Plump Mother to Tough Mudder

Saturday, August 25th, 2012

Today is day one of a two year journey, a transformation of personally epic proportion. It all started as a harmless conversation over a glass of wine with my sister, the cop. That’s my sisters M.O. She gets me boozed up and then springs things on me. The conversations go something like this:

Sister – The cop “So, I was wondering, do you want to borrow my tweezers?” Fills my glass of wine.

Clue-less Fashion stunted me, “Um for what?”

Sister – the cop “I was just thinking you might have lost yours.”

Still Clueless me “Um, I dont really have any.”

Sister – the cop, “Oh…um…have some more wine.” Fills glass for third time, “It’s just your eyebrows are killing me…have you ever had them done?”

Fashion Dumb Me “DONE?”

Sister – the cop, “I get mine done every three weeks or so. Hey I know…” pours more wine, “I’ll get my tweezers and do them for you.”

What proceed next required a lot more wine and resulted in tears, angry red skin and fashion sensible eyebrows. What I didn’t know was that eyebrows are like shaving your legs, once you have them done, you have to keep it up. I had no idea what she was getting me into. It is a horrible endless circle of pain and bushy eyebrows. That was 15 years ago (I now own several pairs of tweezers).

Fifteen years, three sons and oh…60 lbs later, it seems we were destined for yet another such conversation.

She knows me so well, I’m sure this whole thing was a result of her and her special army training. This couldn’t have been my idea …but I get ahead of myself.

The thing is, I like to think of myself as having bad ass potential. Like, if the Zombie Apocalypse should happen, I would kick butt right next to my Sister – The Cop, that skinny Tomb Raider Chick and Brendon Fraiser (what…i think he’s cute). I just haven’t had the opportunity to reveal that side of me. I am sure that deep inside lies a Pretty Bad Ass Chick, it’s just wrapped up in all this soft cushy mommy-ness, waiting to come out.

So, knowing me like she does, she knew my answer before she started the conversation. The Cop “So what do you think of this Syrah?”

Slightly Buzzed Soft Me, “Ithsss great…” (I’d only had two drinks officer.)

The Cop, “So there’s this thing I’ve been wanting to do, but I wanted to know what you thought of it. Maybe you could be on my team.”

Now, I might be the older sister, but when your little sister is a cop, who is taller than you, blond and hot, well…you want to be on her team. You don’t even have to know what team that is…you want to be on it. You already miss out on all the great cop stuff. My sister and I are close, but we are sort of Yen and Yang. When the maker was handing out steel will, stubbornness and strength – she got mine. I make up for it with all the patience, softness and niceness…we balance each other out. But day time TV has taught us that the ubber gushy softy always wants to be the ice princess (wait – this blogs not about my issue with being the brunette…that’s another story).

Needless to say (but I will anyway) I responded with ,”I’ll be on your team!”

Ice Princess says, “It’s a competition called Tough Mudder. It’s supposed to be really fun, but kicks your butt. Everyone helps each other and at the end they give you a beer.” Pours me some more wine.  Beer…I like beer! “And there’s a rock concert.” Even better. I like rock concerts.

She precedes to explain that its a 10 – 12 mile obstacle course laid out by special forces. A combination of low crawling through mud (easy right) under barbwire (my butt might need to get smaller), swimming (I float real well) through icy water (hey I’m pretty insulated) and finishing with a mad dash through fire. Wow…fire. I can do fire. Inside I’m a bad ass right? I ignore the whole running and climbing over a 1/2 pike stuff, and focus on those things my thick layers of fluffiness are best suited for. I write all these stories about bad ass chicks, so inside there has to be one. I am amped, fired up. I can do this. Wooo Hooo Tough Mudder YEAH (might have been the wine).

Now, I dont know HOW she did this, but I swear she had it planned. Next thing I know I have vowed to loose 60 lbs by 2014 so I can compete side by side with her. I think she may have slipped some kool-aide in my wine because I was suddenly googling it (www.muddernation.com) and enlisting team mates.

The Team Mates: The Big Girls Team: In the last year, I have met a series of woman that make me think this might have been all part of some evil plan. I mean, how does a woman whose Native American name should be “sits on coach and eats bonbons” end up with the friends I have. It has to be a plot. They knew I would go all crazy for this, it was planned.  I don’t do anything by half measures. If I have cake, I have three pieces. Mmm cake…

Wait, where was I? Right, the team. So with reckless abandon I contacted these friends and asked them if they wanted to be on our team. They even acted like they never heard of the Tough Mudder competition (yeah right)… If you ask them, they might pretended like it was my idea to do it. I’m sure if you ask The Cop, she would say it was my idea too, but I’m pretty sure she’s a big fat fibber (she did take my best shirts to France for her senior trip, without asking). The enlistment started with RJ – the Trophy Wife/Gym Rat.

My sister and I had been on the way up to the Trophy Wife’s place for a girls only weekend when we made that fateful emergency stop at the winery (what, it was totally an emergency wine tasting stop!).

Now The Trophy Wife is everything you imagine a trophy wife to be. A beautiful, funny woman who bakes designer cupcakes. Oh, and she has six pack abs, even though she had a kid…who she gave birth too. (I know what your thinking, I kinda hate her too). Anyway – Trophy Wife is a work out junkie. She actually made me exercise Saturday at her lake house before we had mimosas and laid by the pool. The Cop kept making me do sit ups and lunges. (The Horror!).

She of course said, “I’m in and I know you can loose the 60 lbs…GO YOU!.” She is super supportive and helpful. Which of course takes away any excuse I might have to punk out. I dont want to let The Cop and The Trophy Wife down…they might kick my butt!

Over the course of the next few weeks, I ran my mouth to my sisters friend and fellow cop – The Viking Queen. She’s descended from Vikings. Of Course she was up for it. I asked Trophy Wife to see if her friend “FBI Chick” wanted in (because I didn’t have enough scary women on my team already). And then I invited my dear friend and neighbor, Vanessa – The Stunt Woman, to see if she wants in. Of course she does…she get in fights, on purpose, for a living!

So here I am, starting on a two year restoration project; Fat Ass to Bad Ass. I don’t want to wait for a Alien Invasion to test myself. I think the time is now. I’m putting it out on the internet for all to see, Weight, hip measurements, all the horrible details. I’m going to journal the whole process from dieting (and sneaking those oreos) to exercise. The shin splits, the muscle aches and the celery (I hate celery)… I’m going to track it all.

Trophy Wife asked me, “Why do you ask me if you think you can do it…I believe in you. Your sister believes in you. Your husband does…we all do (see what I mean about the supportive stuff? And she makes really yummy cupcakes) You want to do this and invite us all on the team so that you can be accountable to us. You need to believe in yourself and be accountable to yourself. Or you wont make it.”

I guess that’s why I’m blogging this, to be accountable to myself, in the only way I know how…by putting it out there. (or maybe I’m being accountable to the whole world and not myself…your not my shrink – shut up!)

The Stats: Weight – 230 (I know I know, that’s like another small person)

Measurements: (I got the trainer at the gym to measure me. I kinda hate her too…she looks really good in yoga pants.)

• Waist – 38.5 inches
• Hips – 50 inches
• Umbilical – 43.6 (I didn’t know I had one of those)
• Thigh – 30.25
• Arm – 15.5

Mile – 17 minutes (Flash Gorden I’m not. This is on here because I’m hoping in two years I might make it faster than 17 minutes. I’m pretty sure even Zombies run faster than this.)

The Plan: Eat smaller quantities, better quality, more often. Cut back on the carbs, eat less fat and more protein. (I’m not giving up the wine – that’s just crazy talk)

Cardio – 5 days a week. build my endurance (one flight of stairs should NOT leave me out of breath)

Strength Training – 3 days a week.

The Support Team: (AKA The big girls club – no skinny chicks allowed unless they have a big mouth)

• The Cop
• The Viking Queen
• The Trophy Wife
• The Stunt Woman
• The Marathon Runner

Before I get started I want to say: To my handsome husband – if I’m a little cranky because the celery gave me gas…I’m sorry. To my three beautiful boys – Mommy might have to stop making rice crispy treats for a while..but it will be worth it.

Tough Mudder 2014 – here I come!

You can follow the journey at my online journal http://plumpmother2toughmudder.wordpress.com/