The Harsh Reality

My trainer cancelled on me the other night. He claimed he got caught in traffic. But I think he really was nervous about transforming the blob that I am.

He rescheduled for the next night. So there I was, ready to take my first step in my long journey to get back in shape. Considering the last time I worked out with him I was in my first trimester and fresh off running a marathon, my current condition is quite disturbing.

I've got about 30 pounds to drop. It's going to take awhile.

Not only did I discover just how out of shape I am - my left side is now significantly weaker than my right - but I really realized how much work it's going to take to get anywhere near where I was before.

The worst part was when I was doing biceps curls. I was supposed to put my elbows tight against my body. And I kept knocking against my super-sized muffin top.

It's not a good look, people.

My trainer is a former Olympic athlete. He traines athletes, some at elite levels.

Then there's me.

He claims he's trained people who are worse off. He's a nice guy. And a liar.

I really need to commit myself to a new workout routine. Getting out for runs at 5:30 a.m., like I used to do, is out. I'm either nursing at that time or just getting back to sleep after nursing. So it's going to have to be at night, and frankly, I'm exhausted by 8 o'clock.

David and I talked about getting a treadmill so I can run when the baby is "napping" during the day. It would also be helpful if Xander would actually sleep in his carseat so I could take him for walks. Nothing says cathartic workout than a shrieking child, right?

Anyway, I will periodically update you all on my progress as I'm sure you're enthralled. Wish me luck! And will somebody PLEASE hide the potato chips!