Day 3: In Which She Tried To Eat Fruit And Jog

It is Day 3 of the Biggest Loser Competition. These are the adjustments I have made so far towards my goal of not embarrassing my Biggest Loser Team:

I ate asparagus for lunch on Wednesday.

I actually like asparagus. But like most people, I like it much better sauteed in butter with bacon. Sadly, the version served in the cafeteria was neither buttery nor bacon-y but it was pretty good nonetheless. I have heard that asparagus makes your pee smell really strong, and I am here to confirm that this rumor is absolutely true. But I did get a little concerned because shouldn’t it take, like, 24 hours or something? I swear that within two hours of lunch my pee smelled like propane. Odd.

I gave up my second mocha-java of the day.

My favorite energy-inspiring concoction is a packet of organic hot cocoa in a cup of coffee, which I routinely enjoy twice per day. This week I began substituting my afternoon nectar with 0-calorie mango-peach green tea. That’s a savings of 120 calories per day, which, over the 12 weeks of competition turns out to be 2.88 lbs! Sadly, my left pinky weighs more than that, but I guess I have to take what I can.

Can I be perfectly honest here? Tea is disgusting. It doesn’t taste good at all unless the nasty tea flavor is overwhelmed by some combination of fruit (ergo, my selection of  mango-peach). Coffee tastes like shit too, but at least I can pretty well mask the gasoline-like tang with chocolate. In lieu of hot cocoa, a miniature Three Musketeers bar works too. Which brings me to the next sacrifice I have made for the Biggest Loser Team:

I did not have a Three Musketeers bar at any time…

…miniature or otherwise. Team, you’re welcome. It should be noted that I rarely have Three Musketeers bars (preferring the more robust Snickers or the heavenly Reese's PB Cups) but the point is, I could have had one. But did not. All for the Biggest Loser team, you guys know I love you!

I thought about fruits and vegetables. A LOT.

I did not actually eat many fruits and vegetables though. However, in my defense, I did manage to choke down a hard, sour organic red pear for my morning snack yesterday. I am pretty sure I would eat more fruit if I could find any here in Michigan...in winter, when it's, like, four degrees...that are not brown-mushy and not mouth-puckering tart. Is that possible? Can I get a sweet blueberry once in a while, please?

I walked at lunch for 25 minutes

Nearly took header on sidewalk (that’s the sacrifice I make for my team). SOMEBODY did a piss-poor job of shoveling and keeping the walkway safe for us Jackson residents. Unfortunately, I can’t really complain. It was either the police department or my employer. Paycheck and 911, guess I’ll just shut my mouth and be more careful next time.

And finally...

I went to the gym and nearly died.

And not just physically…from embarrassment as well. It was pretty busy at the Y but lucky for me the rear-most row of treadmills had a few openings. This is fortunate for two reasons. First, being in the “back” row means there isn’t anyone behind me who can see the numbers when I plug in my weight (which I do rather than accept the treadmill’s default weight, because as many of you may know, heifers such as myself burn many more calories than super models doing the same activity, probably due to the exponentially increased friction between our thighs…and I simply want to accurately reflect the fruits of my labor). Two, being in the back gave me the opportunity to observe the Jackson Y treadmill clientele and compare their efforts to my own. 

There were a couple of young studs on the left doing something like 11 MPH for what seemed like hours. Okay, I accept that. They are young studs, and that’s what young studs are all about: good looks and buff bods.

Then I see this dumpy grandma over to my 2 o’clock (the kind who probably wears a housecoat or mu-mu at home and has 1432 knick-knacks on her wall) and she’s jogging at a pretty good pace too…slower than the studs but steady and true at 6.0 MPH. I looked down at my LED readout to compare our speeds, making sure to hold onto the sides, because at my Olympic sprint it would be easy to lose my footing on these death machines and fall off the end like the real Biggest Loser contestants sometimes do. And that might be acceptable if Bob Harper were there to rescue me (yeah, I know he’s probably gay, but a girl can dream, can’t she?). But this was not my situation, and I am smart enough to know that I must be careful when working out at Mach 1.

But I digress. So I held onto the sides as I looked down at my own astronomical speed, figuring I must be at least CLOSE to the elderly hunchbacked woman, right?

Oh, no.

Oh, HELL, no!

WTF??? 4.1 MPH, are you KIDDING ME??? This…geriatric…is not even really jogging at 6.0…it’s more of a walk/jog combo, a WOG if you will…and I am borderline having a massive coronary at 4.1! And what’s worse…I am doing 4.1 for forty-five second intervals followed by 90 seconds of recovery at 2.8 MPH! Jane Fonda over there never slowed down even once.

As you can very well imagine, the humiliation was traumatic. But I am determined, so I continued for 30 whole minutes, and then spend another 30 on the elliptical.

Because that’s the kind of team member I am.