Part 6 of My Triathlon Training Experience
Although I'm on the fence about actually registering for a triathlon, I have been serious about my training for the past 5+ weeks. WEEKS. I know this is shocking to anyone who knows me. I'd much rather spend any moment of free timeon Facebook or online shopping volunteering and giving back to my community, but now I spend my time in the water, on a bike with a seat the size of a thimble, or dying running on a treadmill.
After devoting over a month of my life to sore muscles and ugly gym shorts, I would like to lodge a formal complaint against my body. Despite hours and hours of swimming, biking, and running, my weight has remained remarkably stable.This makes me want to scream and throw things while simultaneously eating my weight in cheeseburgers. I really, truly, sincerely thought the scale would show me some love.
A friend of mine suggested that perhaps I've gained muscle, and we all knowthat's absurd muscle weighs more than fat. I'd like to argue that my muscle is especially heavy, but that sounds ridiculous.
You know what else is ridiculous? The fact that I sometimes exercise more than 7 hours in a week, and despite this I have not lost more than ONE pound. Want to know something that is earth shattering? Occasionally, I have even exercised two times in one day. Why hasn't Brian Williams mentioned this on the nightly news? I mean seriously, people, this is breaking news.
I actually toyed with the idea that my scale was broken. This led to a very scientific experiment where I placed various objects on the bathroom scale to determine the scale's accuracy. Items included a pair of winter boots, a disgruntled cat, and a 10 year old boy. Turns out there is nothing wrong with my darn scale. There just seems to be something wrong with me. As an aside, do not try to weigh a fat cat on a bathroom scale. They loathe the scale more than a woman who's been exercising an hour a day for the last 5 weeks only to learn she's not lost any weight!!!
This led to more reflection on what could possibly be wrong with me. Husband, shush. This is a rhetorical question.
As I was contemplating the likelihood of all of my back fat miraculously relocating to my breasts, my socks fell down. I pulled them up and thought about the odds of my butt fat morphing into rock solid gluteus maximus. My socks fell down again. I pulled up my socks and went back to daydreaming about my arm flab tightening into solid Kelly Ripa arms. My darn socks fell down again. This time I took the socks off and simultaneously had an epiphany.
Back fat, butt fat, arm fat. It's all still there, of course.
BUT, my ankles are looking very svelte.
Yep, I have some of the trimmest ankles out there. Over five full weeks of training, and I've seemingly managed to lose one pound of fat from my ankles. You've got to start somewhere, right?
Bye-bye, cankles!
Although I'm on the fence about actually registering for a triathlon, I have been serious about my training for the past 5+ weeks. WEEKS. I know this is shocking to anyone who knows me. I'd much rather spend any moment of free time
After devoting over a month of my life to sore muscles and ugly gym shorts, I would like to lodge a formal complaint against my body. Despite hours and hours of swimming, biking, and running, my weight has remained remarkably stable.
A friend of mine suggested that perhaps I've gained muscle, and we all know
You know what else is ridiculous? The fact that I sometimes exercise more than 7 hours in a week, and despite this I have not lost more than ONE pound. Want to know something that is earth shattering? Occasionally, I have even exercised two times in one day. Why hasn't Brian Williams mentioned this on the nightly news? I mean seriously, people, this is breaking news.
I actually toyed with the idea that my scale was broken. This led to a very scientific experiment where I placed various objects on the bathroom scale to determine the scale's accuracy. Items included a pair of winter boots, a disgruntled cat, and a 10 year old boy. Turns out there is nothing wrong with my darn scale. There just seems to be something wrong with me. As an aside, do not try to weigh a fat cat on a bathroom scale. They loathe the scale more than a woman who's been exercising an hour a day for the last 5 weeks only to learn she's not lost any weight!!!
This led to more reflection on what could possibly be wrong with me. Husband, shush. This is a rhetorical question.
As I was contemplating the likelihood of all of my back fat miraculously relocating to my breasts, my socks fell down. I pulled them up and thought about the odds of my butt fat morphing into rock solid gluteus maximus. My socks fell down again. I pulled up my socks and went back to daydreaming about my arm flab tightening into solid Kelly Ripa arms. My darn socks fell down again. This time I took the socks off and simultaneously had an epiphany.
Back fat, butt fat, arm fat. It's all still there, of course.
BUT, my ankles are looking very svelte.
Yep, I have some of the trimmest ankles out there. Over five full weeks of training, and I've seemingly managed to lose one pound of fat from my ankles. You've got to start somewhere, right?
Bye-bye, cankles!
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