Bo-Bo Knows The End (Shred Day 30)

Done! Finished! The End! Woot! Woot!

And though taking my measurements made me feel more like a lumpy sofa than a triumphant athlete, here are my fitness numbers after 30 days of shredding:

• Weight: Down 3.4 pounds
• Bicep: Down 1 inch
• Thigh: Down 1/2 inch
• Hips: Down 1.5 inches
• Breast: No change (My B-cup girls are grateful for the net zero here.)
• Waist: Down 1 inch*

I look at these numbers--by all measures, a success--and I think every number here should be bigger, much bigger. And yet, I've lost 34 pounds since the start of the summer--that's like rubbing out a whole leg, only the weight loss is more evenly distributed. It's only right that my weight loss should slow to a pound-a-week trickle (though the foot-stomping three-year-old in me is pouting--are we there yet?)

Getting fit's a hairy mind trip, isn't it?

I remind myself that my go-to pants were in storage a month ago, my clinging shirts no longer have a spare tire to cling to, I can take the groceries up the stairs without getting winded, my mood is better in general, and--perhaps most importantly--I believe there's a healthy fit body waiting for me at the end of this journey. And maybe even more importantly than even that last one, I also recognize that getting to that healthy body is the end of the first leg of a lifetime journey, not an end in itself. For now, though, I'm choosing to be psyched to report that on this Halloween Day, I'm dressed as a slightly more shredded version of myself.

Werewolves are sooo overrated.

* Some of you may be wondering why my waist measurement increased an inch in the last week. I did have a frozen yogurt, but I suspect it has more to do with forcing my sleepy husband to get up and help measure me before 8 a.m. on a Saturday. First he tried to measure me from a prone position. Then he tried to, keeping his eyes closed against the light, measure me half-heartedly. When I pointed out that I was getting measurements at or in excess of my readings at the start of the month, he measured again:

Me: If you go all tourniquet, you're not doing me any favors.
Him (grinning): I know where my bread is buttered.
Me (laughing): Just do it right!
Him (getting up like the sleeping bear he is): Your name is mud.

So the results may be a bit hairy, but fitting into old clothes is real. And the subjective truth is this. I feel stronger. I feel amazing, actually. I feel ready to take on those last (sigh) 27 pounds. Maybe next month I'll be ready to scratch the sigh.

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 29

So with each day we're one day closer to great tape measuring ceremony that is Day 30. I've made peace with the fact that I (very likely) will not be able to finish the final circuit of level 3 strength at the advanced level—the muscles are willing, but the wrists poop out. Leave it to me to be held back by limp wrists.

Limp wrists aside, I do know I'm working hard because Bo-Bo tells me so. Today he watched me jump and kick and lift, lift, lift with his twitchy little eyes until I collapsed into my final ab workout—then he jumped up with more spryness than he's exhibited of late and padded over to investigate my general well being. You try doing your ab work effectively with 75 pounds of hound hovering over your chest and a cold wet nose pressed into your sweat-soaked face.

Then at the end of workout three—in a move I can only attribute to finish-line giddiness—I decided it would be cool to do the level one workout. Yeah, cool. I think the relentlessly impractical optimist deep inside me actually believed level one would be a cake walk by now. I knew I was in trouble when my arms started shaking during the first set of military push ups. When I fell from my toes to my knees during the second set, I got the giggles. Some cakewalk.

But! Initial strength circuit aside, the cardio was a breeze and the final ab workout—the bicycles—were no sweat at all when I know the first time through I was excited to graduate the level having done just one good set. Now, I was pushing through them like they were nothing. OK. Not nothing (particularly by the end). But pushing through them in a way that I'd feel comfortable modeling them for a newbie like I was 29 days ago today!

So this may be just a little more finish-line giddiness, but I'm gonna go ahead and call it: I will absolutely finish this 30-day program tomorrow**. Results will be posted. Celebrations will take place. If there was a "Jillian Michaels shredded my ass!" bumper sticker to be had, I'd so be affixing it to the back of my car.

* For those of you who shred and are wondering how I could be on my back during the final ab exercise, I've modified it. The exercise she recommended was causing shooting pains in my elbows. I decided this was a sign I was doing it seriously wrong and swapped out an exercise that has my shoulders on the ground flat and my legs bent so I look like a lowercase b or d and then crunch away.

** Barring natural disaster or power outage, of course.

Bo-Bo Knows The Shredded Mind (Day 28)

In much the same way that my muscles are starting to assert their presence beneath the fat in my body that's still waiting to be burned off, the shredded head I dreamed about on day 6 has whipped out it's gardening shears and started pruning back the wrongheaded thoughts that had sprouted up and were threatening to strangle my mind.

Yesterday--a day with showers so heavy that I had to drag my dog on his walk (he refuses to believe that he won't melt in the rain) and a dental hygienist who went at my gums with sharp and shiny metal things--was still hands down the best day of my week. Before you fret about the quality of my life, let me explain.

Yes, it was a day off from work. And yes, I'm working six days a week. But it was more than that. It was about a shift in my thinking--my head was clear, the world was my playground, and nothing was impossible (if you read the "fitness is funny" post I put up yesterday, you'll get an idea of the mindset I'm talking about) . Because yesterday fitness was funny, writing was the primary goal of the day, my husband was working for home which meant we got to laugh and joke with each other when he took the breaks, I wrote 6 pages I was happy wtih, had a healthy thai meal, met with writer friends for a killer workshop, one of my best friends shared dance-when-you-hear-it good news, and I topped the day off with a little hot-fudge covered frozen yogurt that I savored while talking shop wtih one of my newest friends.

It wasn't that any of the individual parts were life-changing,* but the mood was. It was the first time in a long time that all of the moving parts seemed to be clicking along nicely. I want to be healthy, and I made healthy choices. I want to be writing, and I blogged and wrote fiction without worry. My desires and my actions synched up like they do that all the time (they don't, believe me, they don't), and for the first time in a while my head felt as strong as my body's becoming. If that's not a shredded head, I don't know what is.

* OK, my friend's news was absolutely, positively, probably going to be completely life altering in the best way possible--yaaaaaay!!!!-- but we're talking about me now. And didn't I set you up for that one? Yes. We're always talking about me here. Funny. Very funny.

Bo-Bo Knows Fit is Funny (Shred Day 27)

Feel the burn. No pain, no gain. Work it, work it, work it. Even Jillian has a little section during the level three workout where she dwells on the pain of exercise: "Right now, I know you want to quit; you want to stop; you want to turn this DVD off..."

Well, no I don't, and how is it helpful to plant that toxic little seed in my brain?

Is it just me or does the fitness industry seem hellbent on conveying one simple message—fitness is hard, so suck it? I mean really. Who in their right mind actually wants to suck it? So on shred day 27, I'm here to tell you three things that are fun—scratch that, funny—about fitness:

1. Pretty much everything—I just cracked up—and I mean, belly-laugh-level guffawed—over a commercial for salsa (see below). It's not just silly little commercials, either. I laugh way more easily now. It's as if exercising my heart and lungs has reminded my whole body how to open up.

2. Indecent exposure—This morning I discovered I've lost so much weight I can pull off my jeans while they're still buttoned and zipped. Is it wrong to look forward to the day they drop to the floor unassisted?

3. Sit-com-like conversations with your husband—There are few things funnier (ok, the salsa commercial below comes close) than watching a man try to commend a woman for losing weight. The following are actual compliments my husband has given me so far:

• On my slimmer hips: "You've totally lost your shelves."
• On noticing my legs in yoga pants: "Your calves used to be ginormous."
• On the tightening of my tummy: "There's so much less monkey to love."
• On my thinned face: "I'd say you're down half a chin at least."
• On the whole package: "Look at you!" Then he turned sideways, ran his hand over his own abridged belly, and shot me the puppy dog eyes that were my cue to say: "And look at you."

We all know fitness can peel off pounds, melt away inches, and strengthen our cores, but why don't don't more people talk about the way getting fit can make you laugh and laugh and laugh? I'm gonna say it here first: giggling is maybe the best unsung benefit of the fitter life (though runners up include dashing for the train without feeling winded and an unexpected 27-day blog streak).

And now, without further ado, the salsa ad. Enjoy.

Bo-Bo Knows The Last Half (Shred Day 26)

Crossing over into the second half of my time at level three makes me think about all the other last halves I'm working on just now:

• My weight loss—I have less to lose than I've lost


• My eating—I'm eating way less than half as much junk as I used to eat.


• My thinking—I've grown so accustomed to healthy eating that I no longer feel like I'm eating less than half as much food as I used to. It was never true, but it certainly felt that way at first. Not any more.


• My clothing size—Last night I tried on some clothes—like in an actual store—to see what was what. I could button the pants up in my dream size, but I felt a little guilty doing it—stressing the button for the true owner and all that. I could definitely button the next size up, but they were still so tight I wouldn't buy them. But the size after that, now THAT was too big to buy. Which I realize means that if I needed to buy new clothes for something important, like, right now, I'd be shit out of luck, but we're missing the point, people! The point is that the size that was too big is two sizes smaller than where I was when I started losing at the start of the summer which means I'm exactly halfway between my old shape and my goal shape.
  

It took me a good night's sleep to figure out that last one out. Because when I came out of the dressing room and had to give back all those rejects, my newly cut shoulders were a bit slumped; I kept thinking: all that work and I'm only down two sizes??

Only my skinnier little ass.

To cheer myself up, I bought a bright pink-and-orange striped sports bra and a pair of yoga pants, that, while mostly black, have a hot pink stripe around the waist. Because though the jeans were a little out of my league right now, I know the TV lady in me (see day 25) knows how to rock workout clothes.

For me, though, color is an acquired taste. As I've been adding clothes back into my closet (and there's another last half—I'm more than halfway through my piles of don't-fits), I've noticed that I've got the kind of fixation with black that might be appropriate if I were a goth, but unfortunately that particular adolescent stage passed me right by. And yet my closet is more than half black. And most of what's not black is brown or maroon—in other words, dark, dark, dark.

There are a few bright spots—I have a white shirt here, a blue shirt there. And apparently, in one particularly Polyanna-ish fit of shopping psychosis, I deluded myself into thinking a coral shirt (that's fashion for pink, people, pink) was something I might actually want to wear. Which begs the question: do the colorful islands in my closet really count among the members of my wardrobe if I pretty much never take them off their hangers? So I bought myself a splash of color. I'm wearing it now, in fact. And while the shade is awfully cheery (note the emphasis on the word awfully), I can't help but wonder who the hell thinks a bright pink splash around your equator is a good idea. Or horizontal, bright-colored stripes across the breast, for god's sake.*

I choose to believe that my fixation with black is all about camouflage—I dress like a ninja because the dark color makes me feel less like I'm walking into every room flab first. And I've been wearing black so long it's the only color I really feel like me in (my compromise has always been black near the face and whatever I want on the bottom—with some exceptions, of course. I mean, seriously—is it me or do most women look just plain goofy in plaid?).

The point is I bought myself some color last night to commemorate my progress. Would it have been better to reward myself with something that didn't make me feel like a clown? Perhaps. But it's my keen hope that one day I'll wear color and prints happily.

Who knows? Maybe there's a "Bo-Bo Knows 30 Days in Technicolor" somewhere in my skinny-me future—I have a friend who would probably let me borrow her pink wig. For now, though, I'm just glad that I've finally moved into the last half of this healthy-me journey.

* Yes, men. Oh, ha, ha, ha!

Bo-Bo Knows The TV Lady (Shred Day 25)

Who is that woman reflected in the shiny charcoal of the resting television? All she's got on is a purple sports bra and a pair of leggings--tight leggings at that--and yet her attention's completely focused on the computer on her lap and not the urgent need to pull a t-shirt on--quick, quick!--before anybody notices. In fact, that bra-clad TV lady just went into the kitchen for water and the kitchen in question has a big picture window on one side and twin regular windows on the other that look down on a guy who pretty much always seems to be out there training his dobermans or tinkering with the black muscle car that a nube like me can't identify from above.

Oh. Nope. Now I've done it.

Watch carefully and you'll see the miles-to-go-before-I'm-thin thinking in the frown that eclipses her face. And yup, here comes the long-sleeve t-shirt, and just like that, she's covered again. But believe me when I say that this little bauble's a case of being down but not out because if we steal a peak over her shoulder, we'll see she's writing about how amazed she is that she's reached a place in this fitness journey where every small set back (in this case a return to self consciousness despite being the only human in the living room just now) seems to be paired with an equal and opposite victory (a realization that this stretchy t-shirt stretched over a little too much to wear comfortably a few short months ago).

Chin up, TV lady. The thing about tiny victories is how the way they pile right up.

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 24

The clock beat out the shred this morning which left me with two choices:

1. break the streak or
2. shred after a 12-hour day.

So now I'm sweaty and wired right when I should be thinking about bed. And if the way my leg muscles shimmied and shrieked through the whole thing is any indication, I probably could have used a day off, although my inner drill sargeant says that's what day 31 is for.

Which brings me to life post shred.

A couple people have asked me what happens after day 30. I've given it a lot of thought, and I honestly don't know. I understand the science that insists that strength training boosts weight loss. But I can't help but feel that shredding when I've got 30 pounds to go to get to my goal is like putting on a party dress and never leaving the condo. Seriously, what's the point?

Yes, I know. The science. But doesn't the science also say that the fastest way to boost fat burning is to boost cardio? My instinct says to keep the walking up, but swap the 30-day shred for 30 days of jogging-- there are only so many minutes a girl can exercise in a month.

I do know this: I'm keeping the 30-day blogging format, though I'm thinking November needs a new theme. Some kind of Thanksgivng tie-in? Or maybe love letters to my favorite goof pop songs? The possibilities are endless. You know. In a 30-day kind of way.

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 23

I have just five things to say at the end of a very long day:

1. Despite my dismay that level three has turned shred into a torture chamber of vigorous jump, jump, jumping, I hauled my slightly more muscular ass out of bed and pushed through.
   
   
2. I'm holding out hope that by day 30 the torturous nature of this level will just feel like a healthy bouncing workout.
   
   
3. My muscles remain as broken as they were yesterday. Maybe more so.
   
   
4. I suspect that the Coca-Cola company has reintroduced cocaine to the Coke classic recipe. Yes, it's true. Today I had my first soda since May 31. In my defense I was in a caffeine panic because traffic patterns prevented me from getting my fix not once, but twice today. So at the first sign of the kind of ice-pick headache that ended with me puking in my car last week, I panicked and darted into a Shaw's for a 20-oz bottle of Coke. I thought about going with a Diet Coke because of my current commitment to a low carb diet, but given how few migraines I've had in the two years since I gave up my once legendary Diet Coke habit, I figured that refined sugar was a lesser evil than that gnarly naughty nutrasweet. But back to the cocaine. Maybe it was the fact that my husband and I are experimenting with a return to South Beach phase one this week so the only carbs I've had have been dairy, legumes, and vegetables, but drinking that coke felt like mainlining sugar. I had bought the bottle with the idea that I'd only drink what I needed to keep the caffeine beastie at bay--I can stop at anytime. But then there I was, halfway through the bottle, feeling better, and eyeballing the rest when I did what any good soda junkie should do: at the next available red light, I popped open my car door and splattered what remained of the crack water across a tiny stretch of Watertown pavement.
   
   
5. There's a good possibility that I have a bit of a caffeine problem.

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 22

So yesterday I was all, "isn't this a cake walk"; today I just want the cake.

My muscles are so fatigued that when Jillian told me to jump, my brain said, "yes ma'am," but my muscles were all like, "that's easy for you to say."

Now I know that behind every wall-o-fatigue is the world's tiniest masons, laying the brick in the new addition to my muscle mass. But what the head knows is a far cry from what the body feels, and this old body is pooped.

Pooped! Pooped! Pooped!

I blame the nano. Oh yes. Mike brought on Christmas a couple months early* disguised as a skinny purple nano and a Nike attachment thinger** to measure mileage. The idea is to inspire me to jog more happily, and maybe if I start tackling the long walks I keep imagining I'll use it for audio books. But while I'm shredding, jogging is right out. It's all I can do to manage a medium-length, 40-ish-minute walk with Bo every morning.

On this, my first nano morning, that walk was all about the tunes. And not just any tunes. My collection of 29*** of the bounciest goof pop songs known to my ears. Goof pop is my name for those silly songs that people can’t understand why I love except that they make me smile like a loon and want to dance, or in this case, walk about 14 percent faster than normal with a giant here-comes- the-escapee grin on my face.

You think I've exaggerated how much these simple beats make me bust my hump? Even Bo noticed it. My new pace forced him to power walk beside me for so long that he kept looking up at me with that tongue-lolling expression that can only be translated into "what is she on?" And during the portion of the walk where Bo frolics on the beach while I sprint like hell to keep up with him? I may have sprinted so long he actually stopped frolicking.

Yeah. My unresponsive muscles during the shred today were soooo the nano's fault.


*And no, smart ass, I did not write 200 new pages or lose 14.8 pounds in the past two days (see day 20)


**Yeah, I know. Real technical.


***A sample from today's shuffled selections (I dare you to sit still while you listen):

"Hungry Like the Wolf" by Duran Duran


"The Ballad of John and Yoko" by the Beatles


"Flowers in the Window" by Tonic


"Waterloo" by Abba


"Keep the Customer Satisfied" By Simon and Garfunkel

Bo-Bo Knows 30 Days With the Shred

On October 2 I decided to do the 30-day shred and blog about it. Here are the links to the whole journey on one page:

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 1

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 2

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 2 - Addendum

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 3

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Is Dangerous! (Day 4)

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 5

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 6

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 7

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 8

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 9

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 10

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 11--Level Two!

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 12

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 13

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 14

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 15

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 16

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 17

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 18

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 19

Bo-Bo Knows Shrinkage (Shred Day 20)

Bo-Bo Knows The Twilight Zone (Day 21)

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 22

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 23

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 24

Bo-Bo Knows The TV Lady (Shred Day 25)

Bo-Bo Knows The Last Half (Shred Day 26)

Bo-Bo Knows Fit is Funny (Shred Day 27)

Bo-Bo Knows The Shredded Mind (Shred Day 28)

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 29

Bo-Bo Knows The End (Shred Day 30)

Bo-Bo Knows The Twilight Zone (Day 21)

During my first first level three workout, I kept wondering one thing: Where the hell is Rod Serling?

Because level three was hard, sure. A challenge, yeah. But I was through the first half before I realized I wasn't doing the modifications. Didn't need the modifications. And while I had to stop the walking push ups several times, that had nothing to do with strength and everything to do with figuring out if the breakdancing I was doing was the right move (it wasn't). And yeah, I took the mods on the rockstar jumps, but that was about coordination, too--I figure I can't exactly complete the 30-day circuit with a broken face. And that last ab thing, well, I felt nothing which pretty much makes it a one hundred percent probability I was doing it wrong.

But on balance, the workout was OK. Doable. So doable, in fact, I could hear Serling's deep and dulcet voice over the tacky workout music:

You unlock this door with the key of determination. Beyond it is another dimension: a dimension of strength, a dimension of endurance, a dimension of will. You're moving into a land of satiety without deprivation; exercise without pain. You've just crossed over into:

The Fitness Zone.*

* with apologies to Rod Serling

Bo-Bo Knows Shrinkage (Shred Day 20)

And with this workout, I completed level 2 of the 30-day shred. It may have been touch and go there at the start, but there really is something to be said about pushing through. And though I'm not supposed to measure myself until day 30, I couldn't resist--the husband is taking a work- from-home-day and was right there for the assist with the ribbon and the measuring tape.

Drumroll please....

There is officially one less inch of my middle to pinch. One and a quarter less inches in fact. In other words, those 1.25 inches have been cut from my gut, chased from my waist, and whittled from my middle. I'm dismantling my handles, burning flab from abs, and flushing yummies from my tummy.

If I could come up with a rhyme for stomach, I would.

Tomorrow, it's on to level three. I've already decided to ease in as a beginner for reasons I've already mentioned (see day 16). I've also stepped up walks with this blog's furry namesake to 40+ minutes. As of this morning I was a bit more than 32 pounds down from my starting weight, and I have 14.8 pounds to go to reach a weight that would put me at the tippy top of the normal BMI range for my height. So close I'm hatching grand ideas about presents I can give myself this Christmas:

• To be at a normal weight for the first time since 1997 and
  
• To write 200 new revised novel pages

Is the wishlist above a recipe for ho-ho-ho or humbug? I've got 66 days to figure it out...

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 19

What' s my coordination prognosis if--despite swinging an imaginary rope--I struggle to accurately execute double-jumps?

The trouble is I'm trying so desperately to swing my arms in tandem that I forget to breathe and my neck starts aching from the tension. So I compromise. I allow myself to swing just the one time as long as I jump as high as Jillian does. And really, this is safer for everyone involved. Wouldn't want to maim Bo-Bo with an invisible whip, would I?

Bo would thank me for my kind consideration, but he's busy licking the paw I tried to flatten during our walk this morning. Nothing like the yelp of an innocent first thing to remind me just how many pounds I'm still packing.

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 18

Busy day. No time for blogging. Not that the blog is the point of this 30-day experiment, afterall. The point is balance, and I had it...for today anyway: writing, walking, shredding--the balance trifecta.

And yet. And yet. I'm staring down the barrel of my Tuesday schedule and wondering if I'll have time for any exercise at all, never mind writing.

That's the trouble with balance. Look over your shoulder for one measly second and and wobble, whoa, and it's gone. A work in progress, this balance thing, huh?

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 17

Exercise-induced out-of-body experiences mean one of two things:

1. You've either bounced yourself into unconciousness (and really, it's a minor miracle there isn't a shred fainting pandemic given how often this workout asks we workout-ees to jump around with our heads hung low ), or


2. You're about to have a serious light-reaches-your-cave-brain moment.

So I'm bouncing around (head hung low over shaking arms while my bottom half does jumping jacks) when I realize three things:

1. I can shred muscles all I want, but I'll never be shredded until I lose the 30-pounds I have left to lose.


2. I probably need to boost my cardio to burn through the fat.


3. As excited as I am that I get to put on a fitted shirt I could have never worn three months ago, if I keep prioritizing exercise over all else, I run a very real risk of getting to the end of this, fit, healthy, and bookless.

Bookless. It thudded in my ears as the DVD--and me a half-second behind the ball--transitioned to double jumps.

Normally I opt for the the single-jump modification, and today is no exception. But my head was back on epiphany number three, and I was through the set before I realized that my single-jump modification had been more like a demi-jump modification.

Here's the thing: Fit and healthy are great things--fantastic things!--and I've dropped 30 pounds with the express goal of getting healthier (sub-basement-low cholesterol and trigliceride levels--check!). But all this focus on physical milestones isn't really a focus on health. Because while I'm absolutely grateful for the current status of my phsyical health, true health is really about balance. I want to be fit and trim, yes. But I've wanted to be a writer long before I packed on all the weight I'm in the process of unpacking (I'm the blonde on the horse). And yet I've put the revision of my book on hold while I tackled my physical self by fostering healthful habits. I think it's fair to say those habits have taken root. I think it's also fair to say it's time to broaden my focus from physical health to true health. It's time to remember balance.

Which is not to say that I'm bagging the shred. I'll finish it, I swear. In the past I've piled on the pounds as I've piled up the pages. For once in my life, can't I integrate writing and healthful living? If I kick the devil slug to the curb, won't there be plenty of room for dual priorities? And what's the matter with promising myself that the cardio I want to add won't come at the expense of renewed focus on the book? Here's what I figure: If I can animate characters with nothing but my brain, 26 letters, and a handful of punctuation marks in my toolbox, I can figure balance out, too. And if I can interpret the wave above as a salute, it's looking like my skinny-me, baby-faced self agrees.

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 16

Better late than never. And it was almost never today. So instead of turning off the DVD and congratulating myself for pouring salt on the devil slug*, I decided to preview level three.

Big mistake.

Even bigger mistake? Deciding to get onto the floor and try out a move I have little confidence in my ability to pull off. Jillian was in a plank pose, but instead of having her hands on the floor, she had them curled around dumbbells. The movement was deceptively simple: Lift one of your arms into a row. So there I was, up on my toes, hands curled around weights, staring at the floor and willing my arm to lift. Lift! Jedi Cathy says liiiiifft. Please?

My muscles have been more responsive in full-on pins and needle mode.

New goal: move from staring at the floor and laughing at home completely my weak body is failing my willing mind to successfully mastering these torturous things. At least once.

*In actual fairness, I had a killer migraine last night and was in a post-migraine fog most of today--think of the fog as an earthquake's aftershock.

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 15

Today marks the halfway point of these 30-day shred shenanigans. I'd do cartwheels to celebrate, but I'm running on E. And that's E as in empty--not energetic or enthusiastic or ebullient. It's not even E as in Elcik.

Less than five hours sleep last night. I expected to crumble, and I did. But not until the last three seconds of the last ab exercise. Literally. When Jillian said "last three" my arms actually collapsed. Ever see footage of a building crumbling during an earthquake? Sub my arms and you've got the picture. I took utter collapse as a sign to quit a few seconds early, and yeah, I actually have considered that mutinous arms may be the work of the devil slug (see day 14), but when the arms mutiny, you listen. Particularly when not listening could end up breaking my nose.

On the uptick, I did get through the final cardio section without a break. I was still rocking one exercise advanced and one beginner, but maybe in a few days I'll blow through it all on the advanced. Maybe in a few days.

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 14

I almost bagged out this morning. On my walk with Bo, my mind ran through the workout ahead today in light of the sad little workout behind me yesterday, and the thought of doing plank anything kicked my bargaining brain into high gear:

Devil Slug: You know they say you're supposed to rest for a day between workouts.
Action Angel : Who's this they you keep talking about? Besides. this is a 30-day program.

Devil Slug: But 29 days out of 30 is still an A+.
Action Angel: But you'll feel better if you workout. You always do.

Devil Slug: You feel better when you buy yourself cake from Party Favors, too. You so love their coconutty yellow cake with butter cream frosting...
Action Angel: Out, out damn demon! You know the Cadillac of cakes is for birthdays ONLY!

Devil Slug(at home now): Wait. You're changing into your workout clothes? Why are you changing into your workout clothes? Hey, wait! Stop! Look at your knees! No more knee dough! You totally deserve a break.
Action Angel: Holy shit! I really don't have any more fat on my knees. All the more motivation to work out!

Devil Slug: Or all the more motivation to pull out the box of really small clothes under the bed and see what fits.
Action Angel: Holy shit! I can zip up my interview suit. That's, like, a size ten!

Devil Slug:It's so break time!
Action Angel: Screw you, buddy! I'm keeping on keeping on.

And so the angel won again. She's happy to report that today was way easier than yesterday, though she still can't quite make it through the final circuit.

Devil Slug:Maybe if you'd listened to me you might have--
Action Angel: Oh, shut up. There's always tomorrow.

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 13

A brief interlude to prove that I'm not exagerrating about how hard this all is:

This morning I called my husband into the room to check out my form, offer me tips. Not a smart move. You see, I failed to take into account how brainwashed he's been by this doorstop of a fitness book he ordered--something like the "Men's Health Bible?" He looked from my walking plank push up to the one the three women on screen were demonstrating and then back to mine.

Then he said: "I guess you're doing it like they are, but their form isn't right either."

If I had the breath to do it, the primal scream aimed at him would have shook houses a town over.

Always a glutton for punishment, I called him in to be my eyes on another plank pose a few minutes later. The verdict?

"Passable."

Later, during a move that had me panting, he poked his head back in and in a voice that can only be described as one he ripped off from the monster truck commercials (think: Sunday! Sunday! Sunday! ) and said: "Feel the buuuuurn!"

The aforementioned panting preventing me from voicing a witty comeback, but I shot him a look that caused him to back out of the room, saying: "Nooooot int he mood."

He boomeranged back into the room again a few minutes after that, just as I'd finished the last round of cardio and collapsed into the final ab pose, panting. He offered the following not so constructive criticism:

"Well, you look like you're going to die."

Thank you guru Mike. Thanks a lot.

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 12

How tough am I? Despite projectile vomiting in my driveway last night (I almost didn't even make it that far), I still did shred level 2 this morning. To be fair, I think the vomiting was due to an unchecked lack-of-caffeine headache--not a flu. And after a 10.5 hour sleep, I was feeling great, so I ate something, took the dog on a walk, and when the DVD cover caught my eye, I said: why the hell not?

As it turns out, why the hell not has nothing to do with vomiting and everything to do with Jillian Michaels being a crazy lady. The amount of cardio she asks me to do while supporting my entire body weight on my arms is just short of torturous, and am I really getting the right benefit when the plank ab twisted things set my arms on fire and do nada for the tummy region? I think it goes without saying that I'm taking advantage of Jillian's very generous offer to stop and catch my breath for five seconds. Sometimes two to three times in the same stupid exercise. My goal for level one was one measly set of military pushups. My goals for level two are a bit loftier:

1. Not dying.
2. Keeping up.
3. Finishing strong. At least once.
   

Yeah, pretty much in that order.

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 11--Level Two!

I have just three things to say about level two:

1. Owwwww!
2. I did as much as I could by alternating between the advance moves and the beginner modifications.
   
3. I could have done way more plank jacks* if a certain furry someone hadn't chosen that exact moment to mosey on over and give me a what-the-hairy-heck-are-you-doin'-mom sniff.
   

* Plank jacks are done by leaning on your arms in plank position while doing jumping jacks with your legs. On reflection, that's way less impossible than it sounds in written form.

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 10

How is it that I can go from feeling like my arms were weak as Twizzlers to seventeen military push ups in the first set and eight more in the second? That's zero to 25 in four days. Soon dropping and giving someone twenty will be an actual possibility.

Tomorrow I move on to level two. Last night I previewed the workout--probably a good idea. I've never seen half the moves before, and they don't exactly look like a cake walk. But if my push up progress is any indicator, I'll be good to go in a few days. My triceps, on the other hand, will not be good to go.

This morning I stood in front of the full-length in my sports bra and yoga pants, thinking that although I've got miles to go, I could see contour in my shoulder and bicep. In a rare moment of postive body image, the Vitruvian man flitted across my brain. But a split second later, my eyes were on my floppy triceps--what does it matter if my biceps and shoulders are inching toward da Vinci if my triceps are wagging away? From what I can tell level two has no tricep work. Let's see how it feels.

I do know that it will feel like a big relief to have the trainer move on to new things to say. Quipping that "the neck is not invited to the party" was clever the first time I heard Jillian explain proper form for the ab exercises--not so clever the tenth time.

And finally, it's been brought to my attention that I launched into this whole odyseey without proper introduction. The 30-Day Shred is basically a circuit training DVD that combines strength training, cardio, and ab work into an intensely efficient workout. You want more details? Click here and start shredding!

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 9

The trouble with scale bobbles* (official weekly weigh-in today has me up .5 from last week) is this: no matter how much non-scale-related progress I make (15 military pushups in my first set; 4 in the second), any uptick on the scale feels like my boss telling me that even though I've re doing everything right she's not gonna pay me this week. No wait. It's even worse. It's like she's making me pay her to work.

I think it might be time to get a second job. And in this grossly extended metaphor, a job is extra cardio. And here I thought a daily walk and circuit training would be enough. Silly Cathy! Let me start small. Sometime in the next week I'll find time to jog twice. Which will be an adventure given that I'm working seven of the next seven days. And trying to eke out time to revise my book. As my dad famously said during a family vacation after we'd been lost in Washington DC traffic patterns for hours: Balls! Balls! Balls!

Here's what I'm thinking: If I'm adding running back on top of everything else, I figure I've punished myself long enough for sending my ipod shuffle through the wash. I may have drowned all the single ladies, but I'm just one snazzy purple nano away from bringing them back to life. I hear the new ones have built-in pedometers and everything! This is me putting my hands up! Up! Don't pay me any attention! Oh! Oh! Oh!




Yup. I lied about not talking about the scale. Deal.

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 8

Here's the conundrum: I believe that the DVD is working wonders at the same time I believe that it's holding me back. I was a bit heavier again on the scale (never mind mitigating factors described in gory feminine detail yesterday) and yet today I went from four toe push ups on my first set to nine--9!--and from three on my second set to four!

How is it that I can believe two conflicting thoughts at the same time? I'm sure some Greek has something to say about that. Wasn't Pyrrho the guy who said we can know nothing for sure so we can only earn peace by questioning everything? Then again, didn't Cicero say to consider everything and chose the beliefs that make the most sense to you? You philosophers are all so damn philosophical. Embracing the questions is good and all, but physiological questions need definitive answers, dammit!

And so I reach deep into the shallow well of training bromides for this bon mot: trust the process. I'm eating right, doing this circuit DVD, and walking the pooch every day. I'm not gonna freak out about scale bobbles again until November 1. This I swear.

And you don't think I can see you making the universal face for I'll-believe-that-when-I-see-it but I can. So stop it. Now, please. With sugar on top. And I got plenty of sugar to throw at you because I'm eating none of it these days. But South Beach is a topic for another day.

* Yeah, I know. I've warned about my penchant for puns in other posts, so deal.

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 7

Now hear this! These old chicken wings of mine are SO not up to military pushups! Today I followed the advanced moves that Natalie-the-cheater demonstrates, but I only got through four pushups on my toes before I dropped to my knees (just three on the second set). Deep lunges were fine, and by fine I mean burning and wobbly legs that actually completed the task. My goal is to get through at least one set of pushups on my toes before I move up to level II in four days. Not bad for one week, huh?

Oh. And the mystery of the .2 pounds? A certain blogger may have started her period today, and--for the boys who may or may not be reading this--periods mean bloat. And with that little chestnut, I think I've solidified my place among the bloggers who go beyond sharing things that nobody cares to hear to dive deep into the realm of things people take an active interest in NOT hearing about. But that's an if-a-tree-falls-in-a-forest-with-no-one-but-a-very-devoted-cousin-to-hear-it-does-it-really-make-a-sound-at-all question. And if you ARE reading, drop a line! Make your presence known! I'll even lob a question for you to answer: what's your favorite exercise DVD?

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 6

So yeah. Still feeling strong and all that but here's the thing: the scale this morning tells me I've gained .2 pounds since I started the shred. I know, I know.

1. Point-two pounds is nothing, and
2. It's probably muscle.

Believe me, I know. I also know, for example, that I'm not supposed to weigh myself more than once a week. And here I was. Weighing myself. And feeling--just a bit--crestfallen, which is kind of exhibit A in the case against weighing myself at all.

Other things I know? I've been tracking my diet and I've been eating healthy foods in healthy portions. So I also know that this is not a real gain. There's a victory in talking myself down from that. Hell, I take it as a victory that I still did the video this morning given my disappointment AND the fact that I had a house guest sleeping in the next room.

The truth is this--my body does feel stronger. And I feel like I can already see places were the shredding is happening. I guess what I'm wondering is this: where is the DVD that trains the brain? Throw in a few cognitive crunches in between the lunges and the jumping jacks maybe? A shredded body is one thing--an important thing, yes. But what I'm looking for is a shredded head. A body that lifts is strong, sure it is. But pair that healthy body with a mind that's shed the emotional baggage of the weight? Now that's what I call strength.

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 5

Five days in and I'm noticeably stronger. I did the pushups without feeling like I was going to die. Yay for feeling alive and able. Though I wonder:

Can dogs shred?

Because I want Bo to get strong with me. Yesterday his vet said he was showing signs of stiffness in his hind legs and gave him a supplement to help with that. As if on cue, yesterday afternoon Bo did the old man rock to get up from his bed for his afternoon pee break. He rocked once and looked up at me. Rocked twice and did a weak whimper. Rocked a third time, whimpered again, and lifted up. Then he limped to the door where he...went apeshit and jumped in his excitement. Mayhaps the soreness can be linked to exuberance??

In any case, I will start stretching his old man legs. If only to mitigate the guilty feeling I have for getting strong while he's just getting old. Happy, but old.

Bo-Bo Knows Shred is Dangerous! (Day 4)

So my dog, Bo-Bo, has no idea why I've been lifting these curvy things and bopping around so much the past four days, but apparently he picked today to set his canine brain to puzzling it out. During a particularly enthusiastic set of jumping jacks, here comes Bo sniffing around. Damn near got his pretty nosed bashed in. First a trip to the vet for well-dog check up (shots were involved but so was a delicious pig-ear treat) and then a near-miss sneaker to the brain?

Screw you, human, Bo said.

OK, what he actually did was flop onto his bed with his butt facing me, but the translation seemed obvious to me. Couldn't have been too mad, though. He didn't actually go to his bed in the other room. And yes. Our dog has two beds. Three actually if you count the reject we keep by his food that he only uses in the summer after a walk when he needs water, stat.

Speaking of water, I could use some myself. Though before I go, I will report that the shred ab section is getting easier--I almost did bicycle crunches correctly today! And given THAT level of celebration, you can tell that I had nowhere to go but up when I started this program. Also, strength was a little more tolerable today, too. There will be no shampoo fiascoes today (see day 3), but I don't think I'll be able to get off my knees for push ups any time soon.

Correct form and showers free of shaky limbs. It's all about the baby steps, people. Baby steps.

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 3

I'm pretty sure I did both sets of shoulder press lunges with my right leg today. If I don't start keeping track of my starting leg, my thighs run the risk of doing their impersonation of the incredible-demi-hulkette, which might might not be a bad Halloween costume actually:

• normal woman from the left;
• monster who makes young kids cry from the right.

At least I know I'm working my arms fairly evenly--during my post-workout shower, neither of them had enough pep to shampoo and condition my hair without shaking. I can't decide what's more amazing--how tough a workout a set of 3-pound dumbells can give me or that I'm weak enough that lifting a measly 6 pounds over my head repeatedly can turn me into jelly.

In other matters, I do wish Bo would stop watching me workout with such disdain--head down, eyebrows dancing. I tried explaining that I'm not taking any guff from a dog who doesn't have the back-length strength to climb into the car without an assist. He just raised that doggy eyebrow, harumphed, and went fetal. Sleepers never win, Bo. Sleepers never win.

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 2 - Addendum

I think it's fair to say this circuit training thing is boosting my energy.

Exhibit A: Today one client asked me why I wasn't tired on such a rainy day.

Exhibit B: Later, when I received word that my day was going to be cut short by 25% due to a cancellation, I hung up the phone and bust out into an impromptu rendition of Handel's Hallelujiah Chorus. When I caught myself thinking, well, isn't this repetitive, I actually giggled.

Exhibit C: All this endorphin-infused, high octane me on less than six hours sleep.

That is all.

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 2

I don't want to alarm anyone, but if the rubbery, loose feeling in my shoulders is any indication, my arms may separate from their sockets at any time.

Really and truly, the man who invented plank pushups should be drawn and quartered, though I'd be willing to let him off with an arm transplant. You know. Should mine snap off.

No rush on the transplant though, pushup man. I'd like enough time to parlay my impending arm deficit into the mother of all sabbaticals.

Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 1

Like so many, I have a problem with comfort eating. A big problem. A problem that landed me in a weight center discussing food issues with a nutritionist, a psychologist, and a physician who specializes in obesity issues. Happy, sad, worried, mad--you name the emotion, I fed it.

Note the past tense? Fed, not feed?

Today I had a no-good, miserable, very bad day. Basically, I forgot to take my gratitude pill a few days in a row and I was letting things get to me. Grumpy? Check. Pissy? Double check. Feeling like the world owed me something? Normally a recipe for a bit of a binge.

So I caved. But did I buy myself copious amounts of chocolate? No. Wendy's french fries? Uh-uh. An army-size portion of pad thai? No.

I stopped at Best Buy and bought myself a copy of Jillian Michaels' s 30-day shred video. The best part is this: I didn't realize I was reaching for comfort until after I was halfway home. So get this: I subconsciously made myself feel better by making a healthy choice.

That's not to say Jillian didn't kick my sorry ass (afterward my arms shook when I reached for the spices to mix a vinaigrette for my salad). But shaking arms aside, I feel like I'm in control, maybe for the first time ever. Now there's something to be grateful for.