Not your average suburban mom. I’m more your typical, normal, commonplace, everyday, garden-variety suburban mom. With a thesaurus.

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

The Aftermath - DAY ONE


Knock, knock.

Who's there?

Kelly from Sublurban Mama.

Kelly from Sublurban Mama, who?

Kelly from Sublurban Mama who is GETTING! TRAINED! BY! KEMPER! ONCE! A! MONTH!


That's right, everyone can breathe a bit easier knowing I am not going to fall into a vat of melted chocolate and eat my way out of last week's depression over Kemper's departure. I know I sure can. I can not describe how much lighter life got when he succumbed to peer pressure commented on the blog yesterday and agreed to continue to train me. I was able to arrive at the gym last night with a happy heart, ready to bring it to Core Blast before my final Kemper weigh-in.

It's a good thing I was prepared, because Kevin decided not to teach Core Blast and instead settled on a class called Let's Do Squats Until We Puke, and Then We'll Do Some Lunges; And Just When You Think You Are Going To Physically Keel Over, We'll Do Jump Squats and Get Out the Medicine Balls and BOSU For Extra Fun. (I think the class schedule still said "Core Blast" because that other title wouldn't fit in the slot.) It's been a long time since I took a break during an athletic drill and stared at the instructor incredulously. But Kevin was on the receiving end of at least one such look.

After class I went to find Sarah. She was on the lat pull down. We agreed to meet up after my weigh-in. When I saw Kemper at the scale I actually skipped over because I was so freaking relieved. I told him I was glad Plan A to get him to train me was so effective (Plan A = beg), because I did not have a whole lot of faith in Plan B. (Plan B = finding out if Kemper had a brother (he totally does) and offering to marry him because I've seen what Kemper has done for his sister and girlfriend (both figure competitors) and if I were family he would be obligated to train me.)(Tricky parts of that plan include: my husband and kids (although polygamy is totally in the Bible, and I have enough Sister Wives to argue my way around that, and convincing a twenty-something single guy that he should totally settle down with a married mother of four in the interest of personal health. Specifically, her personal health.)

My weigh-in was a'ight. If I needed convincing that stress plays a negative role in weight loss I have a week of proof under my belt. Not only did I face the fear of being on my own this week, there were two other big things going on. One was throwing Lauren a baby shower on Saturday. (Honestly, not terribly crazy. It was just a lot more to do than usual.) The other major stress factor is our Other House.

(*minor tangent* Remember our old house? The house that sat behind the Meth House? Five years ago when the housing market tanked, we needed to sell it because we were moving. We got an offer on it right away, but because everyone and their brother were taking advantage of the FHA loans, the government had to come out and assess our home value in order to approve the loan. They assessed our house $40K below asking price because there were 5 foreclosures on our block we were competing against. (All priced $80-90K below our house.)(And? We still got an offer. BAM) We decided not to sell at such a loss and rent it instead.

We got amazing renters (or so we thought). They are totally pleasant people who always paid rent on time and didn't complain about much. We got a phone call that they were moving out this week because of financial reasons. This was a bit scary because we still owe money on that house and pay that mortgage out of the rent money we receive. We need income from that property. They moved out and I walked through the house on Sunday.

HO. LEE. COW, Y'all. The house is trashed.

It's so trashed we have a contractor coming to give us quotes tonight. (It's mostly a ton of cosmetic stuff - like doors and appliances that need to be replaced. And a lot of patching in the walls. And repainting the entire home. And the little surprise of seeing the sub-floor exposed in the bathroom. And the freaking mountain of garbage by the curb. And the fire they started in our wheelbarrow. Duuuude. We did not need this right now. But, whatever, life, right? *end tangent*)

So at my weigh-in I lost .7 of a pound. I also lost 2% body fat, taking my body fat from 37.1% at the start of the challenge, to 27.2% as of last night. If you can math, yep, that's one tenth shy of a TEN PERCENT loss of body fat. (Kemper was all, "If you stayed 154.3 and your body fat kept dropping I would be happy.)(I was all, "You are freaking crazy and a boy and I do *not* want to stay 154. I want to wear a bathing suit this summer, dude.)

Also on the agenda? Selfies. I'm pretty sure our internal
monologues included: Me = "Dude, how unfair that he has better
hair than me." and him = "Yep, it smells like Kelly just totally
enjoyed Core Blast."
After the weigh-in we went down to the cafe so Kemper could eat his dinner and I could ask ALLTHEQUESTIONS I had for that night. After he approved the next stage of my *fitness journey* (haha) we went back upstairs so he could show me how to use the machines I would need for the next phase. This was super fun and my new favorite machine is the one for assisted pull-ups because it feels like you are on a Ferris Wheel. Which? Is dope.


After thoroughly convincing me he does not see me as 34 years old - he sees me as closer to 64 years old since I don't text - we parted ways. Things only got weird that last minute and a half because I could feel myself starting to get teary because I do not do well with change and I just didn't want to leave. But just when you need him, Eminem will sing in your head and you will hear the opening strands of Mockingbird and Marshall will (personally) tell you, "Straighten up little soldier. Stiffen up that upper lip," and you totally will because you are a SWOLDIER. (One of my new favorite words ever.) Besides, I'll see Kemper next month when he destroys me with a workout and it will all be okay.

Me not smelling like Core Blast.
We clean up occasionally.
I found Sarah and we talked, and then I went home and ate the cookie that I have been saving since Lauren's baby shower. (I have been dreaming about this cookie for two full days. I passed on the shower cake and most of the shower food, knowing after my Monday night workout I could eat this one cookie. I only managed half, but it was delicious.)

Tomorrow I'll give you the recap of Lauren's big day. See you on the flip side.

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Sweet dreams are made of cheese ...

It's currently 4:15 Sunday morning and I can't sleep. I woke up half an hour ago from a dream with a racing heart. I was suddenly wide awake, fully alert, with all my senses engaged. It felt almost like I was having a nightmare, but then realized there was none of the terror I associate with bad dreams. Instead, I only felt ... euphoric.

I was dreaming about eating pizza.

That's probably a sign I should partake in that cheat meal Kemper has talked to me about.



So Monday night is my final weigh-in with the man. (Have I mentioned that yet?) I have prepared a list of eleventy-billion questions to ask him in order to squeeze every bit of knowledge from him while he is there in person. I may have spent Saturday night on a double date with both Google and Youtube because apparently I get around I needed a little bit of information to be able to plan my next steps. I'm going to ask him to look things over and see if I'm heading in the right direction.

(Also, I'm going to beg ask nicely if he will consider training me once a month. It's not how he does things, but I bet if we all left a nice comment for Kemper begging asking nicely if he would just think about it, my chances may improve.)(Feel free to comment on this post or on Facebook.)(I'll totally make sure he sees them all.)(For those of you that think I am playing dirty, it's simply because I need Kemper to teach me to clean.) (I'm.dying.)(Because weight lifting joke.)

I have a post coming soon about Lauren's baby shower because that totally happened on Saturday. I'll also update you on the stats from the weigh-in because I know you are on the edge of your seats over that. In the meantime, send this sister some love because Monday is going to be a hard (#firstworldhard) day. Please and thank you.


Friday, April 11, 2014

You thought Cedar Point was the roller coaster capital of the Midwest? That's cute. Welcome to my head.

Don't worry. I bought you a ticket. You get to ride
for free.
You're welcome.
Given the choice, I would totally choose to be a girl. Which is a good thing, you know, since that's what I am. I've always liked that girls are so much more relational than boys, and softer, and they smell nicer more nurturing. On the flip side, though, girls are freaking CRAZY. We are emotional, can worry a molehill into a mountain, and can make ridiculous decisions that sound absolutely rational (in the moment) to our messed up emotions.

I have never felt more like a girl in my whole life than I do this week. It's like I ate Crazy Train Salad for dinner Monday night and have been high ever since. Except, of course, when I'm low. This week has been such a roller coaster.

Hey girl, stretch out those hip flexers.
Squat like a mother.
After my weigh in Monday night Kemper may have implied that he would be leaving Lifetime Fitness soon. My definition of soon meant six months. His definition of soon meant a few more weeks. I honestly couldn't even process that information at the time, so I ignored it and asked him to walk me through regular dead lifts. I have been doing straight leg dead lifts up until now, but I have been faithfully attending the Youtube school of Elliott Hulse, so I hoped that my hip flexors were finally stretched enough to handle regular dead lifts.

Kemper took me into the meathead section (it was packed), and showed me how to set up the bar and weights. Then he walked me through dead lifts. I'm not going to lie - it felt pretty freaking hardcore, once I got over facing the mirror and having my rear end face the rest of the gym. I did a few to get comfortable with the feel of it and Kemper corrected my form. Afterwards I felt like I conquered something huge. I felt indestructible. I WAS THE DEAD LIFT MASTER OF THE WORLD.

Then I got in my car to drive home and lost my marbles because Kemper was leaving soon, and I was scared out of my mind because I'm not ready to lose the training wheels yet.

It was just like this except my glass case of emotion looked like a red Ford Flex.

On Tuesday I got a phone call from a friend who wanted weight loss advice. Our phone call ended with me feeling like, "Hey, maybe I do know what I'm doing here! I can totally do this without Kemper. I am the boss of my choices." Hoorah! Later that evening I talked about proper squat form with a bunch of the teen boys from church who workout together and felt even more sure that I know what I'm doing. KEMPER WHO?! I GOT THIS.

Wednesday morning I went back to the gym and dead lifted all by myself. I had a fantastic workout and then cried like a freaking baby all the way home. Because girl. And fear. And sadness. Brian met me in the kitchen as I was coming home and he was heading into work. He was all, "Are you crying?" and then we talked about Kemper leaving and why it was so upsetting and he was slightly late to work but that's okay because he loves me more than both his job and Taco Bell. (#signsofastrongmarriage)

My greatest high came Wednesday morning. Just as I was still weepy and being super emo, I checked Twitter and this happened:



That's right, Elliott Hulse favorited my tweet. It's pretty much like he publicly acknowledged how much he loves me back and that we are best friends and I should come down to Florida and hang out at Strength Camp that he received the tweet I tagged him in. I called Brian right away and he taught me how to take a screen shot, so I'm almost caught up to the 21st century there.

On Thursday I was feeling all strong about Kemper leaving. I mean, I always knew he wasn't going to be around forever, right? I decided I needed to put a plan in place for my remaining time with Kemper. I got out my calendar to figure out how much time was left in the weight loss challenge, and then realized I didn't know when he was officially gone. Y'all. His last day is one. week. from. today. The challenge is another four weeks. I get one more weigh in with Kemper.

With that realization, I lost my crap.

Of course I decided the best thing was to talk to Kemper and figure out if he could continue to train me after he left. I rehearsed all the important things I wanted to say so that I could do it without being a crybaby nutcase and that plan was carried out in stellar fashion. (Haha, Sike.) Thursday night I met up with him at the gym. He looked terrified slightly apprehensive when I asked if we could talk over by the window because just maybe I had an inkling I was about to unleash the crazy and didn't want to do it in the middle of the lobby of Lifetime Fitness. I mean, I know I'm totally good with an audience, but ain't nobody want to see the mess that is giiiiiirl tears. I got through exactly two sentences of my planned monologue and then snotted all over my face and had to whisper words so I wouldn't hiccup.

It was awesome.

Kemper was all, "Ohmygosh Kelly, don't cry," because he's a totally nice guy and to his credit he didn't wig out much on the outside. Over all it was horribly embarrassing and I left feeling not much better but at the very least I'd gotten to communicate that what Kemper has done in my life has been very meaningful to me.

Now, because it's FRIDAY and I have an amazing weekend scheduled (I am throwing Lauren a baby shower with her sis-in-law!!!!!)(because remember that my bestie is having her first baby?!?!?!) I need to leave you all on an upswing. Good thing something incredible happened at the gym this morning...

I'm pretty sure they will all chip in
and get me one of these for my birthday.
Just to make it official.
Are you ready for this? When I workout early in the morning there is the same group of guys that lift in the meathead section. I go early because those five or six guys are less intimidating than the legions that show up at night, but I still spend my time there being invisible and unwelcome and feeling like an impostor. However, this morning? This morning as I was in position to start my second set of deadlifts? The moment when my body was tensed to lift but I paused and checked my form (like Elliott Hulse taught me to do) I glanced up and caught the eye of the alpha male of the group who was totally watching me and he gave me a bro nod.

Awwwwww, snap.

I'll be drinking my protein shakes with the boyz before I know it.

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

One Fiddy Five

This week:

I.
Lost.
Three.
Pounds.

I was really nervous for my weigh in last night for a few reasons. One is that I am always a bit anemic. (Remember my post about iron supplements called Vitamin B is a Jerk? You should really check out my super scientific view of supplements. Totally worth your time to click over. I'll wait here.) Since I am so faithful with my iron supplement, the week after my period I'm a bit more anemic. This makes me tired, cranky, and also crazy hangry. Hangry like, "Nobody talk to me until I shovel some food in my yapper and can calm the heck down a little." I didn't want this little blip in my schedule (which, let's be honest, will probably happen every month) to set me back on the scale, so I tweaked my diet a little bit. 

for added iron
This was initially hard to do because I usually only bother the heck out of Kemper ask Kemper questions on Monday night and I didn't feel the first hanger pangs until Tuesday afternoon. So I had to fall back on previous conversations and chose to - are you ready? - add more fat to my diet. Homegirl ate avocado and homemade guacamole every.single.day this week. She also snacked on bacon while cooking dinner one night. It was like a fat girl dream. But lived out in real life. Someone pinch me. 

The other thing that happened this week is that my exercise changed a bit. Some of this was out of my control (Brian got home late last Monday so I missed Core Blast) (*minor tangent* Kemper asked me once if that class was a good workout. I was all, "Um, I guess?" because Kemper and I had slightly different ideas about what constitutes a good workout. But I've since reevaluated and Core Blast kicks my TUUUUUSSSSHHH - so yeah, it's totally a good workout.) (Plus, the instructor's name is Kevin and he totally has one of the funniest laugh in the history of laughs but doesn't know it which makes it even funnier) (and last night he told me I could do the Running Man for one of the athletic drills) (I chose to refrain but let it be known that I am an award winning Running Man Champion) (award winning because maybe I beat my six year old nephew in a dance off with the Running Man) (by "beat" I mean really he won but it was totally nepotism because his mom was the judge)(#rigged #unfair #doover). 

at least we MOVED in the Chat Lane
So I missed Cardio Blast last week. I also changed up my runs - my Wednesday run was more of a run one mile/walk half a mile for three cycles (plus a warm up and cool down) because I ran it after lifting and didn't want to burn out. My Saturday run was speed work for two miles. It was crazy hard but super short. So my weekly mileage really took a hit. Also, my Thursday swim was a joke. I got in the water and kicked with Sarah for about a half an hour because we had a lot of Important Happenings to discuss. I ended up leaving the pool without even getting my hair wet. It was so old lady workout.

My lifting increased however. I raised my weight for lat pull down, shoulder press, leg press, and dead lift. I also started doing drop sets within my super set. (Thank you, Elliott Hulse, for proper terminology that makes me seem way smarter than I am.) It made me sore again, which I love.

So adding fat to my diet, decreasing my cardio, and upping my weights netted me a loss of three pounds. I've gone from 168.9 down to 155 in about six weeks. Kemper is a genius. I wish I could bottle him and make him stay with me forever.

In related news - guess who showed up to my blog? Yep. Kemper himself. This is probably because I've dropped the URL about a million times in casual conversation he internet stalked me and of course this little corner of the world turned up. The best part of this has been that I got to internet stalk him back and found this: BOOTKEMP,* his website. This dude has a whole 'nother life outside of Lifetime Fitness. (It kinda feels like when you are a kid and you see your teacher at the grocery store.) (Like, Kemper doesn't live at Lifetime Fitness?!) This discovery made me crazy proud of him and intensely jealous happy that other people can take the opportunity to CHANGE THEIR FREAKING LIVES, because Kemper has given me tools that are getting me so.stinking.excited about my body and what things are possible. And? I'm getting smaller to boot. 

If you are in the southeastern Michigan area, check him out. (Dude, check him out even if you just want to Internet stalk because I won't judge you.) I really can't believe the changes in my body that are taking place in such a short amount of time. (And? It hasn't been a crazy hard battle. WHAAA?)

(*totally not an affiliate link, y'all.) (Below is a video of one of Kemper's workouts that I stole borrowed from his website.) (As an endurance athlete, wrapping my brain around a complete 15 minute workout is ridiculous. But here's how it's done.)



Today is a full rest day so I'm going to celebrate with an afternoon nap. And also guacamole. Don't get too jealous.

Monday, April 7, 2014

I think the answer is, "Why *wouldn't* you wear Cookie Monster underpants?"

Subtitle = A precautionary tale of a non-scale ... victory?

Everyone needs a go-to friend for discussing their unmentionables. Me, I have Sister Wife Rose. This is mostly because not only does she have extremely passionate thoughts on the subject, she also has an Expert Opinion as a cheer leading coach. (i.e. underpants are a big deal to those who move a lot in teensy little skirts.)

Since I'm entering a new phase in my fitness journey (*snort* - for Kari) I have a fresh dilemma. Namely, what does one wear while squatting? After a solid twenty minute discussion with Rose about panty lines and other things of vital importance where Major Life Decisions were made, our conversation ended something like this:

Me and Rose being photo bombed by Brian.
Kelly: ... and all I could think while dead lifting was this, "Dude. Please don't let me be wearing my Cookie Monster underpants."

Rose: What woman in her 30's (who, let's be honest, could totally pass for her 20's - editor's note) wears Cookie Monster underpants?

Kelly: I think the answer is why *wouldn't* a woman in her 30's wear Cookie Monster underpants?

Rose: *the Rose look* (if you know Rose you totally know this look)(it communicates "you are a dumb@ss" really well)


It was with that conversation fresh in my mind that I took the kiddos to the park yesterday afternoon. The FUN Park (which changes routinely depending on the whims of my children) was only a quarter mile away and was a perfect afternoon destination. Traveling with a three year old slightly affected the overall pace of our walk (haha, that's a joke because I'm pretty sure there were snails that beat us there), but we made it and it was gorgeous out and there were a ton of families and other kids to play with and life was grand.

(I kept myself occupied by practicing box jumps onto the benches that surrounded the playscape because they were the perfect height for someone 5'3.5" who is terrified of jumping onto the boxes at the gym. I felt like a Crossfit rockstar while nailing the jumps (even landing softly - Elliott Hulse would be so proud) even though I realized after the first jump that I would have to hold on to my pants because they kept sliding down. This messed with my (admittedly awesome) form a little bit, but sometimes you have to make sacrifices in order not to, I don't know, get arrested for indecent exposure.)

It was on our return trip home that I finally had the answer to the question that up until then I only knew to be rhetorical. The question, "Why *wouldn't* you wear Cookie Monster underpants?" Ready? This is why.

Sometimes, when you are trying to hurry a three year old across a busy road before the signal changes, and you pick him up in one hand, and hold his three thousand sticks and pinecones and Special Rocks collected from your quarter mile walk in the other hand, you will quickly discover that you have no hands left to pull up your pants that are now seriously sliding down your hips in celebration of your recent weight loss.

You can't throw down the child, and if you are a mom worth your merit at all, you know you can't drop ALLTHESPECIALTHINGS collected because it will ruin your child's life for at least 15 loud minutes forever. You will try to outrun the rapid descending of your pants, knowing that there are approximately fifteen cars witnessing your Parade of the Unmentionables as they wait for the light to change. You will attempt to catch your pants around your hips with broadening your running stance while simultaneously sticking out your tush, which looks as cute as it sounds. And just in case all the drivers were missing the big show because they were distracted in their cars, your nine year old will yell, "HEY MOM! I CAN SEE YOUR COOKIE MONSTER UNDERPANTS!" just to encourage everyone to check out the situation.

Safe on the other side of the road you will gently set down your child, and calmly pull up your pants like you were totally okay with flashing the world because you are secure in your choice of underpants. You should get an Oscar. (Like, the award.) (Not Oscar the Grouch underpants.) (Though I can understand the confusion this post could cause.)

And that is why, just maybe, you *wouldn't* wear Cookie Monster underpants.

Friday, April 4, 2014

Five on Friday - If Moms Ruled the Gym

Things I would say if Moms Ruled the Gym.

1. "Honey girl, go put on a t-shirt. There is too much boobs happening to attempt that run/elliptical/burpee."

2. "Watch your mouth, young man. I may have rendered myself invisible due to my Mom Ponytail and "birthing hips", but I am right freaking next to you and I don't want to hear about your junk."

3. "You sir, are grounded from the dumbbells for one week. Maybe that will teach you not to leave them in the middle of the floor for anyone to trip over."

4. "Thank you, People That Wash and Fold the Towels, for washing and folding the towels." "Thank you, People That Clean the Toilets and Showers, for cleaning the toilets and showers. Also, for restocking the toilet paper." (Also, totally random, but I find myself wanting to get Kemper settled down with a nice girl and give him long term financial advice. Because Mom.)

5. "Look at you lift that weight/finish that run/hold that pose/show up to exercise! You are improving every day - I am so proud of you."


Also, this conversation happened this morning:

Kelly: *upon returning from an early bird workout* BABE. I totally upped my weight on shoulder press, leg press, and dead lift. I also did drop sets for chest press and row. You are in the presence of a MOTHER FREAKING CHAMPION. *flexes*

Brian: *is still waking up as he puts on his shoes for work*

Kelly: *still flexing* BABE. Look at my bicep. It's totally like a little baby bicep that is happening.

Brian: *squints*

Kelly: Can you see it?

Brian: *squints* *reaches forward to squeeze*

Kelly: Don't touch it! It will go away.


Yep. Beast Mode activated.



*Linking up with Clare at Fitting It All In*


Monday, March 31, 2014

Out-Mommed by a 22 year old Dude

This girl? Just earned some new music for her iPod.

Three loooong months ago my sweet baby girl got me an iTunes gift card for Christmas. I promised myself I could spend it when I lost ten pounds, which of course I figured would take me about three weeks because I specialize in delusional behavior.

If you happened to have read between those lines, yep, I am totally down ten stinkin' pounds. (Also, this marks the first time in my personal history that I've ever lost weight while on my period. That's one for the books.)

This wondrous event was cataloged Monday night at approximately 8:05 p.m. Ten pounds off of my frame and my body fat has dropped more than 5% total. I can almost comfortably wear my old workout clothes to the gym. (Almost. I mean, it is Lifetime Fitness - home of the super model cardio queens who exercise in full makeup with their hair did) (while I rock a three year old Warrior Dash t-shirt and a killer mom ponytail) (what I'm saying is that all those ladies ain't got nothin' on me) (especially when I finally show up in my tank tops that display my broccoli tattoo)(#makingeveryonejealous).

Don't let this sweet teddy bear of a face fool you into
thinking he is a softy. (cue sarcasm font)
After I weighed in I sat with Kemper to pick every corner of his brain because I still don't fully understand what I am doing with food and lifting. This is mainly because The Internet has been waaaay too free in it's availability of information that may or may not really be helping my cause. Often a simple Googled question makes me suddenly want to move to Florida and be trained by Elliot Hulse at Strength Camp even though he scares the everloving bejebus out of me and would probably make me cry ugly tears out of pain and/or fear.

My main point of contention are dead lifts. This is primarily because I have to use free weights in order to do them, and I'm just really scared of that side of the gym free weights and also uncoordinated.*

*Story for free: Do you all remember when Trainer Tom used to call me Jay Leno? He would give me a twenty pound plate (to hold "like a dinner plate") and have me use it for squats with an overhead press. Without fail, every.single.time I would squat, as I came up I would smack myself in the chin with the plate. I would show up for our running class and he would look at me and just laugh, because my chin would be all bruised. Awesome.*

After I got some answers about dead lifts, I asked Kemper about food. Honestly, it's starting to get hard. Not my food choices, but figuring out how to feed the other five members of my family while I'm living the PROTEIN FEST dream. I asked Kemper if he cooked. (Truth? I was kinda hoping he would be all, "I totally live with my parents and mom cooks all my food," so I could feel better about myself.) What he did was talk to me about the importance of food prep and then took out his phone and showed me a picture of the fruit of his Sunday labors - an entire cookie sheet of seasoned chicken tenders that he could eat throughout the week. He food preps just like every fitness blog tell you to do. And? The picture was Pinterest-worthy. It was totally healthy and responsible. I felt entirely out-mommed.

I left the gym feeling a little more comfortable with some things and also super stoked because did I mention I'm down ten pounds?!

Now I just have to get some new music. Because I love my children (and am a complete sucker) I am getting Ezra "Happy" by good old Pharell. (He screams, "DIS IS MY FAVORITE!" whenever he hears it because Despicable Me.) I am getting the *clean* versions of "Thrift Shop" and "Can't Hold Us" for the girlies because we are nothing but current ;-) I know I'm going with some Lil Jon, DJ Khaled, and Kanye for my runs, and also some Artic Monkeys and Imagine Dragons for when I'm feeling like a giiiiiiirl.

Anyone else have any suggestions? I need something I can move to and also that acts as a soundtrack for the imagined movie I am starring in in my mind when I workout (because everyone fills their brain with fantastical grandiose fantasies of saving the world/curing cancer/running from dinosaurs a la Jurassic Park while they work out, right?)
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