BLOG IN YOUR FACE

Well, as I mentioned last week (I think), Jaci and I are training for a half marathon (13.1 miles). Throughout the course of that training we are required to do a series of “Cross Training” activities on our running off-days. The other night I suggested that we do sit-ups.

Now, Jaci went to college on a softball scholarship. She is a fricking hard body (she won’t ever admit it, but what girl does, right?) and she has done her fair share of sit-ups in her lifetime. I on the other hand may not have a pregnant looking man-belly, but my tummy is not exactly what you would call “washboard abs.” In fact, it is more like a can of Crisco  that has been left out in the sun. The only sit-ups I have ever done are sitting up out of bed, and that isn’t very often considering I usually employ the less urgent method of rolling onto the floor, army crawling to the bathroom and lifting myself up by the toilet seat so that I can have my morning pee. Jaci’s abs? You could bounce a quarter off those puppies.

So she agreed to do sit-ups with me. I could hardly believe  the arsenal of sit-up exercises Jaci utilizes. She must know at least 50 different ways to work out the stomach muscles. In asking her to help me, I soon realized I was way over my head. But the worst came when she suggested that we do a workout called “throw downs.” What you do is this:

Lay on your back and lift your legs in the air so that your body forms an “L” shape. Have a buddy - or in my case a really intense bootcampish girlfriend - stand behind you at your head. Then your buddy pushes your feet toward the floor as hard as they can and you have to not frickin’  let them touch the ground. Lift them back up and repeat until you are whining like a sissy and begging for the torture to stop (for yours truly it was after only six  throw downs).

Let me just tell you: I spent the next few days walking around hunched over, insisting that I had multiple hernias. My stomach muscles hurt so incredibly bad that it felt like I was going to have diarrhea…constantly. If the cramps in my abs were anything like what it feels like to have “that time of the month,” then ladies: never…ever…ever…ever…will I underestimate what you go through. In fact, I considered buying some Midol  to see if it could suppress my agony, but then I realized I wasn’t really feeling bloated or moody so I stuck with Ibuprofen.

Besides the torture of getting my flabby abdominals in shape, the half-marathon training is going really well. We are into our second week and we are going strong. We motivate each other. We encourage each other. We drive each other. I am having a lot of fun running with my best friend. I have more energy during the day and I sleep better at night. And, of course, I just want to look good naked.