Medicine Ball Of Death

It’s no joke that my anger goes into overdrive when my trainer says, ‘Warm up and I’ll meet you on the green!’.

The green is the area of the weight room that has the plyo box.  Enough said.  No, but it also has the sled, the battle ropes, hand weights, and kettle bells, amongst other things that are trying to murder me.   We call it the green because the ground looks like it’s fake grass.  It’s honestly my personal hell.

I absolutely, 100%, HATE when he tells me to ‘meet him on the green’.  It has come to my realization that I hate it because I know I am weak when I work out over there.  I know that I lose my breath faster, and my throat starts to burn worse, and I am just plain old fucking miserable, when I’m there.  I am much more comfortable and accustomed to working out on the weight machines.  I guess that’s why he makes me work out on the green.  He knows I need to challenge myself.  He’s doing for me.  But… really?  Fuck that business.

Anyways, it’s upper body murder day, and I am on ‘the green’.  It’s the end of my work out, and I have already spent the better part of my 30 minutes pushing my arms and shoulders to their limits.  I have lifted weights in all sorts of ways, and I have done a pretty good job of NOT complaining, the whole time.  In fact, I barely complained when I hurt.  I pushed through it.  I have goals, dammit.  I’m not going to get there by whining.

That thought process quickly went out the window when I saw that he had the Medicine Ball Of Death in his hands, on ‘the green’.  It was the last part of my work out.  I would be doing three sets each, of four different movements.  Ten reps of lifting my arms over my head with 15 pound weights in each hand.  Five reps of lifting the same weights like a bird flapping it’s wings (that’s the actual technical term for this move, I’m pretty sure). Ten push ups (because he’s an asshole).  And finally, ten catches of the medicine ball, then lifting it over my head, and slamming it to the ground.  I make it through the first set of the first three movements, and then I struggle my ass off with the medicine ball.  Like, between each and every lift and slam, I am dying.  My arms hurt.  I have sweat in my eyes.  I am weak.  I am tired.  …and apparently, I’m making those oh so famous, Dumb Workout Faces.

He couldn’t stop laughing at me.  Very single catch of that ball, and grunt when I tried to lift it, and apparent face I made- he laughed.

I made it through, and finished all three sets, and by the third set, I was chucking the ball down on the ground with ease (mostly because I was picturing it being his face).

While we were walking back to the front of the gym, he turned to me and said, ‘That medicine ball episode should never have aired on TV.  You laughed more than you threw the ball.’  Uhh, yes.  Because laughing is how I keep from crying, my friend. And we all know we don’t need a crying client ‘on the green’.

You Got A Friend In Me…

Or not.  (stick with me, this is lengthy, but worth it)

A few posts ago, I mentioned that when you lose weight, or change your lifestyle, it seems that so many other things change along with it.

For real.  I had no idea how losing weight, and changing my bad habits, would affect the people around me.  Most of the amazing people in my life understand that this is the best thing for me, and do their best to support me.  Some don’t.

I mean to an extent, I can understand why some people start to pull away.  When you’re used to going out to eat with someone, and having drinks, and talking about weight and how you wish you could lose some, and stuffing your face with crappy food because you wallow about your life together- it must be hard when someone in that relationship changes, and doesn’t do any of that anymore.

What doesn’t make sense to me, is that if you’re ‘good friends’ with someone, and you have shared some seriously intimate parts of your life with them, and you have supported each other through thick and thin, that that ‘good friend’ would disappear, instead of being there for you, when you decided to be the best version of yourself.

Nope.

For me and my friendship, it started out great.  This person was by my side every step of the way on this journey.  She would tell me that she would support me, and instead of drinking and going out to eat when we hung out, we could go walking, or get a coffee!  She was so supportive, caring, loving.  She even bought me a bunch of really helpful things for my weightless journey, including shaker bottles, and a journal, among other amazing items.  That sounds like the kind of person you would want in your corner, when you decide to change your life for the better, right?  That’s what I thought, too.

Apparently I’m wrong.  I’m still not quite sure what happened, or even why it happened.  I can’t seem to put my finger on one specific event that may have triggered the downfall of our relationship.  In fact, there wasn’t even a downfall.  It just stopped.  Everything STOPPED.  No more support.  No more encouragement.  No more spending time together.  Even our daily (all day, every day) texts stopped.  I mean, completely out of the blue.  Done.

Sometimes, I think about it and get really deep in my thoughts, and start beating myself up.  What if I hadn’t started to take care of myself?  What if I kept going out with her to bars, just like we have for years and years?  What if I didn’t change?  Would she still be by my side?  And then I have to remind myself that I am doing this for ME.  First and foremost, I needed to be healthy again.  I would do this all over, in a heartbeat, even knowing that I would lose one of the closest, most important people to me.

Maybe someday she will wander back into my life, and I will be able to put this behind me, and reconnect.  Maybe I’ll even find out what really happened and why I lost her in the first place.  Maybe… but if I don’t, I have to remind myself, that what’s happened, happened.  What’s done, is done.

I am healthy.  I am working on being happy.  If people don’t support that, then there is no space for them in my life.  In fact, even if I wasn’t on this journey, I wouldn’t be able to keep someone like that, around me.  No one should.

We live in a society where the number of Facebook ‘friends’, or Instagram followers you have, defines how… I don’t know, popular you are?  Maybe well liked?  I don’t know.  I just know that recently, in light of this loss of friendship, I have deleted many people from my Facebook friends list.  I am done pretending to be friends.  I want genuine, real, supportive, amazing, happy, positive people around me.  Period.

Was this entry a downer?  I hope not.  Writing it was therapeutic. I got this off my chest, and out of my head.  Everyone should be able to share their struggles. Everyone should feel supported when they need it most.  End of story.

Oh, Baby!

Oh, you thought my adventures stopped when I left the gym?  Well, you’d be wrong.  Let me tell you a little about my job.  I’m a nanny.

Yes, let that sink in.  This fowl mouthed, life threatening, insane person that you know and love as ‘Ally the Wunner’, is a nanny.

Somehow, I curb my bad behavior and terrible language at the door, and turn on the sweet baby tamer.  Really, I have taken care of children forever, and I think I’ve only accidentally dropped a bomb once (that I can remember).

Anyways, yeah so, while I nanny the future, dumb shit continues to happen to me.  Let me bring you into story time…

I’m out walking the baby, like I do every day, that I am with him.  We have the same route through his neighborhood, and we typically stop at the same points.  Mostly to make sure that he’s not chewing on a leaf (this has happened), or sleeping; Also to get some baby hugs and kisses, which I steal from him quite often.  So one day, we are walking through the neighborhood, and we stop in the shade of a tree on the side of the road.  I am just about to snuggle up to his face and give him some seriously annoying kisses, when this woman pulls up next to me in her Jeep.

‘Did you see the deer?’ she asks.

‘…huh? No…’ I say, while looking at her like she’s crazy.

‘It’s right over there, in that yard.  I watched it cross the street, and now it’s right there’.  She says this while pointing to the backyard of a house that we are standing LITERALLY right next to.

The more she moved her car, the more the deer stared in our general direction.  The woman began to creep her car forward (maybe trying to scare it away?), and the deer seemed to step closer.

At that point, I ‘NOPED’ the fuck right out of there.  All I could think and picture was a deer galloping towards me and the carriage full of precious cargo, and WHATTHEFUCKWOULDIDO? I actually pictured myself pushing the carriage toward a deer and me running in the opposite direction!  I mean, are you kidding?!  That would never happen!!!  We all know I can’t run… I mean, I would also never leave the baby in harm’s way… but for real… ME RUNNING?!

Anyways, for the rest of the walk, I spent my time texting everyone about this new ordeal, and looking back over my shoulder waiting for Bambi to strike.

 

Here’s another ‘funny’ about my time with the Little Man.

So, as I have established many, many times before, I am weak.  Sore, old, and weak.  It doesn’t seem to matter how much weight I lose, or how much I work out and strengthen my muscles… I’m weak.  I’d like to blame most of it on the back injury a few years ago (remember THOSE fun blog entries??).  I mean, when I sit down, the creaking and cracking bones can be heard across the house.  When I stand up, I seem to groan every single time, out of pure necessity.

Well, a few weeks ago, my little one year old nugget muffin began to moan, too.  Every time the kid stands up, he groans… just like me.  When he sits down, he sounds relieved…just like me.

At first I was mortified, because his Dad noticed and said, ‘HAHA! Is he making the same noises as you??’  Then it just became funny to watch this little boy act like an elderly man.  I mean, the fact that he copies me is hilarious, but the idea that he’s copying something so utterly ridiculous makes it even funnier.

Until I remember that he’s copying me….

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‘Deer Face’, to protect the innocent.

Wanna Go On The Rope Swing?

Fear.

The only feeling that pulsed through my body, was fear, when he said, “Want to go on the rope swing?”

“Uh…. NO?!  Are you nuts?” is what went through my head.

Setting the scene:  It’s a lovely Sunday morning, and we decide to take kayaks out on a lake that we normally take our boat on.  On the boat, the lake looks pretty medium sized, but down low in the kayak, it was freaking huge.  All I could think, the entire time was, ‘If we keep going to the other side of the lake, I need to be able to row all the way back!’. Have we not all had moments where we thought something similar?

Our first stop was at the rope swing, which last year had a nice long rope, hanging off of a tree to climb to jump off of.  When we rowed our asses all the way there, we noticed a rope was maybe half the length as it was last year, with a long frayed end.  That’s when he said it. “Want to go on the rope swing?”

Why the hell would I go on a rope swing?  Lets talk logistics here.  Me, climbing a tree.  Already a bad decision.  I’d get two steps up, and slip off, and most likely tumble to the shallow, dirty water below.  I really would.  IF, and this is a big IF, I managed to get to the point in the tree where it was safe to jump, my luck would be me grabbing the rope, praying not to die, jumping off, and the rope breaking away from the branch above, also sending me tumbling into the water (When the bow breaks, the cradle will fall, and down will come Ally, tree branch and all).  If it was going to happen to anyone, it would be me.  I’d file that  moment away in the ‘Jesus Ally, You’re So Embarrassing’ folder in my brain.  Just like the time I sat on the back of a bench, even though my dad told me not to, and then the bench fell backwards and caught my leg underneath it, all inside a bowling alley.  That is ALSO in that folder.

Anyways, all of these scenarios of me falling, played vividly through my head as we paddled closer to shore.  The answer was still hell no. I wouldn’t be jumping from a frayed rope.  Thanks.

But hold up.  I’m not 100% free of embarrassing things that have actually happened on this very lake.  Oh, no.  I’ll share a quick story.  It was last summer, and every time we took the boat out, friends would go kneeboarding off the back.  Up on top of the water they would go, having a good old time, until they fell off the board and splashed into the lake.  However, when I would get on, the kneeboard would immediately take a nosedive, when the boat started to move, and I’d be choking on lake water.  But, one time, ONE SINGLE TIME, when it was only the two of us, I went on the board.  I felt so brave.  I’m hanging on the board and rope behind the boat, and it starts to move.  So far so good, although I’m laughing too hard to have any energy to lift my fat thighs out of the water and up onto the board.  Fast forward 3 minutes (ok, fine, 30 fucking seconds) when the board slips out from under me, and I’m left holding onto the rope with my body bouncing across the water.  Did he slow the boat down? No.  Why?  Because he’s an asshole, and he was laughing too hard.  In my head, I couldn’t let go of the rope.  My brain wouldn’t move my hands to release their heavy grip on the only life line I had.  Instead, I held on, bounced across the surface, drank lake water, and… lost the bottoms of my bathing suit.  Ok?  (this moment is already in that file we talked about earlier)

So, anyways, we had a great day kayaking across the lake.  All the fucking way across the lake.  We stopped to lay back and enjoy the sun after 3,000 years of rainy days, and after a while we started to row back.  It was far.  I won’t bore you with details, but let’s just say that I’m pretty sure I’ll have a serious case of Carpal Tunnel, from apparently relying on my wrists to do the work with the oar.  I don’t know what to tell you guys… I’m fucking awkward.

Proof I went on (you’re welcome for the face), and the damage it caused.

 

Oh, and if you’re wondering what happened to the my bathing suit bottoms?  I actually managed to catch them with my feet, so they weren’t completely lost… Good times.

I Want To Thank You

First off, I hope that song is now in everyones head.  You’re welcome.

I was looking through some of my previous posts, on this page, and it dawned on me that THIS BLOG, and WHY I WRITE, would not be what it is, without everyone reading.

I am in awe by how many people read these insane entries, and leave comments for me to read.  I truly appreciate it.

You know, I go back and forth with this thing.  I’ll write a lot, and then I disappear, and then I come back, and then I’m gone again.  Without fail, every time I’m gone, I have people ask where I’ve been. Why are you not writing?  I miss those, they make me laugh! Etc., etc., etc.   In fact, there are people who have never read it, but still ask if I’m writing. Funny right?

So, if all of you promise to keep reading, leaving comments, and liking the blog, I will keep on writing.

Now, read, like, and go WUN!

 

 

That Time I Was Talking To Myself

Picture this.  I’m back on the Rail Trail (remember that place?  The one where I got shit on by a bird?), I’ve lost weight, and REALLY trying to challenge myself.  So what do I do?  I start a Couch to 5k program.  I’ll be honest, I haven’t actually officially started it, but I did the day one routine to see if I could handle it.  If you know me, you would know I am NOT a runner.  Never have been, and probably never will be.  The Middle School Mile days were the worst days of my life, and I’m pretty sure that I was always the last one to finish… mostly because I would stop, between all of my WALKING, for water breaks.  I was always secretly jealous, and slightly embarrassed, seeing other kids finish in record time.  They had to wait for me to finish.  Whatever, Middle School sucks. We all know that.

So, I’m on the Rail Trail, practicing the first day of a C25k program.  Starts with a warm up for 5 minutes.  Good, I can handle that.  After that, the shifting between running and walking starts.  One minute running.  One and a half walking.  Twenty minutes.  First run, I was so nervous.  I was alone on the path, yet all I could think about was what people would think of me when they see me.  If I saw me, I know I would be thinking, look at that blob stumbling trying to be athletic.  You know, I’d never think that about anyone else, but I would about myself.  Funny, right?

Anyways, I’m running for 60 seconds, I was handling it better than I thought I would.  The only thing that’s fucking KILLING me is that I feel like an absolute bag of bricks when my feet land on the ground.  I’m not kidding!! Why is it, that I see runners swiftly glide through the air, and seemingly just skip over the ground with their perfect runners feet and perfect runners legs?  WHY?

A little further along and I’ve gotten through a couple 60 second runs, and 120 second walks.  My app dings, and the nice calm voice of a lady says, ‘Let’s Run’.  I start, and I round a turn on the path, and there are two people walking.  HUMANS IN FRONT OF ME SEEING ME RUN WHAT THE HELL OH MY GOD HELP ME… Is what went through my head.   But then, without a second beat, my brain changes and I think, ‘I can do this.  They could too.  Don’t be embarrassed.’  Just. Keep. Running.

So let’s fast forward a little bit, shall we?  I managed to never pass another poor soul who had to see me thump and bump my way through these minimally timed runs.  My app dings and the calm voice of the lady, who I now hate with a passion, says ‘Let’s run!’.  I know I’m on the last run in the 20 minutes and I hurt.  My legs are tired, and my heart is pounding, and my chest is burning, and my eyes are watering.  Basically, I am just a hot mess.  I wanted to stop so bad, but I didn’t.  I had to keep myself going, so I started talking to myself.  Out loud. Like a crazy person.  “Keep going, you can do this, don’t quit, you’re going to be SO proud of yourself, it’s almost over (which it wasn’t), keep moving, you GOT this!”.  Remember…all out loud, to myself.

In the end, I finished, and hobbled back to the end of the path where I parked my car, and I landed on a park bench and just sat to breath.  Breathe, and look at what I just did.  It may have been 60 second spurts, but I DID IT.  That curly mopped, chunky middle schooler who couldn’t bring herself to even attempt to run the Middle School Mile, just ran.  That’s all I had to think about.

But no joke… I may die the next time I’m out there.

I’m Baaaaaack!!!

No for real though, this time I’m back and I don’t plan on leaving. When I started this blog I was like… “This is a great way to get all my ridiculous stories out there. These things only happen to me, blah blah blah”. The blog then evolved into this weird world in which I spilled my guts and said embarrassing stories, and told the truth about how I felt about myself, and others. I mentioned friends, family, death, pain, success, sorrow, more pain, more injury, and got gushy on everyone who reads; But you know what? I don’t regret it. Want to know why? This is my journey.

Last night I couldn’t sleep (surprise, surprise), and out of complete and utter boredom I started to read my own blog to myself. Is that bad? Does that make me lame? Whatever the case may be, it made me realize something. I have been on an incredible journey. I have grown, changed, challenged myself, succeeded, failed, and I have even almost quit. Not this time. Reading the blog made me realize how strong I am. Through thick and thin, I have made a promise to myself to keep going and make myself a happier person. So… Bring it on, I guess.

So, for the start of the new year (haha, I am NOT a ‘new year, new me’ person, I swear), I will show you this… my cabinet FULL of Isagenix. Full of promise, success, happiness, weight loss, healthy choices, and my future… because if one thing I know is true, I will conquer it this time. There’s no other choice.

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BTW-Wun.