Mind Your Own Manifesto

I worked out alone last night, and let me tell you, when you typically work out with with someone else, most times in a group, it is very strange to work out alone. It was also strangely liberating. It’s not that I want to start regularly working out alone again, it’s just that it was kind of neat to do my own thing, completely zone out, and just sort of “be”. I brought my kindle, and read short stories by Kate Chopin and Hemingway (“The Story of an Hour”, “Dr Chevalier”, etc..) I didn’t love not having anyone to chat with as I stretched, and no one to hurl insults upon as my hammies felt as though they may give way, but loved picking up at whatever machine/station I wanted to work on at the time.

I get the feeling that most people think bloggers are singularly solitary persons, who shape their days around when they may take the most restful naps, and how many coffees they need to buy to filch wi-fi from the coffee shop owner. This is not the case. For one, I work outside of this blog. Also, if I didn’t hang out with other people on a fairly consistent basis, I’d be even stranger than I am now, and instead of collecting ceramic and artistic skulls, I’d probably collect shrunken heads, and those “lifelike babies” that those *really* disturbed women treat as their very own bairns.

Am I the only one that thinks those women all probably have a drawer full of neatly calligraphed manifestos detailing why they wish to repopulate the world with robot doll babies? shudder.

If I was ever organized enough to keep a drawer full of manifestos, or if I even knew how to do calligraphy, I’d probably fill the manifestos with strange sentences like “the bats will fly like purple over marching bands from afar.” simply to screw with whomever was dumb enough to read my manifestos. Mind your own manifesto.

In spite of my winged creatures violet flight, I missed my gymrat wolfpack. There is nothing like a group of super fit (way more fit than me) friends to beat fight berate demand encourage you to push past your brain and really challenge yourself. A workout is also a hell of a lot more fun when you’re laughing so hard your sides hurt. Most things are. Hell, when I had the peanut, I was watching some very ridiculous crap on Bravo, and laughing at that almost made me forget to hit the epidural button….almost. If only I had my posse in the delivery room!! (Yeah right, there’s no coming back from seeing THAT.)

Do you workout with friends or alone? Have you considered starting a group at your gym or at home? I have read several studies in Shape or Fitness magazines that state you are much more likely to commit to a fitness routine if you have someone holding you accountable. Trust me, it’s true. If I so much as consider skipping spin, I have an angry viking calling me, threatening to pillage or whatever vikings do. My gaysian is much more tactical. HE threatens to take away and hide my stand mixer. That threat sends terror to my very marrow.

Tonight, however, WE RIDE. (without really going anywhere)

Did you think I forgot it was What I Ate Wednesday? Don’t you think Jenn would verbally abuse me if I forgot? She would. Or worse.

Breakfast was peanut butter chocolate chip cinnamon rolls, lunch was orange salmon pasta salad, snack was more chickpea and edamame salad, and dinner was an egg and egg white omelet with a lot of veggies. *not pictured: a cookie, perhaps an entire cucumber, perhaps a bag of carrots.

Onto the Orange Salmon Pasta Salad. I love salmon pasta salad. LOVE. I am forever making new variations on the theme. This one was one of my favorites. I am SURE you’ll be hooked now, too. It’s also inexpensive, as you can use canned salmon or fresh. You could also use chopped lox.