I've found that I frequently lose motivation to write when I get home either due to being tired after a day of work or something more psychological than that. I associate being at home with unwinding and resting and writing frequently feels like work--even though it should not. If I could more easily organize my thoughts into something coherent then I think I could start enjoying it again, but I've gotten out of practice. Writing every day was fantastic for keeping me self aware and organized in my thoughts. The skills I built up over that year and a half have certainly atrophied. I wonder frequently if I should begin the process anew because my original plan to produce entries of much higher quality on an occasional basis has failed.
I've not been entirely unproductive in the time I've spent avoiding writing. I've gotten stricter with my diet. I'm consuming more protein and fewer carbs, I'm riding my bike every day, and I'm trying to lift free weights every other day or so. My body aches with even this very minor effort but my ambitions to lift heavy were thwarted quite dramatically at the gym a couple of days ago. It was. . .actually pretty embarrassing.
I'd managed to get myself thoroughly pumped up to embark on a new workout plan as laid out for me on Bodybuilding.com. The routine was heralded as an effective way to lose body fat. I was intrigued by this idea because even though I've lost a surprising amount of weight this year, I still can't help but feel I'm very pudgy and doughy. The first day of the plan involved the bench press, chin ups, and a lot of other scary stuff. I had to admit it sounded like exercise a little outside my fitness level but I was determined to try anyway.
I got up absurdly early on Sunday morning (at around 6:30) and fully intended to ride my bike for about a mile and a half--and I'm sure I would have, too, but it started to rain and I didn't want to get my bike too wet. I called it quits after only a couple minutes. This was a setback for the first day of my new routine but I was determined not to give up! I returned my bike to my living room and made myself a protein-packed meal of a pile of eggs and parmesan cheese. (I'm still a vegetarian, even though eggs feel questionable to me.) My energy newly renewed, I headed to the gym feeling pretty confident.
Since it was an early Sunday morning, there were very few other gym-goers around. I headed straight for the bench without considering the fact I'd done very little research on the exercise beforehand. It seemed pretty simple to me--lift the barbell off the thing, bring it down, and lift it back up. Do that until you're done. Simple. I laid down on the bench and extended my arms to the barbell and exerted a pretty significant amount of force on it, or so I thought. It didn't budge. It did not move an inch. Well, I thought, maybe one hundred pounds is a little too much for a beginner. (I didn't know at the time that the bar itself probably weighed 40-50 pounds alone.)
I decided fifty pounds might be more my speed (although fifty pounds of weight results in a much higher total, I didn't know this at the time) and removed a couple of the twenty-five pound weights and tried again. Success! I lifted the bar from its receptacle and felt confident I could do this! Unfortunately, I dropped the bar immediately to my chest and found I could no longer lift it. Momentarily panicking, I awkwardly rolled the bar down to my waist and sat up with a colossal effort. Summoning forth what meager strength I had left, I reversed my grip on the bar and managed to gently lower it to the floor while scanning the gym to see who might be laughing at my weakness. No one was paying attention, of course--or at least they were doing a good job of hiding their mirth.
I managed to--just barely--return the bar to the lower receptacle and I hastily removed myself from the area. I pretended to look at my phone for a period of about five minutes, did some crunches (on a machine that offered me one hundred pounds of resistance) and made a beeline for the exit, bewildered and defeated. Am I really that weak, I wondered? Granted, sitting at home and playing video games all day doesn't go a long way toward building strength. I decided that maybe I was going to have to build up some strength before I tackled those tougher exercises--so I came home and did some military presses with much lighter free weights. Of course, even the amount of force required to lift that barbell in the gym had sapped my strength, so I found the free weights very difficult as well. I'm still aching from that three days later, although I dismissed my pain and did some curls today. I'm determined to keep up with some kind of routine. It's just a matter of what I can actually accomplish.
By the way, I was 193 at my last weigh-in. I never did write about the milestone of going below 200, even though I was really excited about it at the time. I had originally intended to write about fitness every week, but I became disillusioned with the idea after experiencing so much dissatisfaction with my body and the way I look. I'm glad I've finally decided to ramp things up. I've managed to easily stick to my diet for pretty much this entire year, but since that's become easy, I have to add in regular exercise. When that becomes easy, I'll dial up the intensity. It's a process. Let's hope I eventually reach a point of which I can feel proud.
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