So a couple people asked how I finally ended up doing in Lose to Win.
I should be focusing on how well I did.
But I haven’t been.
I’ve spent the last 2 days stewing.
Because I didn’t win the cardio minutes.
12 weeks of busting my ass to stay on top.
12 weeks of missing out on time with my kids.
12 weeks of spreading myself very, very thin.
And I came in second.
Someone beat me.
Someone who had been consistently in 2nd place.
Someone who was over 500 minutes behind me the second-to-last week.
She beat me by 55 minutes.
55 fucking minutes.
A twenty something chick.
A childless twenty something chick.
A childless twenty something chick who works at the Y.
I thought I had banked enough minutes to stay in the lead.
Even when I was thrown a curveball in the last 2 weeks.
My dad had to have emergency surgery in week 11.
For 10 1/2 weeks he had been taking care of anywhere between 2 and 7 kids.
With 2 blocked arteries.
He had no idea until he went for a physical.
He was a heart attack waiting to happen.
Is his health way more important than my cardio minutes?
Of course it is.
Anyway, I lost my babysitter.
Then 2 of the kids got sick.
So I couldn’t even bring them to the babysitting room at the Y.
Improvise, adapt and overcome.
I thought I had done all 3 of those things.
I shuffled my schedule around.
I changed my swim time to 5:30 a.m.
But that eleventh week I did about 400 minutes less than I wanted to.
And 56 minutes less than I had to.
So my goal of winning 2 of the categories?
I fell short.
I’m trying to focus on what is really important.
You know, like the fact that my dad didn’t keel over from a heart attack.
That I’m healthier.
And I think I may have done something that no one else has ever done in Lose to Win history.
I finished in the Top 5 in every single category.
Number 1 in total laps swum.
Number 2 in total cardio minutes.
Number 2 in total percentage of weight lost.
Number 4 in total fitness classes.
Number 5 in total spin classes.
I guess I should be proud of myself.
Plus, it’s not like I was competing in the fucking Olympics.
Or even the real Biggest Loser.
I mean, it’s the YMCA.
That Number 2?
Well, there’s a reason that’s what they call it when you take a crap.
Because coming in at Number 2?
That’s exactly what it feels like.
A big load of Number 2.
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