toes.  On my toes I can barely do two, if that.  Each spring I unveil my upper arms and assess the damage.  Remember school-teacher-arms?  The arms that jiggled whenever she wrote on the chalkboard.  I have NEVER taught school, but I have the arms.  It's not pretty.

My strategy now is to pay lots of money and take an actual class.  It's cheaper than a personal trainer and hopefully will get me over there.  I had the option of a women's weights class, or a senior bone-building class.  I qualified for either, but opted for the first.  I was concerned that I'd be the oldest one; however, I seem to be right in the middle age-wise.  It makes me wonder who's building their bones in the senior class.

Our feather-weight, whisper-thin instructor Patty, pops around the room, chatting, spotting us on the bench, tweaking our stance, posture, grip, etc, and reminding us to breathe.   This week was my first experience on the bench lifting a barbell.  I did 45 lbs, and later proudly told my son about it.

"The empty bar?" he said.

"Well yeah, but it was HEAVY!"  At least he didn't pat me on the head.

My most dreaded machine involves sitting and lifting weights up and down with my legs.  It's humbling to admit that so far I've kept the weight at ZERO and cringe and wince as I struggle to lift what can't REALLY be zero pounds.  No wonder I'm not a strong biker!  No wonder my thighs look like jello when I run.  Today Patty had me do 6 reps at 25 lbs, and then 15 more at "zero".  Just one set, thankfully.

So I'm committing to the long haul.  Running and weights.  And bicycling.  Till I die.  Or until I acquire actual dementia and forget.  Or until I just don't care anymore.  Thanks to Dr. Oz.  Thanks to my dwindling muscles.  Thanks to aging and all that unfairness in life.  By the time I hit 60, maybe I'll have added some actual weights to that bar, and to that dreaded leg-lifting machine.  And maybe the jello will go away.

Slumping (not to be confused with schlepping)

After several months of firing out blog posts every few days, I've fallen into a slump.  No ideas.  No inspiration because I'm not excited about running right now...... and although I refuse to panic, it IS a concern.  This is a first for me, at least since I proclaimed myself to be a runner.  I hope that if I remain positive I'll be able to successfully weather through it and recapture the LOVE.  Then it will become a useful resource for future slumps.  So I'm perusing potential remedies such as:

New songs on the playlist.  ANY change to the "same old" is good.  I've added a couple of new ones, "Billie Jean" by MJ, and "Rolling in the Deep" by Adelle, but sometimes I just want to revamp the whole list.  However, coming up with close to 50 new songs is not going to happen, even though, no doubt, iTunes would appreciate the revenue.

New running clothes.  Although I am a complete sucker for a new outfit, particularly when found on a clearance rack -- I don't need anything.  Being a die-hard shopper, <actual need> seldom motivates my purchases; however, sometimes I just can't ignore the lack of it.  I just bought some jazzy new socks in assorted festive colors which I really DID (sort of) need, but they're not pulling me out the door.  I already have more shorts than I can wear in a week and too many t-shirts as they are often parceled out at running events.  I'm also well stocked in sunglasses - extra dark and gradual-tint, three hats that are more helpful during the rainy season which this isn't, and my shoes have another three good months left in them.  Sometimes I wander through running stores in search of a new and intriguing gadget promising to invigorate my whole running routine, but so far .... nothing.  Sigh.

Sign up for another event.  Really??  I'm IN CHARGE of one in a few weeks and am team captain in the one after that.  Shouldn't that be enough?  Sheesh.

Run with fun people.  I ADORE my running friends BUT I usually can't keep up with them and I've found THAT can be counter-productive.

Expore a new route.  My town is small.  I've covered it like a two-year-old scribbles on paper - over and over, around and around.  I know every sidewalk and intersection like my own closet.  I could get in my car and drive to the next small town, but ... well, I'll think about that.

Appeal for help from my facebook group.  Did that today.  Encouragement and advice poured in. FRP trotted out Beyonce, meaning her Single Lady video.  Motivating maybe... but no amount of hill work nor intervals will ever give me hips like that.  THAT ship has sailed.

This morning I scrounged up some umph and ran up Zimri.  Every time I face that hill it's a battle.  If I don't walk, I win.  If I walk, it wins.  Last time I lost, but this time I won.  That felt good.  That helped.  Maybe, just maybe, the answer to this slump is all too simple.  Maybe the remedy is just to run.  Maybe.

Trek Pictures!!

For the full story, go here.  (These pictures feature me and mine, a small portion of the hundreds of photos taken.)

Last night was the Big Reveal and we got to see the talents of Lindsay (aka Beloved Daughter, FRP, and Trek photographer) on the big screen.  Her slide show, which just became available to all, was top notch and here is a small taste:  (Any blurriness is due to my down-loading/computer ineptness, and/or gremlins.)

Our "Family" 
(Clockwise from upper left:)  Tabasco, Ma, Pa, Lambo, Winchester, Peach Pie, Tannerite, Carrot Cake, Poptart, Mini Muffin, and Rocky Road.

                                

A couple of old geezers, aka Pa Haupt and Pa Brady

Pa & me

My little spray bottle was a hit.

Good bye Melly Bean.

Zion

I said I'd never do it again.  ..........  I've since changed my mind.