In Which I Do Not Die

Today was the second day of this five week period of nursing classes. For those of you who do not know me in real life, I am a first year nursing student. The school that I go to does their program in five week sections, so I have three "classes" in one semester. This means I am doing the same amount of work in one five week section as a student in a four year program does in their one semester. Doesn't exactly seem fair, eh? Oh well.

Anyway, so second day of class. Yesterday was the first, and my husband had to work, so I made the decision to wake up at 0400 to go to the gym. I was so tired when I got there that the entire workout was just half-ass. Burned about 250 calories in 45 minutes. Not bad, but not great.

Today, even though I tried, I just could not get out of the bed at 0400. So I got up at 5;30 and got the kids ready for school, then went to class myself. But class was only til noon, so I went right after class.

My treadmill was taken, but my sheer rage that came up was quickly soothed by the friendly man who was working out with me. He actually lives in the same building as I do, just on the third floor. I've seen him around, but never had the chance to really talk to him. We had a wonderful half hour of conversation while I killed myself on the e-is-for-extreme-lliptical. We discussed the weather, how much I miss New Hampshire, my kids, my school, what he did for a living before being retired, politics...it was nice to have a workout buddy. He even praised me for my workout skillz.

I love this man.

So anyway, after my new buddy finished his workout, I hit the weights (figuratively) and grunted over my now 20 reps instead of 10. I am upping the ante, as they say. 20 pounds at 20 reps for all my arm exercises, 70 pounds at 20 reps for my legs (people always comment on my fantastic calves. not exactly what I would like to be complimented on, but I'll take what I can get).

After the weights, I went to the treadmill. The treadmill and I have a love-hate relationship. I love the way I feel after I work out. I'm energized, I feel like I can take on the world, and I see the calories shedding away via that little kcal counter. However, I feel like my knees are going to fall off, that my ass might begin flapping in the wind, and when I look down I can see my thighs jiggling if I'm wearing shorts. I suppose that I just choose to look at the positive and try not to peek down at my thunder thighs.

So I get on there, and I'm doing a warm up, get bored with the 2 mph walk, bump it up to 4 mph, then get bored with that and start a jog. I don't know what mph I was running, I was too busy trying not to fall and remembering how my father taught me to breathe (in-in, out-out) that I wasn't focused on that. But I'm listening to Taio Cruz's "Break Your Heart", The Veronica's Untouched, and Joan Jett's Bad Reputation and I'm running like my head is on fire and my ass is catching. Finally I look down and I see that I've done a mile...IN LESS THAN TWELVE MINUTES!!

Commence celebration. I'll wait while you do the "Beckie Happy Dance".

Granted, it was a 11:54 mile, but that's the fastest I've ever done a mile! Finally, it seems all this hard work is paying off. I did however, have a mocha frappe and a cinnamon melt with my best friend before class this morning, but I am trying to avoid the feelings of guilt I have over that.

Life is good.

In Which An Old Guy Tells Me I Have A Nice Ass

After yesterday's startling discovery of being less than 180 pounds, I was pumped. I figured that I had to keep it up because my goal of 165 pounds is within reaching distance. I vowed to keep on the veggie diet, to continue going to the gym and resisting the yumminess that is everything in the Publix bakery.

I was up and at 'em early, dropping the kids off at the bus stop and daycare, trying to restrain from doing the now patented 'Beckie Happy Dance' as I pulled out of my son's daycare parking lot. I went home and sucked down a Slim-Fast so as to have something to work off, fooled around on facebook, played a round of 'The Price is Right', then headed to the gym. Try as I may, I didn't make it there before 9am.

Not getting to the gym before 9am meant one thing. The office was open. One of the downsides with working out at my apartment complex gym during office hours is that the staff does periodic tours with interested residents-to-be. The other downside is that both girls who work in the office are ridiculously thin. I'd kill to have either of their bodies, though one of them has a nasty girl-stashe. Wax that crap, woman!

But I digress.

So I'm literally running my ass off on the treadmill (I'm taking a break from the elliptical) and super slender non-stashe office chick comes into the gym, giving this old guy wearing shorts and black socks pulled halfway up his calf a tour. I pull one earbud out of my ear, trying to be respectful and say hello even though Muse's Uprising is blasting out of the tiny ear piece and I'm running with a 4% incline at 6 mph. Here's what happened:

Office chick: This is our gym, which is open 24 hours a day for our residents. This is Beckie, one of our residents who is here often.

Me: Hi, how are you?

Old guy: Doing better than you, I guess. Keep it up honey, soon your thighs will be as nice as your ass.

Me: ...

Office chick: Right. So the model apartment is right this way...

Awkward much? Such is my life.