Goodbye. #burritobeat2015 Days 68 & 69

Hello Warm Weather.

Hello Pavement.

Hello Evening Walks.

Goodbye Fat.

The End.

#burritobeat2015 Day 48

20 by 29.......

My new motto when I go for that dessert at the work potluck or try to raid the pantry at 3 am when Bobbie Burrito thinks it's a completely appropriate time to be awake. My goal is a 20 lb weight loss by the time I turn 29 on May 9th. Totally reasonable but not without effort and motivation. 20 by 29. The countdown is on.

#1 Most Awesome Thing About Being An Exercise Specialist

Wearing elastic waist sweatpants to work EVERY DAY in the winter

• No shaving legs
• No stress over "that time of the month" bloat
• No concern for holiday eating habits 

Every day I wake up about as happy as a tornado in a trailer park.

(and I dress like I live there)

Playing Catch Up

An update on the summer fun happenings at Casa de Bob:

I am a musical theatre nerd - a trait I inherited from my mother. After she enrolled me in tap dance lessons at the age of three, I have been obsessed with all things Bob Fosse and Broadway. Mama Dirt and I enjoyed a girls' day out at the Fox Theatre in St. Louis. I haven't had the opportunity of venturing to many theatres in my short life time, but I must say the Fox is hands down the most beautiful stage I have witnessed. Behold the beauty.  The pictures seriously don't even do it justice.

The day started with a stress free ride to the big city courtesy of Amtrak. We then headed to the famous Fox for a pre-show buffet complete with a dessert table. They were more than prepared for my arrival - the dessert buffet was stocked with churros. Ironic? I think not. We then headed to our mezzanine seats where Mama Dirt and I comfortably sat for almost three hours completely captivated by singing, dancing, and the Broadway nautical flair of "Anything Goes"

Our amateur review - Spectacular singing, impressive acting, and mediocre dancing (we are allowed to be a little critical after spending 20+ years at the Susan Basalay School of Dance) Overall rating? 4 stars - great experience with my favorite musical nerd buddy - my mama.

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Daisy Duke and yours truly are officially in business. I will expand on the state of our self-owned company in a later blog, but seeing as marketing is a must-have in the cut-throat business of event planning, I must make a plug. Please feel free to check out our website!

www.feverpitchevents.blogspot.com

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Once again, the brave Bob siblings and a few tagalongs attempted and successfully completed the Warrior Dash. A few bruised knees, a few scuffed shins, and a slightly jammed finger or two all lead to the following pictures. Man I love my family!

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Sergeant Bob and I have reserved a spot on the Bootleg Canyon ziplining tour during our Vegas vacation next month. I am 100% positive that I am more excited about this venture as I will be able to check another "first" off of my Summer 2013 bucket list. The countdown has started.
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STAY TUNED FOR MORE CASA DE BOB SUMMER FUN UPDATES!

I Am Not An Athlete

Friends, relatives, and
acquaintances that think you know me better than you really do:

My answer is NO

No.
I do not want to spend my summer weekends sweating my ass off.

No.
I do not want to spend countless hours training for meaningless athletic events.

No.
I do not want to have to invest in super expensive jug-jiggling reduction sports bras.

No.
I will not join you for a 10 mile "fun" run.
I don't even know what that means. Is there beer involved?

No.
I do not spend my free time researching summer community road races.

Yes. I finished a marathon.
Once.
It was a bucket list item.
A time in my life of mental breakdown.
I blacked out.
I do not remember that person.

I AM NOT AN ATHLETE!

SO STOP ASKING ME TO FILL MY SUMMER WEEKENDS
(which would otherwise be spent laying in a lounge chair, tanning, sipping on a Margarita, Corona, glass of Sangria, or any other kind of stereotypical Mexican alcoholic beverage)
WITH YOUR NONSENSE EVENTS REQUIRING ME TO RUN, JUMP, SWIM, BIKE, OR EVEN WALK REALLY REALLY FAST.

IN CONCLUSION: I am officially signed up for 6 summer road/trail races and the number keeps growing in size. What is wrong with me? Why do I torture my body with shortness of breath, chest pain, skin chafing, and the inability to squat down on a toilet for a good 3 days straight? People ask me if I think it's fun. The answer is no. I really don't enjoy it. There is some odd phenomenon that keeps pointing my mouse to that little "REGISTER" button. My weekends of summer laziness are disappearing one click at a time.

If I asked you to participate in some ridiculous run/obstacle course with me this spring/summer, I apologize. Like I said before....I am prone to blackouts. The lack of a filter between my brain and mouth has been creating problems in my life for years. This is no exception. However, know that for some really strange reason, I am secretly excited about Sweatapalooza: Summer 2012. To all those who have recently clicked on that "registration" button of doom under my guidance, THANK YOU for your lack of will power and your inability to tell me no. We will make it through, one blister at a time.

And to all those still texting/calling/e-mailing requests to participate in anything that will require apparel in the form of tennis shoes and/or a super expensive jug-jiggling reduction sports bra:

MY ANSWER IS NO.
Maybe.

If you want to join the kinda-sorta-not-so-much fun, check out these events!

CREIDE 5K - ONLY FOOLS RUN AT MIDNIGHT

CINCO DE MILER

FAT ASS 5K

PAIR UP FOR HEALTH

WARRIOR DASH

RAIDER CLASSIC

DIRTY GIRL RUN

URBANATHLON

11 Days?

------------------------------------------->

Really?

That little counter over there is down to 11 days?

Let's be honest..........

This ass ain't fittin' in no skinny jeans in 11 days.

That's right, Mama Dirt.

I said ass.

Because once a butt becomes so large in size,
it becomes an ass.

I won't tell you what the next step is
as I'm afraid the language is too vulgar.

On a good note~

My new job entails LOTS of exercise,
a better atmosphere for healthy eating,
and true motivation for kicking it in high gear.

I exercise approximately 3 1/2 hours a day.
I eat approximately 7 hours a day.

I think a balance issue is the source of my ass.

So, peeps, here is my plea for an extension on my skinny jean goal.

Just one more month?!

Gracias.

Commit To Get Fit!

On October 9th, I slowly jogged 26.2 miles (with a minor pit stop in the medical tent) and turned into a rock star when I crossed the finish line of my very first marathon crossing a HUGE line through a bucket list item I seriously thought I would never really succeed in completing. One would think I'm a super fit, lean, mean, running machine, right?!

WRONG!!!

Since the day I crossed that finish line, I have exercised approximately 0 days. Nada. Zilch. A Goose Egg.

I still use the excuse that I am STILL treating puss-filled blisters on the bottom of my foot from that dreadful day (which is totally true and totally disgusting), but just as the potential for me pursuing a career as a foot model is slowly slipping away so is the timeline for that excuse.

Pretty soon people are gonna ask my why I haven't engaged in ANY predetermined physical activity in over a month, and I will have to respond with - "Because I am a fat, lazy, slob with no desire to look presentable to the general population ever again!" While parts of this statement might be true, I can't have a career within the exercise science field while individually contributing to the obesity epidemic myself! I will have to resort to training people on how to loosen the seams in their shirts and insert elastic waistbands into dress pants rather than training to lose weight and build endurance.

Here's the story that started this all:

(I'm not going to tell you when or where this happened and who was in attendance because I am still slightly (greatly) embarrassed by said story.)

Ask any young girl about fads in fashion and many will respond with phrases such as "skinny jeans" and jeggings". For those of you like me who live in sweatpants and t-shirts, the word jeggings sounded like a made-up foreign language. Therefore, I turned to google for some insight.

Thank you, world wide web, for always being there for me when I need you. As a visual learner, I finally grasped the concept of this trend. The skinny, pretty, girls that wear their jeans/jeggings tucked into boots in the winter strutting down the sidewalk?! Yeah....I wanna be one of them.

So.....I ventured out with "the cool kids" to do some shopping in an effort to spruce up my wardrobe. After some convincing, I entered a dressing room with jeggings in hand to prove that I, too, can be one of the cool kids. I'm sure you can guess where this story is going. One leg after another I squeezed into the torture device with sounds similar to a hog in heat. There was quite a bit of grunting, huffing, and puffing that lead the poor individual in the dressing room next to mine to inquire if "I was ok in there?" Ever seen the documentaries on a sausage factory? The part where the pile of unknown meat gets shoved into the casing? Well I have. In the mirror that day at the mall.

I was finally able to praise myself when the jeggings made it up to the muffin top and the fat roll located around/near my naval spilled over the top. I reluctantly made the decision to not purchase the ridiculously dreadful attire and decided to take them off for return to the rack. However, this did not go as planned. The jeggings WOULD NOT peel away from my cottage cheese thighs. I scream to "the cool kids" for assistance...."HELP! I'm Seriously Stuck In These Things!" Do you think they help? NO! Do you think they pee their pants in laughter?! YES! Applications for new "cool kid friends" are currently being accepted.

This is where the plot thickens.

Do I

A: Wear them out of the store pretending it was my intent to purchase a new outfit for the day, anyway?

B: put my NORMAL PEOPLE jeans over the top of them, walk out of the store, and simply tell the clerk I need to test drive them before making a purchase?

C: Ask the poor, innocent, dressing room attendant for advice in how to remove my sausage legs from the torture device? This has to have happened before, right?!

or D: None of the above. Sulk in the dressing room for 15 minutes before becoming so infuriated that rage takes over my body and rips the jeggings from my body.

Answer: D

Note: I laugh at this story now, but it truly was one of the most traumatizing moments of my life.

And with all the information you just received, you are asking:

Big Boca Bob.....what are you going to do about all of this?

Well, my readers, I am devoting the next 90 days of my life to Tony Horton.

The man who created what I am only guessing will be "90 Days of H, E, Double Hockey Sticks" Officer Bob purchased p90x several months ago, told me it was quote "stupid" and never participated in the program. HOWEVER, after living through my "Jeggings Saga" I am bound and determined to see the end of this thing. And what is the reason I'm publicly posting this on my blog? Because this means, I CAN NOT FAIL. You have all been nominated as members of my accountability group.

The before pictures have been taken (under the guidance of Tony, of course). Yikes. These pictures are under lock and key unless something DRAMATIC happens over the course of the next 90 days. Today starts Day 1. In 90 days, if Tony does his job, I am going to confidently strut into that mall and purchase my very first pair of skinny jeans (eff the jeggings.....I'm pretty sure I will NEVER be ready for those).

Now, I extend this challenge to you. Let's spend the next 90 days together.

Who's with me?!

A Casa de Bob Thanksgiving Adventure

DAY 1

Thursday, November 25th 2010 (Thanksgiving Day)
Start Time - 8:30am

The alarm buzzed (actually sang - I wake up every morning to the voice of Marc Cohn - *sigh*) , and I jumped from my bed in anticipation of consuming the most delicious meal of 2010. I drooled at the thought of delectable green been casserole and creamy, thick, mashed potatoes. And then.......reality set in. For today, I have decided to take BOTH Gilbert and Reggie on a road trip to Great Grandma and Grandpa's house. That would be one human (me), one puppy (Reggie), and one horse (Gilbert) all in my small, but sporty Dodge Avenger for exactly 1 1/2 hours without stopping for a potty break or a vomit break as Gilbert has been cursed with an unfortunate case of doggy car sickness.

After preparing myself for the day, I attempted to wake Officer Bob from his sleep coma not once, not twice, not thrice, but FOUR TIMES!!!! I begged and pleaded with him to help me prepare the kids for the car ride. A crate needed to be torn down and loaded, food prepared and packed, favorite toys, blankies, and bones stuffed in the diaper bag, and he REFUSED to move from the warmth of the comforter. I really do hope this isn't a sign for the future.

Officer Bob conveniently woke up in enough time to kiss his girlfriend and children goodbye, and we headed out the door. Reggie was a great front seat passenger............

for all of 30 seconds before deciding jumping back and forth from the driver's lap to the window was incredibly entertaining. (NOT for the driver!)

Gilbert, trying to refrain from tossing his cookies all over my backseat, responded by offering dirty looks at his younger brother's behavior.

Eventually the two settled down, and I was able to drive peacefully for the last five minutes of the road trip.


Thanks to Grandma and Grandpa for serving as fabulous Thanksgiving hosts. Dinner (and dessert) was delicious! At this time, I would also like to thank God for the many gifts he has blessed me with over the course of 2010. I couldn't ask for a better support system in my grandparents, parents, and especially siblings. I wouldn't trade you for the world.

Following the meal, it was time for the annual tradition of Family Game Time. Games chosen for 2010 included Cash Cab and Quelf. I'll make this quick.......

Osama Bin Father played Cash Cab. The King Of Useless Trivia won twice and the rest of us sulked in our less than mediocre intelligence compared to this genius of a man.

Quelf - a game we have played in the past, but incredibly entertaining none-the-less. The game included:

Chicken Dancing

Lots of Confusion

And the stripping of the dignity of a young girl forced into this family tradition by her boyfriend of maybe 3 weeks tops?! She was a great sport and I truly hope we didn't scare her away. By the way......you have the best 10-second touchdown dance while holding a plant I have ever seen!

The car ride home was much less eventful as the boys and I were both pooped from the days excitement.

After arriving home, the tryptophan kicked in, and the boys and I called it an early night!

End Time - 9:30pm

DAY 2

Friday, November 26th 2010
Start Time - 7:00am

We'll call this "The Day that Officer Bob Has Been Complaining About for Two Weeks Straight"

In an effort to successfully complete my goals of healthy living for not only myself, but also my ever-so-loving boyfriend, I signed us up for the Trot for Tots run to take place prior to one of the longest-running Santa Claus parades in the nation. Enter whining......LOTS of whining.

Also in an effort to force others to undergo the same torture, I also recruited the efforts of El Aguila and one of Officer Bob's fellow officers, Goldsmith.

It is important to note that El Aguila is a runner.....
a fast runner....
a runner of long distances....
a runner currently training for a super fast marathon.......
a runner that thinking back, I'm not really sure why I invited because he makes us all look like overweight snails trudging slowly towards an invisible finish line.

ANYWAY......Mama Dirt and the new girlfriend previously mentioned met us at the starting line to serve as race spectators/fan club.

At start time, I believe the temperature outside was approximately 28 degrees......Fahrenheit.......as in below freezing. Enter MORE whining from Officer Bob.

Good thing I had made a quick Wal-Mart run to make sure Officer Bob would be extra cozy during the most uncomfortable 20 minutes of his life.

It is also important to note that El Aguila is one of THOSE runners.

You know.....the runners that no matter what the temperature is, they have to be dressed for success in a sleeveless singlet and shorts. Yup! That's him! (dumbass)

The starter yelled "GO!" and we were off. The first quarter mile was extra rough as I was consuming the dust from El Aguila's sprinting start. Once I was in my zone, I found a comfortable pace, and remained there for the entire course. People dressed in red and green lined the streets clapping for the runners all the while commenting on the stupidity of individuals racing in 28 degree weather. Thank you, spectators. You truly made me feel foolish and duncical.

Congrats to El Aguila on your second-place medal winning finish, blah, blah, blah.
You are so fast. I bow down to you and your athletic prowess, yada, yada, yada.

Next to cross the finish line......Big Boca Bob!
And I must say, my olympic-like, high-fiving, show-stopping finish was the highlight of the race!

Then comes.....Officer Bob.
Now tell me this doesn't look like a face that LOVES to run!

And finally, a BIG CONGRATS to Officer Goldsmith for completely your very first road run!
Awesome job!

After reviving Officer Bob from his post-race near-death experience,

and hooking him up to the portable oxygen tank,

we rehydrated, posed with the mascot of the race, and finished watching the parade.

Overall - A fabulously entertaining Thanksgiving adventure!

P.S. Officer Bob....from now on, I promise to ask your permission before signing you up for another *run*. Your face of disapproval is giving me nightmares.

Thanks for being a trooper. You did great, beat your goal time, and I am SO proud of you!

Jumpin' Taxis and Takin' Names!

Now that I have had a full week to recover, I am able to relive the events from last Saturday without curling in a ball and crying from pain and embarrassment. I would first like to state that during this brief recap of the 2010 Men's Health Urbanathlon, please do not mistake my ranting as a form of hatred towards this race. I had a BLAST competing with over 7,500 "athletes" (I use the term loosely as I'm not so sure I can put myself in this category just yet) in the beautiful scenery of downtown Chicago, and I will most definitely be be doing it all over again next year. However, at times during the run and ridiculous obstacles, I may have thrown out a few cuss words or two. You will be receiving the edited version of my thoughts during the race.

Jesse, his wife Abbey, and her sister Ashley, picked me up at Casa de Bob for our weekend adventure.  I was already nervous for this race due to my lack of preparation and I immediately expressed my concern regarding the tortorous day ahead. I may be in the best shape of my life, but that does not deem me capable of competing in any race sponosred by "Men's Health"

Jesse and Abbey served as driver and navigator through downtown Chicago while Ashley and I rode comfortably in the backseat. Check-in took place at Hard Rock Hotel. We all forgive Abbey for the slight confusion between Hard Rock Cafe and Hard Rock Hotel.  It could have happened to anyone, and I for one enjoyed the scenery of the bustling city. However,every time I take a drive through downtown Chicago, it reminds me more and more why I chose to settle in a town of 1400. I am NOT a city girl.

After recieving our t-shirts and $60 not-so-goody bags, we headed to Baker's Square to carb-load for the race. Meals were selected carefully and we definitely made the right choice in avoiding White Castle sliders the night before the race.

Saturday morning came way too quickly.  It's not too often three girls can be dressed and ready in a half hour, but we weren't exactly going for looks here. Looking back at the pictures.......a little bit of makeup may not have been a bad idea. YIKES!

Pre-race Photos:

The face of the man above is the face of pure terror. Jesse was a veteran of this race as he had competed last year and was unable to move for the week following. He didn't exaclty instill any confidence in us three girls, but we forged ahead anyway.

In all honesty, I don't actually remember alot of the race. The scenery was BEAUTIFUL, and I truly enjoyed running down Lakeshore Drive in amazing weather. This may come as a surprise to you because I have never TRULY ENJOYED any long span of running. Trust me.....I couldn't believe it myself! I have done my best to remember the good, and block out the bad. However, I understand that is not nearly as entertaining to read. So.....I have prepared a short bullet list of memorable moments during the race.

• I informed Jesse I was not a "talker" when I ran. However, the lack of Ipod and his blabbering mouth turned me into a liar. I actually engaged in conversation the majority of the run. Looking back, this was a great choice as it kept my mind from thinking about how ridiculously hard I was breathing.
• I apologize to everyone in the vicinity of Mile Marker #5 for the cussing rant when the out-of-shape cramps mixed with the menstrual cramps and I honestly thought my life was coming to end. Thanks to the man who ran head first into the light pole for offering me some comic relief. I really needed it.
• Marine hurdles are ALOT taller than you think. The pamphlet said there would be three. There were NINE. After my upper body refused to cooperate anymore, I politely turned to Jesse to ask for a small boost.  Fortunately, no man can turn down a whining, menstruating woman.
• I HATE MONKEY BARS! Who would have thought the hardest part of the race would have been the effing monkey bars? I must note that these were not your ordinary school playground monkey bars.  These were the most ridiculous manly gorilla bars I have ever seen! I watched Jesse scale them no problem, closed my eyes, and prayed to the heavens for some assistance. Unfortunately, God must have been busy that morning because with only two rungs left, I hung there.....and hung there.....and cussed.....alot.......and then?......I fell. I jogged with my head down to the penalty area and completed my 25 push-ups in shame before moving on. Failure is not my thing. I will be competing in next year's race with one goal in mind. Make those monkey bars my b*&%#.

And then.....the END! Where I picked up my medal and paraded around as a kind-of-runner who barely made it through the day mixed with exceptional athletes who train all year for this. I thank my fellow competitors for making me do this. I am proud. I would like to take this time to brag and thank those who have supported my healthy transition over the last 8 months. Congratulations to myself, Abbey, Ashley, and Jesse. WE DID IT!

Also thanks to Mexico for creating the delightfully delicious Corona beer. It served as a GREAT form of hydration following the previous torture.

AND NOW......THE MOST EXCITING MOMENT OF THE DAY.......

Who was waiting for me at the finish line? Who stopped me to congratulate me on my finish?

The love of my life.........

A.C. SLATER

I was walking around, minding my own busines when our eyes met. He stuck out his hand to wave, and my heart melted. And then he spoke....."Congratulations" - the most poetic word I have ever heard. I could not speak. He is beautiful. My life is now complete. Thank you, Albert Clifford. You are a beautiful man and made the torture of running and sadly failing monkey bars by exhausting every muscle in my upper body TOTALLY worth it.

Next up? Half-Marathon!

Huracan......El Aguila......I'm talking to you!

I Thought They Said "Rum"

Tomorrow is THE day.

Race day.

Otherwise known as F-day.

As in "why the eff did I sign up for this?"

A friend sent me the following photo for encouragement with the tagline

 "I hired the same photographer to take pictures of you during your run"

If this is a joke......

I'm not laughing.

To makes things clear:

At NO time during the Men's Health Urbanathlon will I look like this for the following reasons:

1. I may not hide it well (as stated in a previous post), but I am Brown.
2. After rummaging through my closet for an appropriate outfit for tomorrow's race, I opted NOT to go with my red halter top and black bikini bottoms. A girl of my size attempting to jump over taxis and crawl under street barricades must dress for function instead of fashion. It's a shame that extra-large heavy duty sports bras (thats right....I said bras. I have to wear two), baggy t-shirts, and paint-stained running shorts aren't styled on the runway because I pull them off quite nicely.
3. I have NEVER had this smile on my face while engaging in activity. Don't get me wrong.....exercise is fun (sometimes), but who really enjoys it this much?! Apparently size "0" models who lack the ability to sweat.
4. My belly button is real.

 The photographer will have his work cut out for him, and at best, may pull off something more like this......

Running is fun, right?

Ask me that tomorrow.

Fitness Corner with Bob

Contrary to popular belief, all twenty-four year old Hispanic, female, fitness managers with degrees in exercise physiology, who personal train and teach group aerobics in their spare time DO NOT enjoy being called out on various fitness-related tasks. If you couldn't guess from the very general description of the individual described in the previous sentence, I am talking about ME!

I have had a very poor tendency over the years to never back down from a dare or challenge especially when said challenge is proposed by a muscle head of a man who goes by the nickname "Gorilla Face" or "G-Face" for short. This is not a joke. I promise. If you are a visual person, please reference the picture below.

G-FACE CHALLENGE OF THE DAY?!.............5 HAND-STAND PUSH-UPS.



The egotistical self-centered male meat-head would indeed select an activity that is physically designed for the male body.  I called upon my extensive knowledge in the field to explain to the audience of young gentleman the muscular structure of the male upper body as opposed to the female upper body. In other words....."I ain't got no pipes, no guns, or no pythons!" I got a Mexican badunkadunk and tree trunks for thighs that deem me incapable of the "challenge of the day." However.....they were having none of it and demanded I attempt the dreaded hand-stand push-up.

I'm sure you are all waiting for some grand, triumphant victory story of how I successfully completed the hand-stand push-up and watched all the men weep in misery as they bowed to the superior gender.

Sorry girls......

First attempt at a hand-stand push-up?........Epic FAIL!  We'll just call it a hand-stand face-plant instead.

BUT.....you know me! If at first you don't succeed, try and try again. Well I tried and tried, dammit, and I will have you know that I COMPLETED the G-Face Challenge of the Day!

5 hand-stand push-ups? Check!

G-Face Challenge of the Day For Tomorrow?............Pee Standing Up.

Don't test me guys.

Start Diggin' My Grave Now.......

In exactly one month three extremely dumb, pumped-for-a-challenge,

mentally insane girls will do the following.......

RUN.

Jump through tires and run over balance beams.

RUN SOME MORE.

Jump over and crawl under police barricades.

(hopefully a hell of alot less than what is pictured here)

RUN SOME FREAKIN' MORE.

Crawl under a cargo net.

Jump over marine hurdles.

Navigate over/through a stack of cars.

(who comes up with this shit?!)

PICK MY DIGNITY UP OFF THE PAVEMENT OF NAVY PIER AND

ATTEMPT TO KEEP RUNNING..........

Complete a set of monkey bars

(a task I couldn't even do in grade school - ugh!)

RUN SOME BLEEPIN' MORE.

Climb the effin stairs of effin Soldier Field - Home of the effin enemy

 (what's that? up and down for an effin mile?! whose idea was this?!)

QUESTION MY SANITY.

RUN. RUN. RUN.

Jump over taxis.

Climb over a bus.

Jump over a 9 foot wall.

DIE.

It's been a great 24 years everyone!

At least I'm goin' out on top!

On top of a stretcher that is......rolling down Michigan Avenue......

At least I have two girls rollin' with me.

Please pray for us.

Fitness Corner with Bob

At a little over 5'4" and stacked with some extra padding in all the necessary areas, I have never been described as a super athlete. I'm O.K. with this. I was never great at any particular sport or athletic event, and I have always been comfortable being fairly mediocre at just about anything requiring endurance and/or strength.

Until today.

I am minding my own business at the gym this morning working on my second set of dumbbell tricep kickbacks when a young gentleman approaches me. When I say he approaches me, I mean he punches my arm in a "long-time-no-see-buddy" kind of manner and gives a little head nod which I'm assuming is some sort of greeting in his meat-head egotistical world. I'm not so sure how to respond to this greeting so I simply give a head nod back thinking this will suffice his need for attention. Apparently this was not sufficient enough, and he signals for me to remove my headphones. I was reluctant to do so as I was in the middle of jamming to a little bit of Jackson 5 (don't judge), and I REALLY did not want to engage in any sort of conversation with this particular fellow. Unfortunately, against my better judgement, I remove only one ear bud (so I can still get a little bit of that "ABC...Easy as 1-2-3" buzzing in my other ear). He then has the nerve to say to me, "You using those?" and points at the dumbbells in my hand. OF COURSE I AM USING THEM! Are you kidding me? He interrupted a classic Jackson 5 song to ask if I am using a piece of equipment that I am CLEARLY exercising with at that very moment?! As I am about ready to politely respond to his initial question, he then says "Don't you think those are a little heavy?" OH NO YOU DIDN'T! (At this point, picture a stout Mexican chica snapping her fingers in Z-formation while simultaneously giving a little head rotation). This chicken-legged, bacon for brains, jackass did not just tell me that I am incapable of lifting a 20lb dumbbell. In my opinion, this comment did not need a response so I shook my head in disgust and reinserted the left ear bud only to find that one of my favorite workout tunes was now over. Thanks, jerk! I continue to finish my second set of tricep kickbacks and become more and more furious at the previous comment. This young (and it must be said NOT-so-attractive) male must have thought my peripheral vision was as weak as my right arm because he continued to watch me lift from his permanent station in front of the mirror. For some reason, I felt the need to prove myself to this cocky son of a b-word so I set down the 20lb dumbbell, picked up the 35lb dumbbell, and started my next set. I must make a note here to let you know that I have never performed this exercise with any weight higher than 25lbs. However, the anger raging through every inch of my body allowed me to execute the exercise with perfect technique for a maximum of 12 repetitions. I was almost positive I could hear my left tricep tearing, but NOTHING was going to stop me from proving to this asshole that I am perfectly capable of picking an appropriate weight at the gym. I finished my workout and was walking back to the locker room when who should walk by? But the very reason that I have been unable to move my arms for the past 5 hours. He starts to approach me again, and I am thinking to myself, "You have got to be kidding me?" It was at that moment that I hear the best four words of my week. He simply said "Insert. Foot. In. Mouth."

That's right, not-so-attractive gym rat! IN YO' FACE!


Now I must go ice my arms. Turns out vindication is pretty painful.