The Longforgotten Sweet Taste of Success

Remember how I allegedly write a fitness-lifestyle blog? Nope, me either. It's been three weeks and one peppermint dip cone since my last post. I would love to blame my utter neglect of this blog on something as awesome as moving or healing, but that is certainly not the case.

Yes, I did get busy with the graduation-cup-cake studded weeks that were finals at DMACC, and since the semester came to a close, I have been working on getting my summer classes ready to go, but other than that, I just didn't really feel like I had much to blog about.




















Until Friday.

So, two Fridays ago, I worked out with Gwyn. It was a "core" day. Apparently, my core is about as strong as that of a corpse, because in exercise after brutal exercise, I was failing.

I had been so proud of myself. I rode my bike to the YMCA. Then, because I was early for our session, I hopped on the treadmill and did some jogging. The air conditioning at the YMCA was broken, so I was sweating like a mother, but it was proud sweating.

That's when the chronicle of fail began.

Gwyn wanted me to put my feet on an exercise ball, then get into the plank position, and then, remove one leg from the ball, bring it towards my nose and tuck it under the other leg. Then, reverse the enter process and repeat on the other side. Fail! I would try to remove one leg only to have the other slip off the side and leave me in a pile on the floor.

We did some work in the "chair of death," but I was so sweaty and weak, I kept slipping off. Fail.

I got on the assisted pull-up machine, with as much weight as the machine could displace, and I couldn't even do one pull-up. Fail.

Then, of course, there were the mirrors. I'd look up and see my rear end. Fail.

I've never cried when working out with Gwyn, but I was close.

This last Friday I met with Gwyn again, and things went a little better. Everything we were doing was actually pretty easy. Near the end of our hour, we moved over to the mats do some planky stuff and some Russian twists. Gwyn put my "chart" on the floor and then went and grabbed some tissue. At the top of the page was a note she had written to herself, "Look for a good time for Lauren today."

I can't say for certain what that meant, but I am pretty sure it's Gwyn-speak for "Lauren needs a little confidence booster. Let's take it easy on her today."

Of course, knowing that other people could see that I needed that confidence booster threw me down the spiral stair case of insecurity.

It's hard being my trainer. I am very emotionally needy when I am working out my body. Part of me is like, "no, I want to be pushed," but, not pushed so much that I fail.

Then, I started thinking, this blog has been kind of a fail blog for the last, who knows how many months. I haven't had one real success to crow over in a long, long time. I haven't felt proud of my accomplishments for a long time. I am in some sort of fitness-Bermuda triangle. I can see the island where I would eventually like to steer my ship and wear a bikini, but I am just not getting there.

Not being successful is not the same as failure, of course, but it's also kind of getting to me. I need a slump buster, as the White Tiger would call it. I need a victory, and I am getting dangerously close to having to contribute to the Newt Gingrich for president campaign.

So, this week, I am going for the win. I went to the grocery store and stuffed the fridge full of chopped and ready to go healthy stuff. I carved out my workout time. And, I am going to count calories because that really keeps me accountable. I am looking to lose two pounds this week. Then, I hope, one victory will lead to future victories.

If I can put my nose down and make it happen, and I know I can, then I can get myself out of the Bermuda triangle of failure. Then, perhaps, I will have something to blog about.