Sunday, August 6, 2006

5K Assessment


Okay, so I fell off Mrs. G's of Derfwad Manor hind-end reduction list. But I didn't fall off the 5K wagon, I just can't bring myself to put the word a** on my blog... because I get enough googlers looking up s*xy farmgirls, and I don't need that kind of attention.

I do, however, need attention. Especially my exercised area:

In addition to hiking up and down the massive hill on our road, pushing at the very least a 20-pound baby in a jogging stroller, we have joined a gym.

Don't panic. It's not a meat market gym, it's just a gym. In fact the lobby looks like a Starbucks.

I'm working out. No pants size lost yet, but I do feel better.
Earlier that project:


I asked my daughter to take a picture of my behind today. This is because I didn't want to ask my husband to do it.

But I promised Mrs. G that I was gonna get brave. So I asked my daughter. I knew she wouldn't fail me and I was pretty sure she wouldn't snicker.

This brings me to a story (are you surprised?) about my butt. I have broken my coccyx twice in my life, because I'm lucky and graceful like that. The first time I fell on the frozen sidewalk of our cute riverfront rental when we were newlyweds. Then I rode a Greyhound bus for approximately 99 hours to meet my husband, who was working at a very cool but distant internship over the Christmas break. Break, hah hah.

I didn't know my butt was broken, but I did know I couldn't sit down. We found out about the broken part of the event later on in the ER. I do love my husband. He was really cute at 21 years old. I think they call that a hottie.

Anyway, when I broke my tailbone that time, my husband's sweet grandfather was still alive. He used to call us just about every day even though (or because?) he was helping pay the fledgling engineer's way through school in another state. For about a year after my fall on the ice, he started every conversation by saying,

"Hey, how's your butt?"

Well, if Papa was on Earth today, he'd be SHOCKED to know that I was posting a picture of it on the Internet. He'd be shocked there is an internet.

I'm not as embarrassed about the behind picture as I am about a little (big) problem with my arms and, frankly, this:

Now that'll give me heart palpitations.

But this is about more than coming clean with embarrassing photos and stories. (You oughta hear about how I broke my behind the second time.)

This is about IT'S NEVER TOO LATE.

I am power walking the hills around our farm 6 times a week for a minimum of 45 minutes. I am drinking 64 ounces of water each day. Tomorrow I am finding a gym for a Pilates class. I am trying not to eat as much, but that part of the plan is still fuzzy.

Thanks again, Mrs. G, for inspiring me and so many others to do this. See you next week.