Day 2 of being shredded

I can hear you asking yourselves already 'Is she going to post about this every day? Cause if she is I'm just going to pop back here once she's married to see the pictures.' My answer to you is - I don't know. I will, however, also post about other things, I promise, it's just that this is so new and shiny (shine-y? Is it a requirement that I know how to spell to have a blog?) and painful deadly that it just makes it so deliciously interesting to write about and maybe even to read about. Ok? So keep it together, it's only day 2 and I promise I will post about Rachel's wedding (I asked and she said yes!) sometime soon and just to make it worth while, I will find something beautiful as a little treat at the end of this post. So, on with being shredded !

I stayed in bed a little longer than I normally have recently today, partly for fear of the pain I knew I was going to have to face when I got out of bed. Last night, whilst writing yesterday's first Shred post, I slipped into a little googling. This is always a mistake if you are googling symptoms of an illness, words that could be misinterpreted or torn ligaments (that one is from experience. Ok, all of them are) but please add to your list Jillian's fitness DVD. The back of my DVD tells me that for the past 3 years, 30 Day Shred has been number 1 on the US Fitness DVD charts. This means lots and lots of people have bought it. And wrote about it online. It means I could read about what to expect over the next few days as I torture my body with things it has never done before. It means I knew that I wouldn't be able to move properly this morning.

I felt fine in bed. It was the getting up that worried me. But then I got up - and felt fine. It was when I went to pick up my pants (trousers for the British, no 'lost in translation' here please) that I felt it. My thighs. My arms. Ouch. Still, not quite as bad as I expected. Walking down to work was a bit of a reminder that I had moved in unnatural-to-me ways yesterday but it was still bearable. It got worse as the day progressed and led me to begin fearing my fitness programme later on.

Half past five p.m. I knew it was time to head upstairs to start getting my shred on. Between seven and eight o'clock I was expecting some people to come pick up a bunch of clothes that we had sorted out from downstairs and I didn't want to wait until late to get fit and I also really didn't want to meet people I had never met with a red, sweaty face. I got changed into my running shorts, shoes and a t-shirt and strapped my running gear on - I wanted to see how my pulse did and how many calories I burned in one session and started the DVD. Twenty-one minutes in, the doorbell rang. 'Please, oh please, please. Not the clothes men!' I begged as I ran to the doorbell after pausing Jillian. 'Hello' I gasped (Twenty-one minutes in means I had just finished the last 3 minute strength training and was moving painfully into the last 2 minute cardio) 'It's Stephanus!' answered a man. Oh geez. The clothes man. 'Oh! I'll be right down!' I answered and ran as fast as I could into the washroom where my jeans still were from getting changed. I threw them on, pulled me fleece on over my t-shirt, one I have had for years that used to belong to my wonderful friend Sadie, and ran downstairs. My legs did not like those stairs but I didn't let them complain. Stephanus looked a bit... disoriented at the sight of me. I'm sure my hair was crazy, I had just been doing jumping jacks for goodness sake, and I am more than sure that my face was still red from the strain of these weird side lunges with weights that totally kill. Poor Stephanus. We loaded up the truck, he left cheerily (with his teenage helper, who also looked at me with bewilderment) and I dashed back upstairs. 'I'm sorry, Jillian! I know you say 5 seconds is the only break I get but I just hauled a bunch of sacks of clothes to a truck. That counts as cardio, right? No?' The DVD went back on, cardio and abs were completed as ordered. Shred 2, done.

I have now learned to wait till after the clothes men have come.

Here is the promised something beautiful:

Yes, please.

And last but not least, here are a few quotes I found while googling, all taken from here.:

“I took a first stab this afternoon, and I'm crippled. CRIPPLED! I try to do something exercise-ish every day (excluding weekends and major holidays, of course!), so I thought I could hack it. I'm really [expletive] scared for the pain that tomorrow will bring. I'm scared of that AND this Jillian chick. She's pretty damn scary. So, I'm not sure if I should thank you or curse the day we ever met!!” (sms to the lady who recommended Shred to her)

"... walking back to my office after the workout? I almost fell going down the stairs. i had to literally HOLD ON to the rail"

“ … the first attempt left me so crumpled and sore that I couldn't even roll over in bed without wincing for nearly a week. I seriously wondered if only insane people did this workout, because me? I'm no good at it,”

Now you know.

30 Day Shred.

Blog Readers, this is Jillian:

Jillian, say hi to the Blog Readers.

We've posted about her before, here on Marrying The Hons, cause she is the reason Mareike and I started running again. She's as uber-fit as she looks and a hundred times more tough. She could beat Chuck Norris up. That's how tough she is.

I haven't written much in our 'fitness' area here, mainly because I hate sports. Or at least I say I do. I do. I hate them. My knees hurt, I hate feeling like I can't breathe and my heart is going to pop, along with my eyeballs... it's just not nice. I don't like getting sweaty (which the good and gracious Lord considered when He made me. I don't sweat easily) which again makes it tough for working with Jillian because she says if you're not sweating, you're not working. It's a good thing she can't really see me.

Anyways. So I don't like sports so there hasn't been much to post here. Until today. Since taking over the leadership of Bremen Corps on top of my other job, I just have not been feeling up to jogging. It's just another thing on my To-Do list that feels like work. So I've been looking at alternatives. A couple of months ago, this girl I know in Canada posted on Facebook that she was starting the '30 Day Shred' which piqued my curiosity. I googled. I read about Jillian Michael's fitness DVD, how tough it is but also how effective and that it is all based around a 20 minute workout etc and filed all this information into my brain under 'look at this again later'.

Well, ladies and gentlemen (hello, boys reading my wedding blog!), today is 'later'. I ordered my very own 'Shred - Schlank in 30 Tagen' as it is called in German on Tuesday and today it was delivered (on a side note, why do the people who translate titles into German always feel the need to bland them up? Seriously - '30 Day Shred' has mystery and allure. 'Shred - Schlank in 30 Tagen' makes me as the consumer look lame. C'mon guys!). Along with my watered-down be-titled DVD came my bright red, 1 KG weights and, not fitting in the fitness category at all, my Capote's In Cold Blood that I have been dying to read for years but someone keeps taking it out of the library! At least that problem is now solved.

Anyways. So everything I need is now here for a workout that is anything BUT jogging. There are 3 Workouts in total, the idea being you do one for 10 days and then level up. They are built around circuit training. 3 minutes strength, 2 minutes cardio, 1 minute abs. I got my Amazon pack at the end of my workday. Perfect timing. I came upstairs and put it on to watch it through once. 'This doesn't look that bad' I naively, oh so naively thought to myself. I went and got changed, moved my little table out of the way and started. And then I died. About twice a minute. Holy crow. Oh my. Jeepers. Oh no. I used to do jumping jacks when I was a kid! What happened?! They were nearly the death of me. And there is out-of-character cheerful Jillian telling me 'If you think you're going to die watch Angela (or whatever her name is, the jumping jacks killed my brain) and she will see you through' Whatever, Jillian! I don't believe a word you say, you skinny exercise dictator!

I finished. Having done more push-ups than I ever have at once and shaking all over. I am still shaking. And it's been 40 minutes. Apparently I am now on my way to being 'shredded'. All I can say is - it feels like it sounds and I better have abs like Abigail (or whatever her name is) by the end of this or I am suing for grievous bodily harm. You've been warned.  

p.s. if this hasn't put you off and you are brave enough to join me and letting Jillian beat the crap out of you, you can order Shred - Schlank in 30 Tagen here.

p.p.s despite my griping and moaning, it was quite satisfying, I'm sure I'm going to like it and Jillians comments are encouraging without being cheesy. I like it.

Zum Thema Holz

Die "Save the Date" Karte

Die Einladung

Die Location

oder doch lieber diese hier?!

Die Tischordnung

Die Tischnummern

Das könnte die mögliche Tischdekoration sein:

Die Tischkarten

Eine Möglichkeit um Bilder des Paares zu zeigen

Hier entstehen die Bilder für das Gästebuch

... THE dress

The dress. Oh, the dress. We were going to have to touch on this at some point and I have a feeling that this is the first of many, MANY posts about the dress of all dresses.

I have been dreaming, thinking, planning about THE dress since I was a little girl playing M.A.S.H.  Remember that post? Well that's when it started. The absolute  horror when you ended up with a green or blue or, shudder, multi-coloured dress. Of course we always crossed our fingers and hoped that white would be the last colour standing in the dress category. Beyond that, there weren't many thoughts at the age of 10. However, as the years marched on (and march on they did) I became a bit more, for lack of a better word, creative with my thoughts. White was no longer quite enough. Of course my dress should be white, but what shade of white? What material should it be made out of? What silhouette should it have (I would have asked exactly that question if I had known that word back then). The answer to these questions changed regularly depending on mood, taste, weather, season and boy that I liked. I'm very fickle. When I lived in London, a friend of mine and I went through a phase (oh the shame) of googling 'wedding dresses' and discovering designers. That was when I discovered Vera. I love you, Vera Wang! We would call each other, send links over MSN and generally just enjoy the anticipation (not so much the frustration) of waiting to get married. Neither of us had boyfriends. I feel the need to add that in order to be honest and transparent.

I have bought my dress. Seriously. And not, like, yesterday. I bought it in November. It was a complete surprise. We were having a family weekend and I had always wanted to go dress 'shopping' with Lisa and Mom (and, although I can't say that I 'always' wanted to go with her, the beautiful Aurora) so I jumped at the chance, booked an appointment at a bridal outlet store and we happily made our way there. I was given white gloves, shown the racks with my size on them and told to shove my way through and pick out any I liked. I picked out 7, I think, and number 4 was THE one. The reason why I really, really wasn't expecting on getting a dress that day was because I had already found a dress. I had already called the only store in Germany where that dress is sold. Wait, more accurately, I made Mareike call them and pretend to be me to ask how much the dress is and when it will be sold and had made plans to make my way to that city 3 hours away. Here is a picture of that dress:

Oh the pockets!

Ok, here is another one.

Do you see what's different? Removable flower-strap! Oh, dress perfection.

 Now. I love this dress. I still do. But I don't regret not getting it because I love my real wedding dress. (What I am, just a wee teeny tiny bit sad about is that my dress doesn't have pockets) That love, though, is not enough to protect me from wedding dress... well I guess you would almost have to call it lust. Why do designers keep doing this to me?

Priscilla of Boston. I love the pockets. And the Swarovski belt.

Modern Trousseau. This reminds of the Vera Wang I fell in love with years ago. But it still doesn't come close. 

Yet another from Priscilla of Boston. I love the transparent collar making the 'necklace'. And pockets. Of course. 

Vera Wang. 

Believe me, this is only the tip of the ice berg. I still haven't shown you Jesus Peiro, Jenny Packham, Ivy and Aster, and my all-time personal favourite, even beating Wang, Monique Lhuillier.

It's totally alright for me to get married once a year, right? Someone send help. I think I need it.

Learning from those going before.

Today was L.'s 81st birthday. A beautiful (inside and out) lady (and at a risk of using too many brackets, she really is a LADY), it was a pleasure to gather our 'Heimbund' together, head over to her house and eat more cake and drink more coffee than anyone ever should. One great thing about this once a week gathering of ladies, is the gathering of experience and wisdom that flows from them effortlessly. Whether it is 88 year old D.'s ability to laugh at a joke about smoking pot or revealing how she used to be part of a gang as a young child that regularly got into fights with another gang until she herself was once defeated, at which point she decided she had had enough or E.'s straightforward, simple ways of explaining faith and life - I never fail to be amazed, awed and inspired. Today was no exception.

I am getting married, so I like talking about marriage. I like hearing about other people's marriages. I like asking them how they got engaged. (On a side note, I asked a man this a few months ago and it stumped him. 'Um. How did I ask her?' he mumbled to himself and after about 5 minutes of thinking, which were rather uncomfortable for me, he settled on saying something down the lines of 'Well, I asked her somehow and she must have said yes so that's good'. I don't know if I'll be asking a man again soon. It was uncomfortable.) One of L.'s friends, who isn't part of the Heimbund, was also at our coffee and cake party and the conversation moved us in a direction that allowed me to ask her how she met her husband. I was so delighted to hear that they have known each other since they were eight. Eight! 8! 4+4! People know each other that long?! They went to school together. Were in the same class. She moved, he moved. She wrote him. The letter was sent back (he had moved). He walked down her street where she lived, looking at the names on each house until giving up just before he reached her place (apparently the Neusserstr. in Cologne is very long and he didn't have all night) Oh the romance! He moved to France. She developed Asthma (apparently common in Cologne...?) He developed a tooth ache. They both had to move back home. They met again. The rest is history. She hates it when he wins at chess. She was better at school so she just. doesn't. get. it. He was always late for things. She was always on time. He is still always late for things. This still drives her crazy. He has learned to say sorry since meeting Jesus in '88.

What a joy it was to listen to her laugh and speak candidly about her marriage, the work that it is and to see how much she loves her husband after the 42+ years of marriage and even longer friendship.   

Thomas Moore once said "From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity."
Their bodies may not be rotting, but these ladies are planting flowers that will grow in me, and my marriage and will honour them when they are called home. I am blessed to call them friends.

p.s. Here is a joke that L.'s friend told us today. "Eine Frau geht zum Arzt. Der Arzt schaut in ihrem Ohr und sagt 'Sie haben ein Zäpfchen in Ihrem Ohr!' 'Oh, danke, dass sie mir das sagen!' erwidert die Frau 'jetzt weiss ich wo mein Hörgerät ist!" (I will try to translate. A woman goes to the doctor.The doctor takes a look in her ear and says 'You have a suppository in your ear!' 'Oh thank you for telling me!' the woman replies, 'now I know where my hearing aid is!) Sometimes they tell jokes that make me choke.

... surprises!

If there are any of you out there who stop by here every once and a while and see that not much has happened lately, I am sorry. I've been away visiting the Hons (I will write about this. I love him, you know?) and Mareike has been busy packing for her move to Karlsruhe :( but I am back and once Mareike is settled she will be sharing her creative ideas and thoughts on weddings again. I have something nice and easy to ease us back into weddings and the beautiful things of life.

I found this on The Knotty Bride, one of the most inspirational wedding blogs the other day and thought that it is perfect to share.
I love the Fiddle on the Roof. Who doesn't? I mean Jewish song, dancing and culture all mixed up with some romance ('Do you Love me?' anyone? You don't know what I'm talking about? Come over, I'll through the soundtrack on and dance it out for you) and you've got yourself one of the most perfect musicals ever. This groom worked so well with his new In-Laws, family and friends to surprise his bride. Seriously. I love this. (I watched another video with the groom and it turns out he one a Tony Award and free-style rapped his acceptance speech. Needless to say, I love this guy. You can watch the amazingness here)

So. Here is the video. Watch. Enjoy. Love.