a wiki wiki mai lohi lohi.

I saw this quote on a blog and I immediately thought, "No. That's not how it goes. Tumblr says differently."

There, better.

I love Pooh Bear (no, that's a lie... I'm a hardcore Tigger fan) and nothing cracks me up harder than stuffed animals/cartoons cussing. I make my stuffed pandas cuss all the time. I'm a little immature like that. So there you have it: a hearty chuckle for this snowy Monday morning.

Yes, snow in March. It is Iowa, after all. I love my state, I truly honestly do, but someday... someday... I'll be on a beach. I've been dreaming of Hawaii lately, probably because of Lilo & Stitch. Disney is a reoccurring thing in my life, in case you haven't noticed.

Okay, business:

We switched up gyms over the weekend because it's Spring Break and we can and it's been super awesome having a different environment (and different equipment) to jump-start our gym efforts because... LET'S BE HONEST, this shit can be monotonous. I love working out, but a large part of our success has come from routine: we go to the same gym at the same time everyday, do the same exercises, we even SEE the same PEOPLE. The most exciting thing that happens is when the student-employees at the desk switch shifts or they change the channels on the televisions that hang in front of the cardio section. See? Boring.

I've been so jazzed by the change in scenery the last few days that I failed to realize that I've gone to the gym six days straight. Before that, I had a 2 day break, and before that I had a 7 day streak at the gym. 7 on -- 2 off -- 6 on is not a good life plan. I am beat.

Except... I didn't know that going into my workout yesterday. I knew I was still full from a late dinner but that usually resolves itself after a few minutes of slow jogging, so I definitely wasn't expecting the wall of defeat that I slammed into with 15 minutes left on my timer. Now would be the standard time to insert a totally predictable picture or quote about not giving up, but fuck that. Seriously. I got as far into my workout as I could before I felt like I was being stabbed in my vital organs, at which point telling myself to "push harder" wouldn't have gotten me anywhere except the floor. I would have passed out, or worse, hurt myself. I don't believe in "fine lines" when it comes to challenge vs injury, I believe the territory between athletic growth and athletic harm is a very broad span and one would do best to take physical warning signs seriously.

No, just dying. Liar.

I felt like I was being stabbed in both kidneys, the stomach, the bottom tip of my right lung, and I could have sworn I grew an extra organ in my gut just so that one could feel like it was being stabbed, too. I wasn't running any faster than I usually do (in fact, it was a pretty slow 5.3 mph), I kept well hydrated, my legs and lungs weren't tired or burning, but my body as a whole decided that this workout was too much. I tried to push harder but I felt faint and nauseous and I followed the signs to slow to walking pace. Believe me, I hurt my soul to give in like that but I didn't see any other way around it. My heart wanted to run, my head wanted to run, but my body was screaming STOP. This is where your desire kicks in and you say, "screw you, body, I CALL THE SHOTS." It would have been a nice relief to jump off the treadmill and call it a day, but I persevered.

Gatorade, you should call me. I would make a great poster girl.

If I couldn't run, I was going to walk. I set the incline to 10.0 (!!) as opposed to my normal 7.5 and walked at a pace of 3.5. I took it all the way down to the final seconds and I owned the rest of my workout until the very end. It felt great to know that I encountered and obstacle and I did not let it win. So here's today's lesson: if you find that an obstacle is keeping you from working out, incorporate that obstacle into a new routine. For whatever reason, I couldn't run. The old me might have taken that as defeat and walked away, but new me made something of it. I walked so fast, so hard, so furiously, I was sweating buckets, breathing as if I had been running, and I made the most of my workout. BECAUSE SOMETHING IS ALWAYS BETTER THAN NOTHING.

I don't know exactly how to interpret this, but the calorie counter on my treadmill was pretty much the same after this workout as it would have been had I continued running. I know those things aren't exactly accurate, but I have peace in my heart having this tiny bit of confirmation that 1) I didn't quit, 2) walking isn't quitting, and 3) I may have still gotten a full, solid workout in despite problems with my internal organs.

My body's hurting pretty badly, I think I'm due for a rest day. Because I'm worth it. (Maybelline... call me! POSTER GIRL MATERIAL, RIGHT HERE!)