Question: Can you get me a glass of wine?

Answer: Absolutely.

Question: Want to cook me dinner?

Answer: Hell yeah.

Question: Want to help me with this project?

Answer: Yes.

Those are just some of the examples where an affirmative answer is the only one I want.

Well…

Yesterday I was in the middle of an amazing workout with my trainer and I asked a question.  I was on pike #14 when it happened. You know pikes? The horrific exercise where your hands are on the ground (like your doing a push up) and shins are on an exercise ball and you roll the ball to your feet while piking your butt up in the air making a “V” shape. It’s a killer core muscle workout. My trainer had me do a few sets of 20. I died.  Before my death, I asked a question. Mostly because my t-shirt was slipping towards my chin everytime I made the “V” shape. Side note: I was wearing t-shirt, yoga pants, sports bra and a standard g-string.

Question to trainer: Are my panties showing?

Hoping to hear an answer I normally don’t want to hear. Such as “NO!” or “not at all” or “you’re fine”.

Without skipping a beat, my trainer said “Yes!”

I fell off the ball. Tucked in my shirt. And pulled up my pants as high as I could on my waist. Then I finished my remaining 6 pikes.

All with a red face.

I hate pikes.

Deal: which one of us can log in more cardio from December 15th – January 15th

At risk: a $50 bottle of wine

Expectations: trainer plans to do 5 hours every week. (I committed to one hour every week figuring it would lower her expectations and make her feel like I’m not competition.)

Rules:

1. minimum time we can log is 10 minutes
2. heart rate must get to 140, or maybe that’s the number of characters allowed in a tweet. All I know is that I shouldn’t be able to carry on a normal conversation because I’m panting so hard.
3. trainer will text me every time she gets her cardio done

Update: I got a text today, she did 30 minutes of cardio. I did 0. Yep, that’s a zero. A big fat nothing.

One day into the competition, I feel defeated.

On another note, I’m looking for a fabulous $50 bottle of wine to buy. Recommendations?

For example, I’ll eat a full meal. Then I’ll let some time pass. And by time, I mean minutes, like under an hour. Then I’m ready to feast again. Holy fuck. I’m going to be as wide as I am tall pretty soon.

I’m convinced I”m going through a growth spurt. That’s really the only explanation I have for eating this way. Sadly, the growth spurt is likely associated with the size of my ass. It’ll grow. Trust me.

Here’s how I’m coping with my increased appetite:

• First, I’m only eating candy that is for individual sale. You know, like Halloween candy that has only 4 Milk Duds in a package. These candies don’t list any nutritional information on the package. Nope. None. Therefore, I don’t think they have enough calories to count. I LOVE HEALTHY CANDY!
• Next, I’m not skipping meals anymore. They say you should eat several meals everyday to keep your metabolism up. Well, let me tell you….I’m eating several FULL meals everyday. My appetite will force me to eat more often therefore causing me to increase my metabolism and become effortlessly skinny.
• I’m skipping training sessions with my trainer. When this happens I still pay her. Therefore, I’m finding myself with less money in my pocket to spend on food. Oh fuck it. This isn’t working. I don’t budget. This tactic only causes me to have less money but more free time. Hey, time is money. Therefore this plan is good for my pocketbook in the end.

So here’s to an increased appetite. I gotta run. There are Cheetos in my desk drawer that are calling my name.

Dear trainer: if you read this…Rob gave me the Cheetos. He probably forced me to eat them too. And the Halloween candy really didn’t have nutritional values listed which explains whey they won’t show up on my food log.

Well, she didn’t say die but she did mention osteoporosis. And being all bent over because your bones won’t stand up is as bad as being dead. Nobody likes bad posture, it is just not slimming.

She told me I need more calcium in my diet. I defended myself by saying that’s why I order cheese on my burger. She rolled her eyes.

She told me I need to work out more. I rolled my eyes and explained how exhausting it was already to do a few days each week with her. She agreed (that I’m exhausting!).

She told me that my calorie intake is perfect BUT 30% of my calories are super bad and come from wine and alcohol. I reminded her that I skip dinner in order to accomplish this. She should be proud, right?

She told me to quit complaining and just do the work out. I told her I was bored. She is meeting me at the park today, instead of the gym, to change our scenery.

My trainer has driven me to: stand up straight, order cheese on my burgers, work out only when I’m with her, skip dinner and drink alcohol, go to the park.

She’s the best driver in my life!

As it turns out, Sarah is the only reason I did it. That bitch better feel special. I didn’t train at all.

Except the night before the 5K. I did some prep and training then. Specifically the carb loading technique that runners do.

Just to be clear, vodka and greasy bar food are carbs. Right? I sure as hell hope so. I needed to catch up on my training and really focus the night before. Shit, I want to win. And by win, I mean finish without throwing up.

And they are serving bagels, fruit and ice cream afterwards. It appears that athletes need to carb load afterwards too. I’m all about doing this training right.

So here’s to competitive 5K training and a doing it with good friends.

Not my ass. My television. Wide screen TVs are best when you’re doing an exercise video. Even the skinny bitches, who are working my ass off, look fat.