OK, it's been 3 days and I'm still alive. I'm doing High Intensity Interval Training. My goals are to: (a) lose 23 pounds (b) tone up the mid section (c) not die from dehydration during the process. I just about failed my 3rd goal on my very first day.
The baby boy (Reuben) is home you know, and the world as I knew it has turned upside down. This man, this son of mine, is one helluva task master. He gets up too early. He cooks too much. He demands that we eat more than we're use to eating. He forces me to gym far earlier than my body was really prepared for. He also forces me (now, since I nearly fell off a machine from dehydration) to drink water/Gatorade from the minute I step into the gym to the minute I float out of it from having filled myself with gallons of electrolytes. He's a monster.
The ladies walking on their treadmills next to me seem to be laughing. My son will stare at me in the mirrors and point at himself (I'm behind him and he sees me in the reflection) if I'm not walking hard and fast enough, or if I'm not drinking. He gets up from wherever it is that he is and starts to walk over to me - - arms puffed out, chest out, chin high, and that LOOK in his eyes as if he's about to cram the nozzle of the 1/2 gallon bottle down my throat. I pick it up before he makes it all the way across the floor. Sometimes I wait to make him go a bit further, then I tease him with the bottle as if I'm pouring it on the floor. He smiles.
During the time I'm actually doing the 20 reps 5 times I'm thinking about the hot showers. I'm thinking about the wine I'll drink that night. I'm thinking about weighing less than Gary Sinise if and when the time comes that we meet and work together on stage - - that seems to be a relatively good motivator because the actual training is brutal and it hurts. It hurts when I'm doing it. It hurts later. It hurts when I sleep, and yes, it hurts now when I'm typing. I think my arms have divorced the rest of my body. My belly has enough fat on it still not to be too contrary, but its day is just around the corner! Soon it too will hate me. For this I'm happy.
Well, three days and in pain. Good. Oh, and lucky for me the boy has taken a few days off to visit friends in the city. I'll have to rewind the video of him staring at me and squinting his eyes - replaying it in my mind will keep me on the machine, on track, and certainly in a good mood. You just have to see it. I have to admit, I love the kid for thinking his mom needs to be in tip-top shape...it's an ironic event for him. I know that no matter how buff I get, no matter how tight I look after all this - - he will NEVER let me step outside in a bathingsuit or a short pair of shorts. NEVER....it's all for the gym...where I wear cool-wear and sweats.
I will say this: I've caught the ladies on the treadmills staring back at Reuben when he does his squats. I've had to giggle a few times, he's clueless.