A Lesson in Acoustics. Oh, and Sex Education.

It's rare I get one child all to myself; usually I have all four kiddos or some variation of the majority of them. So it was a pretty awesome discovery to realize that it was just Hosanna and I going to hear the Voices of Liberty inside the halls of the American Adventure at Epcot during our Disney vacation.

A quick note about Hosanna: she is by far my quietest child, but when she is alone with mom or dad the girl does.not.shut.up. It's like she's saved every scrap of every thought she has had since the last private conversation and unleashes it wildly without a breath or beat to spare. This is both precious and exhausting. It is hard for me to process so much input in such a short amount of time, which is why I concentrate on being an attentive listener, which is just a fancy way of describing how I let Hosanna deliver her monologue uninterrupted while maintaining eye contact and nodding to encourage her. (Parenting: nailing it.)

Our American Adventure Voices of Liberty date was no different. She chattered away, telling me all about the television show she had been watching recently. It was a reality show on TLC about a family who wanted children but had trouble having them because "the dad was missing something...or didn't have enough of something... (oh.my.lanta. MOVING ON) but then they found a doctor who found someone who had enough of what the dad was missing and the couple was able to have not only one baby but FIVE babies!" Hosanna told me alllllllll about this family as we waited for the a Capella group Voices of Liberty to sing*.

*Nerd Fact= I majored in music. Specifically, voice. So I may have been a little pumped to finally hear this renowned group sing in the space especially designed and known for it's perfect acoustics. What are acoustics? Acoustics are the way sound behaves in an enclosed space. Some acoustics will deaden sound, some will carry it. The acoustics in the dome of the American Adventure were designed so that a group of eight singers could sing patriotic songs without microphones and be heard perfectly all around. Translation: sound carries fabulously and vibrantly.

Voices of Liberty? Were dope. We sat right inside the domed shell and enjoyed every single note. Yeah, I found the girl that sings my voice part and yeah, I could have fit in her costume if I had boobs, so I'll definitely have that job someday. (I'm pretty sure that's how they cast those parts, right?) Hosanna kept leaning towards me to tell me something in between each song, but the flow was pretty steady, what with it only being a fifteen minute concert, so she never managed to get it out. She was almost bursting out of her skin as we listened to the final song, desperate to tell me the one last little thing that was on her mind.

She held it in as the last notes died and the applause began, and, to her credit waited until the applause stopped and I was wiping the tears of emotion from my eyes (because I love a Capella music and 'Murica) before blurting, "IT WAS *SPERM*, MOM. HE WAS MISSING HIS SPERM."

And the perfect acoustics of the perfect dome in the perfectly magical land that is Disney carried that sweet little message to everyone in the room.

You're welcome, Disney World.

The Trifecta of Oscars. Also *my* trainer feeds me gummy bears. The BootKemp Sessions - August

Not *those* Oscars.

Firstly, thanks for the love about my basement woes. Special thanks goes out to Jessica, who left my favorite comment ever: "You make waterlogged look SEK-SAY!" (In fact, as I was ankle deep in sewage I was all, "Good thing I'm so sek-say.")(I also reminded Brian of this whenever he was tempted to snap at me for nagging him about when we could turn on the fans already.)("Babe, don't be mad. I'm sek-say." Totally convinced him.)

I'll update further about the mess downstairs later. Today is a happy post dedicated to my favorite workout of the month = the BOOTKEMP SESSION. I was scheduled to meet with Kemper Wednesday night at 7:00. Traffic in southeastern Michigan is hit or miss due to the aftermath of the flooding. Some roads are still closed, while others have increased traffic due to re-routing. I wasn't entirely sure how driving to Kemper's house was going to go, but I ended up pretty much sailing through and getting there a few minutes early.

Kemper, however, was coming from work and either got stuck in traffic or was just running late - OHYLANTA - STOP THE BLOGGING PRESSES. I JUST CAUGHT/SMOOSHED A FLY IN MY BARE HAND.  That totally just happened as I was writing this. It is as gross and as rad as it seems. That was some total Karate Kid shiz right there.


So, Kemper was late which turned out to be completely awesome, because I ended up achieving a lifelong goal I didn't even know I had in his absence. Kemper has a dad named Oscar. I'd never met an Oscar in my whole life until I met Kemper's family. Then, because knowing them is like the gift that keeps on giving, I discovered that not only is Kemper's dad named Oscar, but so is his older brother, Kemper's Super Fine Brother Oscar. (Although the family just calls him "Oscar".) BAM! I suddenly knew two Oscars. BUT IT GETS BETTER. Because as I was hanging out with Oscar Sr. while waiting for Kemper, there was a knock at the door, and in walked another man named Oscar.

Just when you think that meeting three separate Oscars in your lifetime is the pinnacle of Things I Never Thought Would Happen I discovered that Kemper's Super Fine Brother Oscar was in the basement waiting for Oscar Sr. and Oscar #3 so they could rehearse for an upcoming gig because: they are all in a band together.

The band
(I'm feeling really impressed with my
internet sleuthing lately. It's
like I possess the ability to operate a
basic search engine elite hacking
capability. #stillcantfigureouttexting)

I totally crashed their basement band practice. It was just like high school. It made me feel like I wanted to go get more bad tattoos and piercings and probably find my Van's and baggy jeans because I am still so hardcore. But this time the basement band practice I was watching was comprised of a trifecta of Oscars, and they were playing a Collective Soul cover. #justcheckedoffmybucketlist

(Also in the band is a man named Luis.)(And Kemper's mom Renee who I didn't realize is a bad-A rockstar singer.)(But she wasn't there when I was there.)(So now I have to see them gig so I can get my groupie on with the whole group present.)

When Kemper got home it was a total buzzkill I was super happy to see him because I look forward to training all.month.long. I was especially excited to see him because he promised we could work on my bench press and my form for rear delt raises.

Take a moment and pray blessings
on Kemper because he had enough
compassion to replace the original
seat with an Old Lady Butt padded
seat. Amen.

He started our session off by introducing me to his new baby - the spin bike from hell. After two days of hauling up waterlogged possessions from my basement my quads were fried, so I did my best to warm up without complaining too loudly. (Meaning I tried to use my Inside Voice when I was all, "DUDE. KEMPER. MY QUADS CAN'T DO THIS." I'm pretty sure I smiled sweetly when he adjusted the resistance, so yeah, I'm a darling of a peach to train.)

After warming up my arms with resistance bands it was time to bench. I've been feeling a little better about bench press lately. A huge part of my problem of not progressing like I want with bench is fear when I don't have a spotter. I'm afraid to go heavy because I know I'll get trapped under the bar. Lately I've been doing my bench day with Rachel Who Looks Like Meg Ryan, and she's been spotting me. I've really seen some gains* in the last few weeks. The last time I benched with Rachel, I did 1 set of 5 reps at 75 pounds (1x5@75), 2x5@80, 2x5@85, and 1x3@90. Those 90 pound reps were huge for me.

Don't hate, but I just can't with
the Hodge Twins.

(*Kemper doesn't make fun of me at all when I say things like, "make gains.")(Also, the previous sentence is a LIE.)

I was looking forward to benching with Kemper because it's my weakest lift. Kemper has been talking a lot about the importance of power in my lifts. He really wants me to explode on the lift. So during bench he really pushed me to go for all I was worth. The crazy thing was that those "power" reps with Kemp yelling at me felt heavy but not crazy heavy. I handled the 85 pound sets like nothing. As it always seems to go in Kemper's gym, I ended up doing my last set with what I thought was an impossible weight: 95 pounds. It's those moments of training when I believe someday I could be really strong.

Totally how I look without skin.

After bench we moved on to standing shoulder press. I recently moved to 30# dumbbells when I do these at Lifetime, but have only managed to consistently do 6 reps a set. Kemper got three sets of 8 reps out of me. Hoorah. Next we superset rear delt raises with lateral raises. We spent a decent amount of time on form here, which I'm super thankful for. I've watched Youtube video after Youtube video of rear delt raises, and every one leaves me confused. It was awesome to have Kemper walk me through them, keeping his hand on my actual rear delt so I knew where to squeeze with the raise. I hate feeling like I might be wasting my time at the gym, so I now feel confident I can do these on my own and hit the right part of the muscle.

We finished up with push-ups superset with tricep pushdown. Push-ups have gotten so much easier; I've really seen a vast improvement in the last few months. Kemper had to help me with the last few reps of the pushdown set. I think he really just wanted to be done because he had an extra special cool down planned. And if you thought that cool down included eating gummy bears you would be totally correct.

Probably 17 of the regular size gummy bears have 30
grams of carbs; maybe stick with only 1 or 2 of The
Party Bear for the same macros*.
*Kidding. Kids, don't try that at home.

Kemper discussed really scientific things like the effects of dextrose on glycogen stores verses the effects of fructose on glycogen stores while we noshed. He quoted nutrition facts; 17 gummy bears have 30 grams of dextrose rich carbs that will basically feed your muscles after a heavy workout = GAINZ. We shared a total bro moment (and are decent gummybear-eating partners because I eat the white ones and he eats the reds). (The only downside to him knowing I like the white ones is that when if all the white ones mysteriously disappear he will know who to blame.)(I'm blaming Oscar because there are three of them to sort out, which should give me adequate time to make a get-away.)

Another awesome happening is that this girl got herself a Bootkemp t-shirt to wear proudly at the gym. The Meathead clothing collection has officially begun...

Until next month, Bootkemp. 29 more days and counting.

Five Things I'm So *Totes* Crushin' On

1. Youtube Fitness Vloggers - Omar Isuf and Chelsea Karabin

Omar's shirts

My allegiance to Elliott Hulse is still strong; however, he's starting to jump the shark a bit for me with his Lean Hybrid Muscle email bombardments. I mean, I know we both equally want for me to come and train at Strength Camp, but he's gotta lay off trying to sell me crap via email, you know?

Chelsea's shirts

Lately I've been binge-watching everything by Chelsea Karabin and Omar Isuf. Chelsea is strong and feminine, and she's everything I want to be when I grow up. It's really been helpful to watch someone live out counting her macros, even if they are really different than mine. Plus her home gym sometimes has twinkle lights, so there's that.

Omar is just freaking adorable, but he's also funny and smart (which honestly seems a bit overkill). I've learned a lot from his videos about training, form, and how to be a bro gym etiquette. Both Chelsea and Omar have apparel lines and I've bookmarked several things from each of their shops for when I don't have four kids and can experience disposable income again.

"I could train the mess outta Kelly. I'd probably be boyz with Kemper, too. Also, don't hate me 'cuz I have no calves."

2. Foam Rolling

Be still my heart - I have finally been seduced by the magic of the foam roll. As a runner I attempted to roll my IT band and it hurt so much I just quit. While it's still hella painful, I have noticed a huge difference in my glutes, hamstrings, and ... calves (who knew?) from when foam rolling and I started goin' out a month ago. I recently began foam rolling my lats and have been using a tennis ball for my left trapezius*.

*Remember my trap injury last fall (from my crutches)(the crutches that I had to use for my broken bone spur)(the broken bone spur that derailed my half marathon dreams and helped me gain 15 pounds)(the 15 pounds that ultimately led me to Kemper)(which was actually one of the best things to happen in my fitness life). Well, that trap injury has reared it's ugly head again. I'm hoping the next time I meet with Kemper he can use the same voodoo magic he used on my hip flexor to help my trap, but until then I've been doing everything I know to keep it from completely seizing up again including, but not limited to, a lot of drugs.

3. New Playlist 

Probably one of my favorite Kanye tweets of all time.
I think it's the "uuuuugh" at the end that seals it for me.

Apparently my master plan to mess with Kemper's head as much as possible continues because I've gotten sick to death of Rage Against the Machine and have moved on this week to some new music that I will play ad nauseam and then swear off for a year. Current lifting list includes (I didn't watch these links so they might be NSFW - heads up) P.O.D., Downset, White Stripes, Awolnation, BoySetsFire, and of course, Kanye. I'm running to Cage the Elephant, Weezer, and Harvey Danger. (Not to get too braggy, but once I invited myself on Harvey Danger's tour bus and scored both a pre-show interview and a photo pass for the show. Because I don't respect boundaries. BAM!)

4. Iced Coffee and fresh Peaches

Or, go to McDonalds. Or, even better, call Sister
Wife Rachel and she will come over with her
home made cold brew iced coffee that will blow your
freaking mind and you will thank Jesus that she is your
Sister Wife.

This summer I am single-handedly keeping McDonalds in business with purchases of sugar free French vanilla iced coffee. OH.MY.WORD is that stuff amazing. (And please shut up about the laboratory of ingredients I'm dumping in my body with each gulp delicate lady sip.) Right now I am drinking them as a pre-workout before my big lifting days because that makes it seem healthier to me only.

Also, peaches. I don't eat a lot of fruit but again, after big lifting days or HIIT workouts from hell, I have been enjoying the mess out of peaches. I keep a stash of napkins in my car (usually from McDonalds, natch) strictly to catch the peach juice that dribbles down my chin as I inhale that fruit on the way home from the gym.

Have I mentioned how much I LOVE summer?!

5. This picture comparison

25 years old, 253 pounds

35 years old, 145 pounds

There is so much about these pictures that I love. In the top picture is a woman who loves her kiddos. She reads them lots of stories and does puzzles and plays tea party with them. She likes to laugh, she likes to dream, and she wants a full life. But she's also hiding. She hides behind a child in almost every picture taken. She would never, ever be photographed with food or, heaven forbid, in any kind of form fitting clothing. 

The woman in the bottom picture just got done with a squat session at the gym. She squatted heavier than she thought possible, and is celebrating with a delicious dinner of brown rice, black bean burger crumbles, and lots of salsa. Her arm is still bruised from lifting a tire two weeks ago with Kemper (which she still maintains was crazy fun). She is sunburned from walking with her kids a half mile to the splash park where she wore her bathing suit in public so she could join in the playtime. She stacked the firewood in the background with her three year old son "for fun". She is distracted by her neighbors dog who just went FREAKING INSANE, and then laughing because life is crazy and wonderful.

Life is crazy and wonderful, everybody. Have a marvelous Friday and enjoy the mess out of your weekend!

That time I did squats with Eminem back when he was just Marshall

Totally the birthplace of a CHAMPION squatter.
BootKemp.

Kemper's last day at Lifetime Fitness was about three weeks ago, which means I have been anticipating working out with him for roughly 21 days. When I say "anticipate" I mean I was equal parts seriously excited to learn to squat and see Kemper but also horribly terrified of the workout because Kemper said once in passing that training with him would be "really hard". I may have been projecting my own fears into that innocent statement, but I found myself looking forward to this training session the way I "looked forward" to childbirth: just survive the process so you can enjoy the results.

I mentally prepared for the workout by listening to Beastie Boys Ill Communication in the Ford Flex on the drive over. I cranked it up as high as it would go and white girl rapped along because, just like Mike D.,  "I freak a funky beat like the stuff* was in a blender." 

(*stuff - suburban mom edit.)

(I also got lost on the way because I don't have GPS I got off on the wrong exit and took a lovely little tour of Detroit Metro Airport. Also on the unscheduled stop list: 7-11 because I drink a crapton of water and have a nervous bladder so I had to freaking use a 7-11 bathroom which means I probably now have flesh-eating virus, hepatitis A, and E.coli.)(Also, don't ever Google diseases you can get using a public restroom.)(There are things out there you can't unlearn.)

I knew right away when I drove past Kemper's house because there was a giant tire in his driveway. (I immediately cemented an inner vow to one day flip that tire over while pretending Elliott Hulse's camera people were filming me for Strength Camp videos.) Kemper trains out of his garage, which ups the excitement factor considerably, because already I would be that much more removed from my normal life at Lifetime, and that much closer to being best friends with Elliott Hulse and training barefoot without air conditioning like a beast.

When I walked into the garage Kemper was all, "Well, here it is," and as I looked

around, do you know how I felt? I felt like I was watching Eminem perform at the Shelter in '97. If that makes no sense to you whatsoever, you probably don't live in Michigan. (Haha - it probably doesn't make sense to people who live in Michigan either.)(Welcome to my brain.) Eminem used to rap in local clubs (like the Shelter) before he got big. Whenever I daydream about owning a time machine (what everybody daydreams about, right?) I think about going back and seeing Eminem before he became EMINEM. (And also meeting Jesus in the flesh. I'm not a total heathen.)(Yes I am.)(But I'm totally saved by grace and would use the time machine to meet Jesus first so don't worry, Sister Wife Rose who will call me out on all this.)

Standing in Kemper's garage, seeing how he has created this full working gym with his stamp on it, and it's so clean and organized, and even though he was playing crappy music music I would not have chosen* (which hey, we can forgive him for because he was born in the 90's when all the great music was already coming out)(*mental note to buy Kemper some Rage Against the Machine, Smashing Pumpkins, Nirvana, Green Day, Weezer, Pearl freaking Jam, and I can not even start on the great hip hop of that time)(yes I can - Notorious B.I.G., Cypress Hill, Warren G and Nate Dogg, House of Pain, and *guilty pleasure* COOLIO because GANGSTA'S PARADISE - NEED I SAY MORE?) I felt like, standing there, I was getting to experience the beginnings of something ... big. Because when you take the kind of drive Kemper has and mix it with his passion for fitness and genuine care for his clients - well, I really believe this guy is going to succeed far above the average suburban trainer. I felt like I was getting to experience something special; the humble beginnings of a dude that could one day command $500+ an hour for training services. So being in Kemper's gym it was like I was watching Eminem perform at the Shelter back in '97 - get it?

Of course I was totally overwhelmed by all those thoughts (and I had to go to the bathroom again) and so all I said was , "Wow, this is really cool, Kemper," or something else entirely lame that didn't give away ALLTHETHOUGHTS crowding my brain.

Kemper had me warmup with some jogging in place and jumping jacks. Then he had me do some leg swings (I'm sure that's the technical term) to loosen up my hips and legs so I could do what I came to do: SQUAT.

Squatting. Was. Amazing.

It was seriously everything I wanted it to be. 

Someday, Meatheads, someday.

I did a few light sets while Kemper corrected my form (I have a tendency to tuck my pelvis under right before I come up) and then he started piling on the weight. The most I squatted at Lifetime was 50 pounds. The Olympic bar alone is 45 pounds. Kemper upped it to 65. Then 85. Then 95. I did my final set of 8 reps at 105 pounds.

I still haven't stopped smiling, and I can't wait to do it again at Lifetime.

After squatting Kemper had me do a variation of a Romanian deadlift using a 45 pound plate and superset it with something I lovingly call "The Mermaid". I'm sure this particular exercise has a real name, but it involves laying on your stomach with a stability ball squeezed between your feet and raising your feet up and down while you curse at Kemper in your head. The best part of this whole move was that when I got up, my entire silhouette was outlined in sweat on the mat below. 

It was super attractive.

woah.

Next I did some reverse lunges with kettlebells superset with 30 seconds of plie squat jumps. By this time I had to take off my glasses because I was sweating too much to keep them on. Also, they were fogging up. No joke. Probably my biggest nerd moment in history. Werkin' it.

Kemper ended our session with some corrective squatting with a band around my legs (above my knees) while holding onto the squat rack to help fix my propensity to overcompensate for my bad left hip flexor by using my right leg in all sorts of funky ways. We used this time to chat about our mutual love for Elliott Hulse and fangirled together.

Then Kemper said something totally misleading like, "It's time to stretch," and I assumed the hard part was over. 

Now, the man knows I have hip flexor issues. We also talked a little bit about tight quads being the root of the twinge I feel in my left leg when I do lunges. So, being the amazing trainer he is, he set out to help relieve that tightness with a stretch straight from Hell.

The first one wasn't so bad. It targeted my hamstrings and glutes and was uncomfortable but alright. Next he had me take a runner's lunge position. He took my foot that was on the floor and raised it behind me until I yelled, "UNCLE!" it was at the limit. Next, he had me push my foot against his hand for a count of three, deceptively let me relax and then raised it even higher. He did this twice. Then he repeated the whole thing on the other side. 

It was then I knew that Kemper was lucky I was incapacitated because I'm pretty sure even though he is strong enough to take me under normal circumstances I was fueled by enough OHMYWORDIHATEYOUSOMUCHRIGHTNOW pain that I could have kicked his A all the way to Toledo. Which? Was about a 45 minute drive away.

But afterwards my legs felt fantastic and I forgave him immediately, so don't worry, we're still boyz.

We ended our session with him looking through my food journal because for the second week in a row I gained .2 of a pound and I'm not playing around with that mess. (Can I just say that there is no use with secrets once someone has seen your food journal? It's easily one of the most humbling experiences I've ever had.)(I feel like I have Tourettes while he is looking at it because I'm constantly yelling out things like, "BUT I DIDN'T EAT THE BUN!" and "I KNOW IT WAS MCDONALD'S BUT I GOT THE SALAD!" as his eyes scan the page.)(Awesome.)

The general consensus is that I need to eat more. I'll plan on adding a few hundred calories of good quality food on the days I work out twice. Twist my arm.

So there you have it. I came, I saw, I squatted. Life is beautiful.



(*Kemper, your music doesn't suck that much.)(Seriously, what do I know? I'm an old lady with awesome taste in music.) *insert smiley face emoticon so you know I'm messing with you*

A Brand New and Totally Effective Diet

This is my teenage life summed up in one picture.
I had a huge crush on the guitar player.
(Of course I did.)
"STAND DOWN" - Boy Sets Fire

I hope everyone had a wonderful Easter. I started the day with an early bird workout at the gym. It was leg day and also coincided with the first time I wore my earbuds while lifting. Apparently I feel much freer to grunt when I am focused on the music and not on the sounds I am personally making. I discovered this during a break between songs.

In unrelated news, I now listen to my iPod on a much lower volume.


(I have been pretend drumming for listening to Boy Sets Fire* for a two week stretch now. It's kinda impossible to fully enjoy Boy Sets Fire on anything less than the loudest setting possible. I've caught myself lip-syncing "SILENCE KILLS THE REVOLUTION" with all the passion it requires while on the treadmill. I don't feel ridiculous about this at all and instead choose to feel sorry for all the pretentious people at Lifetime who do not get to be pretend rock stars in their heads while exercising.)

(*I traveled to Chicago waaaaay back in 1998 with my friends Melanie and Josh to see Boy Sets Fire play in a bowling alley that also hosted late night rock shows.)(It was rad.)

(Brian hates Boy Sets Fire.)
(He also won't let me in his band.)
(The obvious conclusion we can draw is that Brian could not recognize musical genius even if it lived with him.)

After my Easter morning workout I hurried out to the parking lot because I knew in order to fully celebrate this beauty was waiting for me:

I know what you are thinking. "Kelly, you are a vision of loveliness first thing in the morning   are you naturally that white or do you work at it?  did you really sit in the parking lot of Lifetime Fitness and eat a Reese's Peanut Butter egg?"
Sure did, y'all.
#4gramsofprotein #Kemperwouldbeproud (Because I'm pretty sure Reese's is exactly what he had in mind when he told me to eat carbs after a workout.)

Easter was a struggle for me. I think the real problem was I had no plan on how to handle all the special holiday food. I knew I was going to allow myself some leeway (hence, the peanut butter egg), but I had to navigate a church brunch potluck and the actual Easter meal at my mom's house, and my only thought was, "Let's just see how it goes." Bad idea.

This is literally the only picture I have
from Easter. It's a blurry cell phone
picture of me and my sister. You're
welcome. (For the record, it's clear I
am taller.) 

When I take last year into account, I did fantastically well. But for this year, and knowing my current goals - blah. At brunch I ate ALLTHEFRUIT because I don't normally eat a lot of fruit, so kiwi and strawberries were like candy to me. I ate egg casserole that looked like it was loaded with spinach, but I also really really really enjoyed a homemade blueberry muffin. (To be honest, I enjoyed that muffin more than the Reese's egg.)(Please don't tell - I don't want to spoil the good thing going on between me and Reese's. We have a special relationship - it's eggselent.)(Oh no, she didn't.)

At my mom's I just ate too much. My stepdad is an amazing cook and he bought kielbasa and fresh pierogi at the Polish market. It was all so good. I also had a piece of cinnamon swirl bread and lemon cake for dessert.

At home that night I stood on the scale and was all, "Yep." Last week I weighed 154.3 at my weigh in. Easter night that scale read 157. ONE FIFTY SEVEN. Of course I totally panicked and began thinking all these disordered thoughts like, "I should totally go run at 4:00 tomorrow morning. And not eat all day. And hit Core Blast and lift before my weigh in. HEY! Maybe I can even skip my Monday weigh in and show up Tuesday. That would buy me a full extra day!" Thankfully I'm not completely stupid and the part of me that is rational was all, "Dude. Don't be crazy. You need a full night's sleep. You need to return to your normal food tomorrow. You need to drink a crapton of water. You need to do your normal workout, and then you need to SUCK IT UP AND FACE THE MUSIC and go get weighed on your normal night because you are not a cheater." Which? Is totally what happened.

I really thought most of that weight gain had to do with sodium and being bloated from all the crap food. So on Monday I pounded water like nobody's business. I spent most of Monday peeing feeling like while I enjoyed all that food, it certainly didn't change my life, and I'd much rather be down 15 pounds than eat like that all the time.

Monday night was upper body lifting followed by Core Blast. After that I went over to the trainer desk and tried to find a Kemper Replacement to weigh me in. (Which? TOTALLY won't ever happen.)(Because Kemper is completely irreplaceable unless Elliott Hulse shows up and then all bets are off.) Andrew, the trainer who offered to weigh me in, while being a fine young gentleman, totally didn't want to joke with me at all was all business because he had a client warming up on the treadmill. I had to tell him all the vital information that Kemper already knew - you know, the important things like my age and height - so I tried not to be bitter that I had to verbalize that info (*rolls eyes and enjoys her first world problems of missing the trainer that was so generous with his time*) while waiting for the scale to out me for my Easter noshing.

The damage? I lost 1.3 pounds. I weighed in at 153. I also lost .2% body fat. (Down to a solid 27%.)

So I guess what I'm saying is that I'm now on the new Reese's Peanut Butter Egg diet because it's totally effective.

(Just kidding, Kemper.)

Five on Friday - Automatic Responses

Here are a few common situations I face in my life and the ways I automatically respond to them.


1. Scene: Entering Lifetime Fitness - Every time I enter the gym I see this sign on the glass in the lobby:

Automatic response: I think, "not these guns." *mentally flexes my biceps*


2. Scene: At least one child every.single.day. whines, "Mo-om! I can't find my ______."

Automatic response: I think, "It's up your butt and around the corner." You can take the girl away from the 80's, but you can't take the 80's from the girl.

A perm, a boombox, and throwing up peace signs? It's like the 80's puked allllll over this mess.
I think we can all agree the 80's were good to me.

3. Scene: Hears birds chirping before the sunrise.

Automatic response: I think of breastfeeding. This is mainly because the first time I consistently heard birds ring in the new day it was during the hellish period of adjusting to a newborn while bonding with the tiny life I'd created as I nourished her from my own body. Now it's almost a Pavlovian response.
(Now *you* will forever associate pre-dawn bird chirping with breastfeeding. I'm like the gift that keeps on giving.)


4. Brian's new favorite video - Jim Rome on Gym Guy:

Scene: I walk in the house upon returning from the gym.

Brian's automatic response: "KELLY! Hurry and get in your protein! YOU DO NOT MAKE YOUR MUSCLES WAIT FOR PROTEIN! GET THAT PROTEIN NOOOOOOOOOW."

(Don't worry - I totally did already in the car on the way home.)


5. Scene: Jason Derulo sings "Talk Respectfully* to Me" (*how this young man should speak to a SAHM mama) while I'm driving the Ford Flex.

Automatic response: My freaking hips take over my body and I become the best dancer in the entire world. There is something truly magical about Jason telling me my "booty don't need explaining" that makes me throw all caution to the wind and let it do it's thang. YOU DO YOU, BOOTY.
(Lest you think I'm exaggerating in standard Sublurban Mama form the driver of the car next to me last night totally affirmed my effort with a gigantic smile.)

See you Monday when I share the extensive report on how I enjoyed the Reese's Peanut Butter Egg I am saving for after my LEG DAY workout Sunday morning. It will keep you on the edge of your seat. (Almost like me, barely able to be on the edge of my seat after Leg Day.) Happy Friday! Happy Easter!

Linking up with Clare at Fitting It All In.

Conspiracy Theories - Kleenex Edition

There are a few undeniable signs that life is about to get menstrual. The first is the desire for a mass consumption of chocolate. Since I am currently on day 5 of a wheat, dairy, and sugar fast I've been able to satisfy that craving and move on. Haha. That was a joke because I'm thisclose to driving to the nearest store and snarfing every piece of candy I recognize - and even those I don't.

Another clear sign of the impending monthly is that I get a huge case of the Feels and cry over everything. I'd like to take a minute to thank Great Big World and Christina Aguilera for the timing of their hit song "Say Something". Having it dominate airwaves the same week I'm PMSing is genius. I'm pretty sure that song is being sponsored in part by Kleenex brand tissues. Well done, Kleenex.

-John Green

I'm also thanking for great timing this week = my library. Finally getting me to the front of the line for John Green's The Fault In Our Stars this specific week was stellar. For those unfamiliar with this work of art I suggest you read it immediately. It is a YA novel about a girl named Hazel Grace who has cancer. She is tethered to an oxygen machine at a cancer support group when she meets Augustus Waters. Their relationship will wreck you. Decimate. Couple this novel with Great Big World's "Say Something" and you know Kleenex (and BIG BROTHER*) played a part in in it all. 

(*This is no joke = on Tuesday I was twenty pages from finishing The Fault In Our Stars - which means I was sobbing like a baby because if you've read the book you know what just happened - when my telephone rang. Since I was a hot mess I checked Caller ID before I answered it because I reserve my hiccuping snot-filled voice for my most special friends. GUESS WHO WAS CALLING AT THAT EXACT SECOND?!?!

This, kids, is a land line telephone. It is what came after telephones that still had cords. If you look closely at my Caller ID (#baller) you will see the person calling me during the end scenes of The Fault In Our Stars was none other than CHILDREN'S CANCER.

Well done, Drones Spying On My House, well done.

In conclusion, remember Big Brother (and Kleenex) are always watching. 

Case of the Mondays: Welcome to the New Age

Some of you may find it a surprise to hear I have a fairly active imagination. (Haha - sike. That's called sarcasm.) Lately most of my daydreams have been supported by the soundtrack of Imagine Dragons and their hit Radioactive. I'm pretty convinced you could never top the original, but I found this version by Lindsey Stirling and Pentatonix and it is some stiff competition. It makes my music school nerd heart leap. Also, this song has brought me the realization that I have the fiercest runway walk ever. And I apparently wear a lot of leather pants in my head. You're welcome for that visual. Welcome to the new age, y'all.

Happy Monday!

Goin' Halfsies On a Marathon

I'm not gonna lie.  Half marathon training is kicking my tush.

I still think it was a brilliant plan for me to transition seamlessly from triathlon training to half marathon training.  I do best when I have fitness goals that yield immediate results if I'm faithful (or not), and quite honestly, the temptation to skip my weekly long run only lasts long enough to remember that I have an even longer run the following week.  The promise of extra future misery is a great motivator.

Until now all my runs have been reasonable distances. The first two weeks of half training were filled with 3-5 mile runs.  Then a rude awakening; my first real "long" run : six miles.  Six miles is still a far distance for me. While I've run that distance a few times, it's not something I do once a week or even feel ready for at any moment.  It is still a bit mythical and scary; one of those runs I obsess over a few days before.  I was supposed to run it last Saturday, but with the logistics of the last day of vacation and traveling home, it just wasn't going to work.  Sunday was a no-go as well, because Brian and I stayed up way too late Saturday hashing out school year plans while I cried because I was feeling overwhelmed, so the morning was shot and the rest of our day was full.

I knew Monday was the day of reckoning. While waiting for Brian to come home from work I prepared a super healthful and delicious meal for my family (what - spaghettios don't count?) while downing a late afternoon glass of mocha iced coffee (my second for the day, but who's counting?), and when Brian stepped in, I stepped out.


Here is the unofficial transcript of that run.

First Steps: Walking to the end of my driveway

This.already.exists.
And it's back by popular demand.

"Dude.  This already sucks.  I'm pretty sure it's going to rain.  I hate running in the rain.  My glasses get all splattered.  I need tiny windshield wipers on my glasses for when I have to run in the rain.  Why hasn't anyone invented that yet? Running Fit could make a killing on that.  I'm sure every runner with glasses would wear them.  I mean, I've seen runners, and some of them aren't at all concerned with what they look like while running. Why can't I just get my act together and wear my contacts already?  I have a bajillion pairs.  Oh, here we go.  The end of the driveway. I have to actually run now.  Kelly, once you start running you can't stop for over an hour.  This first step is a huge commitment."

Begin running down my street

Sabotaging my run like a ninja. 

"Yep.  This is not fun.  And my heart is already pounding.  I'm pretty sure this is as close as I've ever felt to an anxiety attack.  I seriously can't breathe.  And with each step I'm getting farther and farther away from home. WITHOUT MY PHONE.  Doh!  Ohmylanta, I will have to shamefully beg a stranger to borrow their phone when I have to call and ask Brian to come pick me up because I am obviously dying.  Or I just drank too much coffee a few minutes ago.  But I'm sure it's not at all my sensitivity to caffeine that is causing me to feel shaky but really just stress because it's almost the school year and I have to get my crap together to teach the kiddos pretty soon."

(This is when I take a one mile interlude to mentally rearrange the furniture in my house to make it more "education-friendly" without turning my entire life into home school.  This interior design session ends with the revelation that we need all new furniture. For the entire house.)

(This is also when I make many mental notes: Google how to add a laminate kitchen table top to our existing table because refinishing that mess just will not do anymore; make a pro/con list for how mad it would make Brian if I painted the half bath without talking to him first; compose a compelling argument to present to the offspring to let them know we are getting rid of Mac-n-cheese lunches on Tuesdays because this whole "allergen free mac-n-cheese" business on a busy day just ain't happening. (Can you seriously imagine having to make from scratch dairy-free mac-n-cheese in the middle of a busy day?)(Being the Best Mother in the World is just not in the cards, it seems.)

Mile 2.5 - Running through a neighborhood of McMansions

I could put in some serious training
time to excel at that sport.

"Okay, so you aren't going to die.  Seriously, Kel. This is less than a 5k right now.  It only sucks in your mind.  Your body can totally do this.  In fact, you are a total Rock Star Bad-A.  Except for just now when you tripped on the pavement and said, "Ueeegh" in order to regain your balance because that's obviously how balance works ... you know, being controlled with verbal help and all. Good thing no one but that entire lawn crew of strapping young men saw you stumble. Aaaannnnd in about twenty feet or so you are going to have to run through their congregating mass loitering about the sidewalk.  This is a good time to cross the street.  But it might shave a little distance off my run distance! Then it won't be a SIX MILE RUN!  That's totally okay Kel, serious racers always find the shortest way to run the course; crossing the street here only makes you more like a professional athlete."

(*I cross the street* *I also try to make it appear as if I meant to do that all along and not just because these men all witnessed my gracefulness in action*)

Mile 3 - My iPod is mocking me

"Mumford and Sons is singing Lover's Eyes.  That.is.hilarious.  'I walk sloooooow, I walk slooooow....'  Very funny, iPod."

Mile 3.25 - Playing Chicken with a goose

It was exactly like this except
just one goose.

"Ummmm, Goose?  Dude, you are like fifteen feet away and you see me coming but you show no signs of vacating the sidewalk.  Maybe you didn't realize that I'm bigger than you and a human and you are on my turf.  I don't run in your pond. Seriously.  I'm now like ten feet away. WTHeck, Goose?  Have you no fear?  I'm a predator.  *audibly growl* *Goose looks at me like, "That all you got?"* Uummm, seriously, move.  It's my right of way. Ohmylanta, this goose is going to attack me. And I'm pretty sure that right now I could not outrun this goose.  Being the age of the cell phone camera, someone is going to record this goose attacking me and running me down as I attempt to flee.  I'm going to end up on YouTube.  And probably Jay Leno (which would totally be a conflict of interest because I already have a sweet deal with David Letterman).  Or maybe even Jimmy Fallon, which? would be sorta rad.  Because then I'd be one step closer to my six degrees of being best friends with Jimmy Fallon. TWO FEET AWAY! TWO FEET AWAY. Are we doing this, Goose?  BRING IT O- sweet, you moved.  We're totally cool."

Mile 4 - The Fake Out

"Ok, Kel, just make it to the stoplight. Then you can stop and rest while you wait for the light to change.  This is a super busy road and it's rush hour, so you should have a good amount of time to catch your breath.  Just ... make it ... to ... the light ... OH NO YOU DIDN'T JUST GIVE ME THE LITTLE WHITE MAN THE SECOND I GOT HERE."

Mile 5 - That Time I Got Passed by Dean Karnazes

Dean from behind. Which is how
I would see him if we ran together.
"Kelly, you just ran 6 miles? That's
cute.  I'm running 600. See you at
the finish."

"This is kind of nice.  I'm in the home stretch.  Sure, I'm slowing down a bit, but I'm still going to finish well.  I've had some time to myself, breathing in some fresh air, feeling a slight breeze tickle my beet red face. This might even be a tad relaxi- OHMYLANTA, SLOW DOWN, DUDE. You can't just run up behind a girl with her iPod playing and race past her like a BAT OUT OF HELL.(Meatloaf begins singing in my head "Paradise By the Dashboard Light" drowning out Cypress Hill who "Ain't Goin' Out Like That" which is quite a feat.) That guy who left me in the dust looks just like my legendary running hero Dean Karnazes.  Like a much taller Dean.  A Dean with longer - and lighter - hair.  A Dean who is 30 pounds of heavier. So really, he looks nothing like Dean at all, except that this guy was fast as well.  Guess what, bro? You get in your 6 miles in 30 minutes, I'll get my 6 miles in 60ish, but at the end of the day we are both logging 6 miles. AWWWWW SNAP."

Mile 6 - GET ME SOME WAAAAATER

"I totally just ran six miles.  LIKE A BOSS.  I can't wait to do a 7 mile run in six more days.  Awesome."  

I collapse after I stretch and ice like a good girl. The end.

This loveliness is after a 4 mile run during The Great Cottage Get-Away of 2013.  This is totally what I looked like after six miles except I looked like I ran the original 4 miles plus 100 more.  Effortlessly.

Amenities Include: Chance of Felonious Sexual Assault

"California knows how to party." - Tupac Shakur (also Lauren quoting 2Pac on several occasions over the course of three days)(also me quoting Lauren quoting 2Pac once I understood the reference after scanning the hip hop annals of my suburban youth memories)(this whole experience was like a Quoting Inception but way rappier).

San Diego, California.  I came, I saw, I got a little sunburned even though it was overcast almost the entire time.  After three days in southern California I'm only left confused as to why anyone lives any other place in the United States.  It is amazing.  But every great journey has a misstep or two. *enter wisps of ominous music*

Here is the recap to Day One: The Great Trip Westward.

We left Detroit around 3:30 p.m.  Our first flight was just a short hop to North Carolina where I had just enough of a layover to buy pretzel chips (score!) and root beer.  Our second flight was a five and a half hour cross-country adventure where I managed to snag the window seat. This was both a blessing and a curse as I have a bit of a nervous bladder.  My nervous bladder only rears its ugly head (punny!) when I fear I won't have ready access to the facilities.  This manifests mostly while traveling, and the thought of both a "keep seat-belt fastened" sign and of climbing over other travelers fourteen times as needed caused me to need to pee almost the entire flight.  Thankfully Jesus loves me and seated me in the row directly across from the mid-plane potties and gave Lauren and I a seatmate who was intimidated by our beauty I'm guessing did not speak English as a first language and compensated by smiling a lot.  He happily got up four times so I could do my business.

We landed in San Diego around 9:00 p.m. California time.  For those that can math, it felt like midnight to our sleepy, hungry bodies.  We took a shuttle to the car rental place, and a new employee was completely thorough in his collection of every scrap of information that needed to be exchanged.  He thought our Michigan drivers licenses were not ghetto at all, because apparently he had never seen a state give out stickers to put on the back of your license when you have a change of address and not bother to print a new license with your current place of residence. Also, Michigan seemingly has the longest drivers license numbers in the history of license numbers, and he questioned if maybe Lauren and I got the last ones offered in our state. (Seriously, Michigan has one letter and 12 numbers.  Is this excessive?)

It's a bird ... it's a plane...
No, seriously.  It's a plane.

We were moving right along - and by that I mean sloooooooower than I ever thought was humanly possible to rent a car - when we were given the rundown on the rules of car rental. This is a poor time to ask,"Is crack okay?" when told not to smoke in the vehicle.  Just trust me on that.  Finally we made it out to our sweet little California ride just in time to witness a plane fly right over our heads.  I captured it with my awesome photography skills.

Next we headed to our hotel.

Lauren put a lot of effort into finding a decent place to stay at an affordable rate. Since she is fairly familiar with San Diego, her main concern was location and found a place close to the zoo, Old Town, and some of the beaches we would be visiting.  I checked the website before we left and was excited to see a nice fitness center and a continental breakfast with waffles. (One totally cancels out the other, natch.)

Look at us.  Eight hours of cross-country travel.  Hungry bellies, tired bodies, and? trust and optimism.

However.  Sometimes the internet (who promised a lovely hotel) is a big fat liar.

After passing a bazillion hotels on the way to the Quality Inn Sea World Zoo Area hotel in San Diego, CA we finally saw the green and white sign like a beacon in the distance.  We pulled into the dark parking lot (clue #1 we might soon be a statistic) and passed the "fitness center" (a cinder block room with the door propped open to anyone on the street at 9:45 on a Tuesday night with a treadmill, fan, and a weight machine)(clue #2) and went to check in.  This is a dramatization of what happened in the "lobby" (clue #3).

Lauren: Hi, I'm here to check in.  Last name _____.

Clerk #1: Yeah, we have you in room 235.  Three nights ... but someone is already in that room. (Clue #4).  Hey, Clerk #2, the computer says someone is already in their room.

Clerk #2: No, no one is in there.  Just override the system.  That room is okay.

Clerk #1: I don't know how to do that.

Clerk #2: (Comes over and messes with the computer)(Our key cards come out.)

Lauren: Thanks.

Clerk #2 to Lauren: Heeeey, that's a nice bracelet.  That's from Tiffany's.  And your purse! Oooh, this is a rich lady! (clue #5)

Kelly: (Laughs because she loves it when people are unapologetically inappropriate.)

Lauren: (Laughs nervously) Yes, I'm rich.  That's why we are staying at the Quality Inn.

We all laugh.  Then Clerk #2 tells a long story about a family with a Hummer and lots of gold chains that could not pay for things like electricity and food but it was okay because they were on a budget and chose to spend the money they did have on nice material goods.  Kelly could not argue against this logic because ... 'Murica. It's their money, yo.

We left the lobby with our key cards and drove around the building.  This is a good time to show you what the website conveyed our experience would be:

Palm trees, blue skies, happy, cheerful, safe.  Not an ideal place for, I don't know, drug deals and human trafficking.

This is how you should alter that photo.  First, picture it at 10:00 p.m., but take away any source of lighting for safety.  Nothing in the parking lot, nothing by any of the exterior entryway doors, nothing around the three flights of stairs you may need to climb to get to your room.  Also, add a shirtless man sitting on the guardrail alone in the dark totally not looking fishy at all who stares silently from ten feet away as you park your car.

Now, when you and your traveling companion, both delightful young ladies in maxi dresses and GIRL'S VACATION! finery, grab suitcases from the trunk of your car, imagine looking up and seeing five different groups of men, some fully clothed and some in various states of relaxation, staring down from three floors of the hotel and watching silently as you strain to find your room.   Feel their eyes as you walk up the stairs and find your room.  It's kind of like in the movies when "fresh meat" new prisoners enter a prison and all the other prisoners welcome them from their cells above by showering them with flaming toilet paper. Except at the Quality Inn in San Diego it is totally silent and there is no flaming toilet paper even though you might welcome it because it would be a source of light.

When you finally reach your room you will attempt to make eye contact with the lone gentleman standing twenty four inches away because you saw on Grey's Anatomy that people who are going to harm you will have a harder time doing so if they see you as a real human being and not a potential victim, but it is too dark to commit to this and you will wait anxiously for your friend to open up the freaking door already. This is when your key cards will not work.  Either of them.

You will make your way back down to the car, casually stow your luggage inside, climb into the front seat and serenely get as far away from the establishment as possible.

It was like Thelma and Louise.  In a way that is nothing remotely like Thelma and Louise, but involves two girls and a car.  So, you know, exactly like it.

Ohmylanta was it the most ridiculous situation.  This is probably when I got the giggles.  I was so hungry it hurt. I was tired.  Lauren was coping masterfully with the situation.  She pulled over and called Expedia.  I called Brian.  It was 12:30 a.m. at home, but he was still up and spent the next half an hour trying to find us another hotel.  From Michigan.  We worked the California side of things and quickly realized that in Southern California in July, in the middle of two conventions including a huge LGBT convention and the beginnings of Comic-Con, there just simply wasn't much available.

We walked into the Residence Inn in Mission Valley and pleaded our case.  They were at capacity, but took the time to search for us until we found a place that could take us. *sigh of relief* *Shout out for Awesome Customer Service*

This is where we finally landed at 10:30 p.m. California time.

Hilton on Harbor Island

Not too shabby, eh?  Stay tuned for Part Two of the recap to Day One (Whaaaa? How can there be more to day one?!) subtitled, "Oh, I thought you guys were high," said our new friend Omar.