I’m on day nine of my ten day working stretch. My brain is on autopilot and I’m surviving on coffee and under eye concealer. My shoulder aches and in my profession that is as good as a death sentence. People in my field don’t recover from shoulder injuries. Do I think I need physical therapy? No. Not yet. But the aching tells me I’m working too much, too hard, and over doing it. If I don’t knock this off I’m going to end up out of commission and that doesn’t help my bank account.
I’m also on day seven of thirty of my shredding. That doesn’t sound as good as 9/10. I’ve done it every single day, even when I really, really, really didn’t want to. I started doing it in the morning but there were a couple days that I had to be up for work at 4:00am even if I didn’t do the work out. I set the alarm even earlier to get the work out in too. Yeah, that happened. I ended up doing it in the evening a couple times. Once I was going to skip it. I was completely wiped out, it was 11:30pm, getting up at 4:00am and I just couldn’t fathom being able to grip the weights. The Captain wouldn’t let me come to bed without doing it. “You’ll thank me later.” He’s right, I really didn’t want to miss a day but when Jillian was telling me to “punch through the pain” I was punching him in the face. I probably got a better workout.
I’ve been doing great on my diet, except for Sunday which was my birthday dinner. My brother smoked salmon (A.Mazing.) My dad made baked potatoes, salad, broiled asparagus (which sounds healthy until you smother it in olive oil and parmesan), grilled zucchini (again, healthy until you soak it in garlic butter), and more. I ate so much food. The Captain even made a cheesecake from scratch so I HAD to eat it.
Do my pants fit? No. Not even close
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