It was Friday. Ryan was on his way home from Germany. I had started a blog about my father's accident. MomBFF invited me to the gym with her and a male coworker of hers, we will call him John.
I decided working out was far better for my emotional state before heading to work training than obsessing over a blog about a plane crash especially since Ryan would be on a few of them all day. I left the blog half done and headed for the gym.
I had lifted weights and was finishing up my workout on the elliptical machine when one of the TVs in the room caught my eye. It wasn't the soap opera playing; it was the crawl underneath -
"BREAKING NEWS"
I only caught a few words the first time it went past - evacuated . . . emergency vehicles . . . other planes still landing and taking off.
I yelled, "WHAT!?!" and stopped pedaling. MomBFF kept going and looked at me like I was crazy. My heart jumped into my throat as I tried to process what I saw while waiting for the crawl to start over.
- Its a local news crawl
- They mean our airport
- Calm down, wait for it, wait for it
After what seemed like an eternity of "stay tuned from more coverage" and "breaking news live at noon" advertisements in the crawl, it came across again.
"A plane landed at Epply (our local airport) after reports of a fire . . . "
MomBFF watched my heart attack come on and mentioned, "Landed sweetie, it says landed, everyone is fine." But I didn't really hear her.
"Surrounded by emergency vehicles, the United Airlines plane has not yet been evacuated. . ."
Severe panic mode - Ryan flies United.
I now understand panic attacks. They suck arse. It was a full tense body, stomach on the floor, heart in your throat, ears ringing, feeling of running in circles sort of thing.
THANK GOD FOR MOMBFF - "Chicago, his plane hasn't even reached Chicago yet. He flies into Omaha later tonight, remember?"
The freak out was over. I was left feeling sick to my stomach and the tears welled up. I kept composure until I hit the locker room where I sat letting those silent tears run their course. I came back out to find John yelling at me to quit slacking. I told him to stuff it as MomBFF filled him in on the drama.
"So? That's nothing to freak out about," he insisted. Men, they are morons, but he did make me feel better. Yelling at someone feels good when you have pent up adreneline.
What have I learned? (I always have to figure out what I learned) Even though I have come to terms with the accident that caused my father's death, I guess I am always going to be overly sensitive when I see the word "plane" on TV.
-Sara
PS Ryan landed at 7ish later that night and made it home fine :)
Showing posts with label working out. Show all posts
Showing posts with label working out. Show all posts
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
I can stop freaking out about weight!
I have been dying to get below the ex-husband weight. Today I am officially there! Four pounds gone forever and only 49 to go! This week I can stop calling myself Jolly Sara.
Now the task becomes losing baby#4 weight. I am hoping to accomplish this in two weeks, but I know it is healthier to hit the mark in three. What I want to know, is why, if it is only healthy to lose two pounds a week, do the contestants on biggest loser go for double digits? Is it because they have doctors on staff? Maybe I should get my own team. The interview process might be fun . . .
-Sara
Now the task becomes losing baby#4 weight. I am hoping to accomplish this in two weeks, but I know it is healthier to hit the mark in three. What I want to know, is why, if it is only healthy to lose two pounds a week, do the contestants on biggest loser go for double digits? Is it because they have doctors on staff? Maybe I should get my own team. The interview process might be fun . . .
-Sara
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Ignorance is Bliss
WOW, I am HUGE!!! I knew I wasn't skinny anymore. Skinny ended LONG ago, which is why I joined a fitness center. At the gym yesterday I decided I might as well step on the scale and get a good starting reference. I think my eyeballs nearly popped out of the socket! No wonder my son calls me big mama! Great, now I have to break up with SingleBFF. I can't be seen with that skinny bitch anymore. Sheesh. Why didn't anyone TELL me I was growing at an enormous rate?
I suppose my mother has tried. She slips it in from time to time. Not outright, no, she is sneaky. She says things like, "I bought these pants for you, I THINK they will fit" or "Look at this picture of you in junior high, man you looked good." Unfortunately I never listen to my mom about size or weight. She is 4' 11" and 110 lbs soaking wet. She enjoys my junior high looks because that is the last time I was her size. Guess how much she weighed on the day she delivered me. 120! I only know because when I went to the doctor my junior year of high school and stepped on the scale I heard her say, "WOW, I wasn't even that big when I was nine months pregnant with you!" Thanks Mom!
I grew up not caring about my weight. I knew I was active, taught dance and although I am a sucker for sweets and fast food, I generally ate healthy. In my early twenties I was a full time dance teacher, and while not smoking hot skinny, I was adorable. Marriage added ten lovely pounds. When I got pregnant with baby #1 I didn't care how much weight I gained as long as I didn't hit my husband's weight, forty more. Thankfully I didn't, and six weeks after delivery I was back down to pre-pregnancy size. Teaching dance 20 hours a week helped. I wasn't so lucky after baby #2. He added ten pounds. Baby #3, ten pounds. Baby #4, you guessed it, another ten.
I was still okay, ten pounds under my worst fear. Then I stepped on that scale yesterday. I am THIRTEEN pounds heavier than I thought. Three pounds over the dreaded ex-husband weight.
For those who aren't number geeks - I have 53 pounds to lose to attain a healthy fit body. Sigh. That is how much my oldest weighs. I'll keep you posted.
- Jolly Sara
I suppose my mother has tried. She slips it in from time to time. Not outright, no, she is sneaky. She says things like, "I bought these pants for you, I THINK they will fit" or "Look at this picture of you in junior high, man you looked good." Unfortunately I never listen to my mom about size or weight. She is 4' 11" and 110 lbs soaking wet. She enjoys my junior high looks because that is the last time I was her size. Guess how much she weighed on the day she delivered me. 120! I only know because when I went to the doctor my junior year of high school and stepped on the scale I heard her say, "WOW, I wasn't even that big when I was nine months pregnant with you!" Thanks Mom!
I grew up not caring about my weight. I knew I was active, taught dance and although I am a sucker for sweets and fast food, I generally ate healthy. In my early twenties I was a full time dance teacher, and while not smoking hot skinny, I was adorable. Marriage added ten lovely pounds. When I got pregnant with baby #1 I didn't care how much weight I gained as long as I didn't hit my husband's weight, forty more. Thankfully I didn't, and six weeks after delivery I was back down to pre-pregnancy size. Teaching dance 20 hours a week helped. I wasn't so lucky after baby #2. He added ten pounds. Baby #3, ten pounds. Baby #4, you guessed it, another ten.
I was still okay, ten pounds under my worst fear. Then I stepped on that scale yesterday. I am THIRTEEN pounds heavier than I thought. Three pounds over the dreaded ex-husband weight.
For those who aren't number geeks - I have 53 pounds to lose to attain a healthy fit body. Sigh. That is how much my oldest weighs. I'll keep you posted.
- Jolly Sara
Friday, January 18, 2008
Ho Hum, Fitness Fun
So I walk into a fitness center with my sister, a facility my brother highly recommended. She wants to get more flexible. I want to get my energy levels back to keep up with the kids. Okay, I'll be honest. Sex was WAY more fun when I had my dance teacher energy. The baby is out of the bedroom. It is time to recapture the moments like drunken pacman night. But anyway - My sister and I figured it would be an uneventful trip to find out details on the membership plans. We were wrong.
My stereotyped vision of fitness centers is a building full of overly upbeat individuals ready to sign you up for the world as well as pushy trainers who hound you to get personal circuit routines. "We want to pump (clap)you up!" That is not what we encountered.
We walked in and were practically ignored. Me, ignored!?! After a few minutes of us hanging back trying to figure out if we were suppose to approach the woman behind the desk, who was already talking to a young couple, or head to the young lean man behind the counter trying desperately to find something to make him look busy, he finally made eye contact with us. No greeting, no can I help you, just a look on his face that told me he was half hoping we weren't expecting him to talk to us.
My sister and I exchanged looks and walked over to the counter as he finally uttered with a forced friendliness, "Do you need something?" We clearly looked like we had never entered this building before, "We were hoping someone could show us around."
Now he showed even less interest in us. He explained he was only the personal trainer, but the woman at the desk would be able to help us soon. We figured we would help him be helpful, "Tell us about the personal training." His response - "I do it." We gave up on him.
When the desk lady was done a few moments later, she approached us and began her exciting tour. She stayed about two steps ahead of us, which made hearing her above the hum of machines next to impossible as she pointed out areas along the way. It consisted of, here are these, here are those, over here is the stretch area. Thanks lady, we would have NEVER figured that one out with a big sign that said, "stretch area."
Although she did turn around and face us as she mentioned the tanning bed. Yes darling, we can tell this is where you spend your time. You look like you have cow hide underneath that inch layer of makeup. "oh, but that is a separate charge." Lady, do I look like I am going tanning anytime soon? I am neon white with enough love handles to render the tanning bed incapable of an even tan. Really, just keep walking.
"Do you have kids?" ROFLMAO. Do I have kids? Do you see this post-pregnancy belly that I haven't gotten rid of in 16 months? Of course you don't see it, you don't make much eye contact. You probably don't know what a post pregnancy belly looks like. I forgave her.
"Yes, lots of them." It was the first time she cracked a smile. It was the first time I had to look serious so she could understand I was being literal.
As we sat down at the desk she pulled out a price sheet, but she only covered the month to month rate. She went on to discuss hours of operation and offered us a free trial week. When my sister mentioned she was leaving town for a week, the lady said she would have to talk to her manager about delaying her week until she got back. "oh, is he here?" her response - "no, he doesn't come in until noon. He makes me work the 4am - 12pm shift, it definitely isn't the one I wanted, but what are you going to do. I needed the job." Was this girl for real?
We didn't have many questions at this point but as we were getting ready to leave she said, "I know you probably don't want to pay this, but my boss says I have to mention this other option . . . " and she went into a quick spiel about the year up front rate. HELLO, this is your idea of customer service? Do we look broke or something? We are the perfect people to talk to about this option. We pay for our car insurance a year at a time to knock a hundred bucks off the policy. We crunch our budgets to pay off our cars within the first two years to avoid interest, and that is only if we didn't have the cash to pay up front. We exchanged glances again, shook her hand, and exited the building.
After we laughed our way to the car we realized this is exactly why our brother joined this gym. They obviously don't bother you, don't up sell you, and leave you to work out in peace.
. . . We are going back next week to sign up :)
- Sara
My stereotyped vision of fitness centers is a building full of overly upbeat individuals ready to sign you up for the world as well as pushy trainers who hound you to get personal circuit routines. "We want to pump (clap)
We walked in and were practically ignored. Me, ignored!?! After a few minutes of us hanging back trying to figure out if we were suppose to approach the woman behind the desk, who was already talking to a young couple, or head to the young lean man behind the counter trying desperately to find something to make him look busy, he finally made eye contact with us. No greeting, no can I help you, just a look on his face that told me he was half hoping we weren't expecting him to talk to us.
My sister and I exchanged looks and walked over to the counter as he finally uttered with a forced friendliness, "Do you need something?" We clearly looked like we had never entered this building before, "We were hoping someone could show us around."
Now he showed even less interest in us. He explained he was only the personal trainer, but the woman at the desk would be able to help us soon. We figured we would help him be helpful, "Tell us about the personal training." His response - "I do it." We gave up on him.
When the desk lady was done a few moments later, she approached us and began her exciting tour. She stayed about two steps ahead of us, which made hearing her above the hum of machines next to impossible as she pointed out areas along the way. It consisted of, here are these, here are those, over here is the stretch area. Thanks lady, we would have NEVER figured that one out with a big sign that said, "stretch area."
Although she did turn around and face us as she mentioned the tanning bed. Yes darling, we can tell this is where you spend your time. You look like you have cow hide underneath that inch layer of makeup. "oh, but that is a separate charge." Lady, do I look like I am going tanning anytime soon? I am neon white with enough love handles to render the tanning bed incapable of an even tan. Really, just keep walking.
"Do you have kids?" ROFLMAO. Do I have kids? Do you see this post-pregnancy belly that I haven't gotten rid of in 16 months? Of course you don't see it, you don't make much eye contact. You probably don't know what a post pregnancy belly looks like. I forgave her.
"Yes, lots of them." It was the first time she cracked a smile. It was the first time I had to look serious so she could understand I was being literal.
As we sat down at the desk she pulled out a price sheet, but she only covered the month to month rate. She went on to discuss hours of operation and offered us a free trial week. When my sister mentioned she was leaving town for a week, the lady said she would have to talk to her manager about delaying her week until she got back. "oh, is he here?" her response - "no, he doesn't come in until noon. He makes me work the 4am - 12pm shift, it definitely isn't the one I wanted, but what are you going to do. I needed the job." Was this girl for real?
We didn't have many questions at this point but as we were getting ready to leave she said, "I know you probably don't want to pay this, but my boss says I have to mention this other option . . . " and she went into a quick spiel about the year up front rate. HELLO, this is your idea of customer service? Do we look broke or something? We are the perfect people to talk to about this option. We pay for our car insurance a year at a time to knock a hundred bucks off the policy. We crunch our budgets to pay off our cars within the first two years to avoid interest, and that is only if we didn't have the cash to pay up front. We exchanged glances again, shook her hand, and exited the building.
After we laughed our way to the car we realized this is exactly why our brother joined this gym. They obviously don't bother you, don't up sell you, and leave you to work out in peace.
. . . We are going back next week to sign up :)
- Sara
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