Split Open Shins

My workout yesterday morning with my trainer was fantastic. We did a mountain climb (jacking up the treadmill) for 10-minutes worth of thigh-numbing cardio. Then we moved on to sumo squats, kettle bell swings, incline push-ups, box jumps, toe taps, high-knee sprints, jumping jacks, and other fun stuff. The toe-taps were the close-out, just before abs. Trainer told me to do them "for a minute, or until you fall on your ass." I fell on my ass at exactly 60 seconds, straight backwards off the 24-inch block. I have a bruise on my ass. Abs were easy, but since I'd done abs the day before with Becka, my entire torso was just non-functional.

Then I came back home, took a shower, and went to my noon boot-camp workout with Becka. There were only four of us in the class, we two grad student and another guy and girl. The guy dropped out after half an hour. Wuss. The trainer was a chubby guy. Becka and I quietly commented on our shared disdain for fat trainers. Our training consisted of three rounds of minute-long box jumps, squat presses, kettle bell squats, push-ups, oblique twists, jumping jacks, dumbbell swings, one-armed push-up rows, medicine ball throws, and shoulder shrugs with 35-pound bells. I was first up on the box jumps, and wouldn't you know it, I tripped again. Forward, this time, and I carved my shin open. Fat trainer gave me a band-aid and told me to keep going. I did. Today, my shin has a 5-inch diameter bruise with an 2-inch long ugly red cut. I'm actually kind of proud of it. I've iced it; still hurts.

I just texted Becka a picture of it. She said "Awesome! Looks like the bruise got way bigger. Battle wounds!"

There's a reason I love this girl.

After our work out (total time spent doing circuit training: 2.5 hours) she and I were changing in the locker room, talking about our individual diagnoses. She's a former gymnast, diagnosed with ED-NOS for six years now, and "coping." She's immensely afraid of gaining weight and just as addicted to the gym as me. Thank fucking god I finally know someone in real life I who I can talk to about this. We have a lot of other things in common too, like our intense fear/dislike/general abhorrence of sex. I think that just goes along with ED too. Self-control/perfectionism/all that closed-off-shit.

Started on at least a 5-day cycle of The Water Pill from Complete Nutrition. It's the only sure fire way I know to make the number drop on the scale. Yes, I know, it's just water weight, but I'm already down to 18% body-fat, so I'm gonna reward my psyche by letting myself see that number go down. I need it.

Nine more days.

I told you I'd change my mind again. I'm going back to therapy, albeit not until school starts back up in January. I go home in nine days. I'm going to be staying with my father for almost a month, and my only responsibilities will be cooking, dog-watching, and working out. I'm going to be in the gym every single day, rest days be damned. I was 137.2 this morning. I'm here again, just over a pound away. I've been right here so many times.

I did an hour of cardio this morning. It was easy; there was a UFC marathon on Spike. If anything inspires me to quit bitching and keep sweating, it's watching angry, shirtless men beating each other. I was subconsciously competing with the guy on the elliptical next to me. He was going faster than me the whole time. Nosy little me, I leaned over to look at his resistance level. It was set to one. Mine was set to twelve. That means I win. I also did the most thorough bicep cycle of my life; five different lifts for one muscle group. My torso fits into an extra small, but my arms need at a least a size (sometimes two) larger. My flabby, awful torso. My soft fucking torso. It's the worst part about me, other than my (current) complete lack of resolve. I also did standing calf raises, but those barely count as an exercise.

When I came home, I got to eat spaghetti, which is such a huge treat. I'd feel safe about it if it weren't for the fact that spaghetti sauce has so much sugar. Some brands have up to 10 grams in half a cup. That's obscene.

The niacin and caffeine are making a difference, at least on the scale. I feel like I have rabies, and my mood swings on a dime, but I'm getting tighter faster. I keep fantasizing about how I'll feel when the scale finally reads 135. Worst case scenario, I don't feel a damn thing. Best case scenario, I start sobbing out of sheer joy and take a picture of the number. I have a feeling it'll be somewhere in between.

As of yesterday, there is officially a real diagnosis on my transcript: ED-NOS. This is based on a mutual diagnosis from my general practitioner and my psychologist. I've known it for over a year, but it only feels real now. This is good, because insurance will cover more medication/therapy. This is bad, because I have a label, which makes me feel more than a little sick, and extremely over-exposed.

Strain

The Good news: I took a 200mg caffeine pill this morning. I react to that stuff like it's speed. I read three scholarly articles in twenty minutes and went for a 5k run (29 minutes). Normally I'm not even functioning high enough to brush my teeth before 9am. I think this will be my new regular morning routine (at least on weekdays; I have to switch it up constantly so my body doesn't find a rhythm).

The Bad news: I seriously messed up my left knee this time. I knew half-way through my run that I was straining it, but like an idiot I kept going for another mile and a half. Now, a few hours later, it feels fine when I'm not putting pressure on it, but when I put pressure on it it's pretty unbearable. I'm gonna give it a few days to heal, which means no cardio for me until after Thanksgiving. That's what I get for being an overachiever.

On a completely random note, one of the journalism students from my university just contacted me via my bodybuilding.com profile, wanted to do a story on my extreme weight loss, healthy lifestyle, and fitness goals for the school newspaper, because I've made such progress in such a short time. That's an odd feeling. I told him I'd be willing to do it if it were just a story, not a video clip, and if there were other people featured as well. This offer is coming on the heels of my therapist wanting me to get treatment at an eating disorders clinic.

I can't make this shit up, people.