Operation MMPF revisited April 29, 2009

I’ve been in Cape Town nearly a week now, and let me just say — WOW. I haven’t done a TON of exploring (yet!!) but I’ve loved everything so far. It’s amazing to step out my front door and smell the ocean, walk down my street and see it. There’s no way anyone could argue that the ocean doesn’t have a presence here, as I might have done in Boston or even (gasp!) Barcelona. The Atlantic is rugged and raw and real, and I LOVE it. I’ve now spent several days walking along the ocean-side promenade, both towards and away from Cape Town, and every time it’s just as magical. It’s a bit like walking on East Cliff Drive in Santa Cruz, actually. And definitely as beautiful. I’m delighted to have the ocean be such a presence in my life. As soon as I can get myself a bicycle, I’m planning on having it be my primary mode of (daytime…) transport, and hope to ride along the promenade 7/8 of the way to school. (Um, yeah… no public transportation, per se, in Cape Town. I have yet to experiment with the sketchy-looking van-taxis that my roommate seems to think are safe enough and only cost R5 or so, versus a regular taxi that would be about R50… Hm… I don’t know, man. They look pretty damn sketchy to me. But, erm, when in Rome…?)

Having all this free time, though, has been a little strange, especially given that it’s a generally accepted truth that venturing out alone after dark is a BAD idea. So basically, I’ve been eating and cooking good food every day, getting out to walk for a couple of hours or so, and spending the evening watching tv, reading, hanging around the house with my housemate, and playing on the internet. Oh, and I’ve been off the booze this whole last week — giving my liver a break, you know (also, what am I going to do? go to a bar by myself? yeah, no). And I know that it’ll all be different as I start making friends, and I’ll have REAL excuses to leave the house and whatnot, but yeah, it’s been odd — healthy, but odd.

So, once again, I’ve decided to attempt to dedicate myself to losing all the damn weight I put on in B-school. (Seriously. I just can’t live like this anymore!) As luck would have it, there’s a personal training gym down the street from my house, and (hurray for the exchange rate!) it’s relatively affordable. The place is beautiful, and has huge windows overlooking that gorgeous ocean that I love so much, which is a total bonus. I got myself all enrolled yesterday, and met for the first time with my booty-kicking trainer today. Um, yeah. Apparently, not only am I a giant fat-ass right now (for me — 66kg, gasp!!!), I’m also REALLY (really, really) out of shape. I guess today was a “light” workout. (Light? LIGHT?! Light workout my A**!!) I thought I might die at LEAST three different times. I had no idea that personal training would mean working every major muscle group AND feeling like a total fool. (My trainer is, like, thisbig, adorable, Vietnamese/Canadian, and ALL muscle — I was so embarrassed every time I had to ask for less weight on something that the tiny woman could do with her pinky! BUT, she’s a total sweetheart and really good at postive reinforcement, so she definitely wasn’t TRYING to make me feel like a g**damn heiffer.) The worst part? Sprints. In the gym. With a medicine ball. Suddenly I’m the fat kid in gym class, or Chunk from the Goonies, or something (doubled over, panting “hey guys… GUYS… just… guys… just a second…” pant pant pant). The horror!! Especially when my trainer says, as I heave my fat ass from one end of the gym to the other with the bright orange medicine ball “It’s not a jog! Come on! Visualize those pants you want to wear!!” And I’m thinking “I AM running!! What the hell? Eff those pants!!” So then I force myself to push harder, and she says “Good! Only 30 more seconds!” which nearly makes me cry, because really, I’m no sprinter and it’s HARD, and my face is turning seventeen shades of purple, and I want to drop the stupid medicine ball, and I finally finish, and want to collapse and die, but am congratulating myself internally for at least completing the excercise without falling on my face and maybe now I’m done for the day — but NOOO! There are lunges to be done! And tricep curls! And squats! And hey, guess what? Another set of effing SPRINTS! Dear god, it was humiliating. Oh, and yeah — this is the gym where the SERIOUS fitness nuts go, so, while it was the middle of the day and there was (luckily) almost no one there, there was only one person in the whole place larger than I am — and she’s freaking PREGNANT! Gah!! And my trainer is so dear and sweet and positive that I had to force myself to smile all the way through it and act cool, purple face be damned (“Yeah, I can handle this, no problem… wait, how many more? … uh, yeah, no, it’s fine… really…” Smile smile smile…). Meanwhile, my face is now a deep shade of crimson, I have sweat dripping out of every pore, and I want to fall on the floor and die. And again, this was the LIGHT workout. Even more fun? I’ll be keeping a food journal and sharing with my trainer. Awesome. Turns out it’s a good thing that the beer here isn’t very tempting, eh? When she told me I need to try to cut out 500 calories a day (combination of diet and exercise) I almost fell of the elliptical machine! I mean, I’ve been eating well, but sheesh! This is going to make partying with the classmates challenging, to say the least (“just a white wine spritzer for me, thanks” — nooooo!!!). Tomorrow I have to go back to the gym for a half hour of cardio and more punishment to my abs (yay!) and then I’ll be seeing my trainer again on Friday morning (8:30am, yay!). Um, I don’t know what I’ll do if she wants to give me more than a “light” workout. Hopefully not hyperventilate and die, because that would be REALLY embarrassing… In any event, I guess I can expect some results from this one, right?