Rivals and Friends, Friends and Rivals: New Friends

Jenna huffs and puffs right next to me, we are committed. We lift the bars over our heads, check our stances, and squat, 2, 3, 4. She is my first friend outside of the Get Fit Club. I'm not competing with her, instead I use her example to make sure my stance is correct or if I heard the instructor correctly and I'm really supposed to bend my leg that way. Jenna's a stay-at-home mom too, and I'm grateful to know her because she is my resource to which classes all the Phoenixville moms take, the best times for childcare,which swim classes are the most fun, and I have visions of swapping recipes in the near future.

As we dutifully attempt to reflect the instructor's actions and tune into the directions shouted from the front of the room, my other new friend, Chuck moves around the room. He chats, and tells stories, and motivates people to keep going. He is the social director for our cruise towards healthier living. He's the guy everyone knows, and if you don't know him, you don't go to the gym enough. His mannerisms remind me of my father-in-law, so I am immediately comfortable with joking around with him and the guy working out in front of me. Chuck is going to be one of those people who hold me accountable, someone who'll ask me where I've been if I miss a class, or who will tell me not to get discouraged. I'm thankful to have him on my side!

As I look to the instructor across the room, I make a conscience effort not to look at him as one might look at the man running the torture chamber or the mad-scientist about to dissect the victim's muscles for fun-filled research. He has us do more push-ups. After class, the instructor, Joe comes up to me, and asks me how I liked my first class. I make a joke about it, and he laughs. Chuck and Jenna come up and join the conversation, and once again I feel amazing and energized. I feel confident about this decision to put myself first for the first time in seven years where I am committed to doing something for myself, for my health, for my new life.

Rivals and Friends, Friends and Rivals: My First Rival

So, it's only been 4 days, but I've already sniffed out the competition. There's a girl in my Get Fit Club that lights up every time there's a challenge or a new facet to the competition. So do I. Our trainer told us to log the calories we burn on the cardio machines, and that the person who burns the most calories by the end of the session wins a prize.

Angie chirped up: "I'm here everyday!"

My response: "So am I!"

Our eyes locked briefly. We acknowledged each other like fencers about to duel, like Jackie Chan and the random tough dude, like the fireman assessing the burning house; we silently declared war.

Everything....

...hurts. Man, am I sore. The Get Fit Club class last night was pretty cool. I met some great people and my instructor was so supportive. This morning my head was pounding. I kept waking up at various times during the night because I was so afraid of oversleeping for my class. But, when my alarm went off at 5:00 am, I pressed the snooze button, rested for five minutes, and got up at the second alarm. I nearly fell asleep while I was getting ready, but I prayed a continuous prayer, "Lord, just get me through today." The prayer became more and more urgent as time went by my headache continued to throb. I felt like I was going through a detox of some kind. Like my body was protesting against anything good, right, and healthy, because it was so different from the usual treatment.

When I drove up to the Y, after 32 ounces of water, Tylenol, and a cereal bar, I still felt like crap. "Lord, PLEASE, get me through today... or at least out of this car." Five minutes later I walked into the gym, found my weights, and my mat, and purchased another bottle of water. My instructor from last night, Geri, taught this class as well. She beamed "Hello." My responding expression must have been a cross between a Charlie Brown grimace, a manic smile, and an "how on Earth are you so happy at this time of day?"--because she chuckled when she showed me where to put my mat.

The next hour felt like the longest hour of my life. This feeling of inadequacy, when I am so naturally competitive, is the reason I've stayed away from classes and activities like these for so long. But now the competition is with myself. I can do this. I won't give up. I will fight. For the Right. To Party.

The End of Mardi Gras

Papa slings some grits and eggs onto the plate. He butters six slices of toast and picks up some bacon from the dish lined with paper towels damp from grease. This is my breakfast, and has been my breakfast for the past three days (since I didn't tell Papa that I haven't eaten pork for nearly a year, I sneak my bacon onto Matt and Harrison's plates when he's not looking). I'm not complaining. Food is how I "treat" myself, how I reward myself, and how I punish myself. I tell myself that I am on vacation. I tell myself that this is my "Mardi Gras." One week of caloric debauchery before my ten week weight-loss competition begins.

After my vacation with 11 family members in Garden City, a week of lazing on the beach, swimming in the pool, and eating culinary wonders with simple names (i.e. grits, pimento cheese and tomato sandwiches, shrimp po boys, oyster stew, cheese toast), I am venturing into a world where such foods are muttered like swears under the breath instead of revered as delights for the palette.

After my breakfast on Thursday morning, I decided to check my voice-mail messages. It had been days since I had even thought about the Northern World I'd left a few days ago, and suddenly a chipper voice broke into my reverie. "Hi, Katy! This is Geri! Your Trainer! I'm looking forward to meeting you this coming Monday! Be sure to log your meals this week! Come in early to be weighed and measured if possible! See you soon!"

I'm sure my newly tanned face paled back to it's original Irish hue. Journal about my meals? Does Geri know where I am? Has she met the man who prepares my meal every day? Would she know that any vegetables listed in my journal would have been boiled in fat, butter, and a little water, or should I include that as a sidebar? This was going to be a damning list.

Food Journal Beginning Thursday (the day I got the message) June 18th, 2009

Breakfast: a cup of grits, 2 scrambled eggs, 2 slices of buttered toast, orange juice, and two cups of black coffee.

Lunch: Pimento Cheese sandwich with lettuce and tomato, sweet tea, and one salmon croquette with ketchup.

Snack: Chocolate pound cake and sweet tea

Dinner: Oyster Stew (cup) and a house salad with honey mustard dressing on the side from Sara J's restaurant and sweet tea.

Dessert: 1 scoop of The Yum Yum Shop's Homemade Pistachio and Almond Ice Cream

Exercise: Jumping waves while holding my 22 pound daughter, swimming in the pool, and walking 1 mile around the beach and Garden City Pier.

Most of my entries look like this from Thursday to Saturday. Even Sunday was a bust, due to the fact that it was "my last day of freedom." But, I'm proud to say that this morning, without much complaining, I woke up at 5:15 am and went to the YMCA to workout. My starting weight before I jumped in the pool this morning: 273 pounds. My goal weight is 150 pounds by Christmas, and my goal activity is to run the Broad Street Run next summer with my friend Jamie.

So it begins. Game on.