Over the weekend Scale told me I was at 286.2 lbs. WHAT. THE. HELL. There's a whole mental saga that played out over the next two days but the end of the story is, I kicked my own ass, stopped feeling sorry for myself, and have changed my thinking to "every workout is last chance workout".
So, Mom's day was G-R-R-R-ATE (I'm using phonix, friends). Moms and I had sushi for dinner, botanical gardens for a day trip, an awesome brunch compliments of Chez JAFG, and I treated my mom to a morning workout. I was very excited about this last one. She's my cheerleader about losing weight and getting healthy and wants to do the same thing. It was really exciting to share this with her. Actually, I'm surprised by how happy it made me to have her participate in this part of my life.
My mom's a bigger woman like myself. We're built completely different; She's a pear, I'm an apple. I've got two inches on her 5'4" self. I'm "olive-complected", she's "fair-skinned". We have the same laugh and a lot of the same subconscious mannerisms and as soon as I realize that we're doing something alike at the same time I can't help but smile to myself. I get annoyed and amused at the same time.
Referring back to this weekend, I gained weight. Scale told me so two days in a row. I did A LOT of dining out with Moms and did no working out Friday or Saturday. As a matter of fact, I did nothing really, but sleep and eat on Saturday. More on that some other time.
Sunday morning, I wake up and decide to have coffee ready for Moms. When she woke up, I asked her to workout. She was totally down with trying the recumbent bike at Concierge Gym. So, we changed into workout gear and headed out.
She's a very young 53 years of age. She's got serious left knee problems (to the point that she takes The Stairs one step at a time), was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia in 2002 and now has arthritis starting in. All of this with serious allergic asthma. So this working out thing is a big deal.
She's talked with some physical therapists who have told her to get her knee moving with NO impact (thus the recumbent bike) to get the joint lubrication forming/flowing. She's supposed to take it easy on the walking front. We got her on a bike for 15 minutes at level 1. Woohoo!
She also did some resistance work on the Circuit machines with her arms. She was sore this morning, but we got out there again. Go Moms! We've got to take it easy because of all the challenges she has health-wise. I want to make sure she's not doing something that will ultimately exacerbate anything and make the situation worse. This got me thinking.
So, I was reading my blogroll came across 282.5 which I hadn't read in quite some time (Sorry Jo, and congrats on your freakin fantabulous progress!) and found a reference to a "real age" test. This one was a free service from http://www.realage.com/. I've been wanting to take one and so I used 20 minutes of my day and answered the questions honestly. It was great being able to tell it how much I exercise on a weekly basis. And then I got my results.
Actually, I'm pretty stoked about the fact I made it in under 40. I figured it would be like my first Wii age. 75. Yeah. Nice.
What got me is that the thing told me my workouts are too intense. I couldn't believe it when I read it. According to this lengthy assessment, my joint pain I've been experiencing isn't just because I've never moved so much in my life, it's because I'm pushing myself too hard. I started to connect the proverbial dots between Moms and me and I realized that, just like I don't want her pushing herself too much, I, too, shouldn't want me to push myself too much. I'm really relieved which is also surprising. I want to keep a level of intensity that will keep the fat burning happening, but I want my knees to feel better, too.
I think I've been trying to show all the skinny kids in my classes and gym (including SAG and BB) that I can keep up with the rest of them. That just because I'm fat doesn't mean that I can't do what they can. I don't think it's been intentional, I think it's been subconsciously happening.
Like the way Moms and I both get sassy with one hand on our hips. And then quickly move our hands when we realize what we're doing. At the same time. It's annoying. And funny.
I HEART YOU, MOM!