The World of Running Blogs

Yesterday I was bored and was trying to Google my own blog to see if it would pop up in a search (I do this from time to time, and don't lie, I know all of you with bogs do it as well, and those without blogs, you know you Google yourself; I do. But I have learned that I am not interesting and have nothing that crops up under my name. Sometimes I also Google ex-boyfriends or friends I've lost contact with; that's fun too). Anyhoo, my blog did not come up within the first five pages, and that's all I ever look through. But what I did find were a lot of other running blogs.

I've always known there were a lot of us out there, but it struck when I was scrolling through the search results just how many are out there. So, after thinking about it some, and reading some of the blogs that did pop up on the search, I came to three conclusions about running, and about blogging about running.

One, running must be one of the most popular sports out there. And why wouldn't it be? It's easy to get started, you don't need special equipment, it's relatively inexpensive, there is plenty of variance, so you can set sizable goals, and anyone can do it. The popularity of the sport isn't new to me -- I didn't wake up yesterday -- and every time I'm at a race it always strikes me how many people are there, and these are just local events; it's not the New York Marathon. But there was something monumental in browsing through the blogs yesterday -- the girth of our community is quite overwhelming.

Two, runners not only like to run, but they also must like to talk about running. While I'm sure that badmitton enthusiasts also love to share their experience with the cock and shuttle (on ein the same? I'm not sure about badmitton terminology), you don't see too many blogs about it (although, it gives me a good idea). Runners, on the other hand, love to write and read and make comments about their own running and the running of others. We're a chatty group.

Three, everyone else seems to be running further and faster than me; plus, they have way cooler blogs! I try not to compare my running to others, but sometimes I can't hlep it, and I feel a bit like a tug boat barely tooting behind everyone else. And I sometimes can't help but wonder if I spend more time blogging about running than time spent running. I originally started blogging to keep some kind of record of my running, but now it seems that the blog has become my focus and the running has become secondary -- I run in order to have something to blog. Is this wacko? I blog therefore I run?

Too much to contemplate -- brain might flip inside out.

Muscle Men

Yesterday while I was at the gym, running my little heart out on the squeekiest treadmill ever, I was watching a Strongest Man competition on ESPN. It was between that and Dr. Phil (who I kinda suspect is not an underling of Oprah, but perhaps the devil himself), so I focused my attention on the gorilla men. Granted, I always listen to my MP3 player while running at the gym, and there's no sound emanating from the TV anyway, but I could still grasp the context of the show (my IQ tests show above-average scores).

The contest appeared to have come down to six men, which seemed logical that there be only six men in the world who could compete for the Strongest Man award; anymore than that and I would have to second guess the judges' selection method. The contest took the shape of three parts: Lifting a log over their head, lifting five boulders onto platforms, and pushing down a telephone pole. All three events felt like sizable feats of strength. I thought the telephone business would be the easiet and it proves I was right: Most of those guys toppled the poles quite quickly (and this was really the only event where I thought balance, not strength, was the key feature). The log lifting was impressive -- like incline presses, just bigger. But the coup d'etat was the boulder heaving.

Each guy had five boulders (seriously boulders -- each had to be the size of a stove) that he had to lift onto five platforms that were about shoulder height. Each one was pretty fast with the first three (the boulders had to be lifted one right after the other), but each guy struggled with the final two, especially the last one, and only three actually finished lifting and placing the fifth boulder. I actually feared for a moment that the Canadian was going to be crushed by his fifth boulder.

I was cheering for the American. Partly to be patriotic, and partly because he wasn't wearing a shirt (thank you, ESPN). But in the end, it was a Polish guy with a chest like a keg and arms like an elephant's legs who won. And you know, for a Strongest Man contest, his trophy wasn't all that big. Ironic.

I've been doing my bicep curls and chest presses, but I think I'm still a long way from pressing a tree. Maybe I could outrun them though -- they didn't look too fast.

The War of the Shorts

I won a small victory against my shorts yesterday. You see, ever since I started this running business, I have fought with my shorts, and it has long been a losing effort. The war began last June, but issues had been brewing for years, and there had always been tension between my shorts and me. I tried sending ambassadors and there were several attempts at peace treaties, but in the end, the only course of action had to be all out war. The attacks have since come in waves, and I admit that my defenses were under-armed and ineffectively trained for the sort of warfare I have encounter against these vile beasts.

First, there were the cotton shorts that bunch up and get all sweaty and sticky. I felt like I was running with a diaper. I tried to adjust and mold those shorts so they could better work for me, but in the end, I simply had to put them aside. They won simply because they had better staying power. Then, there are the stretchy shorts that also ride up, but in a different way, and in general make me feel self-conscious of my butt and thighs. These two pairs are satisfactory in many ways, but they absolutely refuse to abide by the contract to stay in place, and it is this boundry dispute that has kept the two of us at odds for the past six months. And lastly, there is the pair that I probably like the most, but we still have our problems. Our battle has mostly been a subtle tug of wills, but I am proud to announce, that after yesterday's attack, I finally made some headway.

This pair is made of nylon or some such man-made material and has those little built in underwear -- which I like because then I don't have to remember to wear underwear, and I do try to remember underwear when I'm wearing shorts; the last thing I want to do when I'm running is flash someone a little coochie. The fabric is good with this pair and, in general, they don't bunch up too much. However, I have never liked the waist: It has always had two intrinsic problems.

One, it doesn't hit me right. Instead of resting low on my belly, it naturally rests right up around my belly button, and that makes me feel like an old lady. My general solution to this has been to fold the top part over. I find this does two things -- it helps them sit where I want them to, and it decreases the amount of fabric between my thighs. Although it also leads back to more butt and thigh exposure, but I guess I just have to live with short shorts; it's part of running.

Two, this is the one that was truly bugging me. The cinched up wasit always felt a little tight, and the last thing I want to feel as I'm running is squeezed. So my solution? I pulled the cord out of the waistband, and viola! It felt so much better! I never tie that little cord anyway; it just made things tighter, and I liked the feeling of pulling that cord out. The shorts didn't expect this subversive maneuver, and they were shocked by my intuitive strategy. As a result, they behaved the entire workout.

So, yesterday was a day of triumph for me. Sure, the shorts continue to dominate in the war, but it improves morale to know that I have won a battle, and perhaps, in the not so distant future, there can be peace between the shorts and me.

Sore

I've been trying to keep to my training schedule and the hardest part is to not skip out on my cross training and strength training, but last week I was very good with both. However, I am still sore from friday's workout: Abs and legs. Why is it that it's not so much the day after you lift, but two or even three days after you lift that you feel the most sore? And by then you have to lift again!

Thankfully today was arms (they already feel a little weak and tired from this morning's workout), and I get to avoid abs and legs for another couple of days, but this morning when I was sitting up in bed, my abs were screaming: "What are you doing?!" I told them sorry, but I had to get up, and unless I slinked sideways out of bed, there was no other way around it. But then I hit the floor and my left calf yelled about that, and I apologized to it as well, but told it to suck it up and deal with the stiffness.

Poor body. It thinks I'm tormenting it. It just wants candy and long days in bed.

Strippercize

On Friday night, after a couple rounds of bowling, some friends and my husband and I decided to hit the club -- the strip club that is. And while some people may find it unorthodox for a couple, or couples, to visit a strip club together, I've read and observed an increasing trend in the number of women who are not just accepting of strip clubs, but who actually enjoy visiting the clubs. So much so, that I read in "Time" that aerobic classes that feature stripper-moves are becoming one of the fastest growing trends in exercise.

Some gyms call it Strippercize, some call it Eroticize, one place reportedly calls it Cardio Striptease, and others name it simply Pole Dancing, but whatever you call it, I can see why women are flocking to it. For one thing, it's gotta be a good workout. All that dancing has to be the same kind of cardio workout that any other aerobics class offers, and when you throw some of that pole action in there, well, it becomes downright difficult.

On Friday, as I watched those strippers not only climb the poles (I couldn't even climb the rope in gym class!), but literally perform acrobatic feats up there (stuff that was almost Cirque de Soleil), I was amazed and even a little envious. The strength it would require to lift yourself away from the pole with one or two arms would be immense, and to do that upside down! They deserve to be tipped! While I wouldn't necessarily want to trade places with them (the whole topless business), I do admire their strength and endurance, and I can't help but think a class in Strippercize might be an interesting alternative to regular means of cross training, and it can't hurt some of the action in the bedroom either.

My gym doesn't offer any classes in these means yet, but I'll keep an eye out for them. Spinning class won't seem the same though now that I know what's out there.

Brrrrr

South Florida is experiencing a cold snap, and temps today and tomorrow could get as low as in the high thirties. I know that those of you who live in the north are probably just shaking your heads and smiling at this, but forecasters say it could feel like freezing here. Some people who have lived in South Florida their whole lives only know what freezing feels like from their freezer. They're a little freaked out.

My students showed up to class wearing the most winterized clothes they own: Puffy coats, winter hats and gloves, even scarfs. And even though I laugh at them a little, I too wore a sweater and donned a coat and turned on the heat in the car -- it does feel chilly. I suppose I'll be running at the gym this afternoon, but for the strangely opposite reason that I usually do; I've got to escape the cold!

Funny how when I lived in Minnesota I thought thirty or forty degrees meant t-shirt weather in the early spring. I would run through the slushy snow and the temp would be barely into the forties, but it would feel like summer after hiding away from the sub-zero frost. I've become such a baby.

The RW

For most runners, "Runner's World" is like the Bible. We eagerly study it and memorize the tips and articles; we use the training guides and heed the advice regarding shoes and other gear. And I too like RW, and find many of the articles helpful and motivational; however, I've observed in the past months that a lot of runners, at least runners with blogs, seem to be women (I don't know, maybe we just like to talk, I'm not sure, but I see a lot of running blogs by women). And it made me think -- maybe there should be an RW just for women.

I don't want another "Women's Health" as Rodale (RW's publisher) already does; no, I mean a women's RW that speaks specifically to women runners and their needs and wants. Because I don't know if you other ladies are aware of it, but when I flip through RW, I certainly feel a masculine dominace, and if you quickly glance at the list of writers, contributors and editors, you'll see why: They're mostly men. And I was thinking the other day when I passed both women and men runners on my route that men's running might be significantly different from women's running.

Physically, women and men are very different -- most women have higher percentages of body fat, and we have boobs and hips: How do these factors affect how we run? Is it different? What factors of gear, motivation, training, pacing, speed, distance, diet are different? Many women might have children, or are pregnant, and how does that affect our lives as runners? These questions and other lead me to believe there's enough material to constitute another publication.

Maybe I'm just being uber-sensitive, or maybe I just need RW to have a few more articles about sports bras and the ever important issue of inner thigh rub. But I don't really think that's it. I think I've actually stumbled onto a fairly ingenius (obvious, I'll admit) idea. Perhaps it could be called "Radical Women Runners" or "Gnarly Girls Going the Distance" -- okay, those titles suck, but it's hard trying to come up with titles while keeping the Ninja Turtle language alive.

Yee-Haw!

I can't sleep again, and I am trying to make myself drowsy by browsing blogs and the web in general, but I don't feel a wink tired. And I just ate four mini-Snickers, some of my leftover Christmas candy, the best stuff ever (it's better in miniature form, everything is). Something tells me that if I didn't love candy coated in chocolate or yellow cake so much that I might be able to shed more pounds and run farther and faster, but something else tells me that those things are delicious and heavenly and if, as a human being, you find heaven on Earth, I'm pretty sure the Bible says to eat it.

Anyhoo, I did run today -- was aiming for three miles, but after 2.5 decided to walk -- and it wasn't great. Amazing how some days are radical and others are bogus (a new goal is to single-handedly bring back the sacred language of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles; the success rate has been minimal so far). The upside of today's run was that someone yelled "Yee-haw" as they drove past. Now, I've had many cars, trucks, SUVs, and front loaders pass by and wave, whistle, honk, and shout, but never, ever have I heard someone give me a "Yee-Haw!"

And I kinda liked it.

Made me think I was in the Wild West for a moment, and I love the Wild West! I love rodeo queens who wear their hair teased into a squirrel's nest and who still wear blue eyshadow and who think children's pageants are not only appropriate, but adorable. I love men who wear their jeans three sizes too small, and have a collection (can you imagine!) of belt buckles -- big, big ones. And I love cowboy hats, horses, beer, and the idea that everyone should live on a 200 acre ranch.

You may think I am jesting, but I kid not. I grew up in Colorado, and attended my first rodeo when I was four (my grandpa bought me a cowgirl hat). I lived with my grandparents on their "farm" when I was a kid, and we had three horses, a donkey, two turkeys, a rabbit, a shitload of dogs, four cats, and some chickens. I was in 4-H and I raised two sheep: Pepsi and Sprite. And we lived on 180 acres, where there were three ponds, a wood, an old barn, and numerous outbuildings. I loved that life.

Of course, Colorado has changed so that it is barely recognizable to me anymore (like seeing a relative after many years -- you can identify them, but are always surprised to see how they've changed). Somewhere along the line, the state grew popular to live in and has become quite crowded. Still, I wouldn't mind moving back. But it's not wild anymore.

Wyoming, on the other hand, and Montana -- they're still wild. Those states still hold onto the ideals of the Wild West by permitting drive-thru liquor stores, the totting of hand guns (why conceal it? -- it belongs right there on your belt!), flexible speed limits, and vast expanses of undeveloped land. Awesome. I have great stories about those states. Maybe one day I'll heed the call of "Go West Young Woman" and I'll be back in the land of the cowboy and cowgirl. Of course, I'd have to get used to running at that elevation again -- 8,000 feet can be a bitch on the lungs.

Random Notes

Approximate amount of cake I've had since baking it on Thursday: The whole thing. Minus one piece my husband snuck in.

Approximate number of calories: Like a zillion. I don't know how to calculate frosting and everything, but it's got to be a lot.

Approximate amount of cake I ate in cut squares that I put on my plate and ate like a civilized human being: About half.

Approximate amount of cake I just ate out of the pan with a fork: The other half.

Approximate amount I feel guilty about all this cake eating: Not much. I get this craving for the yellow cake and chocolate frosting about once every couple of months and instead of fighting it, I just let it consume me (or, rather, I consume it); I figure fighting urges isn't good for you, and I'd hate to deny myself anything. The cake obsession is a small price to pay to the sanity gods.

Approximate weight I've gained since the eating of the cake: None. Even though I seem cursed to never lose a damned pound, I seem to also be blessed to never gain a damn pound. I will be stuck forever at the same weight -- maybe not the tragedy I once thought it was.

Approximate number of blogs I have written about yellow cake with chocolate frosting: 2. Like the vitamins (3 blog entries) and funny people I see at the gym (25 entries), there are some things that will never lose their interest for me.

The Sideways Vitamin

Do you ever swallow a viatmin and it feels as though it is lodged in your throat sideways? And then once you're fairly confident you've swallowed enough water to wash it down, it feels like a stone in your stomach?

That's what I've got going on right now. I swear that thing rebelled against me, and went in crooked just to piss me off. Then, I had to drink enough water to fill a swimming pool to get the feeling that it had slipped down into my stomach, but now I can feel it sitting there. And with all the water I just drank, I feel a little woozy from the effects.

Am I the only one who struggles with her daily vitamin? Why does it have to be so big? And why in the world can't it be gel coated, like aspirin? Ugghhh.

New Year Resolution

I thought about the idea of trying to publish a book, one of my life goals, in this coming year, and the idea of that goal both terrifies and excites me. You see, I wrote this book about two years ago, and then I spent a great deal of my time editing it carefully, and preparing it for the outside world. I queried agents, editors, publishing houses. Some of them answered me. A few wanted to read the first fifty pages. No one wanted to buy it. No one wanted to represent it. They all had the same comments: Good writing, won't sell.

I put that book away. Perhaps it is not very good.

Then, I decided to start with another idea I'd been brewing in my brain. Last summer when I had some time off work, I finished that idea: It was its own book. Since then it has sat in my right hand desk drawer. Sometimes I think about it. I think maybe I should take it out, edit it, fine tune it, get it ready for the outside world. But sometimes I think that the outside world will think the same thing of this book as they did the last one, and I will spend months sending out queries, writing cover letters, and buying stamps for the rejection letters I will receive in the mail. The thought is daunting.

But today when I was running, I thought about it, and I figured that being scared was pretty stupid. (And it can't be more painful than the running.) So, my New Year's resolution: to try and publish this book. Then, if this book meets the same fate as the one before it, perhaps I will try writing a book about running. Maybe I could title it: "21 Days." Catchy, huh?

To Resolve or Not to Resolve

That is the question.

It is New Year's Eve and most are probably thinking over what they will resove to change in the forthcoming year. In years past I have always resolved to not resolve. I never like to make promises I won't keep (especially to that all important person, myself), so I have vowed year after year to not change anything, and to always remain the same. Yet, this year has me thinking differently.

I usually reserve my panic about my life and what I have or have not accomplished in my time on Earth for birthdays. Last year that led to a list of five things I want to do before I'm thirty: get married (check), run a marathon (goddammit, I'm working on that), publish a book (starting to feel like a distant dream), go to Italy (must remember to start saving for that), and find a job I enjoy (or that pays me really well). I have a whole list of other things I'd like to learn or do as well that include learning to rock out on the drums, take dance lessons, sky dive, and learn a foreign language (I mean really learn it, not just be capable of asking where the bathroom is).

But I've been thinking that this year will be the year that I decide to work toward these goals at the start of the new year instead of waiting until my birthday (besides, this year I turn an even number and I always feel good about turning an even number -- it's the odd years that prompt me to think about my life). The new year is the perfect time for a resolution; a fresh leaf, a new start, a beginning, because tommorow is not just another day -- it's a new year! So, what will I resolve?

I can't get more married and I am working on that marathon dream. Italy is probably a year away, but we could count my change jar as a savings account for that. My job? Well, I don't hate teaching, I just wish I got paid more to do it. So I either need to find a full time position, or I need to go back to school for my PhD; that's what I've decided. I have applications in for both. I'll let you know what happens. So, it comes down to the book. Publish a book.

Publish a book. Hmmm, such a commitment. Can I do it? Is it feasible? Do I dare resolve to work toward that? Such a big endeavor (even if it is written and sitting in my desk drawer). Hmmm, this will be an all day consideration. Let you know tomorrow.

The Lighted Path

Yesterday I tested out a new running route partially because I am increasing my mileage and am forced to break away from my solid path, but also partially because I recognize the need to breakaway from my solid path. This new path was fine, except it forces me to double back, and I don't like that. I like either running to a destination or running in a loop -- I don't like the feeling of retracing my steps; it makes me feel like I've already covered that ground. The other thing I didn't like about that route was that I had to cross three intersections with lights.

Mostly I try to avoid intersections like these, three reasons:

Chief reason number one: If the light is red when you approach it, you have to do one of two things -- stop running and stand there, or jog in place. I don't like to just stop running because then I lose my momentum, and I don't like to jog in place because I feel like a geek jogging there while everyone in traffic looks at you. So, I always cross my fingers and hope that every light I hit will be green when I hit it.

Secondary reason: If the light is green when I get there, and I have the opportunity to run across the street, I never quite trust drivers to not run me over. Especially drivers who are turning right. Some of them looked pissed that I'm delaying their turn, others leer, and others aren't even looking. (When I was a kid, we had an Atari and I loved the game "Frogger" -- where you try to steer the frog across the road without getting smashed. Well, I had a sicko streak and kinda liked seeing the frog get smooshed, and well, sometimes I think people have real life feelings like those about runners crossing the street. Sure, it's morally wrong to strike a runner down in the prime of her life, but perhaps it is also humorous.) It freaks me out and I always hesitate when crossing a lighted intersection, even when the light is in my favor.

Last reason: I like to pretend when I am running that no one can see me. It's the only way I can consciously do it outside over and over again. People look at runners; I look at runners. And I don't like to be noticed like that. So, when I run I mostly chose paths that have little or no traffic, but this route that I chose yesterday has heavy traffic. I don't mind the cars if they're just cruising by, but at the light, that's when you know they are going to stare at you. How could they not? They're sitting in their vehicle while you trot in front of them -- it's like a performance.

If I had my way, we would have little skyway bridges over every intersection to avoid these problems and I think that not only would the running world thank me for the idea, but I think walkers, bikers and roller bladers alike would be thankful for such innovation.

Foot Fetish

I've noticed in the past week that the skin on my toes has been peeling off in chunks. First, it kinda bubbles up -- like a blister, but not painful -- then it peels off in a clump of skin. It's remarkably disgusting, and I'm not sure if it's a side effect from running, or if I'm just shedding some skin, like a snake, and soon the shedding will spread to other parts.

I'm a little dismayed at the sight of this peeling since my feet have actually been one of my features that I've always been rather fond of. I'm not ashamed to say that they are extrodinarily cute. For one thing, they are very small, almost child-sized feet, and my husband can cup one of them in his palm. So, that makes them adorable. But they're also nicely shaped feet: No strange arch or weirdly long or narrow shape; the toes are arranged in descending order (as God intended, not like some of these feet I've seen that have toes growing out all nimbly-bimbly ignoring the command of the Big Toe -- which should always be the largest); and I have a always had nice toe nails (with the exception of the spring I broke off my Big Toe nail in soccer; I'll admit, that was gross). But the thing that really makes my feet cute, is that on the bottom of one there is a mole -- not a big hariy mole -- but a flat, personalized one.

But just because my feet have always been cute, don't go assuming that I have treated them delicately. No, I spent most of my childhood with caluses as thick as plywood and playing sports in high school and college left them with patches of athlete's foot and dry skin. Later, as I worked part-time as a waitress for many years, my feet suffered from fatigue and stress as I stood on them for hours at a time. And now we come to this point, a point where I run on them four days a week with increasing mileage. Even though they have high tech shoes between them and the pavement, they still take a beating.

Still, I can't help but think this recent skin peeling is odd. It looks odd. And for the first time in my life, I feel like hiding those little toes away. Will the shedding subside? Will it increasingly get worse? Will my toes rub away? Will I be left with nubs (and therefore, will I be able to balance on those nubs)? I was so concerned about my waistline, that I never thought about the effects this running might have on my feet. What will become of them?

Winter Weather

South Florida really does have a pleasant winter. True, we don't get the holiday snow, or even frost, and that kinda sucks for those of us who grew up with wintry weather; however, you can't deny how beautiful it is here right now. It's a little crisp first thing in the morning, but by mid-afternoon, it's in the low 70s, dry with soft breezes. Perfect for running.

Yesterday evening when I went for my run, it felt good just to be breathing the air and feeling my skin whoosh (that is the "technical" term) against the fabric of the landscape (poetic, I know). It was one of those afternoons that just makes you feel happy and content. It sounds so cheesy to even mention, but it really was the sort of weather that feels good to inhale, and the sight of such a blue sky against so much green is pleasing to behold.

I love to breathe in dry air -- must be because I grew up in Colorado where the air is exceedingly dry and thin (thus, your skin feels cracked and aged, and that's why many new comers suffer from nose bleeds, headaches, and nausea). I can remember hiking when I was kid and I would stand in the trees and suck in the scent of pine and dirt, and it smelled so clean and fresh. That's why I actually loved walking home from college in the deep of winter when I lived in Minnesota: Those really painfully cold nights, I'd be walking home from a late class or time spent at the school newspaper, when I'd breathe in, and my nose hairs would crystalize and when I'd exhale the cloth of my scarf would frost. I loved those solitary walks home in the dark -- the stars always looked so crisp and clear in the inky night and the air around me felt so thin and vacuous.

Here in Florida I have discovered new ways to enjoy the outside air (what is mostly thick, mucusy wet air), and while it is mostly paradoxical of the climates I am used to, there are times when I inhale and it smells or feels like I am in the north. I have to savor this time of year: In a few months running outside will return to a sticky, sweaty mess.

The Approaching New Year

Yesterday evening I was in Barnes & Noble shopping with the gift cards I received for Christmas (can't help myself -- I am addicted to books and I couldn't wait any longer to go and get some); there I noticed the large population of books on weight loss, nutrition, and exercise that were crowding the ends of shelves. There were also many books on how to look and feel younger, example title: "Turn Back the Clock," rubbing shoulders with the other diet and exercise manuals.

These books signal the lurking new year approaching at the end of this week, and everyone is starring at his or her waistline regretting what he or she ate over Christmas, or maybe even thinking all the way back to when the overeating started at Thanksgiving. The diet book industry, which is part of the mammoth self-help book industry, makes gajillions of dollars every year, and yet I am here to help save you money. Don't buy a single book out there about how to lose weight or how to look younger, because I will save you $23.95 by telling you what each one will recommend. Every kind of those books is based on five basic tenets of good health, and they are:

1. Get plenty of sleep. Everyone should know by now that sleep deprived people are more prone to weight gain than those who feel rested. Also, getting enough rest is essential to maintaining your youth; you can spot a tired person because they look old and haggard. Generally, those who get at least eight hours a night maintain steadier weights, are less likely to overeat and more likely to get daily exercise, and they have a more positive outlook on life. So get all your zzz's.

2. Drink plenty of water. Go by the standard eight glasses of eight ounces rule. Drinking water helps everything in your physical body function better, and even helps you look better -- skin needs to be hydrated, and this also affects your hair and nail quality. Thus, the chapter in every "look younger book" on drinking water. In this category, the books will also advise keeping alcohol consumption to a minimum (obviously alcohol is hihg in calories and it dehydrates you, odd tradition that we start our New Year with so much of it).

3. Eat plenty of fresh food. Many diet manuals emphasize shopping for food around the outside rim of the grocery store -- that's where you usually find the dairy, deli, meat, and produce sections and you avoid the middle which includes all the boxed, canned and frozen foods which are all generally high in sodium and preservatives. Make sure you get the appropriate servings of fruits and veggies -- they have the necessary fiber, vitamins, and water content to help you lose weight.

4. Get daily exercise. The new food pyramid actually recommends ninety minutes of exercise a day five days a week if you have a sedentary job, as most of us do. But don't freak out. Walking from your car, or up a flight of stairs could count as part of your exercise, as well as yard and housework. Still, you should aim for thirty minutes of exercise a day to help your heart, lungs, and muscles. What you do for exercise should be based on what you like. I like to run -- it clears my head and makes me feel strong and healthy. But I strongly recommend that whatever exercise you do should be something you enjoy; otherwise, you will quit doing it in a week.

5. Relax. Stress and fatigue are probably Americans' numbers one and two reasons for weight gain, aging, and depression (which affects your health negatively in a dozen ways). So, you have to find your own ways of letting go and enjoying life. This can mean taking time to read a book, watch a TV show (preferrably a funny one; laughing is good for all around health), pet your dog or cat (pets are proven to lower stress and people who own pets are reportedly much happier than those who don't), have a beer with a friend, meditate, knit, whatever. Just take the time to not worry so much.

I am, by no means, master of any of these concepts. Still, as the public service announcements used to say: "Knowing is half the battle." Buying one of those gimmicky books will only elaborate on those things which you already know, so instead of buying a book or video, or whatever, we could all be better served by actually trying to follow those ideas. As best as we can while also keeping in mind what's good for us (being stick thin, not good for you; being healthy, good for you) and by being reasonable with goals and expectations. Don't buy the books; that would be feeding an evil machine, a machine that could use a diet.

A Month of Marriage

While yesterday was certainly notable because it marked Christmas, it was also notable in my household as the one month anniversary of our wedding. We really only celebrated the Christmas aspect -- we're not really the sort to celebrate month anniversaries, but there were still loads of gifts and good food. I don't really have anything to say about our first month of marriage, except that saying it sounds like a book title.

Yesterday was also supposed to be my day for a long run, but because it was Christmas, and because I just didn't feel like it, I didn't run. In some ways I felt guilty since the reasoning behind this new schedule was to keep me from coming up with excuses, but on the other hand, I didn't feel shamed about taking a day off to eat copious amounts of turkey and enjoy the day. Today, I plan to make up the long run and go for it early this evening. I just finished adding the second coat of paint to my office, and feel pretty worn out from that; however, I am not going to leave running out today. I'm just going to sit for a spell, have a cup of caffeinated tea, and get into the mood.

First I have to get out of these filthy clothes (I look like a Jackson Pollack painting) and clean up my supplies. One thing at a time.

Leaving a Mark

Today was my day to cross train, so instead of running, I went for a long walk. I like walking; it's very relaxing and I seem to have more room in my brain to let my mind wander; whereas when I run, I often am just focused on the running itself, or the music blaring through my MP3. While I was walking this afternoon, I was passed by two runners. One, a small woman about my height in a very cute running outfit that was all coordinated. Secondly, by a tall man with long legs and no coordination of running clothes. And after watching each pass me by, it struck me how different each runner truly is.

Like a fingerprint or snowflake, each runner seems to have an individual gait -- their own way of running that is like no other runner. The petite woman who was dressed so smartly ran with short, calculated steps; on the other hand, the tall man's stride reminded me a bit of a loopy Labrador retriever with big clodding strides and a thumping way of pounding the sidewalk as if his feet were hooves. But these aren't the only two runners I've noted. I see hundreds of runners each week. Some I see running outside and many others I see in the gym, and I witness both the very graceful and the very strange ways of running.


I used to believe that the best runners were those with the long, steady stride, the ones that looked as though they were floating just inches above the pavement, and I have seen some runners who actually run like that. Yet, I have seen others run like they have something rammed up their ass, others who run kinda lopsided as if one leg is longer than the other, others who run a little crooked (they kinda weave back and forth and when I run next to these types in races I'm never sure if they're going to run into me or not). I also see people who run with very short, practiced steps, and then there are others who look like they are trying to reach into next week with their step.

Then there's me. How do I run? I really can't tell you. Some days I feel as though I am one of those crooked runners with one pigeon-toed foot and one foot slapping the pavement next to its retarded brother. Sometimes I'm extremely conscious of how my butt and thighs must jiggle up and down as I stomp my way down the path, and I think I have all the gracefulness of T-Rex. And other times I feel as though I am one of those perfect gliders who make running look easy and focused. On some of the treadmills at the gym, I can see my reflection in the glass doors of the dance studios and I catch a glimpse of a short (because my legs are Smurf-length) but even stride.

I am conscious of standing up straight, keeping my core tight, pumping my arms close to my body, and making sure my feet land heel first and roll onto their balls as I learned so long ago in seventh grade track. There are things I could improve about my stride I'm sure -- ways to adjust and smooth it out -- but I like the idea of having an individual mark on my sport. And if we had snow here in South Florida, I could turn and admire the tracks I made in the frost, and I would be happy to see how they said something about me and my running.

Busy busy

Sorry it's been a couple of days since my last post. I've been busy with the remodeling job (requires many hours on a stepladder with a paint roller in my hand) and getting ready for Christmas (actually, that's a lie -- I'm all done with my shopping and we're not entertaining so I haven't doing anything on that front). But you will be happy to know that I have been keeping up with my training schedule and have had some good runs so far this week.

On Tuesday I actually ran the fastest three miles I think I've run since my high school days: 3 miles in 30 minutes. I think it was because I was so highly caffeinated (one latte and two diet pepsis; I could have pulled a Volkswagon behind me I was so energized) that day, but who knows? I tried to repeat that time again yesterday, but only managed to run the 3 miles in 32 minutes. Poop.

Today is my day off, so I applied a second coat of paint to some bookshelves this morning, and then picked up around the house, and now I plan to spend the rest of the day laying around and reading.

Zzzzzzz....

I can't sleep. An infliction that strikes me from time to time. Not complete insomnia (which, by the way, is an affliction that few really suffer from: most get some sleep), but I am having trouble falling asleep. Usually I have this issue when I have too much on my mind, but I'm on break from classes right now and am actually enjoying the bliss of peace of mind; however, as I was trying to get to sleep my mind was strangely focused on things of little or trivial importance (for instance, I started to panick about what to make for dinner tomorrow night -- I wanted to make something out of the leftover ham, maybe a soup, but I couldn't think of a soup recipe for ham off the top of my head) and then my mind becomes so fixated on that issue that I have to get out of bed to investigate (thus, I got up to flip through cookbooks: you'll be relieved to know that I found a suitable recipe that doesn't require a trip to the store).

Sleep is a cherished thing for me, and when I can't easily drift off, it bothers me; plus, it interrupts the whole next day as well because I'll invariably sleep later than usual and the whole process will begin like a sickening merry-go-round. So, after dealing with the recipe business I decided to hop online and check out sleep remedies. Mostly I found the usual: warm bath, cup of warm milk (thought has always repulsed me), cup of decaf tea, deep breathing, etc. But interestingly enough, I found some other strange ideas: sleep with your head facing north (as if! I never know what direction I'm pointed even when I'm not lying down), toe wiggling, belly rubbing, and something called "quiet ears" -- a meditation practice that requires you to focus on a remembered sound.

But along with the advice (sage and otherwise), I learned some more about sleep. I have long known, along with everyone else, that sleep is essential to good health and usually I feel as though that is the one area in which I exceed all standards of good practice. And I also knew that sleep is aided by regular exercise (not a problem -- went to the yoga class, sanded the shit out of the walls of the office), a cooler room, a firm bed, and an avoidance of caffeine. But I did learn that my favorite sleeping position, on my stomach, is the worst for you. It compresses your organs and causes back pain (but is oh so comfy for me). And I also learned that counting sheep really can help you get to sleep.

However much info I gleaned, my own methods seem to be kicking in now. When I can't sleep, I usually get up if it's been too long (recommended action: if you've been lying there for more than 30 minutes, you should get up), have a snack, and read or play around watching TV, or playing on the computer. Once the snacks set in and I have exhausted my brain with some mental stretching, I usually feel sleepy, as I do now.

Perhaps I will try to wake myself early tomorrow so I don't feel like this tomorrow night, but until then I'll just enjoy the incoming Z's.

Sanding for Strength

Today is supposed to be my Strength and Stretch day on the training schedule, but I've returned to working on the house, and my little arms feel weak from sanding all afternoon. Some of you might remember that we bought a house last spring and have been in the process of remodeling since then. Well, with the wedding and the holidays and everything, we kinda stalled out on the project in November, but now that I have two weeks off for Christmas vacation, I have decided to resume work on the office -- where we left off. I'm particularly anxious to finish this room because that means I could unpack all my books and get my desk moved in there (right now my work station is in the living room), so I started again on the work today.

And boy are my arms tired.

I forgot how much work this house stuff is. After working so hard all summer, I didn't think it was possible to forget the pain, but the memory has returned full force, and sanding is the most dreaded job on my list. I think I even prefer the task of scraping off wallpaper. The thing about sanding is not just that it's tedious or that it is incredibly dirty (and you feel like your throat, ears and nose are coated in dust, thus the plaster boogers), but it's really about how tiring it is. The sander is not light (3 and a half pounds: yes, I weighed that fucker) and your arms get sore from the sanding action.

With the up and down of the stepladder added in (not to mention the boxes I hauled around this morning), I think I got my strength in by doing that and I can already feel how my arms will be weak and sore tomorrow. But I do still have the "stretch" aspect to fit in; perhaps I will go to a yoga class tonight. I don't know. I'm feeling awfully lazy now after the day of manual labor.

The Great Outdoors

I ran my "long" run -- 3 miles this week -- outside this afternoon. The weather was nice: overcast, cooler, hint of a breeze, and it's always nice to get away from the treadmill. However, running outside has dramatically changed since hurricane Wilma tore through here just two months ago. When the storm hit, she ripped up many trees and those trees ripped up the sidewalks or tumbled down across the paths and streets of the area. The trees also knocked fences and concrete walls into the sidewalks and streets, and crews are still in the process of not just removing the brush, but also repairing the sidewalks and pathways.

For the most part, there are long strips of uninterrupted cement, but there are other sections where the sidewalk is completely missing ("where the sidewalk ends," you could say), and in its wake are gaping holes or jumbled piles of blocks. In other spots, the sidewalk remains, but debris still sits on the path and jumping around or over it wears me out. So, for many portions of my run today, I ran on the street. Thankfully the streets in the area of my course are fairly empty and traffic is light; still, cars always act as though the swerving around you is a big deal, and they swing way over into the other lane. Which, I have to admit, is better than some drivers who refuse to budge to the side even when there's plenty of room. Instead, they brush right by you -- so close you feel the rush of air that follows their vehicle.

Drivers in general can react so strangely to runners or walkers on the side of the road. There are, of course, the whistlers or the honkers (I hate the latter; it scares the bejesus out of me) and those that yell "hey baby!" But once I had a guy literally turn around and stop and tell me I was beautiful. I'm not sure what he was doing -- is that how he asks women out? If so, he needs a quick course, because that method is the quick-study stalker method, one that is not appreciated by women. Then there are those like I listed above: They either ignore your presence on the road, or act as though you are as wide as a cement truck. But lastly, there are those that don't seem to see you at all.

Now, there were times in my life, particularly when I was a child wishing for magical abilities, that I wished for invisibility, but I have never ever wished for such a gift as I was running. However, some people just can't see me. These are the drivers who pull out right in front of you as you are jogging across a crosswalk while the light is in your favor. And they are the ones who blow the red light just as you are stepping off a curb ( I once had my life flash before my eyes when I stepped back up onto the curb just in time to miss a van that was so close I could taste its paint). And it's these drivers that I fear, because I think one day they will just run me down, but the worst part will be that they won't even know -- because they never saw me -- and they'll figure they hit a dog or a cat and they'll cruise on. Meanwhile, I'll be left without the use of my limbs to bleed in the street.

So, when the sidewalks are returned to normal here I'll thankfully hop back on them and praise the lord that they are there. Because the street -- that belongs to the crazies.

Headache

I have a pounding headache this morning from the Christmas party we hosted last night. I didn't think I had that much to drink, but it must've been the combination of champagne, beer, and cosmos because my head is killing me. I popped a couple of Advil, so I'm waiting for them to work their magic, and in the meantime, I'm sucking down water.

It was a good party though and I had lots of fun. We shared some drinks, some laughs, some food, and some gifts. I received a great t-shirt that reads "I'm a Virgin (This is an Old T-Shirt)"! Don't you love that? I love it! In fact I love it so much I fell asleep (passed out) in it and it was even comfy as pajamas.

We even sampled some of the Jones Soda "Holiday Pack" -- each soda tasted like part of a holiday meal: turkey, stuffing, cranberry, pumpkin pie. I was only willing to sample the cranberry, and the thought of drinking the others kinda made me want to vommit.

So, all in all, it was a great holiday party and I love those.

(Ahh, this entry really sucks, doesn't it? Sorry, but I'm just a touch hungover and can't say that I have anything truly coherent or interesting to note. Perhaps I will be improved for tomorrow's post. Disregard this one if you need to.)

For my Peeps

Since it is the holidays, and the holidays are a time to say "thank you," I wanted to say a little thank you to all of you who have both read my blog this year and commented on it. For those of you who read and write comments: You've been especially encouraging and helpful. Many days when I feel sick of running and ready to give up on this endeavor, your comments always help me press on. Others of you have proven to be a wealth of knowledge -- many of you know so much about running, nutrition, and overall health that I am begining to feel as though I have my own private dieticians and coaches alongside me. And lastly, your comments have helped make me feel a part of something (is anyone tearing up yet?) and that has been invaluable.

For those who read, but don't comment: It's alright. I don't mind a lurker. I do the same on other blogs -- some of them might be your blogs. I know you've been there and have read, and I've been encouraged to see how the traffic on this site has increased since its inception and that is thanks to you. There are many days when I feel like I have nothing to say and little to share with you, yet it is the knowledge that someone is reading that helps me get to the blog and write my bit. However, I do encourage you to comment, especially if you've been reading for awhile and have never done it -- I do like hearing your voice.

So, whether you're celebrating Christmas, Kwanza, Channukah, or if you're sacrificing live chickens this holiday season, I hope you are healthy and happy, and I want you to know how much I appreciate this small fan base (if you weren't crying before, I hope you are now). Thanks guys!

End of the Semester

Yippie! Today is the end of the semester. That means that I have to read a pile of papers that stretches up to the ceiling, but it also means that by this time tomorrow, I will be finished with this term. I'm ready to be done with this semester: We had so many disruptions from the busy hurricane season (including two full weeks off after Wilma swept through in October), and I don't know if that's why students seem so out of it or what, but I've also had many student issues this semester. Lots of problems with absences, tardys, late work, etc -- all the stuff that can make teaching tedious work and makes students so much less enjoyable ( I am particularly glad to see one guy go -- he gave me trouble all semester and I wish I had the grounds to fail him).

But that is behind me, and now I have two weeks off to rest and rejuvenate and get ready for the next semester so I can be fresh and ready for a new batch.

Despite the busy day today, I demonstrated my new committment to the training schedule by taking time to leave campus and go run the designated distance for the day. I really love the idea of such a cemented routine -- it helps to eliminate all excuses I manufacture, and with the next two weeks much more open, I will hopefully have the time to truly make progress with this new endeavor.

But, right now, I must return to essay reading and assessing -- what joy!

10K Training

I have set my sights on my new running goal: the 10K. I figure I have been playing around with the 5K for long enough and it is time to graduate to the next level. So, I have determined to train and set my goal for a race that is on February 25th. That gives me about ten weeks to prepare. Yesterday, I downloaded a training program and have decided to commit to it.

It makes me feel good to have a goal set in front of me, and I especially like have the schedule. It helps me adhere to a specific routine, something I think my running needs. That way, even on days when I don't feel like working out, I can't give myself any excuses to skip it or postpone it or cut it short. I have to follow the schedule.

The schedule includes one day of rest a week, two days that incorporate strength training and two days that require cross training. So, hopefully this will add to my running, but will also add some variety to my workouts.

I also got a training log from RW in the mail today (my free gift for renewing my subscription), so with both the training log and schedule, I will be very organized, if not a down right lean, mean, running machine.

Banana-Rama

I have a problem with bananas that have brown spots. It icks me out and I can't eat them. In fact, there's something about bananas in general that kind of ick me out. For one thing, I think they have the strangest texture for a fruit. Most fruit have watery qualities to them and are often juicy in some sense, but not the banana. I think it might actually be part foam or packing peanut.

It's this odd texture that leads to the weird way it gums up in your mouth while chewing, almost like peanut butter how it sticks to the roof of your mouth and to your gums. I can't stand to watch another person eat a banana, and I hate to see it smacking around in their mouth -- it triggers my vommit reflex.

However, it's not just the texture and the gooed up way it breaks down while chewing that bothers me about bananas; no, I ultimately feel ambiguous about the smell. Sometimes I like the smell of bananas: They smell sweet and fresh. But other times, the smell of them makes me ill: Then they smell rotten and putrid -- overly sweet. Yet, for all my complaints about bananas I still eat them, fairly regularly. I just had one, as a matter of fact (although, I didn't finish it because there were dreaded brown spots at the bottom). But there are many good things about bananas that keep me coming back to them.

They are obviously high in potassium, and that's something many runners need -- that's why races always provide bananas at the end. Along with sodium and water, your body uses up potassium when sweating, and needs to be replaced. So if you run everyday, you should follow up a run with a banana and a tall glass of water -- you will feel restored quite quickly. Bananas are also great because they actually count as two servings of fruit, so for those of you who often feel like you cheat out of fruit servings, a banana can help add to your daily intake and it doubles the amount you get.

But what many don't know is that bananas are also very high in vitamin C and B6 (I have no idea what you need B6 for, but it sounds important; however, I can recognize vitamin C and I know that's a useful vitamin). And like other fruit, they're high in fiber -- we all know what that's good for. And lastly, this creamy little fruit is only about 100 calories, so you can burn it off with just a mile's run.

In the end, you see, the good things far outweigh the aspects I dislike, so I keep on choking them down, and I try to look at the positive side: they wear their own cute yellow jacket, so each banana is kind of stylish. You can't go wrong with stylish fruit.

Wedding Pictures

Only a fraction of our wedding pictures are in, but I'm so excited about sharing them that I just have to post one, so here it is: Ta-da!

I hope your rightfully impressed.

This is one of the few I have right now that is just of me (new husband would like to remain anonymous and would not like to see his picture posted here) and it was taken moments before the actual ceremony. We just got these pictures and some others from the reception back today, and I've been excitedly thumbing through them. The formal shots with the parents and so forth won't arrive for another few weeks, but these have been enough to keep me busy.

After sorting those photos from the wedding, I spent the rest of the day organizing albums of pictures from our honeymoon, and actually managed to fill one album and half of another. But it took a long time since I was printing some from home and organizing others that we took with disposable cameras; I have the feeling that between wedding and honeymoon pictures, we will fill many albums and several picture frames. But it's so much fun!

So, no running for me today -- too busy with pictures. But I worked out hard yesterday (had another nose-pick sighting, but this one was more discreet; you know, the type of pick disguised as a scratch). Today is my day of rest anyway. The running will resume tomorrow as well as the picture sorting: As soon as I have more to share, I will post them.

Christmas Cardio

Shopping has got to count for some kind of exercise -- all that walking and hauling bags around the mall and out to your car (and I never remember where I park, so I usually do some extra walking). I went shopping this morning for the last of the Christmas stuff, but still didn't manage to finish. But the end is in sight, and I only have a few things left for my husband (feels as though I'm pretending using that word, but I'm not, because I'm married now!) and I know what I'm going to get him, I just didn't have the energy left to go to the necessary stores today.

Shopping wears me out, but I love the holidays. I love wrapping presents and listening to Christmas music and setting up the tree: It really is the most wonderful time of year! And I love, love, love watching "Christmas Vacation" -- "Little knot here" and "A Christmas Story" -- "You'll shoot your eye out!" and "Love, Actually" -- no quotable lines, but I can't get enough of Hugh Grant dancing and singing!

Of course, it is also the time of year to eat two cupcakes at work and to feel entitled to more than one soda a day and to help yourself to the new bag of chips -- it's all in the spirit of excess. Oh well, I love it! I bought the yummiest ingredients for holiday cupcakes, and I'm going to bake them next week for our Christmas party -- there will be little tree sprinkles and everything! Yippie!

(I notice I have excessively used the exclamation point here. However, I must defend the punctuation because it's the holidays, and like I said, it's a time for excess. And if you want an extra laugh about exclamation points, buy "Seinfeld" season five: Watch the episode where Elaine dumps her boyfriend over his reluctance to use an exclamation point.)

Brick by Brick

I wanted to find a quote that I know exists to help illustrate my point today, but I have just wasted the past half an hour looking for it. It's something along the lines of how Rome wasn't built in a day, and that it would need to be built brick by brick. I want to say that it's a Caesar who says it, but I have searched the Internet far and wide and I can get a couple of quotes that are close, but they aren't what I'm looking for. Does anyone have an idea of what I'm talking about? (I actually think the quote is used in "Seabiscuit"; maybe I'll have to go home and watch that to find the full quote.) Anyway, if you're better at finding quotes and you can find what I'm searching for, let me know.

Otherwise, I guess I'll write this entry without my brilliantly used quote -- dammit, it was going to make me look smart too.

Oh well. So my point: I've been feeling frustrated with my running because my progress is so slow and sometimes I feel as though I'm not making any headway at all. But yesterday I read an article in "Runner's World" that helped me feel better. The article was a typical RW story about someone who overcame an obstacle to run (they love those stories, and I suppose they are inspiring, but inspirational stuff sometimes makes me want to vommit -- too sentimental, Halmark-y). The redeeming quality about the story though was the guy who was the focus and who was interviewed. He said, "Our society has become so quick-fix oriented that nobody wants to work over a long period of time for one goal. They want it now." And he goes on to contribute his success to "determination and time."

Those comments changed my attitude. Running is hard work and to improve is going to take time. Even though I've been running consistently for the past six months doesn't mean that I should have achieved perhaps the unreasonable goals I thought I would. What I have to do is think about how far I've come and keep working to consistently improve. It's true what this runner says: You have to work over a long period of time, and it is a lot of work. However, I think that's why running is so appealing to many people because this kind of work ultimately has a massive payoff. Anything that you have strived toward for a long time feels good when you finally reach your goal, and as we all know, the only things worth having are those that we've worked hard for. Those that achieve success easily are unappreciative of what they gain (and according to my mother, they are called spoiled brats).

Thus, my missing quote about building brick by brick. It seems like a simple and obvious answer to how we build, but it is also very wise. Everything is built out of small accomplishments, small pieces that add up. Eventually you get the Parthenon.

Two Things

Yesterday when I was at the gym, I saw two things of note. One, I saw a guy pick his nose and wipe it on his shorts! He was on a treadmill in the front row, and I saw him digging around in there mining for gold when he found a nugget, and then he examined it and then wiped it on his shorts. Now, I'm sypathetic to nose pickers because I have been known to dig in there as well, but I know enough not to plow through there in public. My goodness, man!

The second thing that was of note was another guy on a treadmill in the front row. Has anyone ever seen that episode of "Friends" where Rachel and Phoebe go running and Phoebe runs like a cross between "Kermit the Frog and the 6 Million Dollar Man"? Well, that's exactly how this guy was running: Arms waving over his head and off to the sides (the woman next to him ducking and bobbing, trying to avoid a fist in the eye), and his legs were all over. I think he was doing some sort of stretching, I'm not sure, but it went on for about ten minutes. Then he finished and got off the treadmill. I don't know where he went after that.

Maybe he needed to pick his nose too.

A World of Tug Boats

An article I read last night in "Time" reconfirmed my findings on the cruise: It's not just Americans who are struggling with obesity. True, Americans are becoming super-sized at an alarming rate, and that's why the FDA recently placed so much emphasis on the new food pyramid (or hexagon, really) and added daily exercise to it. However, I guess the rest of the world is struggling with the issue as well. It's not yet to the point where its scaring the bejesus out of everyone like AIDS or the Avian Flu, but obesity could fast become one of the number one health risks in the world!

And here I thought all this time that the problems of the world were really in the realm of not enough food (flip back a few issues in "Time" and the cover story was about poverty and famine), but it looks as though that's not the entire predicament.

I guess I personally will keep on running and I suppose I don't need a bowl of ice cream before bed (it's reduced fat though), but what can be done on a larger scale?

How to eat too much on a cruise

Food is one of the main focuses on a cruise and from my observations, some people are there just for that. You may envision a typical buffet with overcooked beef boiling away in the glare of a heat lamp, but the cruise food was far different from that. First of all, yes, there was the typical buffets with the trays of food cooking under super powered bulbs, but there was oh so much more. There was the 24 hour pizzeria, there was the grill (hamburgers, fries, hot dogs), there was the NY deli (excellent pastrami on rye), there was also a sushi place (ate many salmon skin rolls), an "Asian" stop (I say Asian in quotes because they changed menus everyday as well as themes, so it was sometimes Chinese, sometimes Japanese, one day Vietnamese), there is a coffee house, a supper club, and then the main dining room. We only had dinner in the main dining room, but that's all we needed -- five courses every night is more than any normal person needs. Plus, there is complimentary room service, so I ordered a BLT one night. It was delicious!

At first, I tried to restrain myself because it seemed a bit contradictory to stuff myself and then go and lay by the pool in my bikini (and order beers out there as well), but after looking around at my fellow passengers, I decided to let my inhibitions go. This is what I can tell you: There are a lot of fat people out there. At first I thought they were mostly tubby Americans, but after a closer look, I discovered that this wasn't entirely true. The passengers were very diverse, and while Americans certainly dominated the population, there were also a lot of Canucks, French, and Hispanic people, and the fatness knew no boundary (who says French women don't get fat? that's a lie!).

True, there were a handful of skinny-minnys, but I slowly realized I wasn't in Florida anymore, and it was apparent that most of those bodies were the natural work of God, so they were flawed, and I felt much better about my little pouch. This allowed me to get in line at the midnight buffet and get plated up without a guilty conscience. And I thought for sure that I had gained a pound or two from all the eating, but this morning I stepped on the scale to see the damage, and miraculously I found that I hadn't gained a pound! Someone must be looking out for me, an angel of some sort.

I'm Back!!

Where do I begin? I feel as though it has been so long since my last entry, and I know everyone out there is waiting anxiously to hear from me, so I might as well start back where I left off last -- with the wedding.

On the whole, it was a wonderful day. However, my life is not without its glitches. That's what makes me so fascinating.

So, like I said, the day started off perfectly. I got my nails done, hair done, make up done (I turned out to be very pretty); I got dressed, the groom got dressed, we were shuttled off, pictures went smoothly, right on schedule, and we were even done ten minutes before we were prepared to board the yacht reserved for our wedding. But wait, the boat wasn't where it was supposed to be docked. We figured, no big deal, we were early, it had to be on its way.

When the boat wasn't there at a quarter after the hour, I gave them a call from my cell. "Five minutes," they told me. Five minutes passed. Then ten, fifteen, twenty. Not good. My husband-to-be's cell phone rang. They told him they were experiencing "technical difficulty" and that they would have it fixed within minutes and they would pull up to the dock shortly. Minutes passed. Then some more minutes. We began to pace. I thoughtI might cry. The groom looked angry. Not good feelings for a wedding day. More minutes passed.

Finally, after an hour of waiting by the dock (with all of our guests waiting there as well), the managers of the boat arrived and informed us that the problems were not emminently fixable and they were asking us to walk half a mile to where the boat was docked and they could perform the ceremony and then have us on our way. "Fine," we said. Some walked the distance; others were shuttled there. We had the ceremony. I cried. We were married. The drinks poured freely, the dancing began, the boat didn't leave dock, dinner was served, the boat didn't leave dock, dancing continued, the boat never budged, we drank some more, we never left the dock. All night, we celebrated on our yacht docked in the river. We never cruised.

We expect a partial refund. It is under dispute.

But we decided to think about that crap later and we took off on our honeymoon and had a glorious time. We took a cruise through the western Caribbean, and we stopped in the Cayman Islands, Island Roatan in Honduras, Belize, and Mexico. A quick summary: Cayman Islands have beautiful beaches that are postcard quality. Sugar sand beaches, crystal blue water, clear, blue skies. I didn't want to get up off the beach -- gorgeous! Island Roatan is also beautiful but in a rougher sense. The people are obviously living in poverty, and those kids who were trying to sell me trinkets should have been in school, but it didn't stop me from bargaining with them over the price of the trinkets. Some shop owners I bargained with, some I didn't -- I figure they need the money more than I do. Belize was also beautiful, and very interesting as well; learned a lot about it. We went on a river rafting/hike through the rainforest excursion that was fucking fabulous! But I learned that flip-flops are not appropriate footwear for hiking through the jungle. Will re-think that decision next time I'm there. Was very hard gripping onto those fuckers while I crossed a fairly fast-moving river. And lastly, we stopped in Costa Maya Mexico, which was also awesome! We went on a tour of some Mayan ruins that are close to the Belizean border and that was amazing to see. I did some extra thinking on that excursion and smartly wore sneakers -- very approprate for climbing around the ruins.

The days we were at sea were also really fun, but mostly they were just relaxing. We laid out in the sun and baked ourselves good and leathery while we drank buckets of overly priced beer by the pool. It was perfect. I did manage to go running two days while at sea (the boat has a great gym and an outdoor track), but then I got so relaxed that I figured buffets were more enjoyable than running, so I said "fuck it" and I'll resume my schedule this week, even though the Christmas season is now upon us and running regularly won't be any easier for the next three or four weeks.

I have many more stories, but I have typed my little fingers to death, so I will bid you all "adieux," and I will post again tomorrow. I missed you all! Talk to you later!

Wedding Day!

Today is the day! I can't believe it's already here. I don't know if it will feel real until it's over; it just doesn't seem possible. It's like Christmas when you're a kid; you wait for it for so long that when the day actually arrives, it feels a bit unreal. How could the sun shine like it does on any other ordinary day?

In twenty minutes I have to head out the door and begin the long morning of getting ready. I'm getting my nails done, then coming home and having my hair and make-up done. Then, we zip on the dress and head out around 1 pm. The ceremony isn't until 4:30, but we need time to get there and get lots of pictures taken (thus the painstaking measures taken for my hair, make-up, etc). I'm a little nervous for the day, but I think I'm ready for the marriage part. Scary, huh? Earlier in my life I wasn't sure if I would ever be ready, but I actually feel absolutely certain about my husband-to-be, and I think that's what counts on a day like this.

I slept well last night -- I was exhausted after the Thanksgiving extravaganza -- and I only woke up a few times from dreams about the wedding. Nothing bad (no visions of black wedding dresses or late bridesmaids). Of course, I've been up since early this morning pacing around, eating my cereal, staring out the window.

So this is it, the big day. No running today (I'll be dancing my legs off later anyway). I wonder if the day will be as great as the day our power was restored? Can anything be so wonderful?

Turkey Trot Cont'd

I trotted the shit out of that turkey!

It was a good race, not the best for me, but it felt good, and I think that's what counts. The weather was perfect this morning: nice and cool, but not so cold that I might freeze (although my fingers were a bit chilled at first), and the sun was nice and clear -- it provided just the right kind of warmth. I think it will be a lovely Thanksgiving here in Ft. Lauderdale.

My time, not great, was 33 minutes flat. But that's fine with me. I average 11 minute miles anyway, and like I said yesterday, I wasn't going to concern myself with time. I think that might be a wise idea: helps you stay focused on just running as best as you can. As they repeat at yoga: you're not in competition with anyone, not even yourself.

Anyhoo, I need to take a shower and start preparing that turkey, so I'll say "adieux"! Happy Turkey Day to everyone out there! Have a great Holiday!

Turkey Trot

I went for a run this morning, and there were signs up along my route notifying residents that the street would be closed tomorrow because of the "Turkey Trot," a 5K race right outside my door! I didn't even know. So, while I regularly run that path, I also want to run the race (I haven't raced since the last disaster in August -- think back to "extreme heat" and "locked my keys in the car"). So, I have decided to rise early tomorrow and run the 5K.

Sure, I have a wedding on Friday and 20 guests for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow, but I think I should add one more thing to my plate. Why not?

Actually, I think the run would be really good. That way, I will have my mind off other things that need to be done around the house and with the wedding, and I can relax and just focus on running those 3.1 miles. I'm not even going to care about time. I'm just going to run and enjoy the morning (it's been so cool lately that this morning I was actually cold for the first mile or so). Plus, it might come in handy to burn an extra 300 calories before the big feasting day has begun; I am currently baking four pumpkin pies -- mmmmm, I LOVE pumpkin pie with a shitload of cool whip on top. Yummy.

And then, I'll be done with the race by eight, and I'll have a good start to the busy day and I'll feel loads better.

I'll report back on how the run goes.

Winter in Florida

Thankfully, it appears that Gamma will not pose any kind of threat to South Florida, or Florida at all for that matter. However, the cold front that pushed Gamma away from us brought with it some chilly weather, and we are getting some high winds today as well. Cold weather for Floridians is anything that dips below 70 degrees, and this morning it was 63 when I left the house at 7 am, and I honestly put the heat on in my car. Brrrrr. Hope it warms up some by Friday for the wedding.

Today is my last day of class before I take off for the wedding and our honeymoon, so I'm busy trying to tie up some lose ends, and to ensure that the instructors who are subbing are prepped with the needed materials. It's hard leaving your students in the hands of another -- I imagine that it's similiar to leaving children in the care of a babysitter. So, I'll be working all day and then, when I get home this evening, friends are arriving from out of town; the first wave of wedding guests. We've been spending the past few days entertaining guests who arrived on Saturday, and yesterday we drove up to Kennedy Space Center -- a long drive and lengthy touring; the trip lasted all day.

So, I didn't run yesterday, and I don't know if I'll have any time to run tonight either, or if at all this week. I'd like to fit it in the next couple of mornings, but we all know how good I am about getting up early enough to do that. But I do want to get some exercise in this week. It will help relieve some stress from the wedding and from Thanksgiving dinner, and it would help me fit into that dress just a touch better, or at least make me feel better about fitting into it. At this point though, I'm just looking forward to getting to the honeymoon, where hopefully I'll have some free time to relax and rejuvenate. Then, when we return, I can resume a regular schedule -- well, as regular as a schedule can be through the end of a semester and with the fast-approaching holidays.

I can't say how frequent my posts will be for the rest of this week, and I don't know if I will get a chance to post while on my honeymoon, but I will make my best effort to stay current, and you'll have to be patient with me.

Gamma-Bamma

Last night, I managed to fit a run in after my cleaning, and at the gym I was watching the news, and guess what their top story was? Tropical Storm Gamma: that son of a bitch. So, Tropical Storm Gamma now looks like it may threaten our area this week. Some forecasters think it will take the same path as Wilma and that Gamma may even strengthen into a weak hurricane. Landfall in Florida could be on Monday.

Dammit.

Florida doesn't need this, and I definitely don't need this. Part of the reason we chose late November for our wedding date was because November 30th is supposed to mark the end of hurricane season, and it's highly irregular for Florida to see any hurricane activity after September (let alone hurricanes in late October and November), so we figured we'd be in the clear. But first Wilma throws that idea out the window, and some of the damage she caused sent our guests scrambling for new hotels, and our lives here came to a virtual two week standstill in the wake of the aftermath.

So, to see that spinning icon on the news screen this week completely pisses me off and it adds a touch to my stress. The only thing I can hope for at this point is that Gamma speeds up (less time for the storm to organize) and that it wobbles off track so it doesn't hit our area. And lastly, if it speeds up, it will hopefully blow through here on Monday, as predicted, so that our wedding will have good weather on Friday.

Oh well. Nothing I can do to control it. I am going to try to hit the gym this morning and run some errands, then I have more cleaning to do. Maybe if I don't think about the tempest, it will go away.

Countdown to Wedding Day

Post 101 doesn't quite feel like post 100, but I suppose I will write past the post-100 hype and continue to bless you, my readers, with something insightful.

Today marks exactly one week before my wedding day, and to put it calmly, I am freaking out. I'm not freaking out about marriage and the lifetime committment to one person (who I will wake up to every single day, every day, for the rest of my life); no, I'm flipping inside out over all the preparation. I feel as though the house must look perfect for when our guests arrive next week, especially since it will be the first time so many of them will get to see it. And it's very hard for our house to look good since we've been in a constant state of construction since we bought it last spring.

So, for one thing, there is dust coating every surface. For another, we have boxes piled up everywhere, and for another, we are not even halfway complete with our renovations, so the main part of our home still looks like it did when we moved; that means icky carpet, the wall of mirrors, and the crusty wallpaper. Not to mention the grody tile. Oh! And we have an old stove sitting in the office -- not such a great accent piece. So even though I've been cleaning like a weasal on crack, the house still is not that pretty. And I find myself doing things I normally would find absolutely crazy, like ironing the sheets and cleaning the window sills with a q-tip. Usually, I am a clean person, but I'm not manic, but for the past week I've felt pretty close to breaking into idiot-induced mumbles and banging my head against the wall.

No time to run, but on the plus side, I think this cleaning business is burning plenty of calories because I'm all sweaty in the pits (anything that makes you sweat is exercise in my book). But I have this bubble of air in my stomach -- I assume from the soda I just had -- and I feel as though you could push on me and I would deflate like a baloon. Maybe I just need to fart.

Would that clear all the dust away?

100!

This post marks the one hundreth time I have posted crucial commentary on the human race. Oh wait, that's my other blog.

Just joking! Ha!

But, this is really is the one hundreth posting. Feels as though it should be more momentous. Perhaps when there is a DVD collection of my postings, this one will be noted, kinda like they do with TV shows. It would also be nice to have a little fanfare -- some ribbons, some ticker tape, a few kazoos, maybe a dancing monkey.

Perhaps it doesn't feel quite so fantastic because I haven't as of yet truly accomplished anything that I set out to accomplish. Sure, I'm still puffing away at the runs, and yes, they slowly get longer and more intense, but there are also so many days that I don't run at all, and I feed my addiction to Taco Bell, so I haven't really gained anything, and haven't really lost any weight. But before I feel sad about what I haven't done, I should pat myself on the back for what I have done: I have made a mental committment to running and I do go between four and five times a week. I have become more conscious of what it will take to achieve my running goals, and therefore have become more realistic about them. In many ways, that sort of realization takes me a long way.

But, what has been the surprise success of this running endeavor is this little blog in and of itself. True, it's not attracting book deals or national headlines (any of you readers who have the power to make this happen can go ahead with my blessing and get started on either project), but it has built its own small following, and that makes me proud, and I believe it deserves a toot on a kazoo.

Detox

Yesterday, when I was at the gym, I picked up a magazine called "Natural Health" to read while on the eliptical machine (can't run everyday), and I had never read this particular magazine before, but it was one of the few in the sparse selection the gym has to offer. (It was between that and a "People" from May, and I didn't need to relive the breaking coverage of Bragelina or TomKat.) Anyway, in this magazine there was an article that caught my eye: "How to Detox Your Life."

For a reason I can't explain I am always drawn to the word "detox"; I suppose it sounds like the good, thorough cleaning it's supposed to be; however, I always find that I am disappointed by the actual concept. And to be honest, I think it might be a bunch of hooey-balooey. What detox diets claim is that your body stores all kinds of toxins and this causes weight gain and health problems, but with simple detox drinks, vitamins, and foods, the body can flush those toxins and subsequently you can lose weight and feel great. In a sense I can buy this because we consume (or, I consume) many unhealthy products from food to car exhaust (not intentionally -- those days are behind me), so it seems like a good idea to get rid of these icky elements so the body can be clear and clean.

But on the other hand, I think it might just be a clever ploy to get me to drink nasty concoctions, chief of which is the infamous "master cleanser" that consists of water, lemon juice, maple syrup and cayenne pepper. I don't know who thought of that combination, but it is terribly popular. I don't think I could choke such a drink down, but I can guess as to how it would react in my belly (thus, I assume the "master cleansing").

Disgusting drinks aren't the only thing detox promoters want you to ingest; no, they also have a whole host of vitamins and supplements that they advise you to take. In the featured article I read while working out, it suggested you take St. John's Wort (to relieve irritability during detox), vitamin E, linseed oil, ginseng, and ginko biloba. Not to mention all the other ingredients that are dumped into a multi-vitamin. By the time I summed up the article, I figured you would have to just scoop the supplements in with a rake to fulfill the requirements. But I guess you could wash them all down with the cayenne cocktail.

Aside from all varieties of odd things detox diets want me to consume (in order to rid my body of "unnecessary elements" -- hope you're picking up on the irony), I don't buy the fact that your body stores that much waste. From what I can rememeber of college biology, the body is actually pretty efficient at ridding itself of by-products. Isn't that what the liver is for? Isn't the liver like those scum sucking fish you see in aquariums? I think its job is to clean up your system. I also believe that to some degree that's what your kidneys, pancreas, and gallbladder do as well. So, while I'm not a doctor, it seems to me that the body is already pretty good at detoxifying itself. Do I really need linseed oil to help with that? Or maple syrup?

Like too many other dieting gimmicks, I think I have to categorize detoxifying as bogus, or at least, unnecessary. I don't know about you, but all I need is an apple on my way to work (it also helps to get stuck in traffic) to clean out the system. That, or a cup of coffee seems to do the trick.

Squished

I witnessed a disturning thing the other day when I was running: A smooshed cat! I couldn't help but look, and it's brains were all mushed out the side of its head it was very stinky. I kinda thought I might hurl.

I don't usually see that many dead animals alongside the road in these parts; sometimes I see a flattened raccoon or possum, but it's not like the carnage I used to witness in Minnesota. There are so many more roaming animals in Northern Minnesota than in South Florida, and often times when I used to walk my dog along the road in Minnesota, we would come across dead deer, raccoons, beavers, dogs and cats. And once, I am ashamed to admit, it was I who plowed an innocent raccoon down in the prime of his or her life.

I was driving a friend's car home late at night, and she and I were singin to the car radio when, from out of nowhere, a small body dashed out in front of me. Then, I heard a thud, and knew that I had murdered. It was a sickening feeling. That feeling only worsened when we got home and inspected the car to find the dent from a raccoon head and a small bit of fur stuck to the bumper. I felt truly terrible.

Since then, it has only been the accidental killing of lizards that have inadvertently jumped into my running path that have been my victims. And, well, I accidently smashed a lizard in the window sill right after the hurricane, but I didn't know he was sitting there. It was just like the guillotine. Poor fella.

So, I might need to take a different route this evening because I don't want to come across that cat carcas again. Maybe I'll go to the gym; there's no danger of roadkill there.

Hurricane Weight

In the aftermath of Hurricane Wilma, when no one had electricity, we were left with our largely chip and cracker based diet. Sure, we were able to grill some meats, and one night we had spaghetti, but fruits and veggies were sparse and hard to come by. So after two weeks of chip consumption, and the copious quantities of beer, my belly was sporting a mini-keg.

Excuse me, is sporting a mini-keg. IS.

That's not good since my wedding is two weeks away, and I'm a little concerned about how my dress is fitting. Yes, it still fits, and I can zip it up and everything, but I would be able to breath a whole lot better if I had just another inch of room in there.

I figure there are two possible courses of action: One, I can try to curb my eating and stay on the treadmill a little longer each day. Or two, I can just accept the fact that I may not breath all that easily for a day. It's only one day. Certainly a human can surrive on shallow intakes of air for one day? Half a day really.

Shallow breaths. That's all it takes. Maybe I'll practice them now.

Overcrowding

You may think overpopulation is an issue strictly related to humankind's increasingly burdensome growth. However this problem may be detrimental to our environmental, our economy and our healthcare systems, it also appears to be a problem at the gym. Especially, at oh, say, 6:00 pm on any given week night. It's madness in there!

I made the mistake Tuesday night of reserving my run for the early evening, typically thought of as the dinner hour, but let me tell you, people are skipping dinner and are at the gym. When I got there, all but one treadmill was in use, so I quick hopped on before someone else could snatch it out from under my nose. Traditionally, I favor the back row of treadmills and prefer a corner one at that, but Tuesday was not a night to be picky. I was positioned front and center.

As the people who flanked me slowly left, two new people got on the two treadmills that surrounded me. I used to mind feeling cramped in, but I've grown used it, and generally it doesn't bother me, but that night it turned out that those two women knew one another and must have been there together. And they wanted to talk.

They didn't mind me; they just talked around me.

You have to talk pretty loud in the gym to be heard -- the hum of all the machines and the clinking of weights drowns out much of what people have to converse about, and when you're not standing right next to someone, conversation can be challenging -- these two women were up to the challenge. They were practically screaming back and forth to one another, and while the volume does indeed go pretty loud on my MP3 player, I do fear my loss of hearing, so I got the scoop on the kids, the neighbors, and the co-workers, not to mention the husbands and the mothers. In some ways, the conversation distracted me from focusing on the miniature red clock, but in in others, I prayed for the sweet release of death. I thought, perhaps, if I prayed hard enough, I would be swept up and gnarled by the treadmill and my ears would get a merciful rest from the mindless chatter.

I'm not against mindless chatter -- I don't want to call for any special legislation or anything; in fact, I love to engage in babble all the time -- however, I don't particularly like to sit on the sidelines of this kind of talk (I'm that way with sports too; I like to play, but hate to watch). So listening in, unless there was majorly juicy drama to get let in on, was largely just annoying.

I guess I learned my lesson. Do not go to the gym at peak hours. Stick to the middle of the day, very early in the morning, or late at night. Plus, then I'll be able to pick a prime treadmill.

Gummies!

Yesterday on TV, I saw that the Flinstone brand vitamins that I loved so much as a kid have developed a new twist: Now they are coming out in gummies! I was so excited after seeing the commercial that I practically ran right out and bought them. But alas, I was innertly watching TV (I discovered while my electricity was out for two weeks that I really didn't miss TV and I loved that I read so much, but since the moment the power went back on, I have been sucked in again to that evil box -- I'm so entranced by the moving pictures!), so I couldn't find the will to move my limbs at that moment. But to think, these could be the answer to the terrible taste of those vitamins. Will they taste just like gummi savers or gummi bears? Will I be able to enjoy a bit of candy but also get my essential vitamins and minerals? It's almost too good to be true. Once I get my hands on a some, I'll report back on the taste and texture.

My only worry concerning these gummies is that they will end up tasting just like their chalky siblings, but will be rendered even more inedible by taking the gummy form. If I buy them and consume them, will they ruin other gummi items? Will I hate them, and therefore, be unable to taste another gummi bear for fear that it will taste just like that icky Wilma or Dino? But I guess I won't know until I try.

Can't be any worse than that brownie this morning that tasted like olive oil and garlic (can't figure that one out -- was the pan not washed well? was the oil used in the baking tainted by sitting on the shelf next to the garlic salt? was there garlic residue on my fingers?).

Running in the Aftermath

Fitting a run in the day of a hurricane is difficult, unless you have an indoor track, or a treadmill and a generator, because around here, if someone sneezes hard enough, all the power goes out. So, during a hurricane, you are likely to be in the dark; plus, there is that looming tempest outside your door that pretty much halts your outdoor activities. Running is pretty much out of the question.

The day Wilma hit here in Broward County, I woke up early to the sound of the windows shaking and moaning. The winds were bending and snapping trees in half, and the rain was pounding the earth in sheets. By 9 am, the parking lot of my condo complex was a veritable lake. Our power had flickered off in the middle of the night, so my husband-to-be and I huddled around the battery-powered radio and listened to the weather. We discovered that the storm was passing straight over our area, and while it was expected that the eye would soon cruise above us, the backside of the storm, it was warned, would be much more intense.

During what we could conclude was the eye, the winds died down and the rain fell softly for about twenty or thirty minutes. I stepped outside to catch a glimpse at some of the early damage, but I was yanked back into the safety of our home before I could snoop around too much. And then the backside of the storm began to beat us. The winds shifted direction, and our windows rattled and spurt water. It was a mad dash for towels and the rest of the storm required constant vigilance to ensure that our new floors wouldn't be damaged from rain water.

By mid-afternoon, Wilma was done with our area, and while the winds slowed and the rain stopped, we stepped out to see what had happened. Trees were down everywhere; they blocked the roads, the lay on top of cars, they had crashed into the sides of house and fences, and had torn down signs and other structures. Large trees with extensive root systems had pulled up concrete sidewalks and had destroyed many man-made landscaping endeavors. Traffic signals had all been blown off, street signs and road signs were either missing or were mangled. Roofs were missing, siding had blown off, windows had shattered, car windows were smashed, and cars themselves lay under all kinds of debris.

We spent nearly all of the following week helping friends clean up the mess the hurricane had created in their own yards and homes. No one worked and there was no school. It was four days after the storm before I even tried to go for a run outside in the early morning (the good thing about that week following the hurricane was that the temperature dropped and the weather was actually very cool and pleasant). When I ran that first day, I had to run in the road because all the sidewalks were covered in debris and some parts were torn up from the aforementioned tree roots. I had to keep a sharp eye for down power lines and snakes that are said to hide in down shrubbery. It was an obstacle course that required leaping over branches and running around trees and bits of fencing.

A few days later, power was being restored to most areas, and the gym re-opened. I went in part to exercise, but also in part to see some TV and enjoy the air conditioning because our power still had not come on. I tried to re-establish my exercise routine, but with errands and work to catch up on, I let three days go between my last run and today. It's so difficult getting back to a normal schedule, and I think I won't feel completely back to normal until I return to class tomorrow. It's hard for a runner to lose his or her routine, and the upset of the storm and our two week loss of power stressed me out (I didn't even know how tense I felt until the power came back on and I felt so relieved). I hope to run later this afternoon, and I think this week will help us get back into the normal patterns we have.

This storm caused enough external damage; I don't need any more damage to my running.

The Glory of Electricity

I haven't written a new entry in a full two weeks because Hurricane Wilma dashed our area to pieces and our power was out until about 20 minutes ago. That's right. I have been living the primitive life for a full fourteen days. Let me tell you briefly what that is like: Cold showers, no air conditioning (so, that means very sweaty sleep), no refrigerated products (that means I haven't had a cold drink of water for days, not to mention the wonder that is ice), no TV, no Internet, no lights to read by late at night (and holding that flashlight gets tiresome), and no outdoor lights to see your keys and the lock in the door.

This morning, we saw the power truck pull up and we literally watched with our fingers crossed as the technician worked outside. When the power came on we yelled and jumped up and down, and I thought I might cry. It was the happiest moment of my life. Birth of my future children? Nothing compared to getting the power back on. That "New York Times" bestseller? Does it make the refrigerator hum? Finally running that anticipated marathon? I don't think that moment will compare to the moment the air conditioning kicked on.

So, I have many stories about the hurricane, about the aftermath, about running, and about food, but because this is my first introduction back into the civilized world, I must continue on my quest to explore this shining world of lights and sound. Stay tuned.