"Jillian Michaels wouldn't eat prime rib."

So says my coworker to me as I scarf the meal a manager bought me for helping the restaurant nearly sell out of the delicious carnivorous concoction (making it so our kitchen manager would not pitch a fit the next morning for having too much left over).

I thought, why wouldn't she eat prime rib?

I mean, that girl has got to burn the calories to justify it. Lord knows I do, between doing her workouts, running, spinning, and whatever other activity sparks my interest from one week to the next. Oh yeah, and serving, which is estimated at 400kcal/hour, or something like that. The trick is not to stop and eat the fries every time you pass by the expo.

My coworker's comment has me thinking, though, about practicing what I preach and being what I eat. I certainly don't want to LOOK like a regular to the meat n' potatoes counter at the buffet. And I CAN truthfully say that a basket of strawberries, a bunch of bananas, and whatever other fruits we have on hand barely last 3 days between the daughter and me. I love me some roasted asparagus, I can cook fish well enough to include that on the menu at home, and I tend to avoid buying crap (no Oreos, potato chips, or frozen chicken tenders here).

As I move forward with my training in the field of health and fitness, I do realize, however, that I have to be more mindful of these things. I certainly can't tell clients or students to do as I say and not as I do. Because the truth of the matter is, I AM human, I DO eat fries. So I'm a big fan of the 90/10 rule: Eat as well as you can, 90% of the time. Or, of the 10 or so times you eat over the course of two days - counting each meal and two snacks per day - one of those can be whatever you want so long as the rest are balanced.

And just so you know, I did order asparagus with my prime rib!

Burgers, boogers and bikes.

Burgers

Where I work is kinda pricy. It's downtown Atlanta and - big shocker - we make our food in house. Said priciness is noted on a menu posted outside our front door. So when people come in and are all confused by the tiny numbers next to each menu *item, I can tell that things are off to a **fantastic start.

*If I were as obnoxious and blunt as some of the people I have the pleasure of waiting on can be, the conversation would go something like this:

"What are all these numbers? Why do some things have 2 different numbers??"

"Those are our prices. Some items have a different price for the beef and the bison."

"Oh. I thought they were something else."

"Like what? What else could a number next to a menu item mean?" 

"Well, that means this burger is FIFTEEN dollars???"

"Dorothy, you're not in McDonald's anymore."

**Sarcasm. By "fantastic start," I mean, "guaranteed 5% tip."

Boogers

Colds suck. Especially seeing your little all gooped up and not able to breathe. Kids are resilient, though, and somehow bounce back a million times faster than their sissy parents. Case in point: Me. She's having me chase her down at Trader Joe's to keep her from knocking over cases of wine with her mini shopping cart, and I'm sore from head to toe because this cold has caused my workouts to take a greater toll on me. Not the best week to try to increase the frequency of my resistance and core workouts. It still hurts to laugh or cough. She's still singing along to Curious George, and I'm slouching on the sofa because it feels like I've been punched in the face.

Bikes (and feet, and cardio studios)

I powered through the cold because I still felt OK enough to get in some decent workouts. I'm really working on stepping up my game to increase strength and speed, but I need to get back to taking other instructors' classes as much as I'm in the gym teaching my own. This was a point the person instructing a seminar I attended made; something I'd forgotten about since jumping up to the front of the room to become the leader. I think back to Lisl and Nicole, two powerfully inspirational and influential women at the gym I belonged to in South Carolina, and how much I looked to them to find my own drive to dig deeper and push harder. I also thought about how exciting it was when they'd tag-team-teach, or show up to take each other's classes. While I'm looking for ways to keep people coming to my class, I need to go to the other classes they may be attending and work out with them, too. Also, I forgot how nice it is to not have to think about anything and to let someone ELSE do all the talking!

Things I've been doing while not blogging...

*Making 5-minute attempts to catch up on everyone else's blogs, especially this amazing woman's. You should give it a read. I suggest starting HERE and reading the next few posts that follow. In a funk? Not sure you want to work out? Let this blog cure you of your don't-wanna-go's.

*Making feeble attempts to keep up with my own running between work, spin classes, and playing house. I've got this 10K on July 4th to focus on/worry about. I can run 6 miles in my sleep, but I want - or wanted - to work on my speed and, well, I just don't know if that 45-minute mark is so feasible. Of course, there's the whole crowd thing, too. I've NEVER run around this many people before. Over 50,000 last year. Multiple, multiple start waves. Maybe I can consider it preparation for if I ever want to run Chicago or Boston.

*Work. I mentioned work, right? Still 5 shifts most weeks, which is great and all (especially in "today's economy"... aren't you sick of people saying that?), except for those pesky double shifts that occupy an entire Saturday yet for some reason, are so slow I'm barely waiting on one table an hour. And because it's so hot out, no one really wants to eat anyway, so they're all splitting salads and sharing lemonades. Ugh. The best part is before noon, when I see people running and cycling by before downtown traffic gets heavy. It's like they're going by on purpose, just to rub it in that they're out there, feeling the breeze (even if it IS an 85-degree breeze) and breaking a sweat, whereas my perspiration only comes from having a white oxford shirt buttoned up to my neck.

*Spinning. Each week is different, but I think I'm getting some regulars. Still working on getting people to respond to my attempts to light a fire under their asses to push a little harder and sweat a little more, but a few of those wheels start spinning a little faster when I get loud. I'm just trying to find that line between motivation and annoyance and make sure I don't cross it while also making sure that people are really getting a workout. I'm not gonna lie, it's a little disheartening when I look up and see people pushing at the same cadence for 50 minutes, without so much as a flicker of determination in their faces. I'll be attending an indoor cycling training seminar this months, which I hope will provide me with some new motivation tactics in addition to new exercises and training tools.

*Watching the toddler grow. 2 months until 2. TWO. Running, climbing, jumping in the pool with floaties on, starting to play pretend, obsessed with Curious George and Little Einsteins, highly opinionated; all things that I find absolutely adorable and awe-inspiring, as I watch this little person blossom before my eyes, yet all things that remind me all too clearly just how fast those baby days go by.

*Bargaining with the Hubs about a #2. Not now, not a year from now. Maybe 2 years from now, when big sister is off to preschool and hardly in need of all the attention and affections I'm still itching to bestow upon her. I'm just waiting for her dad to be on the same page. He's convinced we don't need another, and even more certain he doesn't want one more. I'm just gonna sit tight and wait for him to change his mind. I have a feeling it will be the first time he tries to move in for a hug, and she squirms away, rolling her eyes, saying, "Puhleeze, Dad. I'm pah-laying. Go. Away." Maybe then.

For now, I'm sure he doesn't need to worry about me springing another one on him. If I can't even find the time to chronicle my semi-interesting thoughts on a regular basis, I know I'm not ready to juggle multiple children on top of everything else.