Warrior Weekend

Look I’ve been warned:

“Whitney, you’re going to get hurt.”

“Whitney, you’re going to burn out.”

1. I have gotten hurt. I fell off the picnic table doing planks and have the black and blue rib cage to prove it. Let’s not get into the pain in the tailbone.

2. I may burn out, but at least I’ll burn out being EPIC.

3. No great story was ever told where the characters headed warnings.

Now we have gotten that out-of-the-way, let’s talk this weekend.

Friday, November 23, 2012

When I first got to the gym I was ready. I was motivated. How could I not be? I had a plan and a playlist. Then I looked at the board…I’m not sure where my motivation went, but it wasn’t anywhere inside of me. I started anyway. Halfway through one of my work-out buddy’s son was looking to play. Connor came on over and we counted together the last 50 of each exercise. I’m here to tell you, had I not in my head known that if I quit halfway through I’d be setting a bad example for him I probably would have hit the mat then and there. It never ceases to amaze me how a kid can give you just the boost of magic needed to get through. You’d think that would have been the end, but you’d be wrong.

I grabbed a magazine and started reading. I remembered something I read on pinterest, “for great abs, plank the whole time you scroll.” I decided to plank while reading. Before I knew it the next class was coming in. I was rested…so I did the 100 workout again. It was then and only then, that I felt death come over me. It was an overwhelming feeling and there was only one thing to do at that point, tweet about said death. I looked up from my phone before I even got the tweet out, and wouldn’t you know the rest of them were doing the “lightning round,” 50 crunches, 50 right obliques, and 50 left obliques. I could not be outdone. So I did that too. At this point there was only one thing to do, leave. Get out of dodge, and that is exactly what I did.

Saturday, November 24, 2012

I woke up feeling a bit inspired by my Friday and strangely not too terribly sore. So there was only one thing to do. Train myself to run. I downloaded the “5K Runner” app by Clear Sky Apps to train with me. I popped in my ear buds, turned up the “Beast Mode” playlist, and started week 1, day 1.

25 minutes later I crashed in Girard Park and stretched. While stretching my phone also crashed. I was better for the crash. The screen of the phone, not so much. This should have been an omen of what was coming for me Sunday, but alas I kept going. One lightning round later, I drove my injured companion to the iPhone doctor. Twenty five minutes later he came out looking good as new. Phew.

My companion(the iPhone), who from this point forward shall be referred to as Pierre after my favorite New Orleans Saint, Pierre Thomas…. <;;—Massive run-on, yet, incomplete sentence. Let’s try again. Pierre and I had a rough day. There was only one thing to do, eat Viva la Waffle. Viva la Waffle is a food truck of sandwiches and everything great, all made with waffles! This satisfied me to no end, but when I got home, guilt came over. There was only be solution.

Push-ups it was. I don’t know if it was my way of punishing myself or if I thought I could exercise my way out of a bad meal. Reasoning is unimportant, I felt like a beast. Ergo, mission accomplished.

Sunday, November 25, 2012

Again, despite all my knowledge otherwise, I was convinced that I could exercise my way though the poor dinner decision the night before. None the less, I made my way up and out the door. I had not measured the course. I was just thinking I would do the week one, day one of the couch to 5K program again and see where I ended up.

1. I ended up at the bank of the Vermilion River. It doesn’t get much better than that.

2. Every time the little trainer in the app told me to run, about 30 seconds into the run I’d yell at myself. My legs felt like lead. They didn’t hurt, they felt like lead. The common phrase I’d yell at myself was, “pick your {insert explicative here}, you’re the one that wanted this today.” I pretty. much hated myself for 1 minute at a time. No beast mode song was changing that. I powered through. I picked up my legs. I ran.

Ending the 1.8 mile interval at the bank of the Vermilion River made most of it ok. I suppose a bit better than ok. I found a picnic table to do sit-ups on. (The ground was littered with pinecones and acorns. I figured that would not feel good in my back.) I made it to the plank portion of my work-out before my body faced the same fate as Pierre’s the day before.

I’d say at about 29 seconds it happened. I fell over. Not very gracefully. You’d think it would be a roll, but it was more like a rag doll being thrown down the stairs. My rib cage hitting the seat portion, my tailbone hitting the root of an oak tree. I had intentions of doing the interval back. I decided not to. I had never felt a pain in my side like this. I walked. I slightly power walked, but I walked my happy butt the 1.8 miles back to my house.

Walking in the door I threw my keys down. Walked straight to the freezer and grabbed the ice packs, a bottle of water, a banana, and the shrimp I boiled earlier. I put my bum in the outside couch, reclined back, and turned on my favorite pandora station. There was only one thing left to say, “that’ll do pig, that’ll do.”

Lifetimes of paper rainbows…W

You can follow my little adventure on twitter and insta.gram. Username: @whitlgarland Hashtag: #heregoeseverything


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