Kicking My Own Glutes

In the 17th week of my training, I hit a new low. I bought Glute magazine. My lower-body workouts have been lacking due to the hinderance of my knee brace, and as a result I have been stressing (and complaining to anyone who will listen) about the mushy state of my legs. So, when I spied Glute at the grocery store, featuring a smiling model on the cover coyly looking over her shoulder to better show off her glutes, I plunked down my $3.99 and settled in. The cover story was called, "Your Tight, Sexy Butt," which sounded kind of like a title that should be on the cover of a different kind of magazine. But I was intrigued.

My husband burst out laughing when he saw Glute sitting on my bedside table. He has taken to calling it "Bootylicious," and is amazed that there is an entire magazine dedicated to glutes. But he can laugh all he wants. It became my trusted companion this week.

I needed Glute because I was out of town most of the week at a conference. This is not a new occurance for me; I travel periodically for my job and have faced many a hotel gym and catered lunch. But this time, I wanted it to be different. I was so sick of being disappointed with my away-from-home workouts, and having to navigate sticky buns and criossant sandwiches to find healthy, clean food puts me on the fast track to a bad attitude. So, I took matters into my own hands - I packed an ice chest of food and decided that workouts were going to be my way or the highway. I really didn't want to run on the highway, so I prayed that the convention center had a decent gym.

I also prayed that I would have the discipline to do this on my own. My trainer has spoiled me. Solo workouts used to be the norm, but lately I've been throwing my own private temper tantrum when left to my own devices, and I lack discipline when left with no accountability. The past few times on the road, I have gone down to the hotel gym in the wee hours of the morning, found myself facing a tired treadmill and a few mismatched dumbells, muttered, "I can't work with this," and headed back upstairs. As a result, I spend the day in a funk, not having had my daily dose of martyrdom and accountability. Even if the gym is decent, I still find myself doing a few bicep curls, some overhead presses...but it just isn't the same when you're alone. I used to be self-directed, but now I am dependent. I know that kind of behavior is not going to get me to my MGP. I am beyond the point of exercising to maintain good health; I have a goal. I need to suck it up and work.

So I turned to my old standby - organization. When the going gets tough, the tough get organized. I knew this week would be a bear, so I went in with a clipboard and got anal about it (pun intended). I opened Glute magazine and others to map out workouts for each day complete with supersets, rest times, and sequences. I knew that even if the gym was crummy, there would still be no excuse.

My prayers were answered when I showed up at 6:00 am (what kind of gym doesn't open until 6:00 am???) to find all of the cardio equipment taken, except for one lonely stationary bike which I left alone. So, I hit the weights first and kept an eagle eye out for a treadmill. I shot a longing look at the smith machine and said a silent prayer for my return to the sumo squat, but turned my attention to my little list. I tucked my water in a corner and got to work. I usually love working out with a group so we can banter and gossip and engage in friendly trash talk, but today was different. My shuffle was cranked up and I was in my zone, sweating it out and really enjoying the new pace. Glute didn't let me down. By the time a treadmill opened up and I began to run, I was exhausted. In the elevator on the way back to my room, I wanted to lie on the floor and take a nap. I felt so hard-core.

Throughout the rest of the day, I moved a little more slowly, stood up a little more cautiously, and sat a little more gingerly. I don't know if I have a tight, sexy butt yet, but that workout and the ones on the following mornings proved to me that if I really, really have to, I can do this on my own again. I liked being stubborn and driven like in the old days, and am almost looking forward to my next business trip so I can give myself another good kick in the pants.

But not until someone publishes Hams.