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36 here I come!
In 6 days, I turn 36! Wow. I’ve been grappling with the idea of middle age. When I look in the mirror- I still see 20 something- maybe on the later side. However, when I open my mind- I live up to my age.
I feel every inch an adult. What does that mean to me? It means – responsibility, being grounded and having a firm grasp on the tactile world around me.
It’s been a strange chapter – as all segments of my life become year after year. My mid-30s have been punctuated with drama/trauma from messy births and a lot of sleep deprivation coupled with nauseatingly sweet hallmark moments of nose rubs with my newborns and wholehearted hugs as these little beings grow up.
I’ve had a break here and there from the label of mother. Most of all, the dawn of 36 marks looking at the world clearer and more precise without excuses for myself or others.
I work a lot more efficiently and effectively. I walk with more purpose. I dream a larger vision that encompasses more than a passing adventure, but an indelible mark on the world- “mai” world.
Through the years, I still stick to the motto that I can have it all, but not all at once- step by step, moment by moment and most importantly, when I’m in the thick of things- whether it be colorful or sad- to savor life- because it passes so darn fast.
36 is a year of wisdom.
It’s Wednesday and this is the last week of Sarge. I’m experiencing an epic cold with coughs and bouts of insomnia, hence my late night typing. It’s 2 minutes until midnight so instead of coughing into my pillow, I thought I’d be productive and write about it.
In all honesty, with the death of my step-dad coupled by this awful cold and a heavy load of work in the pipeline- Sarge has turned into a distant dream. I vaguely recall sweating and panting at 5 a.m., but I will not be renewing my subscription to the drill sergeant mode of exercise.
What I learned:
boot camp is great for toned arms, but terrible for sleep.
go with a gal pal, she will call you out of bed- literally.
Finally, death of a loved one in conjunction with a cold leads to a no go on Sarge.
Next week, assuming this cold is over, I’m hitting the gym, my spin class and pilates.
🙂
Sweet Dreams and good-bye Drill Sargent!
Maiiiii
Week 3 of the Sarge Program proved to be fruitless because I was horribly ill with a cold. The photo to the left illustrates how I felt. This is a nifty contraption of a wearable pillow so you can rest your head on any flat service- provided you lie back and not forward.
My friend, Meg, would call everyday at 5 am and I would cough over the phone.
Copious amounts of mucous and green phlegm do not go well with cardio of any kind.
The only exercise I got this week was the path of least resistance to my bed- and back.
It’s already week 2 of the Sarge Program and I’m continuing to wake up at 5 A.M. for class. Full disclosure, it’s Thursday and I’ve only been to Sarge on Monday and today this week. With that being said, I’ve also had a cold for Tuesday and Wednesday. Today was upper body- meaning free weights and relays.
As I panted from one exercise to the other, my mind was grumbling about how much I loathe to exercise at this ungodly time. However, I do see a difference in my flabby arms. It’s less jello like.
Tomorrow is my favorite day- track. However, the instructor said that regardless of rain- we run. Since I’m still sniffling and I don’t have rain gear- I don’t run in rain recovering from a cold. No need to go towards the path of pnemonia.
Seeing that I’ve had a taste of hard core cardio for 2 solid weeks now- I am now revising my original plan of attending 5 days a week to 3 days.
Last Friday was “Hill” day. I almost keeled over and fainted. This comprised of lunging and squatting up a huge hill and then back again for at least 30 sets and then sprinting for 2 1/2 miles. I skipped the sprint and left 15 minutes early. Not my idea of fun in any kind of mind frame. I have vowed NEVER to do hill day again.
This is a group activity so if you liked high school gym class, Sarge should bring you back to teen nostalgia. For me, high school gym was a nightmare. I was small and one of those girls who developed very late in life. I didn’t develop hips until age 22 and that was post- college and let’s not even talk about breast- I got those after giving birth and lactating.
In my high school, we had mandatory swimming class and to add insult to injury, the school gave us uniform bathing suits designated by color. Blue was for the underdeveloped short girls, green was for the standard body and red were for the bigger, more curvaceous ladies. Red also was see through so I counted myself lucky to be in blue. Some girls got smart and started wearing two red bathing suits to cover their lady bits.
Needless to say, fond memories of high school gym to doesn’t leave me with any kind of warm and gushy feelings so it’s to my utter dismay, that at the dawn of 36 years old, I am PAYING for the priviledge of group jumping jacks and a P.E. teacher at 5:45 A.M. Life is ironic, but fighting the flab is more powerful than pain.
Until tomorrow (if it’s dry).
🙂
Mai
It didn't go off!
As I’ve panted my way through crunches, bar bells and jumping jack this week, something was going to give and today, it was my sleep. I had every intention of waking up at the designated hour of 5 am, but when I looked at the clock, it was 6 am and my alarm never went off.
Monday, we worked on upper body strength which meant a variety of exercises with free weights. Unfortunately, Monday night, I managed to get 2 hours of sleep, which led to a no-show for Tuesday. On Wednesday, it was track day (my favorite day)- where we jogged around the field. My friend, Meg, has blown out knees so I happily speed walked with her. Oddly, her speed walking was the equivalent to a jog for me. This should give you a clear indication of the state of my cardio, which is, sad.
Today, I wanted to be up and running and out the door by 5:20 AM. However, I was snoring and shaken awake with that sinking feeling that I had missed class. Tomorrow is hills.
I do have an excuse for my lame attempt to pump iron this morning. My step-dad, who raised me, died unexpectedly Wednesday morning. He was visiting from Asia and I was supposed to have dinner with him Wednesday night. Needless to say, death can kill any planned dinner party.
I’m in a funk right now so exercising is the last thing on my mind, but the first thing I should do to feel better. I plan to conquer the hills tomorrow.
Stay tuned.
🙂
Mai
Mai
Waking up at 5 AM takes mental adjustment. It’s 8:11 am and I’ve been up for 3 hours. By 5:45 AM this morning, I was sprinting and doing lunges around a high school track field. My husband is still wondering who is this woman who is motivated enough to go to bed at 10 PM and rise at 5 AM.
Vanity and self-preservation are two huge motivators to get my legs running and my heart thumping. One thing I’ve learned about my mid-30s is that if you don’t start doing physical maintenance, everything goes down– your ass, your face, your smile, and of course, your thighs. In my 20s, I could drink 5 shots of vodka, eat 3 cheeseburgers (to aid with the hangover) and then wash (my mouth), repeat (the evening) and replay (my mistakes).
In my 30s, much-needed sleep and watching my body fight gravity is at the forefront of my mind. The copious amounts of gin martinis is a thing of the past. Who has the energy or the liver to handle that kind of abuse? Not as exciting, I know, but it’s a precarious tipping point between getting lazy with your looks and finding yourself surrounded by 20 empty Dunkin Donut boxes. It helps that my job is health and my livelihood depends on my over all energy, appearance and fitness.
So, DAY 1– I finally found my boot camp group. I showed up yesterday in the pouring rain to an empty tennis court. Little did I know, they have a yucky weather location that the operator failed to tell me about over the phone. Anyway, the good Lord had some pity on me because Friday is cardio day and more laid back then the rest of the week. We ran around the track for an hour. It was a good way for me to ease into the program. As smooth as it sounds, I was the one participant that was panting like a pig. Cardio isn’t my strong point. I like Yoga- the relaxing kind. I stay away from the sweaty yoga that looks really hard.
However, my husband and I have a pact, namely, we are not allowed to let ourselves go. What single people don’t fully grasp is that marriage is the most conditional love you can sign up for in modern times. Essentially, if my tush droops down to my ankles, my husband is not going to see me as his loving wife- nor will there be any love. Likewise, if Kobus’ ponch extends to the tip of his toes, he can start cooking his own dinner and start thinking about sleeping in the bathroom.
Needless to say, there’s a lot riding on my fitness. Nothing inspires as much as fear of losing something dear.
This morning was just a taste of the next month of 5 am wake-ups and 5:45 AM work outs. When I first got there, I was trying to scan the group for signs of another flabby thin mom. Sadly, the only figures I saw were athletic. The group composed of two women and two men (including the instructor). All of the above were attractive and professionals in their mid-30s. Well, at least I fit the age group. One guy was training for a marathon, the other was already buff. The instructor brought her friend who was equally as fit.
My instructor, Emily, looked like a machine. The week prior, she had run 100 MILES!! Blonde, perky and incredibly fit, she looked like Madonna’s trainer. She told me to not be fooled by cardio day, on Monday, we’d have a full body work out and I should be prepared. Translation- I will be sore for an indefinite amount of time.
Emily and her gal pal ran together, the marathon guy ran at his own pace, the buff guy spoke to me for a while, but I had the itching feeling that I was keeping him from his real workout so I told him if he had to get in the zone, I would be fine. As soon as he sprinted, I was free to collapse. Okay, so I didn’t fall to the ground into a fetal position, but don’t think that the thought didn’t cross my mind. I occupied myself by running at a snail’s pace.
The weekend is off days where I intend to sleep in!!
I’m turning 36 on Nov. 4th (feel free to send lavish gifts). The 30s have been calmer and full of better choices. The impetus to my fitness kick is to synchronize my mental acuity with my physical being.
I’ll be keeping you posted on my daily trudge towards optimal fitness. Okay, I need to leave on a funny note. The motto to the Sarge program www.sarge.com is “Be all you USED to be”.
🙂
Mai
Mai World Now 
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