OK, OK, I'm lying -- I'm pushing my weight in weight, but not pulling it yet. I can pull 70 pounds at the moment and that's about 40% of my weight - - Oh no, did I just tell you how big I am right now? OMG! I'm OK, I'll survive it. I'll be past my goal weight in a few months; right now I'm on the LOSING TEAM for sure. We have a group of us at the Y calling ourselves the Losers, but with a really good purpose. For every pound each of us loses the others give up a $1.00 to the charity we all decided was a good cause. This charity is a homeless shelter for women and children here in the Oklahoma City area, and believe me, I hope (to God) that we all lose every single pound we ever hoped to lose and maybe a few more. The shelter needs our help - - we need our help -- we all need God.
As I have mentioned in the past, the YMCA is literally across the street from where I live, so I have no problems going three or four times a week. I decided not to go every day, but to dance on my "off" days and do my stretches and "doga-catoga" every morning when possible. The dog and cat insist on the workouts, so it's not like I really have a choice. At least 10 minutes will be spent bending, pulling myself, stretching, and reaching for whatever animal is closest and/or furthest away. It does work toward the ultimate goal(s) of both loving one's creatures and stretching one's tight muscles.
I go to the Y usually around 12:00 noon and stay only 20 minutes. During that time I'm focused and working my poor bones like a military machine for about 19 of those 20 minutes, only allowing seconds between machines. If one of my favorite machines is taken, no problem, there's another one, there's always a substitute at my Y. Because it is located across from the hospital I am in no way fearful of dying on the floor - - someone will scoop me up and drive me across the way to the Emergency Room. I can die a proper death at that point rather than being hunched over a leg press with sweat pouring out of my face like a maniac. I would at least pray that the coroner or someone give me a good cleaning before the funeral, that's always my biggest concern in my dreams anyway.
I start the march with the crunch machine, pushing about 150 pounds (nearly my weight) in a backward motion, hands clasped behind my head. I stay there pushing for about 4-5 minutes or until my belly screams and says I've reached its peak. Next, the arm pull (doing 70 pounds now!!) and I do about two fast sets of 15 before putting the weight back to 50 and do another couple of sets at a much slower pace. Next is another arm machine, but instead of biceps it works the back of my arms and my entire chest. I can only push 30 pounds on it due to the angle of my arms being slightly behind me when I push downward. I can do two sets of 20 without too much happening but let me try to start the third set and my chest starts reminding me that my heart hasn't been 20 in a few years.
After the chest and arms I do the ever-so-lovely leg presses. There are two at the gym that I use, but there are 6 variations of it. I like the one I call the ankle press. I don't really know its real name. You pump your ankles and push weight (150) and you feel it up the sides and back of your calves. The next is the standard leg press, again at 150 to 170, depending on my heart and what it is recommending. If I'm about to faint at this point I do 150 and do 40 pushes, if I'm doing OK I do the 170 at 30 pushes. It's always a gamble - - such a surprise! What will it be? Will she fall over or walk out on her own today?
The last machine is the new addition to my routine, the squat machine. I'm doing 140 now, and because I did break down and ask for assistance, I do know how to lower the weights to be effective. I should be doing 120 but it was already set at 140 and I thought why not! I can do this. It was not easy. I was about to simply let it go to the floor and me with it, maybe roll out from under it, maybe not be seen, but you know there are cameras there both for insurance purposes and to have a really cool video for the monthly bloopers that I'm absolutely sure the workers compile for fun - - I would. I would so do that! I would even sign a waiver allowing them to show my oops as well - - I'm hilarious! I don't mind rolling out from under a massive squat machine laughing while six ladies all older than I am come over to assist me! ( Not only is the Y across from the hospital, but they have a following of mainly seniors. I'm literally one of the youngest members.) We have fun.
After 19-20 minutes of torture, I can barely make it home before the sweat appears and the heart stops pounding out my name in its weird little clickity click click bump rhythm. My heart has an extra "click" to it, no one knows why, it's been there this entire time, probably not going to change, I live with it until I don't. It has stopped on me a couple of times -- I decided to sign a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) order just in case -- NO ONE is going to cheat me out of going to see Jesus if I have a legitimate claim to do so. NO ONE. I don't give a damn if you want another three or four years out of me, NO. If I can go to Heaven and hang with my Papa and my Uncle Marvin, you better get out of my way!
It's been since August I guess since I've been losing the weight on a steady and not-so-steady basis. I have dropped 26 pounds I think, I have another 26-30 to go. I'll do it, I'll make it, it will happen. I'm down three dress sizes and will consider wearing a dress now. I'm riding better, my horse appreciates me, my dogs appreciate the extra time I give them. The cats could really care less, but as long as I'll deign to rub one or the other if it happens to cross my path, it's all good. They pretend they don't care I think. I think they may. I'm not going to lower myself to ask. We nod at each other. We know.
Work it out. It works.
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