19: Leaving Fighter Pilots at Home

I was instructed to start my day in the jacuzzi.

Which is not a bad way to start the day, I might add.

Oh, I knew what was coming.  The King of Athletics was to oversee my workout while we stayed at the resort, and I knew he was trying to loosen me up.

I think I look plenty loosened up.

After my ten minutes of relaxation, into the fitness room we went.  He told me to get on the treadmill for a five minute warm up; increasing the speed as I tried to adjust.  Seeing as I was wearing Parry's sneakers with no socks, this was an interesting struggle.

"It's too fast," I insisted.

"Stop complaining," he replied.

I moved the arrows "down" and started playing with the touchscreen.

"No distractions." 

I glared at him, as he shook his head no while gesturing at the screen.  Just what DOES his mind do when he's exercising, I wonder?

No.  That's too in your box for me.

After my "warm up" (which found me fiddling with every control and chuckling at the old iPod jack) he instructed me to complete a set of flutter kicks.

I couldn't.

He said I could.

My right oblique stressed that I could not.

He modified it to alternate leg lifts.

And so we went on; him instructing, me trying not to complain.  

You have NO idea.

As we worked through the sets, he occasionally showed me his technique.

Have I mentioned he's King of Athletics of the Central Highlands?

So he's hanging from two tiny little mountain climbing grips, and he shows me how he can do these totally sexy pull-ups on them.

Like seriously hot stuff.

"So you're not on American Ninja Warrior, why?" I ask.

He doesn't respond.

Men.

I am rather proud of myself by this point; I'm glistening in sweat and doubled my dead-arm hang time from earlier in the week.  That's when I see the scale in the corner of the room.

Do I?

Our scale disappeared, which is why I have no idea how much I weighed when the quest started.  I know it's over 160lbs, as that was the last weight I recall in late November.  Given the fact that half my clothes are still not fitting, I was curious about my weight.  Just how much did I weigh?

The King tested it.  198lbs.

 

Great.  He's at the weight I met him at.

I step on the scale.

158.

Well, really, 159.

But I like 8's.

I want this on my bomber jacket.

So, I weigh 159lbs.  I look at the King.

"How much weight do you think I've lost in the last month?"

He looks sheepish.

"I'll be honest-10 lbs."

"So I probably weighed 170lb?"

He nods.

I am horrified.

My first love was Capt. James Tiberius Kirk.

Yeah.  This explains the non-fitting hiking pants perfectly.  160 is my typical "time to cut back" weight.  With the concussion, I spent a lot of time on the coach and in bed.  In pj's.  No wonder only one pair of jeans fit.

Well, no sense crying over something already taken care of; I did feel better knowing that's why I couldn't see a change.  I did my ten laps in the pool, and spent the rest of the day writing in the sunshine.

My calves look big because I hike - that's all muscle!

Tonight, I had a delicious dinner; wearing the carrot dress that started it all.

I tried on a skirt February 7th that showed clearly I had too much weight.  The carrot dress, with it's A-line styling, hid all those lumps and bumps; when I wore it that night, you couldn't see my thighs.  Tonight, wearing it again, I noted the differences:

1) My posture is greatly improved

2) I have no pain in my back

3) My arms are firm and not jiggly

While I now know what I weigh, my fixation is not on a number.  It's on how I feel-and lately, I feel great.  You'll notice Maverick didn't come on vacation with us.  Turns out, I can leave him at home.