Knowing When to Say ‘When’

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So, I’ll admit that I have obnoxiously high standards for myself (and sometimes those around me, but alas, that is another blog entirely). Sometimes I push myself too hard and expect too much. This past week seems to have been a prime example of such.

I felt like I was in a funk all week. I was more tired and lethargic than normal and simply not motivated at all. My body was boycotting me with aches and pains and I didn’t have any interest in exercising. I wasn’t hungry for anything (other than sweets) and I just felt terrible.

I was doing phone-battle with my previous training company on the amount of money I was owed after canceling my contract. I had yet another trainer leave (that makes five, for those of you counting) and was fed up. The run-around with bad customer service personnel is NOT my idea of time well-spent. It was finals week and I had multiple projects looming. I was still eating a low-carb diet and not happy about it. I was in a funk.

This all culminated with a visit to my old trainer on Thursday, Trainer Tim. Some of you may remember him from “Girls in belly shirts and hot pants who glisten.” I started seeing him in May and have seen him off and on since he left the gym he worked at previously. Last week I went back to seeing him full time.

Now, you may also remember I commented on Trainer Tim’s no-horseplay philosophy and running joke that that I ought not to land on anything when I pass out. That joke becomes less funny when it actually happens. Yes folks, this non-glistening girl managed to achieve her worst fear after last week’s workout--- both the passing out AND the throwing up (a direct result of fainting apparently). Now I have officially surpassed being simply the girl with the butt-sweat ring; I am now the girl who faints post-workout.

Besides being considerably mortified, I am fine. They woke me up, fed me a banana and Gatorade, and thoroughly scolded me for not eating breakfast or saying ‘when.’ The combination of less carbs, subtle dehydration, and not eating breakfast made for a troublesome trio and left me in that embarrassing spot.

Needless to say, at the advice of my trainer and for the retention of my sanity, low-carb is out. It is exchanged henceforth for harder workouts and a more balanced diet. I’m clearly not complaining, considering low-carb wasn’t exactly my favorite diet-plan anyway (nor was it making me any more pleasant a person).

I am endlessly grateful to Trainer Tim for checking in on my and preventing a head injury by responding quickly, and I have promised myself that I will do better about saying ‘when’ --in both the good and the bad. That means not eating the entire box of Christmas cookies simply because someone gave it to me, and not pushing myself beyond what I’m capable of in the gym as well.

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