So close, yet so far away

So, technically, my 12 weeks are up. My starting weight was 223 and my weight on Sunday was 190.6.

But. I was sick in the middle and lost two weeks worth of burpees, dozens of varieties of pushups, wall balls, planks, and all sorts of other unGodly things. So now I get this week and next week to make up for that. Then I'll be in a freaking photo shoot.

Yes, before this all started, I committed to doing an after photo shoot as an added incentive. So I've got 3 more group workouts and about 5 to 7 workouts on my own to "pump my shit up", as Mariah put it.

I wouldn't call it a carrot on a stick, because who in their right mind would volunteer for potential public humiliation? I can see the guys at work licking their chops for more ammunition to bust my balls. But it is motivating and has snapped me out of my foggy cloud of half-assedness.

I had the best workout yet Monday evening. It was awesome. I did 12 burpees straight through without stopping. I did 12 unstable pushups on the Bosu Ball without stopping. Twice. I felt like the Karate Kid exacting revenge on the Kobra Kai. I almost pumped my fist Jersey Shore style, but managed to keep the celebration on the inside.

Normally I have to stop in the middle of a set, bent over with my hands pressed on my knees, struggling not to fall over. I'm sure someone casually walking by might think I'm struggling to stay upright after a gunshot wound. So it felt darn good to actually feel like I was approaching the point where I'm doing the workout as it was intended.

It was by no means an easy workout. Kevan likes to increase the intensity so we do a little more and more to achieve the same level of suck. Reminds me of an article I read once by a Tour de France cyclist on the nature of getting in better shape: You don't suffer less. You suffer faster.