I Have 278 Days to Get Abs

I’ve blogged before about my futile quest for abs due to the fact that I love food more than I love watching what I eat to the point where I can burn down the prevalent layer of chunk encasing my perpetually hidden abdominal muscles. The closest I’ve ever gotten to visible abs have been the bottom of my ribcage and the beginnings of an oblique indentation, which promptly disappears once I hoover a taco platter and some frozen custard.

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