Ewww... ill...
So as long as I sit perfectly still on the couch, I can almost convince myself I'm not sick. But then I try to move around, or earlier, actually go to the grocery store, and that ends badly. I had to go to the grocery. I had no soup, no juice, no nothing. All I had were the last foods I ate before I got sick, and I'll end up never eating those again. (The last time I got sick like this was after eating at Ramseys restaurant, and I couldn't even walk by for a year.) But oh my goodness was I dizzy by the time I got home today.
I really don't want to eat anything. The very thought of food makes my stomach cramp, but all I managed to consume yesterday was one protein shake, and that was before I got ill, so that made for all of 250 calories yesterday at most. I bought soup and cake at Doll's, things to tempt me into eating even if I don't want them, but we'll see how far I actually get.
I bought low-acid orange juice, and it does taste vaguely wrong, but I figured give my stomach a fighting chance not to react badly to something. I don't feel any *worse* after drinking it anyway. And soon I will have some matzah ball soup, and that will hopefully stay down.
I HATE being sick. I'm never sick, and when I am, it just confuses me. And I'm all irritated because I just got a new exercise routine, and I want to be in the gym, not hiding on my couch drifting in and out of consciousness. It astounds me when we're sick, our capacity for sleep. Out of the last 24 hours, I bet I spent at least 15 passed out, and I'm sure I'll go back to sleep after I've eaten something. (Provided I'm not vomiting. Here's hoping for not vomiting.)
I still cannot do a pull-up. But I'm going to be able to do one in six weeks, supposedly. If I can get my weight down another ten pounds it might be a bit easier. My weight is at least beginning to drop again, after I was permanently plateaued at 180. 177, by the stupid special scale, and I can deal with that. Of course, I got on after running 3.6 miles, which is cheating (you really do lose weight in sweat), but that's okay. My body fat percentage is still far higher than it's supposed to be, but that's another thing to worry about in six weeks.
Newest obnoxious thing to do: Take a 50lb barbell, place it across the shoulders. Step on to the bosu (a rubber half-sphere), and squat. 3 sets of fifteen. More weight to come.
I suppose I ought to be grateful that there are less balance exercises now, but really, they've just been replaced by things that are purely painful. Oh well, I knew I would have to step up one of these days.
Sadly, I have come to the conclusion that Ryan thinks of me rather as a well-trained and valued pet. While we were training yesterday, we ran into Trendy, my HMR nutrition specialist. And Ryan was all excited and wanting to boast about my fat percentages and I'm just like... Oh my god, let me quietly die. I think perhaps he gets irritated with my lack of enthusiasm and need to downplay what we're doing. With Trendy, he can do the whole "proud parent" routine.
Note: latest thing about the trainer I won't be able to forget- he speaks french better than me. Guys who run me into the ground and tell me what to do in a foreign language are hot.
And he's gone home for three whole days which means I am left alone. With being sick and him being away I'm going to be a miserable wreck this weekend. Ah well, all things are temporary.
Good god, the weather is awful and it looks like armaggedon out there. I'm going to stop blogging, since it's obvious i never had anything to say, and go back to bed.
I really don't want to eat anything. The very thought of food makes my stomach cramp, but all I managed to consume yesterday was one protein shake, and that was before I got ill, so that made for all of 250 calories yesterday at most. I bought soup and cake at Doll's, things to tempt me into eating even if I don't want them, but we'll see how far I actually get.
I bought low-acid orange juice, and it does taste vaguely wrong, but I figured give my stomach a fighting chance not to react badly to something. I don't feel any *worse* after drinking it anyway. And soon I will have some matzah ball soup, and that will hopefully stay down.
I HATE being sick. I'm never sick, and when I am, it just confuses me. And I'm all irritated because I just got a new exercise routine, and I want to be in the gym, not hiding on my couch drifting in and out of consciousness. It astounds me when we're sick, our capacity for sleep. Out of the last 24 hours, I bet I spent at least 15 passed out, and I'm sure I'll go back to sleep after I've eaten something. (Provided I'm not vomiting. Here's hoping for not vomiting.)
I still cannot do a pull-up. But I'm going to be able to do one in six weeks, supposedly. If I can get my weight down another ten pounds it might be a bit easier. My weight is at least beginning to drop again, after I was permanently plateaued at 180. 177, by the stupid special scale, and I can deal with that. Of course, I got on after running 3.6 miles, which is cheating (you really do lose weight in sweat), but that's okay. My body fat percentage is still far higher than it's supposed to be, but that's another thing to worry about in six weeks.
Newest obnoxious thing to do: Take a 50lb barbell, place it across the shoulders. Step on to the bosu (a rubber half-sphere), and squat. 3 sets of fifteen. More weight to come.
I suppose I ought to be grateful that there are less balance exercises now, but really, they've just been replaced by things that are purely painful. Oh well, I knew I would have to step up one of these days.
Sadly, I have come to the conclusion that Ryan thinks of me rather as a well-trained and valued pet. While we were training yesterday, we ran into Trendy, my HMR nutrition specialist. And Ryan was all excited and wanting to boast about my fat percentages and I'm just like... Oh my god, let me quietly die. I think perhaps he gets irritated with my lack of enthusiasm and need to downplay what we're doing. With Trendy, he can do the whole "proud parent" routine.
Note: latest thing about the trainer I won't be able to forget- he speaks french better than me. Guys who run me into the ground and tell me what to do in a foreign language are hot.
And he's gone home for three whole days which means I am left alone. With being sick and him being away I'm going to be a miserable wreck this weekend. Ah well, all things are temporary.
Good god, the weather is awful and it looks like armaggedon out there. I'm going to stop blogging, since it's obvious i never had anything to say, and go back to bed.