I'd rather eat carbs at LA Boxing

Here's a tip:  LA Boxing is really freaking hard when you aren't eating carbohydrates.

I had a personal training session on Tuesday - which just happened to be the second day of my low-carb diet.  I was doing fine, for the most part.  I didn't feel too slow, didn't feel to overworked.  Then, the suicides came.  Those lovely drills where you run back and forth, going farther each time, touching the floor before you run back to the start to run again.

I hate suicides.

Seriously.  More than my dislike for crunches, push-ups, and running all put together.  They wear me out.  They make me feel like, at best, a clumsy old turtle.  I slowly run back and forth, just hoping that I won't fall down and roll over onto my imaginary shell, left with nothing but to sound like that old lady in those "I've fallen, and I can't get up" commercials.  It's that bad.

So on Tuesday, Donte says, "Okay, we're gonna do suicides, and you'll do a punching combination at the end."  I looked at him (like I do 75% of the time) with that "Whachoo talkin' bout Willis" face.  He laughed, and said he was going easy on me. Instead of sprinting to every heavy bag, he was letting me sprint to every other bag and instead of doing a punching combo after each sprint, I was going to do a combo at the end of a set of sprints.

That made me feel a little bit better.

(No, I lie, it didn't.  But, I told myself it should. And I knew that Donte doesn't give me stuff that I can't physically do.  Pushes me, yes, but not so hard that I die.  So there was that: I wasn't going to die.)

So, I sprint (very loose use of the word "sprint" here) the first leg, then back to the start.  Everything is fine and slow dandy.

Then I sprint the second leg, feel really unsteady when I touch the ground, but still sprint back to start.

In the next leg, things get a little hazy.  After this last sprint I was supposed to do the combo.  I'm pretty sure I did.  Pretty sure.  Then I was supposed to run back to the start.

Yeah, that definitely did not happen.

I hit a wall.   A big, brick, immovable wall.  And I hit it hard.

When you are working hard, sometimes this happens.  Frequently, because I am not the fittest boxer in the bunch, I have to take a breather for a few seconds before I start working again.  During this session I'm sure I had to do this.  We were doing a lot of weights and ab exercises.  Sure I was pushing myself -- after all, my ab's still hurt, 4 days later, when ever I sneeze -- but it wasn't like I was running up and down the steps for the whole hour.

The problem?  No carbs.  I usually have to eat a full breakfast - whole wheat bread, fruit, and some protein - before I go to boxing.  But with this diet, I couldn't do that.

Not. Smart.

I gave this low (no) carb thing one more try for my Friday boxing class, and the same thing happened.  Worse, in fact.  I barely had enough energy to finish the class, and I even came in late!  No more.  Lesson learned.

Boxing = hard work = need fuel = need good, healthy carbs.

I've never been so excited to eat a slice of toast in my whole life.  Mmmm, toast.

I'd rather list 5 things I love about LA Boxing

Today you get a "Five Things" post and an LA Boxing post, all wrapped up in one.  (Five Things is a meme created by Trayce, in which I simply tell you 5 things about me.)

Ohhh, LA Boxing, how I love you, let me count the ways...

1.  You provide an hour of "me" time, at least three times a week.  Yes, I count sweating buckets as "me" time these days - a girl takes what she can get.

2.  I have gotten the first "Hey!  You are looking thinner!" compliments (from anyone in my family other than my awesome Mother-In-Law) since possibly before I had my last kid.

3.  I can lift my 8-year-old over the railing and into her loft bed while she is sleeping with out the fear of giving her a concussion on one of the posts.

4.  Apparently I have arm muscles, and the tiniest hint of ab muscles - who knew!

5.  You have showed me that I can keep going.  I can hold that plank, I can keep hitting that bag, and I can do one more rep.  That is worth more than I can say.

Happy Friday, ya'll!  Now, either join us and blog your own "Five Things" or go hit the gym!  I'll let you choose. 

I'd rather get the job done.

I have a new confession.

I haven't been to the gym in a while.  I've missed yoga.  I've been unable to go to boxing.  I was even too sick to make it to my personal training session last week.

There have been sick days, yes, but also busy days, stressful days, and previous-commitment days.  Every kind of day.  Every kind of excuse.

I wonder if I still could of gotten some kind of workout in?  I probably could not have made it into the gym, but I could have a least done some kind of workout at home.  I didn't have to go on a gym-free binge, that's for sure.  (Thank goodness, at least, for the no-eatting-out rule.  Because, if it weren't for that, I probably would have gained some ridiculous number.)

And where am I now?

Still the same weight I was two weeks ago.  Probably not as strong, having less endurance.  And most of all - I'm afraid.  Afraid to go back.

Tomorrow I see my personal trainer, and I think I might literally go in cowering.  I know he won't give me too much sympathy.  And why should he?  I've fallen down on the job.

Working out is my job.  Eating well is my job.  Being a heathy role model for my kids is my job.  It is my responsibility, my duty, to do these things.  No one else's.  I can't blame anyone else when the job doesn't get done.  And although I am the one that pays the majority of the consequences, it affects others as well.  I'm more cranky to my husband, have less energy for my kids.

Tomorrow, I go back to work.  I clock in, and pay the price for skimping out on my job.  It will probably suck. And there will definitely be a lot of sweat - maybe some mild cursing.

 But I'll be there, getting the job done.

I'd rather get better and box

I'm sick.  This stupid summer cold came on from out of no where at the end of the week and now here I am, Monday afternoon, still feeling like I was run over by a truck.

Let me tell you people, this isn't pretty.  At all.  I have yet to master the art of being "sick-cute" as opposed to "sick-gross."  I'm a fabulous mix of the dwarfs: Gumpy, Sneezy, Sleepy, Dopey, and the yet to be found dwarf - Icky.

So I think I have the right to complain.  The right to moan about my achy muscles, to blow my nose loudly, to sleep half the day.  I have a lot to gripe about.

But do you know what one of the most annoying parts of this cold is?  I missed boxing.

What?  Did I write that correctly?  Have the cold meds sent me into a NyQuil-induced drugged-up haze?  Nope.

I miss boxing and I'm bummed.

I normally go in once during the weekend to LA Boxing to sweat out the stress of the week.  Hit the heavy bag hard and walk away feeling like a weekend warrior.  I get on a high horse - gloating in the face of my former "can't be bothered to get off the couch" weekend-self.  I start Monday feeling strong, not bloated.  Quicker, not exhausted.  Ready.

Not this week.  Monday is currently laughing at me, all balled up in the corner, and kicking my butt.  (Well, to be honest, last week wasn't a gleaming example either.  Apparently Memorial day weekend - and alcohol - make for a really, really bad personal training session on Tuesday.  It was laughable.  Literally.  We laughed at my inability to do just about anything last week.)  But this is even more reason why I was ready to have a great weekend so that I could return to training on Tuesday in top notch form.

Instead, I spent yesterday in bed, surrounded by tissues.

I miss boxing.  I want to get well.  I need to get well.  So I can go back, put on the gloves, and get back into the groove.  Kick some butt.  Tell the heavy bag who's boss.

I'm going to drag my butt in there tomorrow if I have to.  It may not be pretty, but I know I'll feel so much better for doing it.

Now, please pass the chicken noodle soup.

I'd rather share some pointers

Alright, if I haven't gotten this across to you yet - I really, really suggest you go try out LA Boxing.  The first class is free to try, so you have nothing to loose.  I'm not just saying this because I was lucky enough to fall into this sweet gig of putting LA Boxing "To The Test."  I'm saying it because it's different, fun, effective.  Heck, I am already conniving and planning so that I can continue attending classes once my three months are up.

It's that awesome.

Since I'm feeling less like a newbie there, I thought I'd share some pointers for you to use once you go to take your first class:

• Be prepared to sweat.  And not just that "hey, I just half-assed it on the treadmill" kind of sweat.  More like, "I didn't know that body part even knew had to produce sweat" kind of sweat.

• Come early.  You're going to need to get gloves and get your hands wrapped.  Plus, you'll want to either A) Find a heavy bag near where the instructor shows combinations or B) Find a heavy bag in a corner so that you can make a futile attempt to hide.

• Bring water.  I go through a whole bottle and a half during the class.  Sweat makes you wish you were a camel.

• Don't be scared.  If I can do it, you can do it.  Only, you won't look like you're about to die. 

• Take a friend.  She'll hold you're hair while you are throwing up.  You don't really need to do this (by any means) but, she'll tell you that your side kicks are money, even if you look like an idiot.  See, here's my friend, Meghan, who tells me I'm doing awesome, even when I'm looking a little green. 

  

• Stash a snack in your car.  I have a decently long car ride back home, and if I didn't bring a banana to calm the shakes, I think I would have already crashed the car into the neighboring pizza store.

• It's okay to talk to your neighbor.  Even if they can't tell you whether the combo is jab-jab-hook or jab-hook-jab, they can at least share that knowing "wow, this is the best/hardest workout ever" look with you.

• Thank your instructor.  It's a nice thing to do, so just do it.  (Plus, maybe if you do, you won't get called out on skipping that last sit up.  But don't count on it.)

Now, go take a class.  Did I miss anything?  Report back to me and let me know what you thought.  Ask any questions you may have in the comments below - or let me know when you want to meet up, so that we can sweat together.  

. . . Mandy


Disclosure: As a participant of #Fitbloggin' 10, I was offered (by LA Boxing) three months free membership, free personal training, and merchandise - all in exchange for blogging my *honest* opinions once a week.

I'd rather vlog, LA Boxing update

I'm doing my update via vlog today.  Check out Jen's blog that I mentioned: Jen in Real Life.  I'd love to hear from you if you have any healthy living updates, tools, or gripes. 

Disclosure: As a participant of #Fitbloggin' 10, I was offered (by LA Boxing) three months free membership, free personal training, and merchandise - all in exchange for blogging my *honest* opinions once a week.

I'd rather get schooled, er, trained

I have to admit, the first time I walked into LA Boxing for a personal training session I was nervous.  Honestly, I was so scared my stomach was doing back flips.

I'd never really had a personal training session before, so I did my homework. I learned I was going to be partnered up with Donte Brown, so I looked him up on the local LA Boxing website.  The site said he had been training for over a decade, had been a trained boxer for even longer, and that he was one of their best.  And then, there was his photo that said, "mmm-hmm, I know you may think you're gonna live through this, but I'm gonna try my best to show you otherwise make you have a workout the likes of which you've never seen before."

What, you don't get that from the photo?  Well, I guess it reads more "I'm bad ass" than "I'm gonna kill you," but I was already freaked, so I took it there.  Oops.

Turns out, in real life, he is all smiles.  Immediately my freak-out level went from a 9 to a low 5 when I met him.  (If I were a sane, mildly healthy person, it would have been lower, but I'm not.)  I promptly told him how scared I was and he said not to worry.  I didn't believe him, but I figured the chances of me actually dying that day were slim, so I gave it a go.

First up,  I ran up and down four flights of stairs for what seemed like eternity, but was probably only 4 or 5 minutes.  I got a little light headed, but still felt like I'd live - at least for a few more rounds.  Then, I went through a few more tests - jumping jacks, squats and lunges, and more running while punching with dumbbells.  I have no idea how I made it through all that. (I get winded just climbing up my own steps with a load of laundry, people.)  But I did, and he was there, cheering me on the whole time.

Not all of the sessions have been the same as that one, but one thing that is consistent is teaching.  Donte is determined to turn the gym into a world-class boxing gym, so he not only makes you sweat, he teaches you something.  I'm pretty sure I have an ugly boxing technique, but at least I'm learning.  We do combo's and drills in the ring, on the heavy bag, at the speed bag and at the double end bag.  Thankfully, he knows that when I'm getting too dumb to do know my jab's from crosses - or when I'm turning green - that I've pushed myself to the limit.

He has listened to me during class and knows what is going to motivate me.  He knows I'm determined to not be one of the last walkers back to camp on my next Susan G. Komen 3-day for a Cure walk, unlike previous years.  So he urges me to run a little longer.  He knows I miss the buff shoulders I used to have in high school, so he makes me do punches a little higher.  He knows I want to slim down, so he makes me work hard for the whole. entire. hour.

And even when I think I'm feeling sick, I still end up amazing myself that I can run laps around the gym while carrying a 16 pound sledge hammer.  (I took a picture as proof - those are my feet at the top of the picture.  I couldn't hold the hammer anymore or even take the picture myself because my muscles were shaking. Donte gets the credit!)

In summary:  Personal Training + LA Boxing + Donte = GOOD.



Disclosure: As a participant of #Fitbloggin' 10, I was offered (by LA Boxing) three months free membership, free personal training, and merchandise - all in exchange for blogging my *honest* opinions once a week.

I'd rather take a kick butt workout class

I was talking to my Dad this weekend, and he asked me what I did at LA Boxing.  It made me realize most of you probably have no idea what goes on in there. So this week, I'm going to do one post outlining the classes, and one post outlining what my personal training session looks like.

First up - the classes.  I've only personally taken the kickboxing and boxing classes but they also have abdominal work classes, martial arts classes, and MMA classes.  I've got to admit that I'm kind of nervous to do the other classes, as the boxing and kickboxing are more than sufficient in kicking my butt.

If sufficient means: walk away shaking, having used every single muscle in your body, and drenched in sweat.

The classroom isn't your typical lay out.  First, there is a big metal rig set up in the room, from which, 25 or so heavy bags hang.  There is no "front" of the room, as the instructor walks around a lot.  He may come back to one bag to show you the next combination, but trust me, there is no "hiding." (I know this because I "may" have been hoping to go unnoticed.  I "may" have been hoping to wuss out a little and take it easy.  I "may" have figured out that both those things would never happen.)  The instructor also comes around with pads and practices one-on-one during the session as well.

If you are a first timer, you need to get to class early to get your hands wrapped and get gloved up.  Then once class begins, the instructor pumps up the music, and you begin an hour-long super intense workout.  (And yes, it is intense for me, but it is also intense for everyone else in the class.  I've seen strapping young guys covered in sweat, panting, looking like they may pass out.  It's not just me.)

You'll work your bag with different combinations, depending what class you take.  But this isn't just an upper body workout.  Be prepared to drop on the ground and do push-ups, sit-ups, and various other forms of torture exercises.  You might end up shadow boxing, jumping rope, or even running laps through the bags.  I have found that the instructors have some kind of sixth sense and know when a person is pushing themselves enough or not.  If you are slacking, you'll hear about it.  (In the most caring, "get your ass in gear," "don't waste your time," way possible.)  And when it's all over, you'll get a chance to stretch and marvel in the fact that even though you are covered in sweat, you somehow did not melt into a puddle.

You will be tired.

You may be a little out of it.

But you will feel damn proud that you lived to tell the tale.

I live to tell the tale.

PS - I'm giving away an awesome Thrive natural performance shirt that would be perfect for any LA Boxing workout, as it is wicking, anti-odor, and really comfortable.  Check it out here!

Disclosure: As a participant of #Fitbloggin' 10, I was offered (by LA Boxing) three months free membership, free personal training, and merchandise - all in exchange for blogging my *honest* opinions once a week.

I'd rather make a habit.

Alrighty, time for a check in on the scale and on the Sisterhood of the Shrinking Jeans 21 days challenge.

I'm down just a bit from last Wednesday (which I still think was a freak off-number day), but from last Monday I'm down by 2.8 pounds!  I'm psyched about this - mostly because I know I've also gained muscle weight as well.  How could I not, when my buddy Donte (from LA Boxing) has been making me run while punching free weights or while carrying a 16 pound sledgehammer?!!  I really have to take my measurements and take a picture, though, because I think that will really tell the tale much better than the scale will.  (Oh, and also?  I fit into a pair of shorts I haven't worn in ages.  Hells yeah!)

Now about the challenge:

Working out: check.  I've been kicking arse.  Seriously.  I've been walking, yoga-ing, and boxing like a champ.  Plus - at my personal training sessions I've had to run.  This might be nothing of significance for most of you (it's just a minute or two of jogging at a time) but before this - I would only run from a fire.  Maybe.  So the fact that I'm able to run is not only incredible, it's down right shocking. 

Eating vegetarian: check.  It hasn't been very hard, either.  I love seafood (that really helps) and I've tried out a few new recipes with soy protein crumbles.  My kids are even digging on it!

Drinking water: check, mostly.  I have been filling up my water bottle often, and chugging away.  Problem is, I think (judging by this water calculator) that I should be drinking 85-105 ounces of water a day, and ... um ... I so don't.  So I still have to keep adding more fill-ups.

Multivitamin:  not so much.  Well, I did manage to take it 3 times.  The results were not favorable, to say the least.  I think I may have to resort to Flinstone's chewables, because like a child, the big-girl vitamins made my twummy hwurt.

Seven days down, 14 more to go.  I'm feeling good - how about you?

I'd rather kick it up

It's time to fess up.  I've been slacking off on this weight-loosing gig.  More than slacking, really - more like going backward.

It mostly started when I found out my scale was lying to me, and it just kept going downhill from there.  I guess there are a lot of excuses, but none of them are any good.  I've been stuck in a "I couldn't care less" crazy spiral, and I want out.

Alarms started ringing the last time I stepped on my (new) scale.  Due to the huge error in the old scale, and the total lack of all things healthy, I've crept back up over 200 pounds.  In truth *gulp* I weighed in at 208 pounds.  Ugh, that sucks to write, but it's the truth.

UGH.

Thankfully, when I was at Fitbloggin, I was given a great opportunity to team up with LA Boxing.  These guys are letting me join their gym for 3 months and hooking me up with weekly personal training sessions as well.  They even gave me a some goodies to get me going - including gloves and wraps.

The gloves have already seen action (aside from my family walloping up on each other) at the local LA Boxing gym, here in Rockville, Maryland.  I had a personal training session Wednesday, and yesterday my friend was sweet enough to join me for a kickboxing class.  Both visits helped me understand why they call it a 1000-calorie workout.  It was intense - I really put my body to work, sweat like crazy, and woke up super sore.

Let me clarify --
By "sweat" I mean:  I exuded rivers of perspiration from the top of my head all the way to the bottom of my feet.
By "sore" I mean:  Each time I moved my limbs, I was reminded how hard I worked, mostly followed by an "owwwwww."
By "put my body to work" I mean:  I found muscles I didn't know existed, pushed myself farther than I thought possible, and opened up my lungs more than I ever have before.

And this is just the beginning.

This is shaping up to be my weekly regiment, for the next 3 months:

Monday - possible rest day, but more likely a walking day
Tuesdays - Yoga (at my yoga studio)
Wednesdays - Personal Training at LA Boxing with Donte (more on him to come)
Thursdays - Boxing class at LA Boxing
Fridays - training walks for my third Susan G. Komen 3-day for the Cure.
Saturday - another (longer) training walk
Sunday - Kickboxing at LA Boxing

Do you think that this is do-able?  Is it crazy?  Will I be able to get back to the 180's by June - maybe even back into the legwarmers for BlogHer in August?  Will I get strong enough to hold a downward dog for more than 10 seconds?  Do you think I will survive?

What do you think?



Disclosure: As a participant of #Fitbloggin', I was offered (by LA Boxing) three months free membership, free personal training, and merchandise - all in exchange for blogging my *honest* opinions once a week.