Black Belt Mama

How To Tell If You've Overdone It At the Gym-Legs Edition

1. When you sink into cat stance at karate, you nearly have an unintentional seat on the floor.

2. When you try to get up from a kneeling position and find yourself going nowhere unless you push off with your hands.

3. You hold it as long as possible because the sitting and standing to go to the bathroom is damn near impossible.

4. For only the second time in your life, you truly wish you had been born a guy and could stand to pee (Totally agree with you on this one Sarah!).

5. You need to hold onto both railings with a death grip to even consider making it down the stairs without sitting and scoothing down like little kids.

6. When you have to literally pick each leg up to get in and out of the car. (This one is courtesy of Patrick Parker and I couldn't agree more.)

7. When you realize you forgot to brush your hair and the brush is upstairs, and you decide you can simply live without brushing your hair for one day (OR when the stairs seem like you're climbing Mt. Everest-courtesy of Angelica.)

8. When you realize you're walking like one of those big barrel-chested guys at the gym and it looks as though someone has shoved a bo up your butt as a new spine.

9. When you walk in the dojo thinking you're walking as close to normal as possible considering the world of pain you're experiencing and everyone asks you "What's wrong?"

10. You realize that the whimpering and whining you thought was your kids, is actually you, unconsciously whimpering with pain every time you expect your legs to carry you anywhere.

Check out The BBM Review for a giveaway just in time for Memorial Day weekend!

Why My Kitchen Should Have a Hose and a Drain in the Floor

This post was originally called "Just Don't Expect Me To Do Stairs." That was before I had to do so much more than stairs.

I worked out with my trainer last night for the first time in many weeks. I had told him a couple weeks ago that I was getting bored with my leg routine and wanted some new challenges. I felt like my knee was up for it. At the time, he talked to me about a workout he had in mind for me, but I needed to be "ready for it." I had no idea about all the new kinds of torture my trainer would be able to dream up for me.

I had no idea how a barfing child could complicate matters even further.

First, my trainer grabbed a step and a 10 lb. medicine ball. I had to start with my right foot on the step while holding the ball off to my left hip. Then I had to step up, pull my left knee up and at the same time bring the medicine ball across my body and above my head. My trainer had been telling me about the importance of compound movements like that and how it would help me with both strength and endurance.

The next set was straight squats with the heels of my feet on these squishy ball things to help with form. I had to hold a 15 lb. kettle ball out straight in front of me while squatting. The second set of these I had to hold for a count of three before coming back up. The last set? I had to hold for a count of five and he always makes me hold the last one of each set for a count of 10.

Killer.

Then it was wall sits for a minute at a time before tackling lunges. These weren't your ordinary lunges though. With a five lb weight in each hand, I had to lunge, go all the way down while lifting my arms straight out to shoulder height. He had me lunging my way across the gym and I was wondering how something that looks so simple can be so difficult. During the last set, I lunged down and didn't stop until my knee had touched the floor. My muscles simply quit on me. It was like they had a mind of their own and were screaming for mercy. I got back up though and finished the set strong. It helps when your trainer stands there and yells at you, "Get up!" on the last one. You kind of don't want to say no to the guy who can have a 30 minute conversation with you while doing non-stop pull-ups.

But the lunges weren't over. The next type of lunge was stationary while holding a 10 lb. medicine ball out in front of me and twisting my upper body in the direction of my front knee. I sucked it up through three sets although I really wanted to just lay down and whimper by this point.

We weren't done though.

Next came calf raises, leg extensions and leg curls. We did high reps for three sets, and then it was on to abs. When I was finished, an hour after the torture had begun, my trainer told me he was impressed. He said he doesn't know that many girls who can get through all of that. We checked my body fat percentage: 18.3% and BMI 19.9 and decided I was definitely on the right track.

I came home last night walking with a stagger, and I knew this morning was going to be rough. I had no idea.

I managed to get Big I up for school and out the door, but it was only thanks to a railing on either side of my stairwell that I was able to make it down the stairs without having to sit, scoot, boom, the way little kids do. I had plans to clean the house today but scrubbing the kitchen floor was not on my list of things to do. My mop broke, and since I can't kneel on my knees, mopping the floor is now a half hour of squatting and pain, and that's without having done the most intense leg workout ever the day before.

At 11:30, I got a call from Big I's school. She was in the nurse's office with a terrible stomach ache, nausea and a sore throat. I had to come get her immediately. You see, swine flu is in the next school district over from us. Four confirmed cases already, and an additional two pending but probable.

I had her home and resting comfortably within 15 minutes, with a warning from the school nurse that if she spiked a high fever, I had to take her to the doctor immediately. I was busy catching up on the phone with a friend who had called while Big I napped on the sofa. All of a sudden, there was this terrible noise, like a burp from the deep dark depths of hell and Big I came tearing out into the kitchen moaning. I started screaming for her to run as fast as she could when she stopped on a dime and let loose.

Barf on my kitchen island. Barf on my stools. Barf on my wall. Barf all over my tile floor. Barf under the table where Lil C was sitting peacefully eating her lunch.

"Oh my God! Don't move!" I screamed and hung up the phone. I should have known that barfing episodes like this don't come with just one round. I didn't want her to have to walk through the vomit to get to the bathroom, but when she started hurling again, I just told her to jump over it and get in the bathroom.

It was as I stood surveying the damage to my wall and floor (a good 10 ft trail of barf to the bathroom) that I strongly wished I would have remained working full time and let Mr. BBM stay at home with the girls full time. They usually barf at night and I am on kid duty while Mr. BBM cleans up the stuff. I can't stand cleaning up the stuff.

Meanwhile, Lil C continued to eat her lunch. How on Earth she managed that, I will never know. My stomach still threatens to reject my lunch if I even think about the puddle that was my kitchen floor two hours ago. I'll probably forgo eating the rest of the week thanks to that image and subsequent clean up.

As I cleaned up the puddles, I started dry heaving (excellent for already abused ab muscles); and my legs screamed out in pain from having to squat down.

It's now after 2:00. Big I says she's feeling a little better and is passed out on the sofa. I just finished bleaching the bathroom, and hand scrubbing the kitchen floor and have surrounded her with plastic bag lined buckets.

It took me over two hours to clean up two rooms and although I'm feeling horrible that she's so sick, I have to say that she looks rather peaceful right now, compared to the horrible burning feeling in my thighs and calves that is anything but peaceful.

How To Tell If You've Overdone It At The Gym

1. You lift your hand to brush your teeth and decide it would really just be easier to bring your mouth down to your hand level instead of the other way around. Who cares if your head is in the sink?

2. You see that your hair needs to be brushed, but figure that if Meg Ryan can still pull off the messy look, you can too.

3. Simply wiping off the counter is painful enough that it makes you whimper.

4. Turning the steering wheel in the car hurts, so you decide to drive home a different way so you can eliminate as many turns as possible.

5. Your first thought in the morning is that you can't wait to go to bed at night.

6. When you go to put your pajamas on at night, you decide it might just be easier to sleep in your clothes since raising your arms above shoulder height feels like people are ripping the insides of your arms apart.

7. You've decided that swinging your arms when walking is optional.

8. Little elbows pushing off of your chest reminds you of the time you got the massage from the crazy Russian lady who you thought would kill you before she solved any of your back problems.

9. You decide to make for dinner only meals that don't require you to retrieve anything from the upper cabinets.

10. You have ibuprofen as your breakfast.

How do you know you've overdone it?

The Gym Rut

Last week, I was at the dojo four nights, but I didn't once go to the gym. Ever since we did the crazy landscaping weekend, I just can't seem to get there. I'm still suffering from post landscaping exhaustion. Plus, my dragon lady holly picked a fight with me and I still have injuries related to that assault. If you've ever been around a dragon lady holly, you know this is no exaggeration. 

First, I made excuses that the landscaping work was enough of a workout. And trust me, when I tell you that it was most definitely enough.

Then both the girls got sick. Big I was so sick that she was once again, "decorating" the pediatrician's parking lot. Lil C had an ear infection so bad that every other word she said was "WHAT?" and I just couldn't see taking Lil C to Kid Zone, where I just knew she'd pick up yet another germ.

Now there's swine flu. There is a confirmed case only a county away from us and seven probable cases in the same county. It's only a matter of time before it's in my front yard. This morning, I was planning on going to the gym. Then I began rationalizing.

What if someone went to Mexico or was around someone with swine flu? Then, they are around their kids, take them to KidZone. The next thing you know? We've got a gym flu epidemic. And people, if you've been hanging around here long enough, then you know that this family is prone to strange illnesses and injuries. We practically wear giant targets around our heads saying: "infect me."

As much as I'd like to go to the gym today, unless I find some latex gloves and a surgical mask, I think I'll just stay home and try to break a sweat here.

The Flu Ate My Muscles

I went to the gym on Friday for the first time in over two weeks. When a flu goes through a family, Mommy doesn't get to go to the gym. Since Lil C is still sporting a bit of a runny nose, I really didn't want to put her in the KidZone and risk another bout of typhoid illness. So, I enlisted my Mom to come watch the girls and I hit the gym in the afternoon.

Normally, upon entering the gym, I feel energized, but not on Friday. I felt tired, still worn down from the flu that turned into a cold that turned into what I think are allergy-related migraines last week (and my allergy testing appointment is still a month away). But I knew I had to get back to it. I'm going back to karate on Thursday.

I anticipated maybe a little set-back. Two weeks isn't that long though, so I didn't think it would be that bad. I was very wrong.

By the time I was finished with wall squats and toe taps on the step with weights, I was sweating like crazy. I moved onto the leg press and had to doublecheck the weight. Just two weeks ago, I was easily doing three sets of 135 without any knee pain. But today, 135 was entirely too much. I had to back off to 120 lbs for the leg press. Even that was exhausting.

I worked my way through all of my leg exercises and each time I moved from one machine to the next it was harder to walk. I felt like each step was being broken down into at least three Pinnochio like pieces. Heel-jerk-toe-jerk-swing the other leg in front. It hasn't felt that awful since I first started working out. When I finally finished torturing my legs and butt, I staggered over to the mats to do my abs workout. It was a special treat for my legs to be horizontal on a mat.

Two weeks ago, I could go through 3-4 sets of four exercises, easily. Today, I could barely make it through two of my sets on the slant board. The mat exercises were killer too. I knew I was moving at the pace of a snail during the last few of each exercise.

When I don't work out on a regular basis, my knee starts cracking and being cranky. Missing two weeks is no longer an option. I have got to find ways to get to the gym even when I'm tired, even when the girls are sick.

I made it to the gym on Sunday night and I also went yesterday. I was able to up the weights a bit and get through the abs part of the program a bit more easily this time. Yesterday, while warming up on the treadmill, I thought I'd give jogging a try.

In the 17 months of hiatus from running, my body has seemingly forgotten how to run. Each time I have tried to do it, I've been met with terrible pain and a gait that is just plain silly. Since the gym wasn't that crowded, I pumped up the speed and went for it.

For the first time in over 17 months, I was able to run. It was a wonderful feeling and I know I was grinning ear to ear the entire time. How many people have you seen on treadmills smiling? None? Well yesterday, I was one of them. That smiling while running business probably won't last.

Getting back to the flu though, I would like to invite the flu to possibly avoid eating my muscles in the future and instead shoot for some of that extra thigh I can't stand or possibly the inch of loose stomach skin from carrying two decent sized babies around for over 18 months of my life.

Back off the muscles, flu bug. I need all of the muscle I can get!  This girl is heading back to the dojo tomorrow!

Thank you to Ikigai for putting up a fantastic guest post yesterday. Next week, another great martial artist will be featured here. Be sure to check back!

I also wanted to let everyone here who knew Lisa know that Karl has set up a virtual memorial service for Lisa on Saturday at 4 p.m. EST. If you're interested, head over to Karl's place and get the details.

Not a Wimp

Born with long, spaghetti-like arms, I've never had much confidence in my arm strength. Plus, my legs always made up for the lack of muscles in the upper body so I didn't worry about it. Why punch when you can kick right? Since I started working out with my trainer, we've been spending a lot of time on upper body exercises. Last night was no exception.

My trainer will frequently start me out with a certain amount of weight and then based on what color my face turns, he'll either add or subtract from that. When you're hanging out in the free weight section with a bunch of guys who could probably bench your whole body and then some, it can be a bit intimidating when you're only lifting super light weights and sometimes nothing more than a bar.

As with everything else, I tend to beat myself up about it too. "Oh man, I'm such a wimp" comes out of my mouth entirely too frequently. Just as my karate teacher told me to quit saying "I'm sorry" during sparring, my trainer last night told me to quit saying "I'm a wimp."

We tend to joke around a lot while working out, between sets, but when he said it last night he was serious. "I won't have anyone calling you a wimp, and I won't let you call yourself one either. You're definitely not a wimp." He went on to give me a little pep talk about how much I've improved and how we're ramping things up now and working on more than one body part per session. Part trainer, part cheerleader. That's why I picked him.

Frequently, I have no idea how much weight he has on the machines when I start working it, but last night he told me that he's throwing a lot more weight on there lately. The goal right now is building muscle endurance so I can stop going from full power to an empty tank. Trust me when I tell you that 7 or 8 reps come fairly easily but when I hit the last two. . . let's just say that last night he pretty much saved my face from an unfortunate meeting with a 15 lb. weight. I think my left arm is possessed sometimes and thought that maybe in exchange for all the punishment I was giving it, it thought I might like a bit of a snack in the form of a free weight.

In addition to saying my face from plastic surgery, I love how he has this plan for me. I told him what I want, and he knows how to get me there. It's fun, motivating, and a lot of good hard work too.

After wrecking my chest muscles and shoulders last night, we moved on to abs. He once again had something new for me. This time, he had me lie down on the mat, flat on my back. Then he stood facing me by my head. I had to reach over my head and hold onto his ankles while throwing my legs up straight and together at him. Once I was about to kick him, he would push my legs back down in different directions and I'd have to throw them back up at him. At first I started laughing and asked him if we were going to do those crazy two-person forward rolls that I used to be able to do when I was in gymnastics class many, many years ago.

He was laughing too and almost changed his mind about having me do them. He started to worry about whether or not my knee could take it. I told him my ACL is solid and to just avoid pushing my legs where I'm bruised. It's nice that he thinks about those things and is cautious about doing exercises that could potentially bother my knee. He has continued to push me but always stresses not wanting to reinjure me in any way, shape or form. Plus, me staying healthy is job security for him.

We did about four different abdominal exercises and I told him to give me another one. I finished the night off completely exhausted and barely able to put my own seatbelt on (my left arm/shoulder had developed a mind of its own after being destroyed for over an hour). But today, I know I'm stronger for it; and despite having trouble lifting my arms today, I know I'm not a wimp.

Lately I've been thinking that all things really do happen for a reason. For whatever reason, there were some additional lessons I needed to learn before shodan testing. Physical therapy and then joining a gym after this ACL mess has taught me a lot of discipline, and it's also brought more confidence in areas I didn't have it before. Plus, I'm getting in shape like never before and that will definitely impact the way karate goes for me back in the dojo.

Most importantly though. . . I'm not sorry and I'm definitely not a wimp. Maybe I should sell t-shirts. . .

Not Sorry

Not a Wimp

Would you buy one?

90% Back

I went back to the gym tonight and met with my trainer again. I swear in the three weeks I've been out, he has been working out extra. It looked like someone inflated his arms. When I told him he was holding out on me and asked him what he's been doing, he jumped up, grabbed the pull-up bars and did 15 pull-ups easily.

"Hmm," I said, "and I can't even do one unless you're holding 90% of my body weight."

He laughed. "Let's go girl. Let's get you back." He spent the next 40 minutes annihilating my biceps and triceps. For the first exercise, he handed me one of those straight bars that you're supposed to put weights on. "Girl, can you curl this?" he asked as he gently handed it to me. As I was taking it from him, he said, "it's 40 lbs."

I really wanted to lift that bar, but it was next to impossible. My legs are strong but my arms are still lagging behind. I moved it a couple inches and looked at him with pleading eyes, "I'm thinking this isn't going to happen" I told him.

A woman who was working out nearby, with arms like a body builder started laughing out loud. "I had faith in you! I thought you were going to do it!" she yelled across the floor.

"Yeah, well that's because I still have my sweatshirt on," I told her. "Wait until you see my spaghetti arms."  She cracked up again and I announced that I'm happy my weakling arms can be of some amusement to someone.

My trainer handed me the 30 lb. curling bar for what he calls "21's." I call them pure hell. I was relieved I could do it with 30, but grateful when he handed me the 20 lb. bar after a couple sets.

It is absolutely amazing how much you lose in the way of progress when you take a couple weeks off. My trainer assured me that the longer I work out, the less I'll fall back when I take a break. I just need to keep putting more time in.

I pushed it as hard as I could tonight, avoiding anything where I would have to kneel and felt good when my arms felt like jello and I could barely straighten them at the end of our session. I didn't think about my knee once the entire time except for when I told him those kneeling dips were out.

We saved abs for last, as usual, and tonight my trainer had some new torture for me. He did it all with me and I kept up just fine with him. That's the one thing I haven't let slide these past few post-surgical weeks. It was only a few days after surgery and I was sitting on the floor with my medicine ball, working it out. He told me he was impressed and that even if my arms are lagging behind, my core is getting stronger every day.

He told me he's got an arsenal of new things for me in the weeks to come. I'm excited to get to them.

When I was exchanging some work-out clothes from Christmas the other day, I was looking for some new t-shirts for the gym. There was one Nike one, part of the Live Strong clothing line. It said on the front "100% back."

I was so tempted to get it. Even if I don't wear it right away, I could keep it aside until I am 100% back. I held off though. I don't want to jump the gun and get ahead of myself. I'm 90% back. I'll find that shirt again when I'm ready. I'm going to be ready soon.

In the Interest of Avoiding the Topic of Surgery. . . Some Shameless Bragging

When I joined the gym back in the middle of October, you may recall that they measured my body fat percentage. I expected the worst, and it wasn't so bad. It came in at 21.6%, somewhere between "excellent" and "good."

I've been stepping on the scale every week or so and the numbers have stayed pretty much the same. They've fluctuated by a pound or two depending on how many cookies I ate over the holidays but I wasn't worried about not losing weight. That was never my intention. I just wanted to strengthen and tone.

So, I met with my trainer last night for the last time before surgery on Wednesday, and the body fat measuring thing was on the counter near where I was working out.

"Mind if I use this?" I asked him.

"No girl," he said as he filled in the info like weight and age and handed it over.

After a couple seconds, which felt like an eternity, the number popped up.

18.1% with a body mass index of 20.1.

My trainer flipped open his little book, found my age and traced his finger across. "Excellent" is 19.3.

18.1 people. 18.1.

This proves what I've known all along. I may not be losing weight, but I am definitely losing fat and replacing it with some serious muscle. Seeing progress like that is such a motivator. My goal is to return to working out as soon as I get my stitches out on January 14th and to return to karate the week of my birthday which is February 7th (I'll be turning 29 again, just in case you were curious).

And just so we're clear, even if I have to plan it myself, there will be a party.

Just Call Me the Abs Slayer

For Christmas, Mr. BBM got me some workout clothing, a bunch of CDs, and an IPOD touch. I was not at all expecting an IPOD. I was quite shocked, and was sort of baffled as to why he got it for me since my little green shuffle is pretty much my best friend.

I got him some travel coffee mugs and a thermos, a slant board and two medicine balls. I debated about the weight to get him. I didn't want to go too light, because he's a big bad man and all, so I decided on a 6.6 lb. ball and a lighter 4 lb. ball. The 4 lb. one hasn't yet arrived.

Mr. BBM's dad gave him a booklet on the "Abs diet." Mr. BBM started to feel like we were all trying to tell him something. Truly, I bought him the slant board because I know how helpful it has been to me and I got him one that can be used as a bench, etc. He doesn't have time to go to the gym so I figured I'd help him make one at home.

The day after Christmas, I told him to get on the board. I took him through the abs workout my trainer does with me and that I do pretty much every other day of the week. We didn't get through the whole workout when he decided he had done enough. I couldn't really blame him. I was doing it along with him and the 6 lb. ball was pretty intense.

The day after, Mr. BBM started complaining about his abs and how sore they were. Today, he says he can't stand up straight and is debating as to whether or not he has a terrible gut-wrenching stomach virus, a potential hernia, or just completely shredded abdominal muscles. I think it is safe to give me a new nickname. Just call me the Abs Slayer.

In other news, you can also call me the Fantasy Football Slayer! I won the championship last night in my one league, beating Ikigai by 13 points after a hard fought two week championship playoff. Thanks for all the good mojo!

Keep Your Mouth Shut

I worked out with my trainer last night. When I told him I wanted to do legs last night he smiled and laughed a bit as he said, "alright." I hate when he does that. I know he's going to kill me when he laughs like that.

He had me do toe touches on a step higher than I'm used to and with more weight. Instead of 10 or 15 reps, he made me do 20. Then it was on to squats with my back against one of those work-out balls, followed by wall sits. He did them with me and I'll tell you, he looked a whole lot more comfortable than I was while doing them.

When we hit the 45 seconds, my trainer just stood up. I had to crawl up the wall using the back of my head. Good stuff.

He put me on a prone leg curl then and despite the fact that I literally threw the weight up for the first rep, I refused to let him up the weight. Higher reps absolutely kill once you get to number 14 so I told him to forget it.

When he put me on calf raises though, I made the mistake of opening my mouth. He set the weight at 105 and I told him that I usually do 135. He smiled that smile and said "alright" and moved the weight up. He didn't tell me we were doing reps of 20 on that one too. My calves were absolutely wrecked when I was finished with three of those sets.

He usually has me do three ab exercises, but last night he had me do six. I've been working hard on my ab exercises all week long and it paid off. It's nice when you finish a set strong, not so nice when your trainer throws in an extra few since you're doing so well. I told him I only filled the tank up for 10. Those extra three were accomplished on fumes.

As I was leaving, he told me that he can definitely see that I'm getting stronger. I am just really hoping that the surgery I'm having in January doesn't set me back too far. I feel like I'm finally getting somewhere.

Boost an Ego

On Sunday, my trainer put me on one of those slant boards with a medicine ball and tortured me. I did three sets of three different ab exercises and they were all intense. I had watched people on those slant boards many times and never tried, figuring it was pointless.

When I returned to karate for the whole two weeks I was able back in October, we did sit-ups as part of the warm-ups. I could barely do ten whereas before, 50 was no problem. It was a stark reminder of how out of it I was. I had done nothing but work on my legs after the surgery and my abs had totally suffered because of it.

Since I joined the gym in October though, I've made abs part of my work-out every single time. I started with crunches on the mat, did some pilates plank things and then found an ab machine I loved. My trainer would often walk by me while I was on it and he would just smile a bit. I was using almost half the stack last week so he couldn't have been smiling because I was a weakling. I had no idea why until Sunday.

Hanging upside down, I was told to "explode" up with the medicine ball over my head, drop half way back down and then come back up again. It was torture. Another thing he had me do was even worse. Holding the ball with both hands at my waist, I had to lean back half way and twist from side to side until he told me to stop. At one point, my brain was saying "keep going" but my abs had enough and I went flying upside down once again. My trainer pushed me back up and said we were going to start from scratch. This time I did it. 

When I was finished, he asked me how I thought that workout compared to sitting on the ab machine. "There is no comparison," I told him. He laughed. Now I know what that smile was for.

They say you can't notice a difference in one day, but I swear I did. Mr. BBM sees it too. Today I went to the gym and made my way to the slant board. I worked it hard just like on Sunday. I was a sweaty mess when I was done. Afterwards, I went nearby to the treadmills and walked a bit. I had noticed this one big guy watching me on the slant board and I noticed him walk over to it when I was done. He grabbed a medicine ball, reclined like I did and tried to sit up. Nothing.

He tried again. Nothing. He just couldn't do it.

He dropped the ball and tried to do it without. He did exactly three, not all the way up, and with a sideways lean. He wasn't in bad shape. I don't like to see anyone not succeed, but I have to tell you, it made me feel like I was soaring. It was a fantastic way to end my workout. Progress is a wonderful thing.

***Check out The BBM Review for the latest MA book review of "Me, Chi and Bruce Lee" by Brian Preston. Good stuff!

The Weekend in Review

Mr. BBM's office party was quite fun on Friday night. I was able to meet many of his co-workers and by the time the evening rolled around, I was actually able to lift my arms a bit. Instead of dancing, I made up new lyrics to some songs. Take "The Twist" for example. . . "Come on baby, let's tear an ACL. . . Come on BAH BEE, let's tear an ACL."

I know, ACL humor is hysterical. You're welcome.

Saturday, I spent the entire day cooking and preparing for the annual Pitt party. I adopted the theme of July at Christmas (a play on Christmas in July) and prepared BBQ Jerk chicken, hot dogs for the kids, and had friends bring pasta salad and crab dip. We also did a late night tortilla chip and dip and Buffalo bites snack while we were playing "Apples to Apples," a hysterical game that always gets big laughs. It's also super fun playing with people who've had a few drinks.

Today, I spent an hour and a half preparing breakfast for the friends who stayed over because Mr. BBM was a bit "incapacitated." I'm not the breakfast chef, but it all turned out o.k. Later, I met my trainer at the gym where he worked me to the point of complete exhaustion. I still managed to go kick around the pool for a couple laps afterward with a good friend though.

Basically I can barely lift my fingers after the workout I had, and am now going to prop my book up on my lap and try to figure out a way to turn the pages without lifting my arms. Also, drinking a ton of water (thanks for that advice, my dedicated reader-we'll see how it turns out tomorrow).

Tricep Trauma

Future dialogue at Mr. BBM's office party tonight.

". . . I'd like you to meet my wife. . . "

(BBM tries in vain to lift arm to shake hands.)

". . . she's a descendant of the T-Rex, obviously."

Obviously.

Off to the gym to try to do some damage to the legs today. Think Mr. BBM will carry me around tonight?

Makes Me Want to Shave

The music is loud, and the machines are filled with people of all ages and fitness levels. The trainers circulate throughout the room. The pool is full of women getting "aqua fit," and the classrooms are loaded with sweaty people, stepping up, stepping down, moving to the music. Unlike many who go to socialize, I am there to recover, to build strength so that I can return to karate. 

I know my routine and I stick to it. I push myself, even when there's no one watching, even when there's no trainer there telling me to "finish strong." Music from my headphones drowns out those around me as I move methodically from one machine to another and finally to the mats for ab exercises.  

I've heard before that it takes 40 days to create and keep a new habit. I think for me, it's a bit less time. I am going to the gym at least twice a week and I am loving it. Sure, I wake up and try to make excuses; but I always make myself go. Not only is my knee feeling better, but it's me time. I love me some me time. I put my headphones on and I have a good hour of music and no whining (unless you count my own ocassionally ).

The other night, I was talking to Mr. BBM about how much I'm enjoying working out on a regular basis again. Everyone always says that you feel better about yourself when you go to the gym and I am finding out that it is true.

"Look at me. I'm doing my nails. When I took a shower earlier, I actually shaved my legs. I even tweezed my eyebrows" I said to Mr. BBM.

He burst out laughing. He may think it's funny, but it's amazing how something as simple as hitting the gym a couple times a week can have such a positive effect. Although I'm crashing on the couch, pretty much nightly, when I am awake I have more energy.

Yesterday, I hung 19 pictures on the walls. I even used a drill to install curtain hold-backs. I'm not watching TV except for a mere handful of shows and I'm loving all the time I seem to have now that I'm avoiding the so-so shows that before just occupied my time.

Of course, some days I'm too sore to lift my arms above my head which would make hanging curtains and pictures difficult. Overall though, the benefits have been fantastic. This year, I may actually have the beach body I want. Funny that when I joined the gym, this was the furthest thing from my mind. I'm considering it a fringe benefit of making a healthy decision that will hopefully get me back to where I want to be. . . on the dojo floor.

Fitness Pays Off

Every year, Mr. BBM makes suggestions to the girls about what they "want" for Christmas. The year the Wii came out, he started talking about it immediately after pre-orders were taken which meant that I spent weeks driving around searching until I got lucky just a few days before Christmas.

This year, he started talking up Wii Fit. I've watched the demo. It is a really cool game and it would be good for all of us. I mean, have you seen the balancing exercises? It would be great for my knee. So, we started the search this weekend and came up empty.

The sales person at Gamestop basically told us we were SOL. I searched the internet and all I could find were bundles with junk we don't need. I swore I wouldn't do this searching for the big favorite toy thing ever again, but here I was doing it.

After watching the Steelers game and The Unit last night, I went to bed really late. I usually hit the gym on Monday mornings but I wasn't feeling it today. I talked to Mr. BBM though and he told me to just go. So I did. I found some new exercises to do for my legs and busted my butt on the stationary bike too. I spent an hour and then picked up Lil C from the Kid Zone and drove to the store. There just so happened to be a Gamestop right next door so I thought I'd just inquire about the availability of Wii Fit. After all, since I looked sweaty and tired, I figured someone might feel sorry for me and hold one back.

It wasn't necessary. Behind the girl were stacked a bunch of new delivery boxes. "I know this is a stupid question, but do you have any of the Wii Fit games in stock?"

She turned around, slit open a box and handed one to me. No bundle, no inflated price, just like that.

Suffice it to say that I am thrilled as I'm sure Big I will be on Christmas morning. And this year relatives, we'll be doing yoga after dinner. Just warning you now.

It's All About the Money

I went to the gym today to meet with the trainer who seemed so willing to help me. I found him, and he told me to hop on a treadmill while he talked to me. He talked to me about the importance of stretching, strength training, flexibility, and exercises to work on balance. I was polite but I felt like telling him he was preaching to the choir. You don't remain oblivous to these things when you're an ACL statistic.

When he was finished telling me what I already know, he launched into his sales pitch. Been there, done that. He told me when I was ready to sign a contract, he'd be happy to help me. So much for that.

I spent an hour doing my arms work-out before heading out. If it wasn't for a ridiculous initiation fee to get into the program, I might actually consider it. Until they agree to waive it though, I'm not interested in giving them all my hard-earned money. I already paid to join the gym. A friend recommended another trainer who charges a lot less and I'm going to give her a call to see what she has to say.

I feel like writing to the owners of the gym to tell them their approach is shady and a big turn-off. I feel like not signing up for a contract just for spite. You shouldn't tell someone you want to show them an exercise that will help and then hang it over their heads until they sign a long contract. Plus, the sales pitch guys with all the so-called experience just turn you over to a less-experienced trainer for your actual work-outs.

Plus, I'm sure I can find some exercises on my own that will help my knee. That's what google is for people; and google is free.

Back Off

I was seriously trying to talk myself out of going to the gym today. I kept making excuses. Then I talked to Mr. BBM. He told me I should just go. It's going to be uncomfortable working out there until I get used to it and there's only one way to get used to it. Drag my butt there; just go.

Part of why I didn't want to go is because after two sessions with a personal trainer, I was getting the hard sell, and they were trying to convince me that I needed to pay a fortune to work out with a trainer on a regular basis. As much as I'd like to do that, we just bought a house. I don't have money growing on trees. In fact, I have no trees. Hell, I barely have grass as this point.

Today was the first day I had to see the trainer since I didn't call him back. Of course, he was right there as I walked in. I told him money is tight and I'm waiting to see how much of a credit I have at karate from my year on hiatus until I make any decisions. He shrugged it off and said he was there if I needed his help.

So, I got right to it. Today was legs and I spent time working on PT like things and also doing some weight lifting to build up the muscles in my legs. I had spent about 40 minutes working my legs and abs and then walked on an incline for 20 minutes on the treadmill.

When I was finished, I saw my trainer and thought I'd ask him if he could help me hook up some kind of weight lifting harness so that I could do some exercises that my physical therapist taught me. He and about three other trainers started scratching their heads. No one had a harness. They just had these stretchy bands. It wasn't working. At one point, there was one band wrapped around my waist, another wrapped around me being held tight by a trainer behind me and a whole mess of trainers watching.

The one trainer, who always seems a little sour asked me why I wanted to do that exercise. I told him it had really helped me get my leg stronger when I was going to PT. He asked me what I had done and when I told him I had surgery for my ACL in December, he started getting on my case. "You should be doing deep squats by now on that knee. You're babying that knee too much." He wouldn't shut up. He had some company.

Since I always take the high road, I fired back, "How many trainers does it take to hook up one harness?"  I told him that my surgeon doesn't want me doing deep knee bends and that I had an overuse injury. I'm anything but a slacker when it comes to getting my leg back in shape. I resented his little comment that quickly began to feel like a public stoning.  Here were a bunch of guys with leg muscles the size of my whole body, telling me and my stingbean leg that my PT doesn't know anything, and they want me to sign a long-term contract so I can take this kind of abuse weekly?

At one point, the out of line trainer asked me how I had hurt my knee. "At karate while sparring," I said. The trainer I had worked out with last week shot the guy a look that told him I'd probably be more than happy to snap kick his head off. He would have been right. 

During the debate, one of the trainers disappeared and came back with his own personal weight lifting harness. He handed it to me. "Try this," he said. It worked perfectly. He began asking me about my injury and what types of exercises I was doing. He told me that he's a trainer who trains athletes, many who've had ACL reconstruction. He was rattling off statistics and talking about the differences between women and men and why this happens to women more often. He told me he could teach me some exercises that would really help strengthen my leg to prevent it from ever happening again.

Unfortunately, the KidZone was closing and I had to go grab Lil C. When I was putting her shoes on, I realized he had followed me. He told me he'd be happy to show me some exercises later this week, so I made an appointment with him. It's free. I'm just hoping I don't have to endure 30 minutes of post work-out pressure to sign a contract again.

Enter Pain

I had a personal training session today at my new gym. I expected to be tortured, and I was tortured sufficiently. My legs have felt like rubber for much of the day, and I can pretty much guarantee that tomorrow morning is going to suck, even though my Mom hates that word. There's just no better word for how it's going to feel to try to make these legs work tomorrow.

My trainer had ACL reconstruction surgery himself, so he has been in my shoes. We spent 30 minutes talking about my goals: to not be in pain anymore, to feel normal again, to be able to return to karate and return strong, etc. etc. After our talk, we got right to work.

My trainer had me do some interesting things that I think are really going to help me. I held weights and used a step to do toe touches. I balanced on some impossibly wiggly ball thing on one leg. I sat in mid-air while leaning my back against a wall long enough to make my legs burn. I did squats with my back pressed against one of those giant exercise balls that was up against a wall. I did some crazy calf exercises while balancing on some round wobbly thing. I also did some leg extensions on a machine that allowed me to use different weights for each leg. After working on extensions, he had me flutter kick on the machine slowly. That was killer, but everything he had me do made complete sense. My leg muscles burned; but my knee only protested a bit.

During the wall sit/squat thing, my legs started to shake so badly that I told him I didn't know if I'd be able to get back up, so he offered me an arm and helped me each time. Otherwise I think I would have been stuck! I asked him if he'd provide the same service for me tomorrow morning when I'm struggling to get out of bed. He laughed. I think personal trainers enjoy torturing people sometimes.

After working my legs like crazy, we moved on to abs. Yes, I'd like to get my knee back to normal, but I'd also like to get back my pre-kid abs. I really wish I hadn't told him that though. He had me work my abs like never before. I felt like a total slacker and told him I was embarrased. It freaking hurt and tomorrow I'll probably have to roll out of bed.

After a good hour of working out, we sat down to talk. I felt pretty good and my knee had only protested a little bit. It was nice to have his help because he let me know exactly how I should be doing each exercise so as not to aggravate my knee.

He tried to talk me into a training contract with him. It is insanely expensive and I just don't think I can afford it right now. I whined about buying a new house and still paying off my surgery almost a year later, so he threw in another free session for later this week.

During the inbetween days, I'm going to hit the pool, strap on some leg weights and do some underwater walking and running. I have to get this leg back in shape. I have too much I want to do in my life to have this knee issue hinder me anymore.

A Work Out for the Faithful

We sometimes forget to get the mail (I also sometimes forget to check the gas gauge in my car and then end up having a near panic attack while driving Big I to school while wearing my pajamas, with no wallet, no purse, no cell phone, but that's a story for another time).  When we finally retrieved the mail after about three days, there was an invitation from my church to attend services this morning.  Every year on this Sunday, they celebrate the baptisms that have occurred during the past church year.  Lil C is one of those and we were invited to attend the service and pick up her baptismal medallion. 

After a long afternoon at the zoo yesterday, Mr. BBM said he didn't really want to go (The service I like to attend is at 8 a.m.), and so Lil C and I went by ourselves to church this morning.  Once at church, I climbed about 30 steps to get up to the balcony where my parents were sitting.  Lil C was great on Christmas Eve, sleeping through almost all of the service.  Today, she was wide awake. 

Lil C sang when we sang.  She "talked" when the Pastor spoke, including during his homily.  At one point during a prayer, she tested out her pipes and squealed at top volume.  She also enjoyed dropping her teddy over the back of the pew and then remarking "Oh, OH, OH NO" which is her version of "Uh-oh."  She also thought the wood floors were pretty cool, and especially liked how her shiny shoes sounded when stomping on them. 

When church was over, I was perspiring and it's possible that I pulled a muscle from all the bending to retrieve things she had thrown.  Holding a 15-month old squirmer for an entire church service is exhausting. 

We then walked back down the stairs, to the front of the church, and up to the parking lot which is not exactly a picnic in two inch heels with a child, purse and a diaper bag. 

Because I felt like tempting fate, we then went grocery shopping.  Lil C was an angel as long as I kept the constant stream of gold fish crackers coming her way. 

In fact, it wasn't until after I dropped off Lil C with Daddy, and attempted to bring the groceries in the house that my exhausted and weary body finally gave out.  While attempting to carry in about 10 grocery bags at a time, I over-turned my ankle and ended up in an unbecoming squat on the sidewalk.  Getting up from that squat in a skirt, with two inch heels, a sore ankle, a pulled leg and butt muscle (karate leftovers), and about 30 pounds of groceries was no small feat. 

The agenda for the rest of my day involves my new TV, football, some ice, and some rest.  Here's to hoping Lil C is as exhausted as I am. 

Round 2

Because I am a glutton for punishment, my husband and I sparred on Saturday after my testing.  While in his basement office, he's apparently been working some things out.  For example, instead of leaping around and only throwing punches, he's discovered kicks (or thinks he has anyway).  I spent all this time between sparring sessions thinking about ways to defend against his punches and now he's kicking.  Great.

The good news is that I blocked most of his kicks.  While at karate last week, my instructor and I were talking about the head of our dojo and his sparring techniques.  My instructor was saying that he would often stand there sideways, and just wait.  As an opponent would approach, he would throw out a back kick that would stop an attacker in their footsteps. 

I thought I'd give it a go.  So, instead of just throwing front snap kicks or roundhouse kicks, I threw in a side kick (I do need to practice these after all) and an occasional back kick. They seemed to do the trick and I will definitely try to incorporate those into my sparring in the future. 

My problem with my husband doing a quick run by and bopping me on the head is still there.  It's his height.  He has me by a good 6 inches.  Last week in class, we talked about using inside, outside and knife hand blocks to defend against punches-that these blocks seem to be the most effective.  With someone who is coming from so much farther above you though, it's hard not to do upward blocks.  And my upward blocks are not strong enough against his punches.  I tried to parry and move out of the way.  I tried to augment my blocks, but I have two problems: lack of upper body strength and I'm thinking entirely too much about what I want to do. 

When I think too much while sparring, it slows me down.  Speed is another thing I really need to work on.  I'm quick when I play tennis, so why can't that translate to karate?  It's frustrating. 

I'm also frustrated with my husband's lack of control.  Grrr.  He hit me in the nose so hard that I thought for sure I was going to have a bloody nose.  I returned the favor with a shot that rolled off his head gear right into his eye.  We have awesome sparring gear and I love it, but somehow I'm thinking we might have been better off wearing these. . .

So, as far as the BBM Challenge goes, I'm doing well with my goal of sparring once a week.  I just need to concentrate on building upper arm strength.  You'd think that carrying around my almost year old would help with that and it does sometimes.  It's just that now, Lil C much prefers walking/running around the house, and climbing the stairs on her own. 

Look for Round 3 details later this week.  Hopefully I can get some pointers at class this week. 

If you're interested in joining the BBM Challenge, it's not too late.  See here for details and email me for a coupon code for Everything Fitness once you've signed up.

The Carnival of Family Life is up here.  Check it out for some great posts.

Ding, ding, ding Round 1

Mr. BBM and I have been kind of crabbing at each other all weekend.  It started with shopping, then turned into an argument about a pan; and I was very annoyed that we had yet to spar.  I mean come ON, we got the equipment on Friday.  So knowing my state of grumpiness, Mr. BBM knew he had to do something to salvage the rest of the weekend.  That and I called him a "chicken."

This afternoon Mr. BBM put Lil C in her port-a-crib and told Big I to entertain her.  "Let's go," he said, "We've got 10 minutes" which is about the limit that Lil C will happily tolerate being in her port-a-crib with Big I as an entertainer.  We geared up quickly and ran down to our sparring room (aka the basement) and got busy. 

Without the self-consciousness that I have at the dojo, sparring was a piece of cake.  My roundhouse kicks were killer and sent Mr. BBM retreating most of the time.  I tried to follow my kick with another kick, or by moving in and getting a good punch in at the belly or a back fist to the forehead.  I definitely held my own.  It was obvious that Mr. BBM was trying to figure out how to defend against my kicks.  He's going to have to think long and hard about that because the kicking is definitely my strongest asset.

I have super long legs.  Even though my husband is a good 6 inches taller than I am, our legs are the same length.  When I was pregnant with Big I, I wore his jeans during that in-between stage.  So, the kicking went well.  I'd also like to introduce you to my two new best friends:

(Those are not my legs by the way.)  Sparring with shin guards on makes a world of difference.  I was not tentative with my kicks.  Without anticipating the pain that usually occurs in the shin area, I felt uninhibited and was free to let loose.  I have to say that the shin guards are my favorite part of my sparring gear.  I did not feel ANY impact what-so-ever.  At our dojo, we use Century Lightening gear, so the Macho Warrior was an experiment. . . one that turned out very well.  I'm super happy with the extra padding on the kickers and shin guards, because when sparring a 10th kyu you need all the padding you can get. 

There was one place where Mr. BBM could have used some extra padding, but I'm sure you can figure that out without me spelling it out for you.  Before all of you guys start doubling over with sympathy pain right, let me just tell you that as a girl, it is not any fun to be kicked where it counts either.  Since Mr. BBM invaded my personal space first, his nether regions were fair game.  (Just to be clear, I didn't aim for the jewels; but if he's going to kick and leave his leg hanging out at awkward angles. . . well, he should expect a wake up call or twelve.)  I think we'll probably start using our mouth guards next time, because we had some close calls with a hit to the eye, chin (both on him. . . . WHAT?  He turned his head right into it!), and nose (like my nose needed even the threat of swelling or injury). 

Mr. BBM likes the gear as well, especially considering he's a white belt and well, let's just say that we had some conversations about a little word that in karate, we like to call "control."  Actually, for not having any real experience sparring in a dojo, Mr. BBM did very well.  I found that I could easily defend against his kicks though, because I could tell when they were coming.  His punches were my problem. 

Being that he has me by 6 inches, he would often sort of make a fly-by and quickly run across the floor, and then lean in and bop me on the head.  It got really annoying.  Blocking against his punches and head bops was a little rough.  I did great blocking kicks and I blocked almost all the shots to my stomach, but the head is where I'm lacking.  This is definitely a problem.  Mr. BBM has some muscles; he's strong and I have skinny string bean arms that don't do well when blocking against a punch coming from him.  I'm going to have to figure out how to work on that.  I really don't know any other way other than to work on my upper body strength, or get quicker so I can move out of the way.  Any suggestions on this would be happily appreciated. 

I'm sure that as we spar more, I'll be able to start reading my opponent better and will be better prepared.  Sparring someone for the first time is always an adventure.  You never really know what someone's fighting style is going to be.  The trick will be changing up my fighting style to keep him guessing. 

Now that we know that we can break a good sweat with only a 10 minute escape from the kids, sparring on a regular basis is not going to be a problem. 

Any suggestions from the karate crew on defending against punches to the head when your opponent has much more upper body strength than you have?  I would be very appreciative of suggestions, and so would my brain that seems to be rattling around in my skull a bit since we sparred. 

If you would like to join the Black Belt Mama Challenge, it's not too late.  The BBM Challenge is on-going and new participants can sign up at any time.  Go here for details.  Participants in the BBM Challenge will receive a coupon code to use at Everything Fitness, and a wealth of support from other blogger participants.

Chicken

I am the initiator of the Black Belt Mama Challenge. 

I should be setting a good example.  I should be following through with my goals.

I have a problem.  Unfortunately, part of my goal involves another person, Mr. BBM. 

We ordered our sparring gear and being the nice person that I am, I even let my husband choose his color first.  He picked black, the color I wanted.  I let him have the black because I figured he's a 10th kyu on a semi-permanent break and therefore I'll let him have the black gear and feel all big and bad. 

I ordered metallic blue which I thought would emphasize my eyes nicely. . . and it does.

We got our gear quickly (Karate Depot doesn't mess around when it comes to shipping).  On Friday it arrived and I ripped it open with enthusiasm. 

My daughter and I had a blast trying it on and "sparring" in the kitchen. 

My husband is one of those people who, on Christmas morning, immediately disappears to try on a new shirt or pair of pants as soon as he opens it.  He's very much like a kid.  Because of that, this was the scene as soon as he saw that the gear had arrived. . .

Big I could care less that she doesn't have sparring gear yet.  She'll use her bare hands to inflict pain.  She'll take out her Kindergarten frustration on her Daddy any day (notice the "height" of that particular punch).  He's grimacing for a pretty good reason, or so he tells me. 

Because Mr. BBM and I will be sparring each other, and because my shins already are a lumpy bumpy bluish/purplish/greenish/yellowish/grayish (depending on the day and age of the bruise) mess, we also ordered shin guards.

But, besides the few brief moments of Big I threatening my husband with bodily harm, and her yelling "HEY!" every time I bopped her while sparring in the kitchen, our gear has remained relatively dormant.  Mr. BBM and I have not engaged in any official sparring activity.  (This, of course, does not include the argument we had this evening over the soaking of a certain pan that needed intense therapy after Salmon Burger Fest 2006 inflicted on it by none other than Mr. BBM himself).  Yes, besides Mr. BBM walking around the house kicking things and remarking how thick and nice and padded and awesome our kickers and shin pads are, our gear has remained relatively inactive. 

Sure, this was Kindergarten week and that took a lot out of all of us.  Of course, the girls are on really messed up schedules right now that is throwing us all for a loop; and yes, we have spent a disproportionate time of our weekend shopping.  But that's no EXCUSE!  Black Belt Mama needs to set an example, and I intend to start. . .

tomorrow.

Mr. BBM fell asleep upstairs while putting Lil C down for the night.  An accidental nap?  I think not.  I think there's a certain 10th kyu with black sparring gear that happens to be a bit afraid of his soon to be (hopefully) 3rd kyu wife who happened to take issue with his soaking pan comment. 

My message to him is simple:  BE AFRAID.  Be VERY AFRAID, because I'm gonna look so good in my metallic blue gear that you're not even going to see that roundhouse coming, or that back fist to the head that comes on the tail of a simple block.  That's right Mr. BBM, I'm throwing down the gauntlet.  Bawk, bawk, bawk, bawk. . . are you chicken. . .  or are we gonna GO?

Think that will get his butt in gear?

If you would like to join the Black Belt Mama Challenge, it's not too late.  The BBM Challenge is on-going and new participants can sign up at any time.  Go here for details.  Participants in the BBM Challenge will receive a coupon code to use at Everything Fitness, and a wealth of support from other blogger participants.

Black Belt Mama's Challenge

I completely missed my 100th post.  It was last week sometime.  I had been watching for it, and then I completely forgot about it.  So, here is post 105 or 106 or something.  Apparently I had a lot to say in the last week or so. 

Lots of bloggers make a big deal out of their 100th post, pointing readers to previous posts before most readers even knew they existed, or paying tribute to their faithful readers.  I wanted to do something different.  Of course, feel free to read my archives anytime, but I wanted to do something for us both. 

I came up with an idea, and this post serves as the official launch for "Black Belt Mama's Challenge". The challenge is simple.  I am challenging each and every one of my readers, and anyone else who might be interested, to change at least one thing in their life to improve their physical fitness.  I personally find it very difficult to stay motivated to continue working out (despite the fact that many of you used to say how motivating I was).  I know what I should be doing; I think about what I should be doing, but I don't do it.  Other things get in the way.  Excuses pile up and what needs to be done doesn't get done.

Usually I wait until three months before my beach vacation and decide I need to get moving on that ab work out.  This year, I'm starting now with an overall goal of continuing with the process.  I plan on having my goals evolve and change as I reach new ones.  It's not all about looking good either; it's about feeling good.  This isn't an Extreme Makeover.  This is about making gradual changes that enhance your physical and mental well-being.

Here's how it works:

1.  Create a personal goal.  Your goal can be as simple as "start taking the stairs instead of the elevator" at work, or go to the gym once a week.  Something, anything, that will make a positive impact on your physical fitness and life.  If you don't go to the gym at all, don't make a goal to go to the gym five days a week.  It's not going to happen.  Start with something small.  You can always add to it later.

2.  Create a plan.  How are you going to accomplish your goals?  If your goal is to take a walk every day, figure out what time you're going to go, where you're going to walk, etc.  If you have a planned time and place, it's more likely you'll actually follow through.

3.  Write about it.  Post your goal and your plan for all to see.  Keep track of your progress and post on your blog on in a personal journal every once in a while.  If your goal is to tone your arms, take a picture now and plan on taking pictures as you work towards your goals.  It will help keep you motivated (at least that's what I'm telling myself).   Consider adding a category to your blog where you will keep all your entries regarding the challenge so that other participants can find your entries easily. 

4.  Get the code.  I made a button for the occasion.  Put the button somewhere in the sidebar on your blog and then let me know it's there via a comment or an email (black-belt-mama @ hotmail dot com) or just click on the "email me" link on the upper left sidebar.  Once I verify that you are indeed taking the BBM Challenge and have your button up, I will add you to the BBM Challenge blogroll.  The blogroll will include all BBM Challenge participants so that we can stop by each other's sites and help each other reach our goals.  I'll also email you the code for the blogroll, so that you can have the participants at your fingertips.  The button will link to this entry so that others can see what you're doing and join in the fun.  The code is below.  (Thank you Izzy for helping me with this!)

<p><a href="http://blackbeltmama.typepad.com/black_belt_mama/2006/08/black_belt_mama.html"><img title="Bbmchallenge_1" height="15" alt="Bbmchallenge_1" src="http://blackbeltmama.typepad.com/black_belt_mama/images/bbmchallenge_1.png" width="80" border="0" /></a> </p>

I think it will be a lot of fun and help all of us to reach our goals and make positive changes in our lives. 

So here's how I'm challenging myself.

GOAL:  Tone muscles and get better at sparring.

PLAN:  Remember that sparring gear my husband and I were going to get each other for Christmas?  Christmas is now.  As soon as the equipment is in, I plan on sparring at least once a week at home.  O.k., let's start with small reasonable goals: I plan on sparring ONCE a week at home.  If it happens more than that, great. But let's be realistic here. . . I still need time to blog!  I also plan on doing some push-ups, sit-ups, and minor weight lifting to start with the muscle toning. 

My code is up!  My blogroll is just waiting for you!  Won't you take the BBM Challenge?

Edited to Add:  This just in. . . participants in the BBM Challenge are eligible for a 5% discount coupon code for Everything Fitness.  They have everything from boxing gloves to yoga mats to heart rate monitors, so no matter what your personal goal is, they will be able to help. 

If you can see it, you can do it

It has been very hectic lately around here, what with Lil C suddenly becoming extremely mobile.  It has not allowed very much time for solitary training.  My work out has definitely taken a back burner. Until I can figure out how to contain Lil C without her having an absolute fit or figure out a way to somehow wear her in a baby wrap that won't interfere with kata (not possible), I have to resort to other ways to continue to learn my material for testing.  The other ways don't necessarily have to be physical. 

I had a biopsychology class when I was in college.  I passed by the skin of my teeth despite a ton of studying.  One thing I will always remember from that class though, is something my professor said about neural pathways and learning.  If you read something, or study something before bed, while sleeping your brain works on it and makes it easier to remember.  She said it much more scientifically than that, of course; but I've found it to be very true.  In college, if I studied right before bed, the information was easier to remember the next day.  I didn't remember everything; but I remembered enough to make me want to continue the habit.  (I only wish it would have worked a little better with bio-psych.) 

Recently, while trying to fall asleep at night, instead of going through a mental to-do list like I frequently do, I've been working on visualizing my kata's.  You have to know the material well enough first to do this; but visualization is a great tool for committing kata (or anything else for that matter) to memory.  It helps you work out the details.  It also helps with application (bunkai).  If you can visualize yourself doing something, you'll be better prepared if you have to take action.  This is great mental training for self defense.  Lately there's been a lot of talk about this in the karate blogging world. 

John of Martial Views, (or the karate yoda as I affectionately call him) posted about this imagery the other day.  Mat is also a good read for understanding the martial arts journey.  He's really good at seeing the big picture, even though he doesn't always think so himself.   He has devoted so much time to the martial arts that reading about his training regime is really quite inspiring.  I can't keep up with him; but reading about what he's doing makes me at least want to try.  At Taming The Horse Stance, you can also read about this visual imagery.

Everyone has a different reason for taking up the martial arts.  For most though, the journey is as much a mental one as it is a physical one.  Lirian Fae of Karate Talk writes about her inner voice and how important it is in karate.  Karate isn't about physical conquest and domination.  The majority of people studying the martial arts don't derive enjoyment from hurting other people.  Studying the martial arts is about listening to that inner voice and about respect: respect for others, respect for the art, and respect for yourself.  It is evident by the way the majority of people treat each other in a dojo.  Karate is a state of mind, that hopefully one can translate into daily life. 

I have as much respect for the 10-year old brown belt as I do for the 50-year old white belt. Actually I have a TON of respect for that 10-year old brown belt because when I was fumbling with my belt once, she approached me and went step by step to show me how to tie it properly.  She wasn't intimidated that I was an adult; and I wasn't bothered by the fact that a 10-year old could correct me on something.  I often joke about being one of the oldest ones in my class, but stature aside we're all really in the same boat and working towards a common goal. 

The Ultimate Work Out Recipe

Ingredients:

• One afternoon of shopping
• One 7-month old who hates her stroller with a passion
• One 5-year old who loves the stroller with a passion
• One baby wrap to hold non-conforming-to-stroller baby

Instructions:

Place 17 lb. baby in wrap.  Allow persistent 5-year old to sit in the stroller that is now unoccupied.  Proceed to push stroller containing 43 lb. 5-year old around the mall for about three hours.  Only allow her out to try on clothing.  When trying on clothing commences, do deep squats with baby still attached snugly in wrap.  Hold out arms parallel to the ground as you hold up shorts that 5-year old is taking her good ole time getting in.  Feel arms start to burn, similar to the feeling obtained when hanging a new shower curtain.  Practice resistance training as 5-year old balances all of her weight with her hands on your shoulders while you're still in the process of squatting and holding arms parallel to the ground. . . still waiting for the child to put her feet in the HOLES ALREADY MOMMY'S ARMS ARE KILLING HER.  Pull shorts up as child squirms and complains.  Repeat try on process three more times.  Proceed to cashier; continue holding arms straight out in an attempt to keep 7-month old from obtaining money which would be prompty devoured.  Deep squat to put new purchase in the cargo bag of stroller.  Proceed to walk down the mall corridor, occasionally doing the deep squat to obtain baby sock that has been removed, sucked on, and thrown in an attempt to free her feet and also make sure that Mommy gets her exercise. 

At completion of shopping excursion, load both children into car.  Because your back wasn't completely thrown out after carrying 17 lb. baby for three hours on your stomach/chest, fold the SUV of strollers and lift into trunk.  While driving, reach for baby toys that are being flung onto the car floor at regular intervals and return them to baby in a futile effort to keep her entertained (this also serves as post work out stretching). 

I'd write more. . . but I need to hit the showers. 

Habits: Start one, Break one (or something)

I've told you about my work out motivated husband.  Often, he'll head off towards the basement and ask Big I if she'd like to go "work out" with him.  Their work out consists of sit-ups (or in Big I's case "lay downs" which look like she's been glued to the floor as she tries to sort of lift the back of her head maybe a half inch off the mat), push-ups (also known as stationary horsey ride on Daddy's back), a nice game of leap frog (or squats according to my husband), and pull ups for my husband (hang from the beams for Big I).  My husband defends this "work out" as a good one for both of them. 

Today, my husband when to the gym.  Lil C was sleeping and after reading all of your comments and emails saying how motivating I am. . . I figured I better fit the part and go work out or something.  So, I told Big I that she was welcome to join me and she did.  She suggested warming up with some jumping jacks.  We did some spirited jumping jacks, followed by punches and double punches in Nai Hanchi, followed by snap kicks: obi level (belt or stomach area) and to the head on my heavy bag of course (Big I used her Scooby Doo punching bag.)  That was just the warm up. 

We then moved on to Kata one and push-ups.  At this point, Big I decided to quit and requested we play a nice game of Memory instead.  She even volunteered to get the game from the closet herself.  I told her that I was working out, and that I wanted her to work out with me.  Her response?  "No Mommy.  You're work out is way harder than Daddy's." 

Can I tell you how many ways she made my day by saying that?  My warm up is a harder work out than Daddy's?  Oh yeah, you hear that darling husband?  That was all the motivation I needed to continue with my work out.  I'm an extremely competitive person; and there's no one I'm more competitive with than my husband.   I sailed through the rest of my kata's and waza's.  I churned out my push-ups and pushed past the pain that is still haunting my arms and chest.  I did the sit-ups and even did the pilates 100 instead of plain sit-ups.  I did the squats and got to 10 without even a thought about which treat I would reward myself with afterwards. 

After I was finished, I was sweating.  I hadn't showered yet so it wasn't a problem.  Big I and I decided our post work out cool down would be a nice game of Scrabble Junior.  No cookie today. 

Despite the fact that Big I told me mine is the harder work out, deep down I know that it's because mine involves karate.  She saw me doing kata and mentally shut down.  When I was talking about her coordination the other day, I stated that I really think it's more of a paying attention issue.  Tonight, my theory proved true. 

We went to visit some college friends at their house.  These are the type of friends who make you wish arranged marriages were an option for the common folks (and I'm not just saying that because I know they read my blog religiously).  They have two awesome kids who are so incredibly sweet and fun.  Their son, a year younger than Big I, is a doll.  Our kids have never had a disagreement.  They always get along.  They usually cry or complain profusely when our little visits are over.  Their son calls Big I his "girlfriend," and we can only hope that it's a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Back in college, we used to party with our mutual friends and shoot the you-know-what. About what, I'm not really sure.  It was college after all.  These days, we have dinner and the conversation at the "adult table" usually revolves around poop and other various bodily functions and mishaps involving our kids and pets.  After all, that is what parents talk about.  We're thinking that a wedding reception would bring back the college days if only for one glorious night.

Our friends have a large yard and enough animal friends to fill a small zoo.  Big I immediately went off with her "boyfriend" to play in the yard, visit their pet horses, and play on the new swing set.  Within five minutes, the child was screaming that she hurt herself.  I checked out the latest injury (yet another knee boo-boo) and asked her how it happened.  "Were you running?"  She says, "No, just walking."  So, I cleaned up her knee and sent her on her way. 

Fifteen minutes later, she enters the kitchen sniffling.  She'd been hit in the nose with a wiffle ball.  That issue was resolved and off she went again.  So, it was time to eat dinner and she came inside to get her plate.  My husband told her to go wash her hands in the bathroom.  Big I walks over to the pantry closet door and grabs the handle.  We all start telling her she's at the wrong door, but she continues to open the door, staring out in our direction.  We continue telling her she's at the wrong door, and she actually backs into the pantry closet and starts to close the door.  Had she not had an encounter with some instant tea and canned soups, I fully believe she would have shut the door and stood in there wondering where she'd gone wrong. 

She is a smart little girl.  She knows everything there is to know about fossils, dinosaurs, and the rotation of the Earth.  She just does not pay attention to her surroundings at all.  I'm going to continue to ask her to work out with me, in the hopes that she'll become more focused on the task at hand.  And maybe, just maybe that will translate to other things in life like avoiding close encounters with canned goods when all she's looking for is a sink and some soap.

Revenge (of the work out and other stuff)

It is amazing that I am even attempting to write a post today.  Why?  Well, writing a post requires me to lift my lap top up, and move my arms.  Both of these activities are causing some serious pain today.  You know that work out?  The one that I did for about 15 minutes?  The one that involved push-ups?  Well, if I didn't know any better, I would think I was in having a heart attack because my chest is KILLING me today, along with the arms. 

Doing that work out didn't feel like a big deal when I was in the process.  The encouraging thing is that the work out didn't really feel like anything and I'm sore, which means it was doing something it was supposed to be doing and I didn't have to feel the pain. . . at least not immediately.   Lil C is taunting me because deep down she KNOWS I hurt.  She is even more determined than usual to stand on my lap and jump, jump, jump, jump, oh, and jump.  It is causing some serious discomfort today and I'm dreading tomorrow, because the second day is ALWAYS worse than the first day after a work out. 

Despite the fact that I can hardly move my upper body, I was tempted to use my martial arts for revenge today.  My family and I were taking a walk.  As Lil C and I were crossing the street, a car driven by a teenager came around a 20 mph corner at about 60 mph.  He had to skid to a stop.  He would have hit us had I not stopped in my tracks and pulled the stroller backwards.  And then, my daughters got a lesson in profanity like no other.  My husband, who had already crossed the street, started.  After my heart moved down from the nice little nook in my throat, I joined in as well.  Their car windows were open.  I know they heard every word.  They also heard the landscaper a half block down the street from where we were who also gave them an earful. 

Had the boys retorted in any way, shape or form, I seriously think I would have dragged the driver out of his window and practiced some kata.  I was SO upset.  Fortunately, I think the driver was a little shaken himself; and I sincerely hope that our little incident and subsequent name-calling extravaganza made him think a little about slowing down.  I came home from the walk and fired off an exasperated email to our township police department who I'm hoping will do something about this very dangerous street. 

I have never wanted to use what I've learned at karate for anything other than to protect myself and my children.  I'm not the type of person to walk around and say things like, "I could kick your you-know-what."  I am not an instigator in the physical sense; Never have been-never will be.  But, in my (what seems to be to teenagers) old age, I have often fantasized about teaching a teenager (or anybody acting like one) a lesson or two, especially the ones who drive across store parking lots like the lines are there as merely a suggestion.  Becoming a Mother opens and enlarges your heart; but it also enrages your temper against those who might do potential harm to your off-spring. 

Martial Arts workout and my (poorly) adapted version

I've been watching my husband transform himself into this work out warrior lately.  Usually the New Year arrives with great expectations of being in shape by the time our beach vacation rolls around.  He starts working out, drinking these turbo shakes, and bringing home stuff from the grocery store that frankly, pretty much just scares me. . . like organic peanut butter for example.  Usually he's over it by Valentine's Day.  This year, he's not. 

Over the past few weeks, I've been feeling a little June Cleaver-ish, as in, if I don't have a cake in this house, it's just not home.  Big I and I have been meticulously trying out from scratch, cake and icing recipes.  Last week we found one that truly rocks.  It's a Hershey's chocolate cake with homemade creamy peanut butter icing.  We added chocolate chips to it for fun.  It is was delicious.  I kid you not, my husband ate exactly two slivers of that cake.  When I say sliver, I mean turn it sideways and it barely exists.  Big I and I inhaled ate the rest.  Where is this motivation coming from?  To be honest, it's starting to tick me off a bit. 

As I've said previously, I am having some motivation issues.  Nursing Lil C has taken off the weight and then some, so much so that I've had to go buy some new clothing.  I continue to watch what I eat, considering the whole gestational diabetes thing during pregnancy. And by "watch what I eat" I mean that I only eat one slice of cake instead of four.  But if I watch what I'm eating any more than I currently am, I will soon develop super powers.  As in, turn sideways, and I will disappear in the same fashion as my husband's sliver of cake.  I don't need to lose weight; I do need to tone up.  I've been looking for something I could do that would tone and tighten, and help with my karate too.  Mat suggested this workout and today when Lil C took a marathon nap after I showered, started laundry, ate lunch, read some blogs, worked a bit at my part time job and ran out of other things to do I thought I'd give it a shot.

The routine, straight from Mat's comment that he left me on another post is as follows.  His plan is in italics; what I did is in regular type:

warm up, like 5 minutes of little jumps, or running, or cycling or whatever works for you.  Move heavy bag onto mats so it won't make noise and wake up Lil C when I hit it.  Decide this is enough warming up, because Man, that heavy bag is. . . well, heavy.

Stretch a bit.  Sort of do this; kind of skip it because Lil C may wake up at any moment.  I know I'll pay for this tomorrow.

Then, the fun starts.  Is he serious?  Because I'm starting to feel an overwhelming sense of dread. 

Do a kata, or a kihon, in whatever order you learned them.  Kata one, Nai Hanchi Shodan. 

Then, 10 push-ups.  (Girl ones) because really, there's no alternative.  If there is one part of my body that doesn't ever change, it's my arms.  They are sticks; they do not tolerate man push-ups. 

Another kata  Kata two, Nai Hanchi Nidan

Then, 10 sit-ups  I did crunches.  I have a bad back after all.  I admit I may have lingered on the floor for an extra minute or twelve because it felt so good to just lay down.

Another kata  Kata 3, Wansu.  Think in head how much easier this kata is to do, now that Lil C isn't taking up a heck of a lot internal space which was seriously cramping my kicking.

Then, 10 squats  That's it?  Bring it on.  I could do more. . . 9, 10.  Yeah, I think I need a break now.  Push on, my brain says, so I do.

Another kata  Pinan Nidan

20 push-ups  Wait, did he really say 20?  20?  How will I manage to move my arms enough to even pick up my child tomorrow if I do 20?  15 is sufficient.  Yeah, 8, 9, oh 10 should be enough.  Yeah, that's good.

etc etc etc etc.  Pinan Shodan, 20 sit-ups (I actually did these) followed by Ananku (sort of, because I'm still learning it.)  Then, because they're short, I did each waza, broke a bit of a sweat and decided that was about enough for now.  After all, yesterday I didn't get a shower until 10:45 p.m.  Having achieved a shower before lunch time today?  I'm not willing to muddy it all up with sweat.  I'll save that for class later tonight. 

After 30 minutes, I swear you'll have had enough of these. Instead of squats, you can also do kicks. Like drop low, rise, kick. Always raising the repetitions. I start with ten and usually, I get to 50. By then, I'm exhausted.  Yeah, after about 15 minutes, I was pretty much ready to call it a day.

I cool down with the bike. It really is hard. But you work on your karate, train the right muscles and you need nothing to make it work except your 4 members.  My cool down was walking to the kitchen and grabbing a nice chocolate chip cookie.  [Squints eyes and glares at internet readers who are probably shaking head and judging me] What???  It was a WHOLE WHEAT cookie.  It's all good.

The hardest part is always deciding to do it...  Ain't that the truth!

good luck!  I'll need all the luck I can get, between finding the motivation, having the time (Lil C napping for more than 5 minutes) etc. etc.

I really don't know what my problem is, but I am beginning to suspect that holding a 17+ lb. baby all the time because she just got her first tooth and "Mama, Mama"-hold-me-all-the-time-because-when-you-hold-me-I-feel-better is starting to take its toll.  Did I mention that she got a new tooth in that garbled sentence there?  A tooth, as in, she has added a new weapon to her arsenal and all I can really say about it is ouch and I'm tired and ouch.  I think that Lil C is so clingy because this tooth has pretty much assaulted her sweet little gums.  She was just going through life, happy as could be, when this tooth, this miserable sharp bugger of a tooth made its very unwanted appearance.  She's just plain annoyed with it which is why the umbilical cord has apparently been reconnected. 

I'm sensing it's going to be a while before the motivation returns for Lil C to sit and play without a constant stream of Mama's affection.  I know there is a direct correlation between this reattached umbilical cord and my work out motivation.  I'm thinking that my version of the work out isn't exactly what Mat had in mind, but maybe after a few days in a row of a shower before dinner time. . . I won't actually mind sweating a bit.   

You gotta do pilates

My parents have always been exercise fanatics.  When I was in high school, my parents would often decide to do aerobics together and take up the family room TV with Jane Fonda tapes.  Sometimes my little sister would join in.  I thought it was ridiculous and would usually go upstairs and talk on the phone.  Sometimes, for fun, I'd grab the bag of lard fried potato chips and a Pepsi and sit down and watch.  It was quite entertaining. 

Recently, my husband has been on a fitness kick.  I thought it was a passing phase, but he has stuck with it for months now and lemme tell you, he's looking good.  I've had a bit of a motivation problem when it comes to exercise.  I figure that carrying around a 17.5 lb. baby is good enough.  Granted, I play tennis once a week and go to karate, but I could do more.  I used to like doing pilates and I have a nice little work out DVD that only takes a half hour, ten minutes if you break up the parts and only decide to do abs. 

So, I told my husband I would start doing pilates again, but he had to go along for the ride.  Whenever we do workout things together, two things inevitably happen.  One, is that we, o.k. I, end up yelling obscenities at the TV screen.  Work out tape women are WAY too happy.  They enjoy pain a bit too much for my liking.  I mean, seriously, WHO SMILES when doing pilates?  Who smiles when they feel like their gut is being ripped into shreds?  Not anyone normal, that's for sure.

The second thing that ends up happening, is that my husband and I end up so hysterical that we can barely continue.  My pilates DVD features a woman named "Betsy."  Betsy is put there for the weak. Betsy does everything the rest of the gals do, but she is what my husband and I refer to as "the lazy one."  Betsy doesn't hold her legs up in the air when doing her crunches.  She sets her feet firmly on the floor.  Betsy takes breaks when she needs to.  Betsy. . . is my idol. 

I never had a problem following the main girl before, but only being six months out from giving birth, the abs are just not there like they used to be.  Tonight, Betsy and I were good buds.  My husband and I ended up spending the 10 minute ab work out talking to Betsy.  I have to admit, we weren't being very nice. 

I'd love to be one of those women who enjoys exercise.  Sure, I know that it would incite violence towards me from other women; but still it would be sort of cool.  Exercise is not something I enjoy, unless I'm in a team sports setting and then I'm all for it.  I need something to distract me from the pain.  I think part of my problem is that (and I know I'm risking absolute hatred here) I've never really needed to exercise.  I always had a high metabolism and didn't really put on weight until I went to college and discovered pizza 24/7 and beer.  After I had my babies, the extra weight was gone within a month.  I'm lucky in that way.  I know I am and I don't take it for granted.  But, I'm not exactly toned either.

I want to get in better shape.  I think that it will help my karate tremendously, tennis too.  I just don't know exactly what to do to get in better shape.  I despise going to the gym, and working out at home just doesn't seem to happen.  Right now, I am hoping that my husband just sort of forces me to do the pilates every night.  Tonight, I was finished after the abs portion.  My husband continued with the butt section.  I. . . ate some Tostito's and had a diet rite.  Old habits die hard.