We moved 2 ½ years ago. We love our new house. We love many things about it. One of my favorite things about it is the large master bathroom. The roomy spa tub is above average awesome. Two sinks so that two grown adults don’t have to share sink space is nice, too. But the large amount of space is the real perk. And because of the space, it has somehow managed to become my weight room.
Yes, weight room. I know. That’s random. That’s also the story of my life.
But it has enough space and there are bath mats on the floor if I decide to do some sit ups. The counter works good for pansy push ups I'm prone to. And the edge of the tub has been great for dips. And best of all, I’m right there near the kids the whole time. They’re generally in bedroom and I can see their goofball little faces goofing off in the next room. They often come wandering through the bathroom chatting with me. If I look extra sweaty funkadelic that day, my 9 year old will even take some photos of the cracked out mess. I feel better squeezing a little something in knowing it doesn’t even take me away from them. I also like that it doesn’t involve Jillian Michaels’ voice.
|Cracked out bathroom workout caught on camera by 9 year old paparazzi.|
I had been trying to alternate between bicep curls, shoulder presses and dips (I love how I sound like I know what I'm talking about knowing the names of three exercises!) on the side of the tub. But I got really tired of counting reps so I’ve been trying out intervals thinking I could just set it to go and tell me when to move on to another exercise. I haven’t perfected the timing since I do require a moment to catch my breath and move on to the next exercise. I also haven’t mastered mapping out different exercises to do.
The Italian Stallion joins in on the intervals and it’s actually sort of awesome because he can do his own little modified hard as hell version while I’m doing girly sissy push ups or something. As an example, while I’m grunting around the room with a 15 pound weight that dude’s flinging a 40 pound kettle bell around town. Holla. Gun show at our house!
Even our roomy bathroom wasn’t big enough for 2 person interval-ing though so we moved it outside the first time. Our children stood in the kitchen watching through the screen door as their crazy parents did circuits of squats, push ups and jumping jacks. My husband insisted the circuits could not be done inside in the air conditioning. Our dogs insisted they could not be done without them licking the sweat off of us.
the one that’s 60 pounds lighter than she used to be, loves that they are in this with me. I couldn’t have done it if it meant leaving them behind.
|Bathroom break mid 6 mile run. Test driving running with a visor. Above average dorky but not bad.|
|The visor really adds to the sweaty cracked out madness. My husband would also like it noted that he thinks I look like an old lady.|
I concluded that it was either the treadmill or suck it up. Since I hate the treadmill, I was going to have to make friends with the molten lava. I figured I'd just take more water breaks and run slower when it feels like death. So it'll be pretty much like every run I've ever taken.
I sweat a lot anyway. What's an extra trickle running down my spine? Having to run slower was a little disappointing. One of my goals has been to attempt to run faster. The temperature has only gotten up to the 80s with humidity of 300 million percent. But it's already taken my already slow pace of 10:15 per mile down to 10:45 a mile. It ain't pretty. But I'm upright and moving. I'll take it. I've been successfully taking it on 6 and 7 mile long runs on the weekend. Go, me.
|A blurry glimpse of what I look at running with my husband.|
His canine companion is also out of shape dead weight dragging us down by the 2nd mile. He is in need of some doggie Couch to 5K stat. My husband likes to take the petering out dog as a sign that he should head home, too. Weak.
When we don't have the dog, he's also been subjecting me to wind sprints. Up hill. At one point I got to the top of the hill and he had the nerve to ask my why I didn't sprint. I had to explain to him that he was looking at my sprint. He's a stallion. An Italian Stallion. And it shows. He'd rather we sprint the whole way. I'd rather live to tell the tale. So far so good. Sore, but good.
Linking up with Skinny Meg for Workout Wednesday!