Week 2 Update: Just keep Swimming...

                                                   

Day 1: REST              Time: 0:00                    

I know it says rest, but I wasn't resting.  I was actually working out.  Like, a hard ass workout.  Granted, I created this ridiculous circuit out of boredom so technically it was all my fault.  The circuit goes as follows: 

30 seconds per exercise with a 30 sec. break 

Flutter Kicks w/ 10 lb Kettle Bell

Oblique Throw (left) w/ 12lb medicine ball

Oblique Throw (right) w/ 12lb medicine ball

Hurdle Walk

Ball Slams   w/ 14lb medicine ball     

Back Extensions

The goal is always to as many reps as humanly possible in that 30 seconds.  Lordt. I. Was. Dying.  But, for whatever reason I convinced myself that 5 rounds of this madness was normal.  I worked out with my accountability partner/guinea pig (she's the test dummy for all of my workouts).  We were both dying but I got cursed out the entire time because, well, because it was my fault we were struggling. 

At least we finished all 5 rounds and actually felt good afterward.  Maybe next time I'll REST like the schedule told me to. 

               Day 2: 3 miles                          Time: 34:07                                                    

Long story short, I kicked this 3 mile run's ass.  I sped up each mile and didn't feel like I was gonna throw up at the end of it. Pretty dope feeling.

               Day 3: 2 miles                          Time: 22:10                                              

Sooo, running on a treadmill kind of, sort of, REALLY sucks.  You're staring at the same thing for some weird amount of time.  In that weird amount of time you think of every way possible to make the distance you need to run go by as quickly as possible; every option EXCEPT for speeding up the pace on the treadmill...

Anyway, this is the fastest I've ever run 2 miles so I'm feeling like hot stuff right now.  Like, unstoppable.  Like, I can eat a couple donuts after this because I deserve it. Duh. 

Day 4: 3 miles                          Time: 33:48      

Have you ever convinced yourself to do something that wasn't really smart but you still did it anyway?   Well, today was that day.  I pushed myself to run just a teeny tiny bit faster today and my legs are irritated.  We've been chatting all day...more like me yelling at them to move, one in front of the other, and them giving me the silent treatment.  They didn't want to move.  But I ran the heck out of those 3 miles so yay for progress.  My body is still adjusting to running long distances so I have to applaud myself every. single. day.  Even if it's only a couple seconds faster, it definitely matters.  Because if I don't, then who will?                                               

                  Day 5: REST                             Time: 0:00                                                                                               

Life: Cmon Ky, lots of work today

Me: 

End of Story

Day 6: 30 Min. Cross (this means a "normal" workout)  

I failed miserably this day.  I did absolutely nothing.  I didn't want to do anything.  I did however go to T.G.I.Friday's and eat an obscene amount of food.  Mozzarella sticks as an appetizer, oreo madness (imagine a HUGE Oreo ice cream sandwich with cookies and cream ice cream) as an appetizer as well, cajun chicken and shrimp alfredo, and boneless chicken wings.  Poor decision for my stomach and my weight but hot dammit it was soooo gwood.  I refuse to ever feel bad about indulging in awesome food when I've been busting my ass for 2 weeks.  Also, because FOOD = BAE. That is all.    

      

                          

             Day 7: 4 miles                           Time:  45:05                                                     

Ya'll.....I. Was. Moving.  I was helping some friends jog a few miles so I arrived at the track a little earlier to run my 4 miles first and then walk/jog 2 -3 miles with them.  Sounds like a plan, right?  No, I left my house 30 min later than I was supposed to so I only got there 30  min earlier than they were supposed to arrive.  I sent them a txt letting them know I'd already be there and to walk onto the track without waiting.  I had 24 minutes until they would be arriving so I convinced myself that I'd be able to run 2 miles before they got there and then I'd be just tired enough for them to jog with me.  I was hauling ass on that track.  I finished 2 miles as Elena (my accountability bae) arrived.  I was still jogging pretty fast so I didn't ask her to join me.  By this time I had caught some random burst of energy and kept speeding up each lap.  

I think my 4th mile may have actually been my fastest mile.  Not because of this burst of energy, but because I was getting bored and really wanted to be done.  On top of being tired, the wind was trying to snatch my damn edges off.  I have senegalese twists crocheted in, which have proven to be pretty irritating to run long distances with.  I was getting smacked in the face and couldn't hold my head up when the wind started whipping back and forth.  By the time I finally caught a rhythm with tilting my head to the side to run the curves and leaning forward so I wouldn't get pushed by the wind, the direction of the wind would change.

The only reason I didn't complain during this entire time, is because I was having a shitty week.  My anxiety was getting the best of me, my meds for my anxiety were causing me to have severe mood swings.  I don't even know if a mood swing is the best way to describe it since I went from one extreme to another (happy to pseudo, basically numb).  I'd go from being super bogged down and feeling numb to trying to force myself to be happy.  If you've ever tried to force energy or happiness then you know how awful it feels.  If you don't, let me paint a picture for you.  Imagine your favorite dessert.  Looks amazing right?  You're typically really excited about this dessert, you could eat it every day if the cellulite gawds would let you.  During this week, you don't want this dessert.  You try to force yourself to eat it but you don't have the appetite for it so you just let it sit on the plate.  Then you wrap it to go and put it in your fridge.  But you never eat it.  And then it just sits there in your face.  You want to eat it, but your appetite won't let you.  I wanted to be my energetic, sarcastic self...my meds were like, ain't no happiness bih.  Finally I went to my therapist and we had a nice long talk about getting that switched.  Long story short, I ate the shit outta my cake :)