Unfortunately for me, I’ve recently made a stupid decision. Having grown tired of seeing my teammates frolic in Hawaii every June while I’m slummin’ it like a sucker in overcast, mild-temperatured Seattle, I decided to join the cool kids and race the Hawaii 70.3 in 2012. I haven’t signed up for the actual race yet, but I did book airfare so at the very least I’ll be fake-spectating while catching rays and sucking down Mai Tais as my friends suffer through the choking humidity and sweltering heat.

Then something occurred to me. Well, two things, really. First, I realized that I was going to have to get some open ocean practice swims in before the race, and that concerned me due to the fact that there were some shark attacks in the areas where some athletes were practicing last year. I’m not worried about getting gobbled up on race day since I’ll be among 1,800 other athletes, but when I’m straggling behind 10 of my teammates during a swim workout, I get the feeling Mr. Sharky would be more likely to pick off the object that’s swimming like a chubby, wounded seal instead of the fat-free fast food at the front of the pack. I’m going to have to either convince Teresa that no open ocean training is actually a great form of training (like some type of Miyagi mind-fuck) or invest in some shark repellent.

"I knew this race was a bad idea!"

The second thing I realized was that I’m pretty sure that as a female on the team, I’m not allowed to race Hawaii 70.3 under the TN brand if I don’t have visible abs — I think it’s in our athlete contract or something. For proof I submit a team picture from this year’s race:

What the hell, ladies

(The two women who are covered up are undoubtedly concealing more abdominal glory.)

I’m almost certain that if my team were to see me step off the plane in my current state, they’d take one look at my stomach and say, “Nope, you’re not representing the team in Hawaii with that belly bagel. Get your fat-dimpled ass back on that plane.” Thus I’ve got quite the conundrum on my hands.

I can’t be the only woman in these beach photos who’s letting a paunch hang out of her swimsuit. Counting from today to the Monday we fly in to Hawaii, I’ve got 278 days to lose weight, do some crunches, and finally expose these lil’ guys to the world. Can it be done? Yes, if I stop eating double meat gyros and foods that cannot be eaten without gravy. Will it be done? …well, we’ll see about that, but right now the challenge is new and exciting enough that I’m up for it. I’ve managed to drop eight pounds from my fat, injured, “screw this season, I’mma play XBox and get obese” state, which is a good start but I know I’ve got a ways to go before I reach that “Is she anorexic or terminally ill oh wait she’s just an endurance athlete never mind” physique.

I’ll continue to check in with progress updates over the next 278 days so that you guys can shame me into sticking with my goal. If I can’t make the abs happen with diet and exercise, my fallback plan is to buy them like this dude:

These will fool my teammates for sure

Oh carbs, how I love thee.

I was all gung-ho until the holidays hit, at which point I gained back what I had lost and chubbed up to my fattest weight ever. It was pretty depressing – I wouldn’t call myself “fat,” but I was definitely at my flabbiest. I checked back in with my strength trainer, who agreed that I looked a bit “chunkier” (sigh) and told me to start writing down my food again. He also bullied me into sharing my weight every week, so instead of my vague “I’m down a pound,” I’d have to start giving actual numbers. Crap.

This week I turned in my food log and was told I had made a marked improvement in the slop I was shoving down my gullet. I’ve so far lost about 6 lbs but have a ways to go to hit my goal weight. I’m basically going for “skinniest I’ve been since I got my tonsils removed when I was sixteen” weight, only with more muscle mass and fewer popsicles. (It was the “subsist off popsicles and tea” diet, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t poop for a week. Damn was I skinny though!)

Breakfast of champions

The one thing that threw me for a loop was when I got my body composition tested. To me the fat percentage seemed inaccurate – it was about 4% higher than I expected and placed me in the “poor” category. Normally I wouldn’t think much of it, but I don’t look that fat, for crying out loud, and I do stay pretty active even if I do tend to eat utter garbage. Also, bear with me here as I introduce an example derived from VH1 of all places. I caught part of an episode of Celebrity Fit Club on TV this week, and one of the “celebrities” getting weighed in looked considerably chunkier than me but apparently had 2% less body fat. Granted, she was about 3 inches shorter than I am, but still. She was told that if she lost 20 lbs, her body fat would drop about 4% (I forget the exact number), yet my strength trainer told me that if I lost 20 lbs to hit my goal weight, I’d drop 10% of my body fat. That seems like a pretty big difference for two people with apparently similar body compositions and weight goals.

This whole body composition nonsense kind of confuses me. Either way, I know what I want my goal weight and my body fat percentage to be, so I guess it doesn’t matter too much what the test says I’m currently at. All I know is that racing should be a bit easier when I’m hauling 20-25 fewer pounds through the water, on the bike and while I’m running. I’d also like my Ironman Canada finish photo to look pretty hardcore and not “Hey, that fat kid is blocking the finish line!”, at which point I’d start sobbing and trying to unwrap my finisher’s medal thinking there’s chocolate inside.

I don’t even like chocolate that much, but I’d still chow this down