I’ve hit a dang plateau. I simply have not put on any more muscle in the past few weeks despite wringing myself dry, and beating my body into a pulp at the gym.
Something is up.
I think I may need to surrender my devotion to strictly bodypump style weightlifting. I was talking to a trainer. (Yes, I went and did it–even if it is a castmate who was also formerly a fitness intstructor/PT in Europe, who now serves as a member of my wolfpack) and he said that I’m not making asking my muscles enough questions. This made me remind myself, “English is not his first language, English is not his first language.” What I ended up saying was:
“What in Dante’s Hell are you talking about, Lord Vikingmort?”
Then, of course, he went on to make perfect damn sense, and manage to make me feel like an asshat for assuming he had no idea how to phrase what he wanted to say.
“If you are trying to learn the inner workings of a government, really learn them, and build the knowledge one brick at a time, until you can become say, mayor, and rule effectively, do you ask only one question over and over again, expecting garner all of the information you’ll need to be strong in your position? Or instead, do you ask many different questions at many different occasions, with differing levels of severity to do so?”
This is where I probably looked a bit chagrined and more than a bit sheepish.
“Probably the latter.” To which he replied:
“You can’t just increase weights and expect your body to change. You’re just asking your body to deal with heavier versions of its original target. You may become stronger in that area, but you’re not confusing the muscles enough to make them compensate by growing anew, and developing in other areas. You’re like a political pundit, you’re really, really smart in one area, but if you veer off course just a tad, you suddenly go stupid.”
“I get your point, what do I do?” I retorted.
“Try something new. Anything new.”
I went on to to tick off the list of crap I’ve been doing, the MMA, the Zumba, the hatha yoga…It was all CARDIO. All of it. I’ve turned into a cardio whore. HOW DID THAT HAPPEN!?!?? I feel like I should get a sweatband, unitard, legwarmers, and high-tops, because I am like every woman named “Candy” in every movie from 1985-1992.
Hi, My name is Cat, and I’m addicted to cardio.
He convinced me to start going to a Crossfit box with him and the Navajo.
I went. I did wall-balls. Double-unders. Snatches. Ring dips. Thrusters.
And then….I died. Just a little. I mean, I saw a tunnel of white light, I think my Grandfather was there, and he’s been dead since 1989, sooooo. I think Jennifer Love Hewitt may have been chasing me….Or, I was just so tired after all of that, I may have become severely delusional. I still think J-Love was chasing me, though. I hear she’s a huge fan of B2B. She must love Samoas or something.
Next time I see her, I’ll ask her if John Mayer is really that big of a douche in real life, or if he just comes across that way.
As for Crossfit. I’ve gone three times in a week. I’m going again today. It’s like a drug. Granted, with my knee, I can’t do box jumps, but I can sure do the modification. I will keep you abreast of the muscle growthage. I am pumped to get pumped inside somewhere referred to as a “box”, wherein you do “snatches”. I thought about joining after the Reebok event in May, but never got around to it, yet after visiting Reebok’s new store, and now going regularly, I’m hooked.
I am a child.
Children like carrots. Carrots like these.
Cinnamon-Cumin scented glazed carrots.
These are soooo easy and addictive. It took everything in me not to eat them all directly off of the pan.
Cinnamon Cumin Glazed Carrots
Keywords: roast appetizer side snack vegan
- 2 lbs carrot sticks
- 2 tbsp EVOO
- 1 tbsp brown sugar
- 1 tsp cumin
- 1 tsp cinnamon
- 1/2 tsp salt
- 1/2 tsp cracked black pepper
preheat oven to 350F
toss together all ingredients on a cookie sheet
bake 15 minutes