630a-taught class; did warm-up w/ them then demonstrated moves only
7a-pulls, swings, handstands, pushups
1230p-2c decaf (coooold)
6p-c decaf, supps
7p-c decaf w stevia
Throughout day: 3.5 quarts water
Fasted all day long. Determined to make it a full 36 hours (6pm Sunday - 6am Tuesday).
Week 1, Cycle 2. I am prepared to go hardcore this week, and possibly feel like shit, but I will suck. it. up. I want to make some quick progress to stay motivated for another 4-week cycle. I will be fueled for lifting & running; will eliminate "movement for the sake of movement" when I don't have the energy/desire.
Sleep: 8 hours in bed. Aimed for 8.5 (went to bed at 830p) but was wide awake at 430a. Woke once at 3a but felt well rested.
Body: Knee felt okay but I took the day off running, though, just to be safe. Gold star!
Lower back got annoyed by end of day. Possibly poor standing posture because tucking the pelvis relieved it. Also, my shins look like someone took after me with a bat. Bruises galore.
Brain: Doing fine.
Yesterday I was checking the work calendar to plot out when Hop & I can take our road trip, and discovered that Putnam is on vacation the week of July 4th. I'm her backup. It's payroll week, so her job is hectic. It's also the first 4 days of close, so MY job is hectic. July 4th is also the ONE DAY PER YEAR that people come to my house, thus it gets a thorough top-to-bottom cleaning (whether it needs it or not!), thus my personal life is hectic. I got really seriously totally pissed off when I realized this. That is going to be a god damned week from god damned hell. BUT THEN the little mini Dustin in my head spoke up and told me to let it go, because it's still 6 weeks away, and being pissed off will not make that week any better and it will in fact make the next 6 weeks suck. SO. I got the fuck over it and will save my anger and stress up for that week. Another gold star!
However, we both have so much going on this summer that I found just one single solitary long weekend that we can get away. Dislike.
Had been thinking this weekend about whether or not I should weigh in daily or weekly or whatever, go back to having something objective to measure my progress. But this morning I had a light-bulb moment: my weight doesn't fucking matter. I don't care what I weigh. It means nothing to me what my true body fat % is. I care about how I look and how strong I am. I'd happily weigh 155 lbs if it means I look like Rachel Cosgrove. So there's no reason to measure my weight at all. There is reason to keep taking the daily & weekly pictures, because those are measuring what I care about: my belly. Keep measuring pullups, because I care [way too fucking much] about those. Keep measuring deadlifts & squats & benches (oh my!) and running distance and fuck the rest.
And, unfortunately, I need to keep measuring intake. Not only to get to my body comp goal, but also to help figure out how much I can get away with eating for maintenance (some day).
Nobody grows old merely by living a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.