If anyone knows me, or have read some of these blog entries, then they would know that I suffer from ADD.  I am (almost…good lord) 35, and it has taken me my whole life to find my own ways of doing things: To stay organized, to stay on task, to stay motivated, to stick with something.  In a previous post, I mentioned what it’s like to have ADD, in my world.  You can read about it here, Snow Days, ADD, and Anxiety.

This year, I stuck to it, for the most part.  I haven’t given up on training, or trying to be active.  I stuck to my guns, and didn’t eat pasta or rice AT ALL.  I gave up drinking all alcohol (except for the few tiny sips here and there to help taste test new craft brews…oh how I miss beer!).  Sure, I have my moments where I give into myself a little.  We don’t need to call it cheating, or slipping up, because in reality- this is life!! Shit happens!!  Birthdays, holidays, celebrations of all kinds… days when you just need something to make you feel better… we all have those.  You’re not cheating.  You’re living.  So, in 365 days, I have definitely allowed myself to ‘live’, but I have also given myself the opportunity to succeed, in ways I never thought I could.

Now, all of this is tacky, sentimental crap, is building up to something that seems so dumb, but to me: This. Is. Success.

For 365 days, for one whole year, I have tracked my food in the app “My Fitness Pal”.  Everything I eat.  Every recipe I ever came up with (BTW: If I post a recipe on here, you can search for it under the brand name “Allys Own” on MFP).  Every ounce of chicken I weighed, or grape I counted out, was tracked.  I had my times where it would have been too much to track, like I said before, it’s not a slip up.  I was aware that maybe I wasn’t doing the best eating, or I was out to a restaurant and it was easier to just track a well-educated rounded number of calories, vs. actual food items; But, this wasn’t habit.  Habit was entering food as I ate it.  Searching for nutrition facts online.  Creating recipes, and adding them into the app.  That was habit.

Secretly, deep down, I couldn’t wait for the moment the app told me that I had tracked for 365 days.  I literally wanted balloons to fly across the screen….but they didn’t.  I just got a quick update on my app that said, ‘you’ve tracked for 365 days’.  Well, that was disappointing- but none the less… I DID IT!!!  ADD be damned!!!! I stuck to something!

They say it takes 21 days to create a new habit.  I would like to adjust that for myself.  I’m pretty sure that maybe at the three month mark is when things become second nature, for me.  So, here’s to 365 more days of tracking.  Here’s to 365 more days of working hard for a better me.  Here’s to 365 more days of living my life, and letting funny shit happen, so I can keep writing about it.

Cheers! WUN!image1

…and no, I don’t want to be friends with you on MFP.  Find me somewhere else.  The only person who has access to seeing this crap is my nutritionist!! 😉



Franz always wants me to pay attention to what he says, and learn, so that ‘You can do this on your own, and you don’t always need me’.  Yeah ok, Franz.  As if I’d push myself half as hard as you push me.  As if I’d finish a set with as much determination, as I do with you.  I wouldn’t.

I have, however, tried to pay more attention to the things we do, the names of the exercises, and why they are good for my body.  At least I am trying to understand what each lift of a kettlebell, squat, pull-up, or sled push is doing for me.

The other day, on Upper Body Murder Day, Franz walks over to a resistance band that is tied to a steel pole.  He says, ‘Ok, this is new.  You’re going to do rows, like you normally do, except this time, you’re doing them fast.  Speed Rows.’  He says this while demonstrating what they should look like.

‘What’s the point?  What do speed rows do for me, besides make me look stupid while doing them?’ I ask. (Yes, I had to add the last part. It IS me, we’re talking about!)

‘You’ll see when you start doing them’, he replied.  Normally he would answer my question with a well thought out, thorough response as to what this work out is doing to my body, where I should feel the strain in my muscle, and just how many parts of my body I am working, while doing it.  Not this time, though. Not when I actually asked for an explanation.

I grab ahold of the band, and step back into position. Before I pull, Franz says, ‘Don’t let the band pull you back in’.  He was probably having flashbacks of my feet flailing about while trying to do pull-ups, using the same kind of resistance band.  Anyways, I start to pull the band in row formation, rapidly back toward my body.  It was definitely harder than it looked, and I definitely felt it, in my arms.  My core was feeling it too, because I was unknowingly keeping myself super tight to ‘engage my muscles’ (as Franz would say, usually while smacking my ‘abs’ to make sure they were tight).

I ask again, ‘So what is the point of doing it really fast?’

‘Because… it’s awesome.’ Franz replied.  Oh…. ok then.

So, the next time I am looking for a new work out routine, that I most certainly won’t do by myself at the gym, I’ll just look around for anything that looks ‘awesome’ to do.  Cool.


Gym Shirt Debut

It’s almost a month past Christmas, which is when I received some serious GEMS as gifts.  One of these gems, if you recall, happened to be a LivePD shirt. (For a reminder, check it out here: FGW: You Shouldn’t Have).

It’s upper body murder day, and I am ready to go.  I walked into the gym, completely ready for whatever Franz has to throw at me.  I whipped off my jacket, and proudly stood there, wearing my super sexy, super classy, super awesome LIVEPD T-SHIRT!  Franz just rolled his eyes at me, even though I know that he doesn’t have a clue what the show is all about. The youngins at the front desk just looked at me like I was a crazy person (the same way they look at me, every day).  This is my favorite part of wearing dumb shirts to the gym… the looks.  If I can get some reaction out of someone, then I am all about it.  I bet you anything, that deep down, behind those ‘wtf’ faces, people are thinking, ‘thats awesome!’.  I mean, at least, I hope so!

On another note: let me explain to you about who sits at the desk.

  1. We have another trainer, who, at one point, I mentioned to Franz that he was kinda cute.  Franz takes this kind of information and proceeds to dig for even more information like, ‘what about him is cute’, ‘is that your type’, ‘you are robbing a cradle…hes 22’.  Ok, ok.  Thanks Franz.  First of all, I feel bad for the kid- he looks like he’s at least 30.  Second, I’m not looking for a date… I was just saying that without my old lady spectacles on, he looked cute, from afar.  Done.
  2. We have a young man who I have had one conversation with.  It was a day when Franz introduced us, and said, ‘Oh, you actually both went to the same high school!’.  Franz is very proud of himself when he remembers random facts about me.  What followed next was Franz telling this young whippersnapper that I graduated WAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY before him, so he wouldn’t have known me.  Again, thank you Franz.  I get it.  I’m old.
  3. There’s another youngin who sits at the front desk, but I haven’t spoken to him.  You can imagine that it may be awkward, given my past experiences with Franz introducing me to people.  Instead, Franz let me know that this young child could be my young child, because he’s 17.  Slow clap for Franz, everyone.  He made another old age related joke.
  4. Last, but not least (and actually, not last…there are more), we have the boy that Franz introduced me to by saying (and I solidly quote), ‘Hey!  You guys both celebrated Chanukah at the same time!!’  I’m going to let that sink in for a moment.  First of all, Franz remembered I’m Jewish.  Yay.  Apparently that shall link me to fellow Jews, always and forever.  Better than that… did you know we celebrated Chanukah AT THE SAME TIME?? As if there was another time to celebrate….

I’m 99% sure that there will be more stories of awkward introductions and conversations, later.  Keep those purdy little eyes peeled!


Please note: As this blog posts, I am gearing up for a night on the couch, under a blanket, watching LivePD on A&E.  This couldn’t be a more fitting time for this to be published.

I am really hoping to expand my hilarious gym shirts, this year.  Any suggestions?

BTW- share this blog! Let’s see how far we can go with it. Really, I just want to beat all my records and see if we can beat last years numbers!! Share share share!!

As If I Didn’t Already Know

I’m warming up at the gym.  I have a resistance band around my knees, and I am doing squats, then walking down the track, sideways, turning around going back, and doing it all over again.  I’m bent over, butt out, hands all dangly wangly- because I don’t know what the fuck to do with them.

‘I look stupid’, I say.

‘Well, you’re not an athlete, so you would think it was weird.  You don’t have an athletic stance’, he confidently responded.

Well shit, Franz.  Thanks for pointing out the obvious!  It’s almost as if I didn’t already know that I wasn’t athletic.  Oh, but I do.  I mean, holy crap, we can flash back to the multiple times I have written about maybe looking athletic, but not actually being athletic.  I’m well aware.

The confidence in me did something it would never have done before… it shot up.  I started to say to myself, ‘You can do this. You may think you look stupid, but no one else thinks you look stupid.  Keep Going.’  And I did- dangly wangly arms, and all.

Then I stopped mid-walk, grabbed my butt to soothe the muscle ache, and picked my wedge.  Ahh yes… everything is back to normal.



The Ten Worst Words I Could Hear

‘You have the rest of your life to work out’.

That’s what my boss said when we were talking about how much I hate Lower Body Murder Day and that I think I may have a hernia (more details on that later, when I have confirmation).

To elaborate, I had these bumps checked out by my doctor, but we aren’t sure if they are in fact hernias, and I am scheduled to see a surgeon.  I was talking to my boss, who is fit, athletic, and nutritionally smart.  He is my go to when I have dumb questions.  Anyways, we were chatting about these potential hernias (Yes, I know…HerniaSSSS. Two.) and he told me to take it easy at the gym.  Listen to my body.  Don’t let Franz push me to a point of no return because I don’t want to hurt myself.

Then he said it.

“You have the rest of your life to work out”.  Inside I thought, ‘OUCH.  You mean, my one work out tonight doesn’t count for forever?  You mean that I will still be doing this shit when I’m 90??’

I’m no dummy.  I know that tonights work out doesn’t count for forever.  I know that years from now, I’ll still struggle to complete some work outs and that I will push myself to new limits and new goals.  I know this… but I don’t like thinking about it.  I mean… compare it to hearing ‘You will be working for the rest of your life’.  Painful to hear, right?  That’s not exactly what he meant though, but it’s how I heard it.  What he meant was, I don’t need to feel like I HAVE to push myself to my limits RIGHT NOW, because if I get hurt, or hurt myself farther then I already have, then I won’t be able to do it long term.  Makes sense.

I proceeded to go to training, and Franz encouraged me and pushed me on a lower body work out that was concentrating on my midsection.  My abs (remember those 12 pack abs under my E.T. exterior??) were throbbing before I even left the gym.  I managed to complete 30 side planks on each side, 30 J-Curls, 60 lunges, and 54 squats among other things.  I didn’t cry, I almost barely complained, and I only talked about someday being in a full-body cast, once.


Defying The Limits I Clearly Set For Myself

So, before we begin, go refresh your pretty little memories of the epic blog entry below.

Wait, You’re Stronger Now.  Try This.

Ok.  Was that fun?  Are you ready to see where this goes?

It’s Upper Body Murder day, and Franz has me starting on the rowing machine doing 500 meters, immediately making fun of me for going too slow (I do 500 meters in about 2.5 minutes..), and telling me all about how HARD the following work out will be.  You could literally see the look of pure evil and joy in his eyes.

The work out started out pretty normally. Heavy weight, me complaining, Franz rolling his eyes.  All very normal.

Normal, until he told me to come over to him.  He was standing under the dreaded bar.  The pull up bar.  I groaned. I said, out loud, ‘You seriously must be on crack if you think I’m going to do this.  Do you remember what happened the last time?  Remember the heart attack I gave you?  DO YOU WANT THAT TO HAPPEN AGAIN?!‘  The only other woman in the gym audibly laughed.  I am obviously spreading joy everywhere I go.

I begrudgingly walked over to him, and he was holding this massive rubber band loop that was attached to the bar above.

‘Put your foot in this’,  he said.

I lift my leg, and put my foot into the band.  He lets go and my leg immediately shoots out in front of me, 90 degrees.  I start dying laughing.  Franz hates me.

‘Put your foot down and keep your feet together’, he ordered.

I follow the instructions.

‘Now… pull yourself up.’, he said, like the delusional man he is.

I do.  I pull myself up.  The band allowed me some assistance on the way up, and some control on the way down.  Wait- it was supposed to control me on the way down, but we all know how awkward and fucked up I am.  I go down, and my legs go all wobbly and swing out in front of me.  This doesn’t happen once, or twice… it happens literally every time I try to go down.  Franz is getting annoyed.  I’m laughing, but I have officially done 10 chin-ups.

I will say, between the tears in my eyes from laughing, and the core strength to keep my legs controlled, I was kind of proud of myself.  Well, like half proud. You may be questioning why I was only half proud of myself.  Well, in my head, the band is a crutch.  This is a fake way to do chin-ups.  It has to be.  When I say this to Franz, he rolls his eyes, and tells me it’s not cheating, and points out the fact that I have now done 20 chin-ups.

BTW- In between each set, I had to do bench presses with 25 pound weights in each hand.  When I was done, I had to get that damn foot back into that damn rubber band…without accidentally kicking Franz in the damn face.

Each set of chin-ups I did, looked ridiculous.   I was constantly swearing under my breath, and my shirt was getting caught on the band, and E.T. was popping out.  It may or may not have been the most attractive thing I have ever had the pleasure of watching in the gym mirror.  Poor Franz had a front row seat to this shit show.

Below is a picture of what this exercise could look like, IF I was a normal person.  Thank God there isn’t an actual image of me attempting it.


P.S. In the end, I managed a total of 30 chin-ups.  We’ve come a l-o-n-g way, friends.

Proof Is In The Numbers

I’m at the gym on training day.  I’m doing my first exercise of the night- throwing a medicine ball down as hard as I can, then picking it up, throwing it forward, walking to it, and doing it all over again.  I hate this work out.  HATE THIS WORK OUT… but something changed on my last throw.  A woman working out nearby saw the medicine ball and said, ‘WOW!  Twenty pounds?!’.  Franz said, ‘YEP!’.  I sat, confused.  This isn’t normal?  Is that a lot of weight?  Apparently it is…

That’s what’s so funny about working out with Franz.  I am pushed to do things I wouldn’t do on my own, and sometimes, I don’t even realize how physically strong I am.

So, let’s go over a couple of the numbers from this particular work out day.  After my twenty pound medicine ball throwing, I did 10 reps-4 times, of pulling 135 pounds back in what I call the ‘Pull Back’.  Good enough name, right?  Wouldn’t it be lovely if I knew (or listened) to the real names??  In between reps, I did 10 push ups.  Kill me.  Next up, was planking, but I had to plank on one arm, while moving weights from one side of my body to the other, and then switch to the other arm.  In between reps, I pushed a 25 lb weight over my head, one arm at a time.  Fast forward a few more fancy moves, and my very last ‘challenge’ was holding 40 lb kettle bells in each hand (90 lbs!!  (Almost) Exactly what I’ve lost!) , and walking back and forth down the track, for 2 minutes.  Sounds like it might be easy… it’s not.

Numbers don’t lie.  I don’t know where I started… but holy crap I can do a lot more than I thought I could, now.

P.S.- I am writing this and my arms are shaking.  The next two days are gonna be rough.

P.P.S- Today I taught the little boy I nanny how to show his muscles (and grunt while doing it).  Clearly an important skill.