new experiences every day

This is going to be one of those posts in which I have to tell you about two different, apparently unrelated things in order for them to converge at the end so that you understand my point, and after which you will say to yourselves, "Andrea, it was not worth my time reading all that nonsense for such little payoff." You've been warned. Bail if you must!

Okay, first thing! I don't know if I mentioned it here or not, but a while ago it sort of randomly occurred to me that, aside from my ex-husband who was a couch potato stoner when we were together, every guy I have been in a serious relationship with (and one or two who I've been in a non-serious relationship with) has been the "it's not really exercise unless it makes you want to puke" type. This is a slight exaggeration, but only slight. I don't know if this sort of person attracts me or if I attract them***, but in retrospect the pattern is clear. I've told you how Whatever He Was to Me and I had a mutual love of hiking, right?, and engaged in it frequently together. Except we had different definitions of hiking. My definition involved taking a strenuous but pleasant walk through some pretty woods. His involved finding the highest point in the surrounding three counties and climbing to the top of it.

You see the difference in philosophies? While I have always been an active person and have never been really out of shape (and, as you know, it pissed me off greatly when several people doubted my ability to complete the 20 mile Walk for Hunger last year just because I didn't look like some kind of scrawny marathon runner or something), I have always looked at exercise as something that felt good, not something that was more rewarding when it made you want to die afterwards.

Okay, second thing. When I was doing weights with Liz, we would do a whole body workout each time, circuit training style. This worked well in a group situation, plus it was supposed to be more cardio-like and geared to fat loss, which is what the chicks want, amirite? (Which is why Liz was so happy to work with me, being as I want to get muscles and lift heavy shit.) As Liz was graduating me and we were discussing how I might proceed, she said I could break up my workouts: lower body one day, upper the next, for example. Last week I tried this. Thus freed from having to do my whole body in like an hour's time, I added one more exercise to my lower body workout (6 rather than 5) and went up to 4 sets each instead of 3. Plus, because I was taking more rest time in between sets/exercises, I was able to go up on some of my weights. Last week I did lower Saturday, upper Sunday, rested Monday, lower Tuesday, upper Wednesday, lower Thursday, upper Friday, cardio Saturday. So I was in the gym 7 days out of 8. Killing it.

However, this week is my birthday week. (Still time for yous to look at my amazon wishlist, bitches. Overnight shipping n' all.) Anticipating that there will most likely be some excessive drinking and excessive eating taking place, I knew that realistically I will not be at the gym almost every day. So I figured today I would do a whole body workout, BUT I would keep the extra sets and the extra exercise or two and keep up the heavier weights. (In fact, today I progressed from using 20 lb dumbbells for my dumbbell rows to 25s. First time.)

And here is where this story converges, because after an hour and twenty minutes of whole body heavy lifting, I knew what it was to workout till you almost, but not quite, puke, boys and girls. OMG. The very last thing I was going to do was my preacher curls, but when I went over to the preacher curl bench, someone had left it adjusted for someone approximately 6'6. I was so stupid from physical exhaustion at that point, I spent about two minutes trying to figure out how to readjust it, until a gentleman who I always think of as, and who we will thus call, Kettlebell Guy****, came over and kindly asked me if I needed help. He fixed it for me and told me the secret. I did my curls and staggered out of there. In fact, I staggered over to the Gulu and got a latte and a blue cheese salad with chicken because my need for food at that point was beyond my ability to get home and prepare some and beyond what the organic food protein bar in my purse could quench. So, yes, this was the hardest I have ever voluntarily worked out***** and...yeah, I almost see the appeal. Huh.

Final only tangentially-related aside: when you eat out alone do you over-tip your server (assuming you're sitting at a table, not the bar, that is)? I do, and did today, because I feel as if I am taking up a space that two people would have otherwise been sitting at, and the server is thus losing the amount of the second diner's tip. And s/he's making just as many trips to the table. I dunno. I feel better leaving a generous amount, unless of course the service sucks.

xoxo

***I'm leaning heavily towards "I attract them" on the basis I have yet another one flirting heavily online with me right now. This guy's typical pleasant weekend morning is a 41 mile bike ride with a 2300 foot climb. Insane. Anyway, believe me, I am not encouraging this flirting because a.) he lives in Alabama and b.) being originally from NYC, he's a Yankees fan, and you know how I feel about mixed marriages and c.) I think he's religious and most importantly d.) he's not a contractor, so what the fuck good is he to me? I ask you.

****What is the deal with those things anyway? I don't see anybody doing anything with them you couldn't do with a regular dumbbell. Is it just that they look cool or what?

*****The hardest I have ever involuntarily worked out was climbing that goddamned mountain in the Adirondacks which almost cost me two toenails and after which I literally almost could not walk for a day and a half. August 1998, the athletic peak of my life. Sigh.