Daily Archives: February 12, 2011

Sometimes you beat it. Sometimes it beats you.

Sitting on my back porch this afternoon, with almost hot sunlight glaring in my eyes, I sunk my head between my knees… and bawled.

I had just screamed at my husband, son and daughter to leave me alone.  Now I was not-so-quietly sobbing and throwing a quite fancy pity-party.

Crying is something I don’t like anyone in my life to see me do.  And here I was, reduced to tears by a workout.  Specifically: man makers.

This gem of an exercise combines 4 very difficult movements all into one: a dumbbell push up, dumbbell row on each side, squat clean and thruster.

I’m not sure why I chose this of all of the workouts to do this week.  It was the hardest for me by far.  And I chose 20# dumbbells — 5 pounds under the elite weight.

By the time of my meltdown, I had already started over once. I had gotten to 5 when I heard the baby screaming inside.  Andy was taking care of her, but frustration with the man makers and the frequency of a scream that moms cannot ignore made me stop to go inside.

I started over.  This time I was at 15 when Andy and the kids came outside to cheer me on.  And that’s when I lost it.

Now here I was, faced with choices.  Continue on like I had never stopped?  Give up entirely and do a different workout?  Or start over again?

I finally pulled myself together.  I was so tempted to quit.  To go get my 15# dumbbells.  To go on, starting at 16.

I moved my towel, water bottle, stopwatch and dumbbells to another part of the yard, out of the sun.  I looked at the clock.  And I hit reset. I made my decision.

Start over.

I counted down this time instead of up.  Every 5 man makers, I stopped to gasp for breath.  I tried not to focus on how much I hated what I was doing.  I just wanted it to be over.

40 man makers for time

Time: 14:40

When it was over, I didn’t feel elation.  Discouragement.  And I was ashamed by my breakdown.

I felt weak.  Like I had been beaten.  I had finished, but it felt like a hollow victory.

There’s a reason they’re called man makers.

Odds and ends

Andy found something really funny in one of our old cookbooks the other day.  Check out the note I made:

I wrote the the recipe needed carbs“Add carb for more full/complete meal.”  WOW.  My cooking habits and I have changed SO much!

If anything, it should say — “Add vegetable.”

This is actually a really good cookbook — weeknight meals by Deborah Madison, who is an amazing cook and writer — which we hardly use anymore because it’s vegetarian and falling apart from constant use.  We were flipping through it and there are several things in it that we would still eat. Sometimes I just need to shake things up.

I actually highly recommend Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone, because many of the recipes are primal, and you just have to add meat.  A home run dinner — EVERY time.

I have to admit that my son constantly amazes me everyday,  (My daughter, too.)  But with my son, it’s food that particularly amazes me.

Luke holding MadelineHere is a child who will devour all of the meat on the table if left to his own devices.  Burger patties are his favorites but pork cutlets and pork chops are right up there.  But what made us laugh lately is his insistence on licking the spatula that we use to scrape out the coconut milk.  Unsweetened coconut milk.

He loves it.

This past week, I made my first milk drop at the Mothers Milk Bank.  I hadn’t quite collected the initial 150oz, but apparently supplies are really low, and they needed me to bring in the milk ASAP.  Demand is high for milk, so I was happy to oblige.  I picked up new bottles and I’m ready to collect more.  (For more on why I started, see my post about healthy milk.)

It feels really good to help out all of those babies.