I love math.
Seriously, if the road to world domination could run through an excel spreadsheet, I would be well on my way to becoming a global super power.
However, every great love comes with the little road bumps. In my love affair with math, crossfit has been one mother of a bump.
Exhibit A: Plate Math. I cannot tell you how to turn a 33 pound bar into 65 pounds evenly splitting plates on the two sides period, and certainly not before I have had a cup of coffee. #mathfail
Exhibit B: Kilograms. I generally believe that the metric system is a far superior way of measuring shit and in fact second only to the pub system on my list of things that America lost out on in the war of British Aggression. That belief extends to distance and volume. But weight? If you tell me that kilograms are a better means of measurement than pounds, I have one response:
I like my kettlebells like I like my excess body fat: in pounds.
Exhibit C: Speaking of excess body fat, crossfit’s newest attempt to dismantle my relationship with math comes in the form of my gym’s fat loss challenge. Overall a great initiative that is completely crushing (in a bad way, not to be confused with #crushingit) everything I thought I knew about numbers. Things like:
- Maybe I want to lose fat and not just lose weight. Which means calculating more numbers like lean mass and fat mass …
- And maybe to do this I need to eat more protein (yay bacon!) and less fat (boo bacon) …
- Oh, right, and a fuckwad of carbs.
I am pretty sure I have spent most of the last ten years thinking of carbs as second only to ISIS as things that are destroying our country (third place = loss of the pub system). Which means that fitting them into my normal eating has been … hmmm, challenging. Especially when some of these carbs (i.e. Sugar Shack donuts) may help my carbs total but completely obliterate by calorie count (right – did I mention there is a calorie max?).
So what’s a girl to do when she needs mucho carbs and pequeno calories (other than apparently take it out on the Spanish language)?
This has been my rock … my marriage counselor in the relationship that is my love with math. Or food. I don’t know, I am losing track of my metaphors here.
What you need?
- 1 banana
- 2 cups pineapple (I like frozen for consistency)
- 2-3 heaping handfuls of spinach
- 2 cups coconut water
What do you do? Do I really need to provide instructions for making a smoothie? Okay.
Step 1: Blend. Period.
How you blend is up to you. I used our fancy new blender/food processor system: the Ninja.
(Which was selected using the criteria I use for all appliance purchases: does Michelle make up a fun dance or movement to do every time I say the name of the appliance? The Ninja was a clear winner. Other Sunday morning Target shoppers? Not so much).
This shit is delicious and filling and there is only one thing that would make it better. However, I have been told that adding rum to a drink on a Monday morning is frowned upon for adults. And children, I guess.
Which will be the first thing I change when me and my excel spreadsheet take over the world. CT + MATH = BFF.