workout

I cried in Hot Yoga yesterday.

| cheriarmour

It’s fiiine, the teacher told us we hold a lot of tension in our hips, so it’s not uncommon to get emotional.  Luckily, at that point, it was like pitch-black in there, and the sweat was running in rivulets down my face, so it all looked the same.  Right?  That’s what I keep telling myself anyways.  Having a better time of it than this guy, who posted his mat for sale on Craigslist….

Yoga mat for sale. Used once.

Yoga mat for sale. Used once at lunch hour class in December 2009. Usage timeline as follows: 

11:45a
Register for hot yoga class. Infinite wisdom tells me to commit to 5 class package and purchase a yoga mat. I pay $89.74. Money well spent, I smugly confirm to myself. 

11:55a
Open door to yoga room. A gush of hot dry air rushes through and past me. It smells of breath, sweat and hot. Take spot on floor in back of room next to cute blonde. We will date. 

11:57a
I feel the need to be as near to naked as possible. This is a problem because of the hot blonde to my left and our pending courtship. She will not be pleased to learn that I need to lose 30 pounds before I propose to her. 

11:58a
The shirt and sweats have to come off. I throw caution to the wind and decide to rely on my wit and conditioning to overcome any weight issues my fiancée may take issue with. This will take a lot of wit and conditioning. 

11:59a
Begin small talk with my bride to be. She pretends to ignore me but I know how she can be. I allow her to concentrate and stare straight ahead and continue to pretend that I don’t exist. As we finish sharing our special moment, I am suddenly aware of a sweat moustache that has formed below my nose. This must be from the all the whispering between us. 

12:00p
Instructor enters the room and ascends her special podium at the front of the room. She is a slight, agitated Chinese woman. She introduces me to the class and everyone turns around to greet me just as I decide to aggressively adjust my penis and testes packed in my Under Armor. My bride is notably unfazed. 

12:02p
Since I do have experience with Hot Yoga (4 sessions just 5 short years ago) I fully consider that I may be so outstanding and skilled that my instructor may call me out and ask me to guide the class. My wife will look on with a sparkle in her eye. We will make love after class. 

12:10p
It is now up to 95 degrees in the room. We have been practicing deep breathing exercises for the last 8 minutes. This would not be a problem if we were all breathing actual, you know, oxygen. Instead, we are breathing each other’s body odor, expelled carbon dioxide and other unmentionables. (Don’t worry, I’ll mention them later.) 

12:26p
It is now 100 degrees and I take notice of the humidity, which is hovering at about 90%. I feel the familiar adorning stare of my bride and decide to look back at her. She appears to be nauseated. I then realize that I forgot to brush my teeth prior to attending this class. We bond. 

12:33p
It is now 110 degrees and 95% humidity. I am now balancing on one leg with the other leg crossed over the other. My arms are intertwined and I am squatting. The last time I was in this position was 44 years ago in the womb, but I’m in this for the long haul. My wife looks slightly weathered dripping sweat and her eyeliner is streaming down her face. Well, “for better or worse” is what we committed to so we press on. 

12:40p
The overweight Hispanic man two spots over has sweat running down his legs. At least I think its sweat. He is holding every position and has not had a sip of water since we walked in. He is making me look bad and I hate him. 

12:44p
I consider that if anyone in this room farted that we would all certainly perish.

12:52p
It is now 140 degrees and 100% humidity. I am covered from head to toe in sweat. There is not a square millimeter on my body that is not slippery and sweaty. I am so slimy that I feel like a sea lion or a maybe sea eel. Not even a bear trap could hold me. The sweat is stinging my eyeballs and I can no longer see. 

12:55p
This room stinks of asparagus, cloves, tuna and tacos. There is no food in the room. I realize that this is an amalgamation of the body odors of 30 people in a 140 degree room for the last 55 minutes. Seriously, enough with the asparagus, ok? 

1:01p
140 degrees and 130% humidity. Look, bitch, I need my space here so don’t get all pissy with me if I accidentally sprayed you with sweat as I flipped over. Seriously, is that where this relationship is going? Get over yourself. We need counseling and she needs to be medicated. Stat!

1:09p
150 degrees and cloudy. And hot. I can no longer move my limbs on my own. I have given up on attempting any of the commands this Chinese chick is yelling out at us. I will lay sedentary until the aid unit arrives. I will buy this building and then have it destroyed. 
I lose consciousness. 

1:15p
I have a headache and my wife is being a selfish bitch. I can’t really breathe. All I can think about is holding a cup worth of hot sand in my mouth. I cannot remember what an ice cube is and cannot remember what snow looks like. I consider that my only escape might be a crab walk across 15 bodies and then out of the room. I am paralyzed, and may never walk again so the whole crab walk thing is pretty much out. 

1:17p
I cannot move at all and cannot reach my water. Is breathing voluntary or involuntary? If it’s voluntary, I am screwed. I stopped participating in the class 20 minutes ago. Hey, lady! I paid for this frickin class, ok?! You work for me! Stop yelling at everyone and just tell us a story or something. It’s like juice and cracker time, ok? 

1:20p
It is now 165 degrees and moisture is dripping from the ceiling. The towel that I am laying on is no longer providing any wicking or drying properties. It is actually placing additional sweat on me as I touch it. My towel reeks. I cannot identify the smell but no way can it be from me. Did someone spray some stank on my towel or something? 

1:30p
Torture session is over. I wish hateful things upon the instructor. She graciously allows us to stay and ‘cool down’ in the room. It is 175 degrees. Who cools down in 175 degrees? A Komodo Dragon? My wife has left the room. Probably to throw up. 

1:34p
My opportunity to escape has arrived. I roll over to my stomach and press up to my knees. It is warmer as I rise up from ground level – probably by 15 degrees. So let’s conservatively say it’s 190. I muster my final energy and slowly rise. One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other. Towards the door. Towards the door. 

1:37p
The temperature in the lobby is 72 degrees. Both nipples stiffen to diamond strength and my penis begins to retract into my abdomen from the 100 degree temp swing. I can once again breathe though so I am pleased. I spot my future ex wife in the lobby. We had such a good thing going but I know that no measure of counseling will be able to unravel the day’s turmoil and mental scaring. 

1:47p
Arrive at Emerald City Smoothie and proceed to order a 32 oz beverage. 402 calories, 0 fat and 14 grams of protein — effectively negating any caloric burn or benefit from the last 90 minutes. I finish it in 3 minutes and spend the next 2 hours writing this memoir. 

3:47p
Create Craigslist ad while burning final 2 grams of protein from Smoothie and before the “shakes” consume my body. 

4:29p
Note to self – check car for missing wet yoga towel in am. 

  • Location: Bellevue
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
the yoga mat returns!  
   

Remember our friend, Maria Kang? Maria, on #tbt

| cheriarmour

Maria was our hot mama who posted the photo on the web that created a viral firestorm.  If you missed my post on the action, click here.  I wasn’t sure that I loved her tagline, but I still am pretty impressed that she looks so great after 3 kids.  After working so hard at fitness before kids, I imagine it must be difficult to get back there after you have not one, or two, but three critters to chase around after.  It definitely makes me think twice before making an excuse to skip the sweat session.

Maria KangWell #tbt came around, and Maria posted this old photo of herself.  And I have to say it now, I’m now 100% jealous, and motivated to work a little harder.  Her “before” photo is really nothing to be ashamed of, she looks fabulous.

From her original photo, I’m still not sure I loved her tag, but kudos, our hot mom quite obviously made some steps to get where she is.  So Maria, kudos.  You were obviously a very pretty girl before, and obviously very hardworking after.  (She seems intelligent and well-spoken too, so she rocks.)

Was this Obnoxious? What do you think?

| cheriarmour

I heard about her on the radio, and I was intrigued. A mother of three, a fitness enthusiast had posted the following photo on her Facebook page. I think at the time, the youngest was 8 months, and she’s raising a total of 3 boys.

Hot

And with the photo, came the uproar.

Some of the comments were supportive.  Some of them were nasty.  She was called everything from obnoxious to inspiring.

Here’s my thought.  I don’t know if it’s obnoxious.  I’m not a mom, and I’m not sure if I’ll be one.  But I know, even in my current place in life, that something like this makes me maybe a little, teeny bit envious, but mostly inspired.  I work hard on what I have, which makes me feel pretty confident.  Could it be better?  Probably not, I’m sexy as hell.  But I digress.

I’m trying to put myself in the shoes of some of the women who called her obnoxious.  Was it the tagline at the top?  The fact that she’s perceived as being genetically gifted?

Here’s what I think.  Maybe the tagline at the top was a little much.  But, but, big ol but, I can tell she works hard, and she’s proud off what she’s got.  And that’s okay, I think.  From what she’s said, she struggled at a time with bulimia, and now has eliminated television and gets up super early (heck, I’m not a mom and I could use some help in that department) to get her workouts in, for an hour at a time.   It sounds reasonable.

You guys know, usually I have a ton of opinions on things, but I’m really just not sure here.  What do you think? 

You ever have a workout that just sticks with you?

| cheriarmour

I had one of those a few years ago.  The Tone it Up girls, Karena and Katrina, were a pair of beautifully fit trainers that were featured in Shape magazine.  They have a whole website/blog thing happening, and I find myself often looking to their beautiful photos on IG and stuff to get a little inspiration from time to time.  Anyhoo, they posted in workout in 2011 that’s stuck with me, and I share it with you, almost 3 years later.

TIU Workout

I love this workout for a couple of reasons. 1, it’s super easy to do anywhere. You can do it in a gym, but if you don’t have access, you can do it in the yard, or anywhere. 2, you can change it up to make it yours, or make it a little more challenging. Instead of doing a 5-minute jog, why not a 5-minute sprint to work on some hills or to work on some speed? Add some weights to the lunges – whatever you need to do to make it more challenging. And 3, it’s pretty quick! You can get through these in the span of an hour, maximize time, and still have time to go to work, job search, or whatever it us you’re doing.  This is the perfect workout for someone on a time crunch, (and who isn’t,) so check it out, and check out the Tone it Up girls for a little bit of inspiration.

I saw the coolest thing yesterday.

| cheriarmour

When I first started teaching Zumba, one particular semester, (I’d started at State when I was in grad school) there was a pregnant woman who would always, always, come to my class.  She would wear this purple shirt, and hold her belly when the moves got a little too nuts for her.  It was almost her way of saying, “Chill out, not everyone in this class is 19, please respect that.”  It was a good reminder for me.  She would take it easy when she had to, she wouldn’t jump or anything crazy like that.  She always wore this purple shirt, and I believe she Zumba-ed til like 8 weeks before her due date.  She was safe, she seemed to know her limitations, and she stayed in awesome shape throughout her pregnancy.

“Isn’t that thing gonna fall out,” a few friends asked, astonished, when I’d mentioned it.

Cause that’s exactly what pregs wants to hear, while she’s afraid of eating fish, taking a sip of wine, and carrying a Birken that’s too big, that her baby is going to fall out of her vagina when she’s on the elliptical.  How else can we make women feel incompetent as mothers, folks, please, let me hear it!

But I digress.  I was driving home, I think from my own workout on Sunday evening, and was cruising down ridge road when I saw her.

The first thing I actually noticed was that she was wearing a cute top, I’m pretty sure from Lululemon, and it was in a cool color.  A kind of lime, and she shared my taste, as she was rocking the 3/4 running tights with it.  And then I realized, this woman who was cruising at a pretty decent pace?  Was a mom-to-be, probably well into her second trimester, and she was tearing up the sidewalk.  I’m inspired.

I now have no excuse to skip out on any of my workouts or any of my runs, if this mom to be can harness her inner goddess, well hell?! When is my excuse ever good enough?

Cycling Carrie Bradshaw.

| cheriarmour

So, if you’ve been following, we lost my grandmother last week.  It’s been hard, even logistically speaking, to get my runs and my workouts in, especially when we we had to make flights and travel plans last minute.  I’m desperately trying to balance working out with real life, and as of last week, it’s become tricky.

Despite the fact that it’s gotten a little hard to squeeze in the physical activity (especially considering that I have a marathon in less than 6 weeks,) let alone some of my shorter runs.  I’m trying.  I’m desperately trying to make all of this work.

So Saturday, after the funeral, I took a little bit of time to decompress and to figure out what I could do after spending some of the day on a plane, and the rest in a heightened emotional state.

The Z Hotel Opening Night 6/21/11 Long Island City, NY www.naskaras.com

I was really sort of surprised when I saw what hotel my dad had picked for us to stay in. Not that my dad is, by any means, a lame or anything, but it was so cool, and so hip that I was pleasantly surprised.  My parents are more the Charleston crowd, so this was a little different for them.

Queensboro

Like this was our view. This photo was taken, no filter, with my iPhone, of the Queensboro bridge into Long Island City. Not bad, right?

Anyhoo, so following the service, and the fact that I felt worn down from that, and from sitting around all day, I decided to figure out something I could do to get the blood pumping.  I pulled out that little hotel binder of info, and found out the hotel had some hipster bikes they loaned to guests.  So I google mapsed the nearest Starbucks, and got in the bike lane.

I felt, like absolutely overjoyed for 2 seconds.  I pulled my locs out of their little like hair tie thingie, and let the breeze blow them around.  I even smiled a bit.  Woo-hoo!  I’m Carrie Bradshaw, but with a bike!  And in Queens!  And then the terror set in.  It’s not my city, and I have never, never ridden in a bike lane with traffic before.  So yeah, I was a little terrified.  But black Carrie made it alllll the way to Manhattan for some snacks for us and my brother, and I came back, alive and well to tell the tale, and dang glad I did it.

Will I ever be a cyclist? Probably not, because I’m an absolute weenie, but it sure was fun to play one for a while.

From my vantage point….

| cheriarmour

So I teach group fitness.  Which I’m sure you know if you’ve been around for a while cause I’m a dork and I love it.

I love it.  I knew from the moment I stepped into Koh Herlong’s Zumba class that I would love it.  My eyes would well up at a particularly beautiful song when I started like in 2003.  And that carried into teaching.  I’m obsessed.  When I hear a good salsa, I’ll Shazam it.   I love to salsa out on Thursday nights.  And I take every rare opportunity to choreograph something cool for my students.

The first thing people usually say to me when I offer them an invite to class? “Oh my word, I’m so embarrassed, I can’t dance worth a lick!”

Hohkay, calm down.  If I cared, or anyone else did for that matter how you danced, I’da quit long ago.

I will always maintain that we, as fitness instructors, we don’t make fun of our students.  Ever.  We just don’t.  Even if a student does something hysterical, I would jump off a cliff if I was giggling so hard that they thought I was making fun of them and then they never came back to class.  That said, there’s like a distinct 4 people who come to every class.

  1. The person who hides out in the back row, and thinks I can’t see them in the mirror.  I can see you I can see you.  Also, I walk around A LOT so I see you.  Even when you giggled when I dropped it low.  I saw that.
  2. The person who stands at the window and stares in.  Come in!  (Or leave, cause you makin me nervous.)
  3. The guy whose wife forced him to come.  I’m sorry.  As a bonus you get to stare at a lot of butts. If that’s what you’re into.
  4. The woman who’s bound to become an instructor herself.  This chick usually brings me to tears.  This girl comes every single week.  She knows your routines.  She picks up quickly on new ones.  She comes with a friend.  She comes by herself.  And when she catches your eye, you accidentally burst into tears, cause you know that was you a few years ago.  I’ve heard.
  5. The overachiever.   I love this girl.  She usually has a sexual outfit to wear.  She coordinates.  Does she know what’s going on in class?  Nope.  And she doesn’t really care.   She stand there, on the front row, and she don’t care who sees.  She loves to dance/step/lift weights/whatever, and what the teacher is doing doesn’t concern her. Because she’s dancing to the music of her mind.  Go head, do your thang.

So do we notice this stuff?  Yes, absolutely.  Are we going to make fun of you and tell you not to come back?  Absolutely not.  Look for whatever class speaks to you, and before you know it, you’ll be a total workout out fiend – whatever your workout of choice may be.

Workout tip for the busy people

| cheriarmour

A little tip for working out on a tight schedule

The one beautiful thing about working retail was that the store didn’t even open until 10, so I could feasibly run 10 or so miles before work, hit ’emwith the shower, and so sometimes even get back in bed before I had to go in.

I hear it’s not that way in real life, so here’s a little tippy to keep those pounds from creeping on when you start an office job.

20130910-172025.jpg

Along with some snackies, pack your workout clothes so you can either a, sneak away at lunch and get a little workout on, or b, go straight to the gym or to the trails as soon as work gets out, rather than stopping by home and getting distracted and skipping the precious gym time. It’s simple. But it works!

Locs and workouts.

| cheriarmour

I showed up to see friends last week with fresh locs, and the compliments wouldn’t stop. For those who weren’t as familiar with locs, I got a lot of well-meaninged “Did you get a haircut? It looks sooooo good!” So here’s how it goes down.

I almost understand when women say they don’t want to work out because of their hair.

It’s not cheap. OR (as in my case)

You spend an hour methodically twisting each loc, then you dry it, and tie it in a silk scarf, only then to look like you were raised by wolves a few days later after your 20-miler. I get it.

And last week was totally one of those weeks.

I’d started rocking the famous top-knot because my roots were looking so ratch, because I’d washed after a particularly grueling workout without a twist. You never do that.

Again, a lot of folks get curious about what goes on with locs, especially if you’re an active lady (or gent) so here’s the breakdown.

Hair

 

Far left is new growth/what’s unraveled kind of, since last twist. Locs grow like crazy because you’re not stunting them with scissors or chemicals, so even in a week’s time (and this was far longer than a week unfortunately,) you’ll notice some fuzzies at the root. You can kind of see it in this picture a little, and one of these days, I’ll take a better one so you can really see, but my hair is really two colors, super blond on the ends, and darker toward the roots. Not in a gross tacky way, but because I’ve spend almost three entire summers outside and I run outside, the ends of my hair have captured the most sun. It looks kinda cool, but it can make for some dry times, and I have to be careful to moisturize. Instead of washing with shampoo this time because I was so dry, I went straight to conditioner and glossed it with an oil right after.

Middle is post-twist. At this point, I’ve perfected the art of the twist and I can twist up my entire head in 45 minutes. I put it in a braid so I could finish watching Orange is the New Black without running the hair dryer. Plus it’s mid-summer. If I don’t have to blast my already dry mane with hot dry air, I won’t.

Far right is the finished product. Long, fresh, smell-good, and soft locs. This is what my hair looks like for 10 minutes before I work out.

And it’s hard. I love the way my hair looks when I’m all done. I love how swingy it is. I love that my honey loves how it looks. I love that I can do stuff to it. But I’ll be danged, taking care of this thing ain’t easy! I won’t cut them today, or even a year from today. But on those long run days, where my pony is slapping me in the back of the head? Yeah, I totally think about it.