Who Am I?

Seriously...I am pathetic.  I used to pride myself on how physically fit I was.  I wasn't the skinniest one on the team but always made sure that I worked so hard that no one could out run me (I mean of course this exlcudes professional athletes, track stars, etc.).  Through my college days, I spent my time running, in the gym, or flirting with boys and drinking beer.  The running and gym time really did take up a great deal of my time and I prided myself on decipline and strength.  As I've mentioned, those days are long gone and now I have signed up to run a 10K and a half marathon in the next six months.  Here is the kicker...I am soooo ridiculously out of shape.  Seriously, I don't even recognize myself.

Yes, the scale says I've lost my pregnancy weight but it isn't factoring in the fact that I haven't pushed my body to run more than 4 miles or do circuit and weight training in over a year.  Over the past two weeks I have forced myself to start training.  I have been running (4 miles max) and am slowing getting into conditioning and strength training again.  Well...today proved to me how I probably couldn't chase down a 400lb cop out of a donut shop.  One word...Pathetic.

Brody and I decided to have a nice little home work out this morning.  Half of our basement is a gym so there was no excuse to be lazy on this rainy Friday.  We traveled down to the basement with toys, an ipod, and a super-set workout I found in Women's Health.  So...let me lay out the scene.  Brody is sitting in the corner of the room with his toys, bobbing his head to the music, and not at all interested in me.  I am warming up (pretty much having a dance party to Black Eyed Peas) and gulping water.  When the warm up/dance party song ends, I start.  It is an 8 exercise program and you perform each motion for 60 seconds, getting in as many reps as possible.  Great.  Well...chubbymcoutofshape starts and about dies.  I am sweating bullets within 5 minutes as my legs and arms BURN.  As I'm doing my jumping squats, Brody decides to get interested.  He is staring at me and starts to laugh.  It's not a chuckle, not a small giggle...he is hysterically laughing.  I try to tell myself that he thinks the jumping motion is funny but let's get real, he realizes his mom looks ridiculous and is absolutely dying. 

So, I begin to talk to my adorable son..."What's so funny?  You think it's funny that Mommy is doing this.  Well look at this Brody (as I pull my t-shirt up to show him the giggly stomach), you made Mommy look like this so Mommy has to work out like a crazy woman if she wants to wear a bikini this summer."  The grin on his face widens and his toys are now thrown to the side and he is just sitting, looking at this lunatic of a mother.  "I'm glad you're laughing" pant pant..."Now you realize how hard this is.  See, this is how much I love you that I want to be healthy and in shape for you.  Oh that's funny??"  This chit chat continues as I struggle to breathe and gulp water.  After 40 minutes of explaing to my son why I am doing this as I do push-ups, planks, lunges, etc. I am donzo.  "Fine Brody, if you don't want to hang out here any more, we'll go upstairs." 

Seriously, who am I?  I used to run circles around girls and had conversations with adults.  Now, I am barely breathing in my basement, doing a magazine workout, and having a serious conversation with my 6 month old.  Times they have a changed!