Man, this month pretty much flew by. I know I got various things done (the taxes, a start on the weightlifting, voting for the Nebulas, writing up outlines for the next two books, finishing a novella) but it seems like it was just February 28 a few days ago.
Then again, the weather was around the high 80’s today, so I suppose I should be grateful it wasn’t that warm AND February. It’s bad enough that we’re getting those kind of temps in March, along with the mondo storms that force me to shove the Brit’s leathercrafting stuff to one side in the garage so that I can park my car in there and away from any possible hail damage.
But climate change isn’t real. 45 said so. *rolls eyes*
Anyway, today finished my second week of weightlifting, and I’m pleased to say that my Eastern European genes are kicking in as expected and putting on muscle tissue like you wouldn’t believe. I haven’t lost a whole lot of weight yet, but I didn’t expect to because some of it is being converted into muscle. More importantly, I can see a noticeable difference in my silhouette (not to mention the definition in my arms and legs), and I can feel a definite increase in my strength and stamina. Turns out that going to the gym at 4:00 PM instead of late at night might have been what I needed to do all along.
The interesting thing will be when I go in next week to get my Synthroid scrip refilled. I fully expect them to do a blood draw and test things like my triglicerides along with my T3 and T4 levels. Staying away from carbs and other foods that aren’t good for Hashimoto’s patients, using the 16/8 IF protocol, and three weeks of weightlifting by then will hopefully have some nice knock-on effects on my bloodwork. We shall see.
I love weightlifting. I love the burn in my muscles as I increase the weight 50%, 75%, 90% to my goal weight, then crank out another set. I love how quickly my body reacts to me weightlifting, throwing on muscle like there’s a fire sale at Muscle ‘R’ Us. I love walking around the free weights section of the gym, nodding at the other people in there while we do squats, bent over rows, and dumbbell shoulder presses. At first I felt a little uncomfortable, like they were looking at the fat chick and wondering why I was there instead of on the treadmill. Now, I recognize the regulars and they recognize me as we work our way around the different stations. I even love it when certain muscle groups scream at me in Sumerian (today it was my obliques) because I haven’t worked them for a while and “What the HELL, Mel?”