Caffeine Queen

This morning I managed to get to Spinning early enough to ensure myself a bike, but I also inconvienently placed myself in front of the most annoying woman on the planet. At first I thought perhaps she had just done a line in the toilet, but after hearing her loudly proclaim, "I've had so much caffeine!" I deduced that it was coffee, not coke, that was to blame. She was wired from the get-go and ready-to-go with her big, loud mouth as ready to exercise as the rest of her.

Spinning, as a class, seems to attract a lot of very vocal cyclers, and they like to shout and whoop and yell, and I understand and accept that it is part of the culture of the class. Personally, I am only a whooper, a shouter, and a yeller when I am drunk (I am also very likely to be a stand-on-the-tabler), but in class, I prefer to peddle and leave the encouraging cheers to those who enjoy it. Today's class was a hard one, at least by my standards, and the instructor had awesome music (which is really the key to a spinning class, in my humble opinion) which inspired a lot more whooping and yelling from the back row, especially from "caffeine queen" behind me. She seemed to crown herself the monarch of the class and felt it was her god-given duty to cheer us all on.

In the mirror, I could see her peddling madly away and occasionally pumping her right arm in the air Arsenio Hall style (which was a trend I was happy to see die and was not pleased to see resurrected). Like I said, it was a grueling class, with the instructor pushing us to peddle hard and keep our resistance high, and I had sweat pouring off the end of my nose. And when I've worked like that for fifty minutes, I look forward to the cool down ( it is my theory that one of the best feelings from exercise is the end when you've finished -- nothing compares to the mixed feelings of relief and accomplishment), but as the instructor started slowing it down, the annoying woman yelled for more, more, more! The instructor laughed it off (there's always a few crazies in any class), but she got completely obnoxious yelling that she hadn't worked hard enough and she needed to burn more calories. The instructor said something about her being the only one who felt like that since the rest of the class looked like they had burned plenty of calories. She then yelled, "I guess I'll just have to go run on the treadmill afterward!"

Now, the instructor didn't say anything, but it was a cue for the entire class to turn and give her dirty stares (mine, is a wicked one; I've spent years perfectly it and I hope it will one day shame my children when they have done wrong and I won't have to use physical force on them). "What?" she said with her arms raised in mock innocence. "I'm a New Yorker, so I guess I just tell like it is."

These transplanted New Yorkers are the worst kind of Floridians. There are many of them here, but they've lived here for like twenty years, yet they still consider themselves New Yorkers, and they go on and on about how things are always better in New York, which always begs the question: "Why did you move away from New York?" I had guessed earlier that she was from New York because of her nasaled Brooklyn accent, but right after she made her remark, the woman sitting next to her says, "I'm from New York too and we may say it like it is, but we are not rude." This seemed to appropriately shame her; you just don't insult an instructor after he or she worked hard to give you a good workout. If it's not enough for your caffeine-addled nerves, that's fine, but we don't need the announcement.

She seemed pissed at the whole class as she packed up her stuff and left with the rest of us. I don't know if she hopped on the treadmill or not, but I was happy to not be stuck near her anymore.

My Disgusting Toe

Gross, right? It's been black and blue for about two months now, and I'm wondering if it's going to fall off or what.

The exact origins of the injury are shrouded in mystery and I believe it was a combination of factors that led to the disfiguration: A. When I was waitressing at that mean restaurant (I quit, so you know) part time, I had a pair of shoes that kinda squeezed that foot and they made my toe ache. So I think it was a slow bruising, but then also: B. When camping in March, a friend stepped on my toe and seemed to seal the deal.

It used to be a much more vibrant purple, so the discoloration must mean its healing, but what's weird is that I can see underneath the nail and there is dried blood, so I must have burst a vessel (vein, whatever it's called) some how. For awhile it hurt to run, but now the toe is fine, but I'm still worried about the nail. I don't see how it can be salvaged. When I was in high school, I lost the same nail twice: Once in cross county season because the shoes I had were crap for the miles we were running, and again in soccer season when I "toe-hacked" the ball and split my toenail. (I also lost my thumbnail once when I was about five because I was looking under rocks for bugs -- roly-polys, to be exact -- and a rock smashed my thumb, the nail turned purple, and it fell off.)

It's a weird feeling to not have a nail, but it's also weird to look at this ugly fucker every day. At least it doesn't affect my running. And you know what I'm most icked out about? If it falls off, the thought of my sock rubbing against bare toe skin makes me want to hurl, ew!

Scooter's Surgery

Scooter in a rare moment when sleep catches up with him. When he plays, he plays hard,

and when he sleeps, he sleeps hard -- wherever he may fall.

Scooter appreciated everyone's good wishes for his "procedure" yesterday and he's happy to report that everything went well. It's hard to have your manhood taken from you, even before you've grown to fully appreciate it, but it is for his better health. Neutering is supposed to reduce all his chances for related cancers, plus it's added benefits are innumerable: Namely, he won't go hunting for the luh-vin. Chiefly, I think his stuffed animals are the most thankful. They're hoping to get a little less physical attention -- he likes to show them who's boss, if you know what I mean (there are a few pillows, a blanket and a towel or two that have also been shown who's the boss; my leg has also suffered the indignity).

But what's funny is that since Scooter is recovering from surgery, and has stitches, he's supposed to be taking it easy and is supposed to be feeling groggy and lethargic, but he's not. The vet laughed when she told my husband about Scooter post-op. She said that the other dogs were tired and barely conscious all afternoon (I guess they stuff all the surgery into one day a week), but 30 minutes after surgery, Scooter was awake and alert; he was ready for play. When my husband picked him up to take him home, Scooter wasn't showing much evidence of having been under anesthesia a few hours before. (Not incredibly surprising to us, considering every single shot he's had was supposed to make him "sluggish" and every single time we haven't seen an iota of difference in his behavior post-vet visit.)

Last night, we could tell he wanted to play, but we're supposed to encourage him to take it easy, so we're not supposed to rough-house, or play fetch, tug of war or anything that could cause him to tear a stitch. Frustrated by our lack of enthusiasm, he played by himself, and while he tried to fight off the sleepiness, in the end, it was a powerful force. It was so cute: He was laying on the bed trying to bite the crap out of his stuffed squirrel, but his eyes just wouldn't stay open; it was like watching a kid who's tired but refuses to go to bed. Eventually, he was sound asleep and he slept hard through the night. But this morning he was ready to go and even though I tried telling him to not jump on and off the bed, he wouldn't listen. So I guess we'll see how he heals, but one thing's for certain -- Scooter is like a freight train of energy, and not even the removal of his balls can slow him down.

Red Letter Day

Yeah! I did it! I actually got up early and went for a run; it was unbelievable. At first, I didn't know what that strange beeping in the middle of the night was, but then I realized it was my alarm, and instead of just shutting it off and sneaking in some more shut eye, I actually got out of bed, got dressed and hit the road. True, I found out when I returned that I had put my sports bra on inside out, but it seems to work either way.

Now I am off to take Scooter to the vet (he gets neutered today -- no more nuts for Scooter) and I have the day to myself to read student papers and to clean the house -- what joy! I can see why people do this get-up-early-and-run thing; it sure does open up the day.

Yesterday I , of course, did not get up early enough to run outside first thing in the morning, so that meant a trip to the gym and a run on the treadmill. Because four continous miles on the treadmill means almost certain boredom for me, I decided I had a genius plan: run 2 miles, break and do my ab work and then run 2 more miles, thus breaking the run in half. The first two miles went well, and then I stopped, did the the necessary crunches, etc and then really felt like being done.

Uh-oh. This is where the breaking-the-run-in-half idea hit a brick wall. I did not feel like getting back on that machine and running the second two miles. My body was saying, "We're done right?" And then when I climbed back on the treadmill my body said, "What the hell are you doing?"

Dutifully, I got back on there and struggled through the second two miles (at a much slower pace). So, why was this so much more difficult than I imagined it would be? I guess for me, stopping, for whatever length of time, means stopping. My body can't re-invigorate itself and get back into a rythym when it feels the song is over. So I guess that method won't work again. Tomorrow I've really got to try my hardest to wake up early and hit the road before it gets too hot out.

Virgin Voyage

Last night I went running in just my sports bra and shorts -- a bold move for the likes of me. Usually I like a little more coverage for the boobs and abs, but it's friggin hot here, even after the sun sets, and I was aiming for comfort. My husband assured me that it was not a scary sight (but that's what he's supposed to say), and I figured it was dusk outside and I would be like a blur to passersby anyway (because I'm like a speeding bullet).

At first I felt a little self-conscious, especially about my tummy. If there is any one thing about my body that needs improvement it is this inch of grabable flab right below my belly button, and for the first mile, I was very much aware of its tendancy to jiggle up and down. But after a bit, I stopped thinking about my exposed abdomen and I just enjoyed the run. It was a lovely evening last night -- a nice breeze, a lavendar sky, the smell of fresh cut grass. It was invigorating.

So would I go out again so scantily clad? Probably. At least during the summer months, it makes sense. But I probably do not have the courage to show up at the gym like that, even though I see many people with more than an inch of grabable flab who are wearing just shorts (men) or shorts and a sports bra (the old men -- ha!), but the gym feels like a showcase already, and I don't want people starring at me. At least when I'm running outside, I pass people; in the gym, I have to run next to them.

Mapping Distance

Most runners are pretty good at guessing their distances, maybe it's a sixth sense, I don't know. But I am not most runners. And I have found myself discouraged many times when I've returned from a run and thought, "Man, that was hard, must've been like 8 miles." Then I discover it was 3. It's a little tough on the ego. So there are, of course, a host of gadgets to help runners figure out mileage (I look forward to shoes that have an implanted homing device that can be tracked from a satellite; then, you get home and look up your personalized path online to see how far you went -- yes, we might be living in a little novel called 1984, but the mapping would be worthwhile).

Anyway, because I want to get a sense of how far I'm running and because I loathe carting around any extra gadgets (like pedometers and garmin, which makes me think of a gerbil -- which sounds cute but would probably just be meddlesome on a run), I have come to love the website www.gmap-pedometer.com. For those who haven't already stumbled across it, you'd best scoot your virtual selves over there. It's very handy. Essentially, it helps you zoom into a map of your running area, and through a variety of tools, helps you track running routes. The thing that separates this site from some others is that it is specifically designed with runners in mind, so you can perform a couple of different tasks that are helpful (like saving your routes, estimating calories burned, and creating double-back routes). Plus, it can calculate distance in miles and meters (for the Canucks among us). And, I suppose, if you really want something to carry with you on your run, you're able to print the maps out and you could tuck one of those into your shoe. It's not a homing device, but I'm confident once we enter the era of the hovercraft, the homing devices will be part and parcel.

Saturday Spin

Lately, I have been making it a habit to fit a spinning session in once a week with my running and yoga. I like spinning because it gives me the kind of workout I get from running, but at the same time it is a completely different kind of workout. Saturday mornings are a good time to go to class and it fits with my new schedule, but Saturday mornings also have to be the busiest time of week at the gym.

I guess no one is watching cartoons anymore.

Most Saturdays, I aim to get to class about 10-15 minutes early to guarantee a spot and find a parking space, and that's what I did this morning, except when I got there, the class was already full. Dammit. The class is almost always full on Saturdays, but usually when I get there plenty of bikes are available and the sign in sheet isn't yet filled. This is the problem with a gym: You have to share the stuff.

Instead of enjoying a hard spin class, I settled for walking on the treadmill for twenty minutes and then doing one of those eliptical trainers for twenty minutes, but it just wasn't the same workout, and my heart wasn't in it. Looks like next Saturday I'll have to aim to be even earlier. Crap.

Lizards

For my past couple of runs, I've been able to leave the treadmill behind and run outside. But, now that it's warm, summer weather, it means the lizards also want to run around outside, which means that as I run I have to avoid their kamikazee attempts to cross the sidewalk under my feet.

Two days ago I narrowly missed stepping on one while I was walking the dog, and it literally passed under my shoe while I was mid-step; in fact, I thought I had indedd smooshed the poor bastard, but I saw I was wrong when he scurried the rest of the way across the sidewalk.

It's a little harder to miss them when I'm running though. They dart out at the last minute and sometimes they meet their fate with the bottom of my shoe. Poor little buggers, some of them never have a chance.

The Sweet Life

Lately, with the discussion of yanking soda from schools and the occasional forwarded email I get from a friend that warns of the dangers of diet soda, it gets me thinking about my own Diet Pepsi consumption. Depending upon which information you read, Diet Pepsi is either the anti-Christ or a harmless prophet sent to relieve the sweet taste buds of its devoted flock.

So, first off, why should a person, specifically a runner, not drink diet soda? Well, there are some articles that argue that aspartame, the sugar substitute in most diet drinks, causes all sorts of terrible things. The list of aspartame's evils begins with cancer and ends with growing a second head. One of my friends, who used to work for a chiropractor, said that her employer wouldn't even work with patients if they drank diet soda because he firmly believed it interferred with their muscles and their bones and essentially made his adjustments worthless to their soon-to-be mushy bodies.

There are literally thousands of sites on the Internet that support this aspartame-is-evil campaign, and thousands more that simply discuss why soda, even diet, can be detrimental to your health. One key study, that health and fitness magazines have been repeating, reports that diet soda can ruin your diet because your body gets used to its sweet taste, but knows it's calorie free, so therefore links other sweets to calorie-free cravings. And I guess we'll all just be hovering over the cake pan shoveling it in, denying that the cake has any calories. Because the diet soda has tricked not only our bodies, but our brains too.

Even though I know that soda can't be good for me (I don't know about the wicked aspartame, but carbonation and phosphoric acid can't be good for bones or muscle mass -- I acknowledge this), I don't think that a can or two a day will turn my insides to goo, and I can't blame it for my tendancy to eat a whole pan of yellow cake with chocolate frosting (I believe the yellow #5 is responsible for that).

As runners, we are constantly addressing our dietary needs, cravings, and adjustments, but what about addressing our drink needs? Clearly, we all know we need to drink a lot of water -- can't hear that enough -- and you can throw in milk and low calorie juice for effect if you like, but beyond that, so much seems clouded in mystery. Can we drink coffee? Some say yes, drink up, caffeine gives you energy! Others say no, you'll become dependent on that high. Can we drink sports drinks? Many encourage it, say an athlete needs his or her Gatorade. But then others point out that sports drinks can be worse for your teeth than soda and unless you're burning serious calories and sweating like Ron Jeremy in a XXX, you don't need the calories, sodium or electrolytes that are added to sports drinks. Can we drink alcohol? "Hells yeah!" most of us shout, but alcohol is probably a runner's worst enemy; it manages to both dehydrate and add empty calories at the same time.

In the end, any nutritionist and any trainer will tell you that what you drink will ultimately depend upon how much you drink of it, and just as the case with food, moderation is the key. So until a second head really does start sprouting from my shoulders, I'm going to keep drinking coffee, diet soda, and beer and hope that the water I drink will help me balance out. Once I start adding more miles, I'm certain I will throw in some Gatorade or Propel for good measure.

Besides, P.Diddy is a spokesperson for Diet Pepsi, am I not to believe my celebrity sponsors anymore? He ran the New York City Marathon! He wouldn't deceive me, right?

My Practice

Pigeon Pose -- Friggin hard. I can not get anywhere near touching my forehead to my foot (this model's jelly-like bones probably help her flexibility). On a good day, I can reach back and grab my back ankle, from there I just pray for divine intervention.

I am so sore today, and it's not from running (my newly established prepare-for-marathon-training-schedule has me running on Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday are for yoga, and Saturdays for spinning); it's from yoga. Yoga days are supposed to be my easy going days, and don't get me wrong, I had a great practice yesterday, but lord, did we work! It doesn't help that I did ab work on Monday and then we did several poses yesterday that also worked our abs -- ouch! My stomach ached so bad yesterday night that when I sneezed, I thought I might cry (and maybe pee myself).

Today, I am sore not just in my abs, but all over. My hip flexors got an especially good workout in yoga yesterday (lots of deep lunging poses) and my back got all stretched out (I love back bends, but they can still leave me achy the next day). Lots of people, husband included, don't understand how yoga can be a workout (a man who can't bend over and touch his toes), and in a way, while I'm doing it I don't realize how hard my body is working. But some poses are very difficult, and the trick with yoga is that you have to hold those difficult poses; it's the holding that makes it hard.

That, and trying to keep peace of mind (and remember to "breathe"; dammit, I don't want to breathe, I want to pass out). Everything in yoga is supposed to be about "your practice" and "challenging yourself but not being focused on the end result" and "you're not in competition with anyone, not even yourself." Sometimes the mantras are nauseating. Still, because it's so different from running where I am focused on the end result and where I am definitely competing, especially against myself it helps give me a different perspective on exercise. That's why I like yoga, it's so different from what running demands of me physically and pyschologically, but it's also why yoga is a challenge for me.

I ache today, yes, but that means I pushed myself, challenged my muscles. Today's run might be a little stiff, but I'll get through it (with a little help from some motivation called "coffee").

Mickey's Marathon

Well, I think I'm going to go for it; that's right, I'm going to register for a marathon. I feel a bit anxious and sweaty in the pits thinking about actually doing it (almost as scary as buying a house or getting married -- such a committment!), but I think I'm going to swallow my fears and do it. If I have the goal in front of me (six and a half months in front of me), then I can truly set my sights on it. Until now, the idea of a marathon has been just a vague notion, but for the last few weeks I have been seriously thinking about it, and I have decided I just need to take the leap, register, and then start training.

So, the race I have chosen to register for is the Disney Marathon in January, 2007 (by then we should have hovercrafts and space-age shoes to make running easier, right? kidding, but doesn't 2007 sound like the future? I mean, the future). After looking at several other marathons nearby -- the largest is the ING Miami marathon, also in January -- I decided that the Disney one sounded like the most fun. You get to run through the parks, and they make the marathon a weekend event, so there is a health expo and there are all kinds of celebratory events and pre-celebratory events all weekend. Plus, I just like going to Orlando (about three hours north of where I live in Ft Lauderdale); it's got a fun atmostphere to the whole city.

Anyway, I am going to fill out the race registration stuff online after I post this blog, and then I'm committed. I will officially be preparing for a marathon (yikes!), and maybe I should tell my parents to root around in the attic for my mouse ears, so I can wear them on race day. Do you think they would create some uncomfortable rubbing?

Early Riser

The computer issues persist, but while I can't log into my email, somehow I am still admitted into Blogger, so I'll truck on today but it looks like I will have to try and call tech support people at some point -- ick.

Anyway, last night before bed, I was filled with good running intentions, and I thought I would rise early today and go running in the wee hours and have it done with. (I have to teach a class this evening, so I won't be able to save it until the sun goes down and I was trying to get the run in before the sun came up.) Well, as you can probably guess, the alarm went off at 6:30 and I turned it off and went back to sleep. This morning I was particularly tired for some reason and could not rouse myself from sleep. After my husband left for work (in an annoyingly good mood), I slept another hour, and probably would have honestly kept sleeping if it weren't for the dog bugging me.

Now I will have to go to the gym and do my run on the treadmill, and I get so bored on the treadmill, despite having tunes, that I inevitably cut the run shorter than I originally intended. On Wednesday when I have class again, I'll have to try my hardest to actually rise early -- we'll see.

Computer Issues

My computer is being invaded not by spyware itself, but by programs designed to rid the computer of spyware. I swear, all these anti-virus programs cause more trouble than viruses, and are just as annoying. Right now, I am seriously getting pissed at Norton, and Symantec, the company who owns and distributes Norton. It won't let me access certain things and keeps trying to get me to buy some other product to download. Damn this technology!

Breakfast of Champions

They say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day -- it kickstarts your metabolism and helps set the tone for the day's eating habits. Most nutritionists recommend something with protein and something high in fiber, so an egg with a slice of whole wheat toast would be the perfect breakfast for any runner: High in the things you need, low in the things you don't. Or, you could have some yogurt and fruit. Those are all excellent, healthy choices. You know what I had for breakfast?

A big, fat slice of chocolate cake.

Chocolate cake, for those who don't know, is not high in protein, nor is it low in fat, nor is it high in fiber. No, it contains processed flour and sugar (loads of both), butter, eggs (I must get some brownie points for those), water, and oil. But you know what else chocolate cake contains that actually is good for you? Deliciousness! That's right, it's a word. Some days a girl needs a big, fat slice of chocolate cake and a cup of coffee to get her started in the morning because they taste good, not because they are healthy.

If only little slices of chocolate cake came in a box, like Wheaties; then the world would be a better place.

For the Curious

Okay, here's the new haircut. Not a great picture, but it's kinda hard taking a quality picture of yourself.

In events that are totally unrelated to my hair, there was a story in the paper this morning about a woman who was jogging and was apparently attacked by an alligator! Police and wildlife specialists don't seem to know many details, but what they do know is that she was last seen jogging on Tuesday night, and that they pulled the remains of her body out of a canal yesterday (Wednesday) and she still had her running shoes, sports bra, and shorts on. But the reports say that her death seems to be the result of a gator attack, and this kinda freaks me out.

She was running around 7 pm on a sidewalk along a canal, and whether the gator attacked her on ground or whether she was standing closer to the water's edge at some point is unclear, but it's a little worrisome. I don't usually go near the water's edge, even though there's a canal twenty feet out my back door, but it does seem eerie to have a jogger claimed.

Wildlife officials have been quick to remind the news that gator attacks are very rare, but we are currently experiencing a drought (hasn't rained in forever and everything is dry and crispy), and the Everglades are very dry, so I guess gators are swimming into the canals, which are much closer to civilization. Plus, they're looking for food, and this woman must've either been standing close to the water at some point (summer time + dusk + hungry gator = gator attack) or she was feeding it (seems a little contrived).

Anyway, I just got a new haircut and I don't need that ruined by having an alligator chew off my leg, so I guess I'll steer clear of the canals. Why is it always joggers who meet such violent ends? (When I was in middle school in Colorado, there was an issue with the Mountain Lion population for awhile, and I remember when a puma nabbed a jogger then. It's turning out to be a dangerous sport.)

New 'Do

When I called the salon yesterday, I was expecting to get an appointment later this week, but to my surprise, I got right in. It was a salon I've never been to before, and it was a salon not a Hair Cuttery or one of the other cheap places I usually go, so I was a little out of my element. (For one thing, I never know if I'm supposed to tip the shampoo person separate or if the stylist gives her a portion of his tip; does anyone know? I watched the woman before me and she didn't tip, so I figured I was safe, but what if she was just cheap?)

Anyway, the guy who cut my hair was very nice, and he obligingly asked the required questions: What do you do for a living? Are you from here? Are you married? Do you have children? I hate this kind of chit-chat. I'm really bad at it and I just don't really want to talk to strangers -- not cashiers, or servers, or mechanics. I just want them to do whatever it is they have to do, and I will be polite, but I don't necessarily want to be their best friend. Thankfully, this stylist seemed to feel the same way, and after I answered his questions with the required information, he went about silently cutting my hair.

There's something about a haircut that makes every muscle in my body tense up: Am I scared that moving around will ruin the process, or am I just that weird about the unnatural conversation? I don't know why, but there are always points when I discover that I am clenching my fists under that plastic cape or that my calves are tightened and my toes curled under. In the end, he did a nice job, but he did cut off more than I wanted (I didn't say anything -- what can he do? glue it back on? just like I'd never send food back in a restaurant, I'd never tell a stylist it's too short). It doesn't look bad; in fact, my husband said he really liked it, but it certainly is much shorter.

So last night I went for a run (after the sun set and the temp cooled some -- was still extremely humid) and I was able to pull the new 'do back with two elastics (pigtails) and one barrette, not bad. And it stayed back for the entire run (might be because the stylist had loaded me up with hairspray and gel when he styled my hair and those strands weren't moving for their life). Last night I showered after my run and went to bed with wet hair, so this morning it looks like I stuck my finger in the socket, but oh well. Scooter hasn't let out a frightened scream yet.

Hairdo

I need a haricut. Not necessarily because a bowl is my only hair covering option at this point; no, I just need a change (and a few split ends need to be cut off). But I have no idea how I want to cut my hair (this dilema drives my husband batty, but men don't completely understand the haircut dilema -- they've been getting the exact same haircut since they were four).

Part of me wants to go back to having some bangs and then have them do some layering, but my one reservation is how to incorporate the bangs I patiently waited to grow out into a neat, running pony tail. I finally have hair that is essentially all one length, and it fits nicely into a pony tail, which is perfect for running. Yet, I find that even when I am not running, a pony tail is the only style I do.

Well, anything must be better than the bowl. I'll make an appointment and see how it turns out. And if I have to go back to a series of elastics and barettes to keep the hair out of my face while I run, so be it.

Presidents and Pandas

I returned this morning from my long weekend trip to Washington, DC, and I am able to report that it was a delightful trip. My husband and I went to visit my dad, who lives there, and because my husband has never had an opportunity to visit the nation's capital before. So, because it was his virgin voyage, we were obligated to visit all manner of DC attractions: This means we walked all over the friggin' city. We saw all the major monuments, memorials, and museums and took the appropriate amount of pictures (including one where I suggested my husband lick the Washington Monument -- not many people get a snapshot like that).

The walking wore us out though. Even though I consider myself to be someone in good shape, there's just no way to be prepared for a Baton Death March three days in a row. Thankfully, my dad lives in downtown DC (the Woodley Park area), so were able to walk or ride the Metro everywhere we wanted to go, but DC is a big place and that means there's a lot of ground to cover. By the end of the first day, we were exhausted, yet when my dad suggested a run, I was all for it -- there are great paths and trails near his apartment. But I must've forgotten when I agreed to go that my dad is a fast runner.

We only ran two miles, but for me it was a full out run the entire time, and in the end I was about half a block behind my dad, who is twenty-three years older than I and in much better shape, and I was huffing and puffing up the last hill. Plus, living here in Florida, I never encounter hills when I run, so to run up and down some of the DC streets was difficult for me, and I quickly felt like a running loser as dozens of other runners breezed by me (seriously, I have never seen a city that is so full of runners -- they are everywhere!).

After that first day's run, I did not join my dad again for a run while we were there (but he ran everyday); the walking was enough and it has left me feeling stiff and sore.

But aside from the heavy foot traffic we created, we did see some good stuff including the adorable new baby panda (he's only ten months old and I just wanted to cuddle him), and we happened to be walking by the White House when the President's motorcade went by, so we saw the President, who leaned over and waved at the crowd on the sidewalk (personally, I preferred seeing the panda). We also were able to go up to the top of the Washington Monument and we managed to get tickets to the Holocaust Museum, which is a moving experience; although, it is very depressing.


All in all, it was a great trip, and we had beautiful weather while we were there. But it also feels good to be home, back in the swampy marshland of South Florida where I can resume running without any hills and without feeling crappy about not being able to keep up with my 51 year old dad -- I can poke along at my own pace.

Absence

I will be heading out of town this evening and won't return until Monday, and I doubt I will post while I'm gone, so for those of you who are dedicated readers, I know you will shed some tears in my absence; it's okay to cry. I will be back soon.

May the force be with you.

Gym Expansion

My gym has been making some changes lately. I noticed last week that they had changed the yoga/spinning classroom, and had moved those classes to a different room, but I didn't know what they had planned for the old room. Then, when I was in there yesterday, I saw what they were planning. Looks like that room is now going to be a Tae-Kwon-Do studio, which is pretty kick ass. I didn't read all the info packets they had sitting out about it, but I was curious to see what was going on. Eventually, some kids showed up in their little "Do" outfits and it brought me back to my days in karate when I was a kid.

I took karate for about three years when I was growing up -- from when I was in third grade until the end of sixth grade. I loved karate (mostly because I have a special place in my heart for kicking and yelling), and I really loved our pajama-like outfits; I even convinced my mom to let me sleep in mine most nights. I was actually pretty good at karate too, and might have gone on further if my interests hadn't been sidetracked by other sports.

So it piques my curiosity about this new Tae-Kwon-Do studio, and I wonder if classes are open to the gym public or what. Part of me thinks they might be special classes and they might require the actual purchase of a pajama-like outfit and a class sign up and so forth, and I'm not sure if I really want to be dedicated like that. But the idea of kicking and yelling does sound promising.

L-A-Z-Y

I had originally been thinking about going to yoga this morning, but then I decided I was too sleepy and I went back to bed for awhile (amazing that the dog let me go back to sleep, but after his initial standing-on-my-head-licking-my-hair thing he settled down and went back to sleep as well). I wish there were more classes offered in the afternoon at my gym, but it seems they are all in the morning and evening (to best fit traditional work schedules). I suppose I'll just hold off and go to something this evening -- today is not supposed to be a running day.

I am feeling a case of the lazies today, which is not good because I have to complete the sprint to the finish with my end of semester grading and I will need my strength. But I feel more like laying on the couch and finishing my book. If only it were raining; then I'd feel justified in doing that.

Night Run

Today I procrastinated long enough about my run that the only time to do it was this evening, and it was actually really nice. The weather was perfect, the sidewalks clear, the path well-lit. The only problem with the night run is that you have to time your meals right. Perferrably, I like to run on an empty or near-empty stomach (otherwise, I feel like that food is sloshing around in there). But in the evening, it seems tricky coordinating that late run with dinner. And I didn't do a great job of that, because the whole run I could taste the tacos I had for supper and I swear I burped taco the entire time (good thing I don't have a running partner). Next time I run in the late evening, I'll have to either plan an early dinner or a late one -- one in the regualr dinner hour just doesn't work.

The Search for Delicious

There is a children's book that I loved when I was a kid called "The Search for Delicious" wherein a fictional land had a fictional king who is writing a dictionary (this book was right up my alley even when I was eight; I've always loved dictionaries -- a book about words, glorious!). The beginning dictionary writing went easily enough and the king cruised through letters A,B, and C, but got stuck when he got to the letter D, and was particularly uncertain of how to define the word "delicious." (There was also a disagreement between himself and the queen as to what was "delicious.") Because no one in the king's court could decide what the most delicious thing in the world was, the dictionary could not define the word, so the king wisely sent his assistant into the countryside to search for the meaning of delicious (don't you just love that plot? I'm jealous I didn't think of it).

Gaylen, our main character, encounters many adventures, of course, and many interesting characters, of course, and experiences the evil of his uncle (uncles are always getting a bad rap in literature; they and step-parents should rally together to reform that) who is out to sabotage his quest, but eventually he finds that the most delicious thing in the world is water (some aspects of the novel are very political and certainly ahead of its time, so like many children's books it is also written for adults). And in the end, water becomes the meaning of delicious. (Why a company such as, oh say, Evian hasn't yet commercialized this tale, I don't know.)

I think of this story often when I'm running, especially in the last leg of my journey since I always become very thirsty (and my lips and teeth always seem to get this strange gumminess on them -- does this happen to anyone else?) and I start to focus on getting home just to be able to gulp down that delicious water. It's true that in this modern age of exercise that sports drinks have flooded the market and many of us reach for Gatorade instead of water after a run, but I have to say that to me, nothing tastes better than cold water after I've been running.

Too Hot to Trot

When I lived in Minnesota, it seemed that every summer erased the knowledge that winter was very, very cold, so we all kinda seemed shocked at the end of October when the leaves fell and the first snow arrived, and we always seemed miffed by the beginning of January that it was so bitterly cold and that winter had already felt so long. Soon enough, March and April would trot out some fine weather and once again the population would forget sub-zero temperatures and frosted car windshields. The same holds true in South Florida, but it is the opposite weather, opposite season, opposite climatic torture.

The "winter" months are so temperate and pleasant that citizens begin to forget what lurks around the corner once spring breakers have permanently left the state. The temperature rises, the humidity increases, and each day that creeps closer and closer to the official summer feels like I am getting closer and closer to the flames of hell. In the last week, it felt like the heat arrived all of a sudden (although I knew this was not true), and if you stood outside in midday today, you'd most likely burst into flames within minutes (as compared to the height of summer when it will only take a few seconds -- 1.2 in fact, that's science and you can't argue with that). This extreme heat makes running not just difficult but downright unbearable.

The other afternoon I thought it was late enough in the day, and there was cloud cover for Christ's sake, that I could take a quick run. Wrong. Midway through my run I was certain that my head was going to pop off and my body would lay by the sidewalk for days (even wild dogs have the good sense to stay indoors where it's air conditioned). Thankfully, I survived the run, but I knew that it was the end of trying to sneak runs in while the sun was shining. This means I have three options now: Run early in the morning, late in the evening, or inside on the treadmill.

I complain about the heat now, but by July, I'll forget what 70 and a cool breeze means. And by August, I'll be pissed that summer has lasted so long, but I won't really be able to recall any other weather.

Good Eats

I have been a good little eater today -- many fruits and salads -- but now my tummy is rumbling for something evil (say that in your best Dr. Evil voice because that's how it sounded in my head -- I also advise rubbing your first two fingers on each hand together if you want to look truly diabolical). At first I thought I could assuage the craving with a Hershey kiss from the department candy dish, but now I know there's no stopping this hunger with a tiny piece of candy. So I am contemplating one of three options: One, digging around for some change for the vending machine (many evil diet choices within); Two, walking over to the "snack hut" on campus and picking up something (but I only have a large bill and I bet they won't have change, and it seems really wicked to buy a $1 candy car with a $100 bill -- it was my b-day a few days ago and that's leftover b-day loot!); or, Three, hop in my car and drive the two miles to the nearest Taco Bell (I haven't hit the Border in awhile), but the same money doubts would probably plague me there.

I have a full evening here on campus because my students are taking their final, and one of them is guaranteed to take the fully allotted time and that could mean that I'm here all night with my stomach rumbling. I should've know that wimpy salad wouldn't fill me up! Damn my good intentions!

Dog Run

Yesterday, my husband wanted time alone to work on the house without the dog bothering him or whining in the kitchen, so I said I would take Scooter with me on my run. Interesting. It was Scooter's maiden voyage running with me, and he did much better than I could have anticipated. At first, he was wild with excitement so he was running back and forth in front of me and swerving way out away from me and then cruising back next to me. Between managing his leash length and trying to establish my own pace, it was a bit hectic at first.

Then, he tapered off some and he was running nicely beside me, but after a mile, he was clearly getting tired because he was starting to lag behind. We kept up the pace though for another half a mile until he started to look at me in a pleading sort of way from way behind me. So I slowed it down and finished after two miles. We walked the rest of the way and he trotted nicely beside me, but he was pretty pooped at that point (although a found stick revived his spirits). When we got home, he drank his bowl full of water and crashed.

He still found energy later in the evening to terrorize me, but the run pretty much tuckered him out. So, will he become a regular running partner? I don't think so. Maybe every once in awhile, but not regularly. It was too much going on for me, and I like to run to escape multi-tasking; plus, right now he's not cut out for distances. Maybe when he's a little older I can work him up to longer runs and see if he's cut out for the training, but for right now, I think we'll stick to walks.

Treadmill Tedium

My first day back on the "schedule" meant that I had to run at the gym on one of their treadmills (I slept too late this morning to run outside, and running in the middle of the day in South Florida is out of the question for me -- heatstroke does not sound like fun). Lately, I haven't used the gym for much more than classes, which is a fine use of my money in my opinion, but I did feel as though I was really a member by going in and using the treadmill. But then two minutes went by on the dreaded machine and I was reminded of how much I hate running on one.

After I flipped through an old issue of "Rolling Stone" (I discontinued my subscription a few months ago and was happy to catch up on, albeit late, music news) and settled into my songs, I found that I was pretty much bored. Even though I have my music, running on the treadmill is tedious. There's nothing but other people and treadmills to look at. Plus, I always stare at the time as it passes, and everyone knows that watching a clock is the surest way to slow the passage of its minutes.

In the end, I eeked out a few miles and was done, not necessarily because I was tired, but because I was just so done. I think I will just have to try and get up early or run late so I can do it outside, and I'll reserve the gym for the yoga (got a new mat for my b-day!) and spinning classes. Maybe I could bring myself to lift a weight or two as well.

It's my B-day and I'll Run if I Want to

Yes, today is my birthday!! Everyone is free to do a little happy dance in honor of it. I am turning the distinguished age of 28 (interesting that if this was 1906 instead of 2006, I would be more than middle aged -- life expectancy was about 50 -- and now I am considered a spring chicken -- woohoo for sewers and other modern advancements) and I'm pretty excited about it. 28 seems like a good, solid number: I've always enjoyed the even numbers.

I will mostly relax and enjoy myself today, so I doubt I will exert myself with exercise, b-days are a time of year that gets me thinking about resolutions. Unlike New Year's, when everyone is resolving something, resolving something at your b-day seems more personal and I take it more seriously as a committment. And this birthday has me thinking about my running, especially about the lack of it as of late, and I think I need to make a firm resolution to get back to it. Unfortunately, this time of year sucks for such a resolution since we in South Florida are heading straight into the hot temps of summer, but I think I really need to get back; I miss it and it bothers me that so many days are absent a run.

So, starting tomorrow (the fateful day that all resolutions begin), I am going to revive my running routine -- cross your fingers that I'll stick with it.

(Holy cats! I just had deja vu! Could this be a sign of something? Or do too many mornings begin in the exact same pattern?)

New Look

I was getting bored with my blog's old template, so with the freshness of spring in mind, I decided to redo the look of the blog. However, I need to refresh some previous links and so forth, so be patient with those. What does everyone think of the new colors?

End of the Term

I am a week and a half away from being finished with this term, and I tell you, this stretch is difficult to pull through. Yesterday, when emailing a friend I liked the end of a semester to mile 25 of a marathon (not that I have personally run a marathon, but it's what I imagine it to be like); the end is in sight, but the pain is excrutiating. I know that some of you are college students, so don't take offense to this, but I have been teaching at the college level for six years, and every single term, within the last two or three weeks of the semester, things begin to go haywire.

A.) Grandmas start dropping off left and right (why is it that Grandpa never goes at this time? poor Grandma), students are suddenly very accident prone, and tragedy and sickness start striking them down wherever they turn. Now, I am sympathetic to a degree because in my own college experience, my grandmother did die during finals week in the fall term of my junior year, and I had to make special arrangements for my finals and was very appreciative of my professors' understanding. But after I've heard that Grandma is on her sickbed for the upteenth time, I start to become a little cynical.

B.) Computers usually unite and start undermining student work. Disks are lost, hard drives are irreversibly damaged and the material lost, and printers run out of ink or start eating paper instead of printing on it. (Many writing instructors complain that modern word processing programs have done for writing skills what the calculator did for math skills, but I think the computer is awesome and wouldn't abandon its aid for anything; however, I do think its ability to provide an unprovable excuse is downright wicked. It's a fail-safe problem and students know they can be as vague or as detailed as they want, but they have a solid reason -- "my computer crashed." End of story. Of course, I have circumnavigated this problem on my syllabus and state, quite clearly, that it is the student's responsibility to ensure that all work is saved and backed up to disk -- preferrably a flash drive -- and that computer problems will never be an acceptable excuse for late work. If only I could think of a clause that included Grandma's death.)

C.) A semester is sixteen weeks -- four months -- and inevitably during fourteen of those weeks (or three and a half months) I will get a trickle of email traffic from students with questions, concerns, etc, and I will get a handful of calls, and maybe a few who stop by my office or who make appointments to see me. But suddenly, in the last two weeks, my mailbox is full, my voicemail is full and I have appointments with them in every available time slot, and they are lining up after class to speak with me. It seems as though someone turned on the light and they see the sign that says, "The END is coming: Repent!"

At this point, I am always just relieved to finish the term, as I know students are too, and I wonder: Would I be cut out for a marathon? Could I go the distance? I am usually plagued by doubt that I could endure that distance running all the way, but then I remember that I have completed 12+ semesters (summers are in there as well) and that each one feels like a test of endurance. If I can teach, I can run a marathon. Physical pain can't hold a candle to this mental anguish.

Easter Candy

My husband, ever so kindly, bought me an Easter basket on Sunday full of goodies, and I returned the favor. Add on the Easter stuff his parents and my parents sent. The result? We have a shitload of chocolate and other candy (jelly beans) around the house. And it is very difficult to resist (especially since it is wrapped in the pretty pastel colors of spring). I have discovered as of late that I really enjoy Milky Way, which is funny because I never used to be a fan, but it must be the miniature ones (they always taste better anyway) that are so delicious because I can't keep my hands off them. Automatically, when I got up this morning I grabbed two mini Way's and ate them for breakfast.

My good eating habits have not just slid downhill, they have tumbled down the mountain in an avalanche of good intentions. This always happens when I lose just a little weight; suddenly I think I can eat whatever I want whenever I want, and that's how I always gain that weight back. So, this morning after I finish typing, I am going to quickly jaunt up to the store and buy a few "good" groceries: fruit, veggies, that kind of stuff. I feel like the past week or so I have had nothing but junk and now I must do something to make up for it.

I just have to carefully avoid the drive-thru McDonald's that is right next to the grocery store -- it's placement seems so evil!

P.S. Scooter is sitting on my lap napping while I type this and he just farted. It was quiet so I didn't know it was coming, and then it just hit my nostrils -- wham -- and it was a powerful stink. Seriously, when I swallowed, I almost gagged. What's in his dog food?

Headache

I have one of the meanest headaches in history right now; it has nothing but cruel intentions toward me. It kinda began last night as I was finishing up at the restaurant, but once I got home, had something to eat, and had a hot shower, it eased up and then I went to bed and my brain felt very happy. But this morning it seems to be pissed, and it's banging against my skull to let me know it.

Usually I can appease an angry, throbbing head with some caffeine (since that is often what it demands in exchange for a pain-free noggin), but the cup of Starbucks did little to ease the discomfort. I have also been drinking water (perhaps I am a little dehydrated), but that seems to have little or no effect as well. Normally, I would just pop a few aspirin and be on my merry way, but I am currently at school and without any aspirin (none in my purse and the department secretary is fresh out). So I have tried squeezing the flesh between thumb and forefinger because I was once told that that pressure point is supposed to relieve a tension headache, but I suck at that. I have half-heartedly rubbed my own shoulders, but it's just not the same, and I have, of course, rubbed my temples.

I've also tried this special breathing I learned in yoga: I cover one nostril with my forefinger and then breathe in deeply through the open nostril, pause with breath held, and then cover that first nostril and exhale through the other nostril (it's supposed to help with headaches and be a good breathing practice for relaxation), and, in general, I think that helped the most but the headache is still there. And the breathing did more to dislodge a booger than it did to help me get rid of the headache. Persistent fucker (headache, not the booger).

I've always been prone to headaches (actually seems to run in my family) because I think I enternalize most of my stress and I ball it all up in my shoulders and neck -- massage therapists always comment about the knots they have to work out of there. Oh well, once I get through teaching my class the 8 basics of the comma (exciting, I know) I can go home and lay down with a couple of aspirin and have Scooter cuddle up next to me.

Waitressing for Weight Loss

As I have mentioned too many times to count, being busy working my waitressing job has really diminished my time for running; however, I have actually lost weight since starting that job and have probably ended up burning more calories working a shift there than I would have running. According to most calories burned charts, waitressing burns about 200 calories an hour. I believe it. When it's busy, I bet I burn even more. For one thing, serving tables requires a lot of walking -- back and forth, back and forth -- sometimes across sizable distances. When I worked as a server in Minnesota, I once wore a pedometer during a typical four hour shift, and I discovered that I walked about five miles (and this was a much smaller restaurant than the one I currently work at).

But walking isn't the only exercise. A server lifts and carries trays that weigh 20+ pounds, and we carry smaller trays of drinks, and we carry those heavy plates (often stacked one on top of the other at the end of a guest's meal). Considering that my shifts minimally last five hours, each time I work, I burn about 1,000 calories, so it only takes a couple days of work to burn up a pound (no wonder so many restaurant employees eat and drink with abandon; they know they'll burn the calories off).

All of this work is why I sweat so much during a shift (that, and the heat of going back and forth through the kitchen -- I don't know how those cooks stand it), so it's always a little humorous to me when a customer tells me they are freezing because the air conditioning is blowing on them; I'm standing next to them with a slow roll of sweat running down my back.

In the end, I don't want waitressing to substitute for my established exercise, but at the same time, it's good to know that the work I'm doing is at least helping to make up for that. Today (Easter), I work a double, so I can look forward to a long day ahead of me, and many calories burned.

Have a good holiday everyone -- enjoy your ham!

Sore

So, even though the first run back yesterday went fine, I am really sore today -- that's what nearly a month off of running will do to a girl. But also, I had a six hour waitressing shift last night and being on my feet, walking so much, probably didn't help the soreness. This morning I was pretty stiff, especially in my quads, and for some reason, my inner thighs.

I have to work all day, and today will be a day of rest concerning running, but hopefully I can get back out there tomorrow. I really want to re-establish my running; it's just difficult to find the time and energy (thank the lord for coffee -- it is the blessing of the earth).

I'm Back

This morning I went for the first run I've had time for in almost a month, and it went better than I anticipated. I expected that after the long hiatus that I would be huffing and puffing, but it was a surprisingly good run. Granted, I ran just three miles, but it went smoothly. The weather was cool and overcast this morning and it felt good to get out and work like that again.

Hopefully, my schedule will allow me more time to re-establish my running routine; it sucked being away from it for so long and my body hated me for denying it the necessary exercise it requires. I see that Scooter tried to substitute for me in my absence -- he's such a good puppy. But the good puppy is repeatedly trying to hop in my lap and help me type this, so I'd best try to entertain him for awhile.

Scooter's Screed

Hello everyone who reads "21 Days"! My name is Scooter and I am Jess' puppy. She has been very busy lately (it feels like she's hardly ever home) teaching her classes and serving tables at the restaurant part-time (she smells delicious when she comes home), and she's so worn out that she hasn't had time to do her usual running and she hasn't had time to post her usual blog entries. So, I thought I would post an entry for her because I have a little extra time on my paws and because I suspect it is my early morning energy that contributes to her exhaustion.

Since my mom's blog is about running, I thought I might tell you people about my running (I do as much as I can). I'm not training for anything special, but I like to stay in shape. Currently, this is my running routine: I get up early, usually before six and I like to take care of business and then I come inside and have a quick, healthy breakfast (I make sure I get the right portions of fiber, protein and vitamins); good eating is key to any developing runner. After breakfast, I take it easy and sometimes take a quick nap on the couch, but after I digest, it's back to getting warmed up. I like to prime my muscles by jumping up against the shower doors while my human parents get ready in the morning, sometimes I also shred something just to get the blood flowing -- every runner knows it's dangerous to run when stiff.

After that warm up, I try to do a few laps around the house. If my mom or dad will throw a toy for me, I'm happy to make laps back and forth across the living room (which is awesome because it's being remodeled, so it's nothing but a wide open slab of cement) for as long as they will toss the toy (my new favorite is a stuffed duck some friends gave me for graduating my puppy class -- it's awesome too; it has a squeeker and is incredibly good for gnawing on). After the people get tired of throwing stuff for me, we usually go for a short walk to cool down and to get a sniff of the outdoors.

Following my time outside, I like to do some indoor sprints, some jumps onto furniture and into laps, and ultimately I try to spring onto the bed (someday I will make it up there). That's a full morning, so I usually spend my afternoons relaxing -- maybe chewing a bone or, my favorite, napping. After dinner, I like to do my second round of running and it's much like the first round, but I like to punctuate those runs with short bursts of speed work, generally around the legs of my parents. At the end of the day, I'm exhausted and I try to hit bed pretty early, but because Jess isn't home until late these days, my dad tries to keep me up to see her before I fall asleep. A good night's sleep is just as important as proper nutrition, so I like to get as much sleep in as I can, but I always keep in mind that I have to get up early for my morning workout.

As it is, I'm a puppy primed for racing and I'm in good physical health. My mom wishes she could have an established schedule like mine, and sometimes she says to me, "Scooter, when am I going to have some time to go for a run?" I just look at her soulfully; it must be hard to be human -- so many unnecessary demands on their time. As far as I'm concerned, a day should consist of napping, eating, and playing; what more could a creature need?

Goodness! I hear my mom coming; I'd better hop off the computer. She doesn't like it when I'm up here and she won't be happy that I'm playing on her computer. It was good talking to all of you blogger fans. Be patient with my mom -- she's just so busy -- she'll return to her regular running and posting as soon as she can!

See ya!
Scooter

Down Dog with a Dog

Today I went to yoga for the first time in about a week -- it was awesome.

Since I've been so busy at work and haven't had the same kind of time I used to have for exercising, I've been trying to do bits and pieces at home when I can. So, last week I tried doing some yoga at home, which would have been fine if I didn't have a puppy who thinks that "yoga" means "play." Anything that involves being on the floor is an invite to have Scooter in my lap. When I am doing sun salutations, he licks me in the face and stands on my back when I'm on my stomach for cobra or plank. He wedges himself between my legs during down dog and he sits on my stomach when I'm trying to do final relaxation (not real relaxing).

If he's not on me or under me or making it impossible to do a pose, he's chewing on my mat (which I can sympathize with since the mat does look like prime chewing material). All in all, he makes it impossible to exercise at home, so I was glad to have the time today to go to class and do all the poses without a dog under my feet.

Spring Cleaning

Today in the paper was an article about "spring cleaning" for your body, and while I feared it would be an article promoting some fad detox diet, it was actually about eating right and drinking plenty of water to help refresh the body just as we would spring clean our homes. The interesting thing about the article is that it advised that the recommended amount of water a person should drink a day should be half a peron's weight in ounces. So, if you weigh 120 pounds, you should drink 60 ounces of water a day.

While I drink about that much anyway, I had never heard of this way to calculate water consumption, but it makes sense. I suppose people of varying sizes need different quantities, and this is an easy method of calculation. Of course, if you exercise you need to adjust water intake in order to replace the lost fluids through sweat -- about 8 ounces for every thirty minutes of exercise, and if you exercise a lot you also need to replace lost salt and potassium, so it's best to throw in a sports drink as well.

So, I'm working on drinking my water today -- keeping the body clean. I also managed to make it to the gym this morning; first time in awhile.

Feeling Fine

I finally feel better this morning. Rest yesterday afternoon and evening and a good night's sleep helped, and now this morning I really feel a lot better. I called in sick yesterday afternoon to the restaurant and they made a stink about it and told me it was my responsibility to find a replacement -- I dutifully called those who were off, but no one was available. When I called the restaurant back to report that I had come up with no one, they asked if I could just try coming in "for a little while and see how you feel." Which would, of course, turn in to all night. I told them I was sick and I wasn't coming in. I felt like saying, "I'm not asking your permission; I'm providing you with the courtesy of knowing ahead of time that I won't be coming in today."

What my husband suggested I should have said was that I am pale, clammy, by turns shivering and sweaty, my nose is dripping snot, and I have a wracking cough, do you want me serving customers their food? To me, it seems very short-sighted to only concern themselves with filling the shift with a warm body. They need to think about the ramifications of having a sick employee come in. Not only are there the health drawbacks, but because I was sick I probably would not be doing a very good job -- I would've been slow, tired, and careless. Places such as this give lipservice to their employees about how much they mean to them, but in reality they don't care much about an employee's well-being. It's hard to believe that so many restaurants have such a high employee turnover, right?

Anyway, I work this evening, which I believe I am healthy enough to do, and I wonder if they'll say anything about my "attitude." We'll see.

Not Your Ordinary Cold

I don't think this is just a cold -- where symptoms usually begin to disappear after 24 hours -- this, I believe, is the flu. Yesterday, as the day progressed, I felt worse and worse (a little like death warmed over), so I called in sick not only to the restaurant but to school as well, and I got a substitute for my evening class. I never do that. A fever persisted all day and my body ached down to its core. I took aspirin throughout the day, and while it would temporarily alleviate the aches and chills, it certainly was not a cure.

This morning I can't report that I feel much better. I still feel feverish, achy, and sore. I feel tired and I have a pounding headache. I started off the morning with a few more aspirin, but after these, I think I'll lay off -- I don't trust taking that many aspirin, and in its own way, a fever is working to help my body get rid of the virus, and I don't want to slow that process down.

Now the dilema I face once again is whether or not to call in sick to work. I have class in the early afternoon and then I'm supposed to work at the restaurant this evening. I think I can do class today -- it's a short class, but should I call in to the restaurant? I think so just because I feel as though I will need more rest this evening, and the idea of waiting on tables on a Friday night (when it will be very busy) does not sound like a good idea. Plus, I'm of the mind that sick employees in a restaurant should stay home since most customers don't appreciate a sick person serving them their food, but when I called in yesterday the management kinda made a big fuss over my absence. And I'm the sort of person who tries to please everyone and make them like me, so I don't want to be the "difficult" employee.

Ridiculous, I know.

I suppose I will decide what to do this afternoon after class; I'll see how I feel then.

Sick, Again

I just had a cold about two months ago, and to be honest, I felt like I never entirely got over it (I had this hacking cough for forever), and now here I am again feeling like crap. Yesterday morning I felt very tired and kinda achy, and as the day wore on, I felt ickier and ickier (yes, that is the technical term). So, last night I tossed and turned and was, in turns, chilled and then sweaty.

Now, today I feel like a lukewarm piece of poo, and even though I feel absolutely icky, I am still wrestling with the issue of whether to call into work or not. I am scheduled for a lunch shift at the restaurant and I teach this evening. I don't want to cancel my class, and I can probably struggle through that, but I don't think I want to be serving food with snot dripping out of my nose. I might call in sick at the restaurant. Yet, I hate calling in sick -- for some reason, it feels as though I'm making it up, even when I'm not.

Over-Worked

I have not run in over two weeks. Yes, it's true. I got a part-time job waiting tables at a nearby restaurant to supplement my teaching income, and "part-time" must not have the same meaning to some people as it does to others because I was looking for about 3 shifts a week, and yet I have been scheduled every available shift since I started. So between that, teaching, grading papers, taking care of Scooter (mangy, wormy little fella he's turned out to be), and trying to see my husband, I haven't had a spare second.

Last week I was at least good at getting to spinning and yoga, but so far this week has been a bust, and I have opted for sleep when the opportunity has presented itself. Even though waiting tables is good exercise (lots of walking, lifting heavy trays, carrying plates, drinks), it's not running and I miss my runs, but as I look at this week's schedule, it feels like a daunting task to consider a run.

I thought I would just grin and bare it with the restaurant schedule, but looks like I'll have to say something -- soon. I don't want to be scheduled like this again next week. I will end up strangling someone.

Doctor Dissapointment

Well, I was a little put out yesterday by NOT being wieghed at the doctor's office. What kind of place was this? The nurse simply asked me my weight; I said, "Don't you want to weigh me?" She said, "No, it's okay, you can just tell me your weight." Dammit! I guess I have to be satisfied with the home scale report. That, or I could use the fancy doctor-like scale at the gym (I just don't want anyone peeking over my shoulder for that).

The Weight of the Matter

This afternoon I have a doctor's appointment (just a regular yearly exam) and it will be the moment of truth. Every year I wait for that yearly check up to see what the doctor's scale reports. Sure, I have a scale at home, but I don't trust that it is the holy grail of accuracy. I'm sure it does an adequate job, but it always feels as though it's the doctor's scale that really tells you the truth.

But it depends on the doctor's office. Personally, I think it is inhumane to weigh someone with their shoes on, which has been done to me at past offices. And at home, I always weigh myself naked (to make sure those weighty clothes don't throw off my impression), but at the doctor's office that's not really an option, nor do I want it to be. Still, being weighed in potentially heavy clothes can be traumatizing. So, keeping shoes and clothes in mind, I usually try to wear the lightest stuff I have -- flip flops, light weight capris (less fabric), and a t-shirt or thin sleeveless.

I know that there are more important things to be examined and checked up on at the doctor's office (like the hacking cough I've had for a month), but they are of little consequence compared with my weight. I hope to weigh in about six or seven pounds lighter than last year, but I guess part of that weight in will be determined by my shoes. Now, when they measure my height, I always pray that they'll let me leave my shoes on.

Jesus Drink

This week I have not been running; I don't know why, but the past two weeks have been difficult to find the motivation, but I have been attending spinning class and yoga, so I don't feel bad; I'm still getting good exercise, and sometimes it's fine to take time away from running. Plus, spinning offers a workout that is truly comparable to running, and with the classes I've attended this week I know I burned just as many calories in cycling as I do when I run.

This teacher has so much energy and she makes the class really challenging. Maybe it's just because I haven't regularly attended spinning in awhile, I'm not sure, but it sure does seem hard. I leave there having sweated out every bit of water I consumed since the third grade; she wrings us dry. As I mentioned before, I figured she had to be high on something to have that kind of energy, but then I found out that she's high on Christ. Yesterday before we began, she was wearing a church t-shirt over her sporty cycling clothes, and I noted the cross tatooed on her ankle; plus, the "glory to God" song she was singing pretty much sealed the deal. So, she loves Jesus.

That's fine. Personally, I think Jesus is a good example to live by, but how is it that the lord can bless those who worship him with so much excess "spirit"? Is this something that can be bottled? Because if so, I think it would make an excellent energy drink. Forget caffeine, electrolytes, sugar and other energy enhancing chemicals, maybe we all need holy water (I guess there is Kaballah water -- movie stars and Madonna drink it, maybe even bathe in it).

Anyway, she's a pretty good instructor -- the first to help me set up my bike correctly, and it is so much more comfortable now; I had it all wrong before. Now I can peddle better and, ultimately, work a little harder.

Near Naked

I don't know if I'll ever really get used to seeing naked women in the gym's locker room. I remember when I was kid and I took swimming lessons every summer at the Y that I would feel so embarassed seeing all those middle aged women walking around buck naked that I usually wore my suit under my clothes so that when I got there I could bypass the locker room and go straight into the pool area where I just had to peel off my t-shirt and shorts and dive in -- no nudity for me. Now, all those middle aged women who were so comfortable with their naked bodies twenty years ago are getting quite wrinkly and they're still walking around the locker room.

Personally, I don't know how they do it (maybe I'm just a little self-conscious, I don't know) because today there was this older woman doing her hair and makeup in front of the central mirrors, and she was completely nude. She didn't seem the least bit bothered walking around the locker room like that; meanwhile, I just ducked in there to pee and I had to avert my eyes and I felt like an eight year old at the Y again.

I have nothing against naked -- love naked -- but love it at home, not in front of strangers. And I know we're all women in there, and yes, everyone has the same parts, but Jesus, would it have killed that women to wrap a towel around her wrinkled ass? A towel is close to naked ("near naked" I might deem it) and it would be a lot more tolerable.

Late Comers

Yesterday I went to spinning and sweated my heart out -- that instructor is either on cocaine or she is just that energetic, I don't know, but she really pushed us and I must have sweated off about five pounds. She was a good instructor, as are most in my gym, and that's why I always feel bad when people walk in late to the classes. And they walk in not just two or three minutes past the hour, but sometimes they stroll in once the class is halfway over, and it feels so disruptive.

It's one thing during spinning since the music is loud and you're not trying to concentrate on anything, and it's their own business if they come late and have to fiddle with their bike settings while the rest of us are in the middle of our workout, but it's quite another when these people come into yoga late. For one thing, the yoga instructor always dims the lights, so if you're walking in from the gym, it takes awhile for your eyes to adjust to the darkness. But if you're there on time, you can get your mat set up before lights out and it's no problem; however, these late comers saunter in to the dark and are fumbling around with the mat and are searching for a place to sit down and it's quite disruptive when you are trying to be focused.

Last week, this woman came into yoga twenty-five minutes into the class and grabs a mat, and while you would think she'd just grab a spot close to the door, you'd be wrong because she had to settle into a place in the middle of the room -- a very inconvenient spot and two people around her had to adjust their mats to accomodate her. In the meantime, we're all in the middle of down dog and she's wrestling with her shoes and keys, etc making a lot of racket. Then her cell phone starts ringing ("Pump it" by the Black Eyed Peas -- so annoying); I thought the instructor might yell at her, but the instructor was calm and just ignored the interruption -- I guess yoga instructors have the peace of mind to disregard such rude behavior (I have yet to achieve that kind of Nirvana).

It makes me think that the class studios need a no interruption policy. All they need is a friendly sign that says -- "If you're late, don't come in." Well, the wording might need some tweaking, but you get the gist.

Diary of an Inconsistent Runner

The past week was not a super-duper running week for me; in fact, I only ran one day. I did faithfully attend yoga class, but it was not the week for running. There are several excuses, but the bottom line is that I have just not had the energy or the focus this week to commit to my schedule; however, I hope this coming week will be different.

Today I am too exhausted from our camping trip to get out there and go for a long run, so I will start over with routine tomorrow with the first day of the week. Every once in awhile, I have to feel like I'm getting s new start.

Happy Shamrock Day!

Well, it's the holiday of all drinking holidays. I think only Halloween out numbers St. Pat's for revelers, and because this year the holiday falls on a Friday, most will be out this evening drinking their share of green beer and embarking on leprechaun hunts (I think we'd all like to find that pot 'o gold).

Hope everyone has a very lucky day -- perhaps someone will come across a four leaf clover -- and hope you feel alright tomorrow (try to mix up the green beer with some Irish Whisky and Irish Cream; that way your internal organs adjust easily to all the greenness -- too much of that and your digestive system goes caput).

Good Luck!

Dish Duty

Does anyone else sweat when they are washing dishes, or is it just me? I don't know if it's the extremely hot water I use or the vigorous scrubbing action, but I swear I get hot and sweaty doing the dishes (especially if I let them pile up for a day or two and I have a good half hour of washing to do; our dishwasher is broken and hasn't worked since we moved in 10 months ago -- husband seems to be in no rush to replace it). It could also be the sun shining down on me directly from over the sink, and it could be the cup of coffee I suck on while I wash; I'm not sure, but I do know that I usually turn on the ceiling fan in dish preparation so that I can maintain my core temperature.

It feels like some form of exercise.

In fact, much of the housework feels like a form of exercise: sweeping, vacuuming, cleaning the bathroom. By the time I'm finished cleaning the house, I am often just as worn out as I am after a run, which is precisely why I try to run before I clean. If I think to myself "I'll go run after I finish picking up and when I get done folding the laundry," inevitably I never go for that run because I'm pooped. Maybe I feel tired after cleaning because I do so many things the hard way, but I get that from my mother. She always cleaned the kitchen and bathroom floors on her hands and knees instead of with a mop because she reported that it burned more calories. I, personally, mop the kitchen, and Swiffer much of the rest of the house that has wood flooring, but I also clean the bathroom floors on my hands and knees.

Because it burns more calories? No. Two reasons: A. It is too small a space to mop. You can't really mop behind the toilet very effectively and I usually end up smacking myself in the head with the mop handle trying to maneuver in the tight space. And B. I like pretending to be Cinderella. It's something I've envisioned every time I do housework since I was five, and it's a fantasy that works for me. It would probably be much easier too if I had a few helpful mice to aid my work and sing me some uplifting songs instead of a dog who tracks through my efforts and doesn't sing one note, but one can only have so many trained mice in a lifetime and I'm saving mine for when I have kids (I think they might come in handy then; after that, I'm working on obtaining a few trained monkeys to run behind me in class and erase the board -- there just aren't enough trained animals in the world to do my bidding).

Anyway, I haven't run yet today, and I only plan on running a few miles this afternoon at the gym, but I do also plan to do some lifting (I have been slacking on that lately). However, after that powerful workout from the dishes, I'm thinking perhaps I could shave a mile off my run (I don't know how many calories I burned during the dishwashing session, but I would guess it was at least 20 -- not quite a mile's worth).

The Things You See

On my outdoor running routes, I see lots of stuff. Sure, I see different people and cars and buildings, grass, trees, etc, but I'm talking about the other stuff -- the stuff alongside the road or sidewalk or trail. Mostly I see garbage. One of my routes goes past a nearby high school, and a McDonald's is on the opposite corner of the high school, so I see empty cups, wrappers, and crumpled bags tossed next to the sidewalk there. I can picture the students stopping by McDonald's on their way to school and scarfing down that Egg McMuffin before they need to be seated in first period, or on the way home from school, when they crave a Shamrock shake they stop by again. And then, once they have had their fill, they simply toss the trash by the side of the road or out their car window.

But trash is everywhere by the side of the road, not just by the high school. There are wrappers, cans, beer bottles, cigarettes, and day old newspapers laying by the road -- apparently, there are a lot of litter bugs in the world. Garbage is the most common element I see, but it is by no menas the only thing I see. Every once in a while I spot just one shoe (always that loner shoe, where does it come from? is it dropped by heaven?), sometimes I see a kid's toy, a stray tennis or golf ball, and for several months, I continued to see what could only be debris from hurricane Wilma (pieces of screen, fence, roofing, etc). I have even passed textbooks and what appears to be notes and test scores; again, they must be the posessions of high school students.

I just observe all this discarded material and keep running; in some ways I feel as though I should pick it up, but I'm running, and I'm not carrying a garbage bag. Eventually it does get picked up (by gnomes I assume), but then someone drives by and tosses his or her mess out the car window. I never see them do it, but it's the only explanation (although, once I did see someone throw a McDonald's shake at another car -- I think that was thrown in anger though, but I didn't observe them retrieving the cup once it bounced off the other car). If only everyone ran and saw the crap by the road, maybe they'd think twice about holding onto it until they found a garbage can.

Time Flies

It's hard to find time to run during the week, but it always seems even harder on the weekend. Which might confirm what I have always suspected: The earth spins faster on Friday evening, all day Saturday, and all day Sunday; therefore, the days and nights are compressed, and we don't get the same amount of time as we do during the week. It's the only explanation as to why week days take so long and weekends go so fast. And it is also why I am sometimes gyped of my running time -- it's not my fault; it's the rotation of the Earth.

Yesterday in particular went by quickly. We went to the Renassiance Festival, and we saw jousting, ate some big pickles (which I think may be to blame for the strange poop I had this morning), drank some beer, observed many strange folks dressed up as elves, fairies, wenches, kings, queens, and a few animals with tails. I participated in axe throwing, a medevial skeeball, was fitted for horns, and fell for the dollar-tied-to-a-string bit (and I was so excited to see that dollar laying there too!); also, I baked in the sun. By mid-afternoon, I was nothing but a sweating, dirty mess and I could tell that my exposed skin was frying in the Florida heat. We were all pretty tired by mid-afternoon, so we left the games, beer, and fried food to the elves and made our way home.

I was so exhausted after a day in 1521 that I fell asleep while watching TV at 7:30 and slept through the night. Every once in a while, a girl needs to sleep approximately 12 hours to re-energize; it's particularly helpful to do this after a tiring day at the Renassiance. Today, I was rested and managed to get three miles in with no problem, and I was relieved to see the day's food and drink yesterday didn't add any pounds to my waistline; I must have sweated it all off.

Nothing to Say

You know those days when you think you have something to say, but then it turns out you don't? I guess today is one of those days. I automatically logged into Blogger and started a new post, but then just blanked out for about ten minutes. Literally, there was nothing to say. Then, I figured I could bribe everyone with some pictures of the dog (he has nothing to do with running, but he's cute, and studies show that people respond more strongly to cute animals than they do to scantily clad individuals -- hard to believe that could be true), but then, as I was browsing Scooter pics, I remembered that I hadn't downloaded new ones from the camera, and to do so right now seemed like too much effort. So, I'll have to retreat to cute dog pictures at another time.

Therefore, I'm left with really nothing to tell you. I ran yesterday afternoon -- a short distance (3 miles), and I read some running blogs (other people's achievement sometimes makes me feel like I did the same workout, and some people are very ambitious). Today I went to yoga, and tomorrow I have a long run ahead of me -- a little psyched out since I felt like death after Monday's long run, but still trying to remain positive.

Guess that's all I have to share. Maybe tomorrow I'll have better things to say. Talk to you then.

Stairs

How come I can run as much as I do and still get winded walking up the four flights of stairs to my Tuesday night class? They're brutal! I'm usually fine for the first three flights, but by the time I'm inching toward the fourth floor, my legs feel weak and I'm gasping for air. Yesterday was particularly awful since I was late for class and was therefore trying to run up the stairs to my class; I was so winded when I stepped into my classroom that I had to take a minute to catch my breath.

My students mostly take the elevator and they always ask why I don't just hop on board and cruise up the four flights in luxury like they do, but I have my reasons for the stairs. For one thing, stairs are an incredibly good workout, even if that workout only lasts five minutes. Lots of articles on exercise and weight loss advise people to find extra bits of exercise wherever they can -- parking further out at the mall so the walking distance is greater, walking through an airport instead of gliding along on the automated walkways, and, of course, taking the stairs.

Climbing stairs is one of the best aerobic exercises you can do actually, and it burns more calories per minute than many other forms of exercise. How many calories you burn depends upon your weight, but some web sites estimate that an average person burns about 10 calories a minute walking up stairs -- takes me five minutes, I must burn around 50 calories (doesn't quite burn of the ice cream sandwich I ate for breakfast, but it's a move in the right direction). The chance to burn a few extra calories is a good one, and for a runner, the opportunity to fit in a touch more exercise is always beneficial, but exercise is not the only reason I take those stairs once a week.

You see, I have a certain fear of elevators. Maybe it's because I got my arm stuck in one in college, or maybe it's the feeling that the cables will snap and we'll plummett to our deaths, or perhaps (and this is probably the key factor), being stuffed into that box makes me feel claustrophobic -- that, and I always feel a touch motion sick in there. So even though four floors seems harmless, I would just rather stick with the stairs. That way if I trip and tumble to my death, I can rest assured that I burned a few extra calories and that might make all the difference when fitting me into a funeral dress.

When to Pull Over

After getting a good dose of rest, I felt much revived this morning, and not too sore at all. Last night, my muscles and joints were just aching, especially my right knee (it's given me a little attitude in the past), but this morning I felt good as gold. I don't know what it was about that run yesterday; I'm not sure if it was the distance, the pace, the day itself, or what, but I was spent. Plus, once you start increasing mileage it can be surprising how long you're out there. I'm not too speedy, so those 61/2 miles yesterday took me about 70 minutes, and when I think about it, that's a long time to run.

Which makes me think about the truly long distances: the half marathon and the full marathon, when you run for hours. And after thinking about that length of time, it raises several questions for me. For one thing, would you need to use the bathroom? Because I usually pee before I go for a run, and while I run, I don't usually feel any urgent pee issues, but after four hours would I? And if I stopped to use a port-a-potty would I ever be able to start up again? And peeing is one thing, but what about pooing? It has happened once or twice when I have stepped out the door, ran about a mile, and had to run top speed back to the house -- I can't hold poo; when I have to go, I have to go. So, on a marathon, are restrooms available frequently? Would you ever have to walk off the road or trail and squat with some leaves? What if you filled your shorts? How uncomfortable would that walk be?

These are, I feel, pertinent questions, and they are the sort of questions many running discussions never touch on. When RW reports on races, they never interview anyone who says, "Yeah, the race was great, but I had to piss myself part way through. I didn't want to mess up my time." (Actually, something tells me there are runners out there who would think like this. Can you imagine the chafing?) Anyway, I suppose that as I work to increase my miles each week, these will be issues I'll just have to accept and figure out once I get there. For now, my greatest concern is doing the distances I have set forth, and as of yet, I haven't had any major emergencies.

Worn Out

I ran 61/2 miles this evening and I swear it aged me ten years. No kidding, I feel totally wiped out. I came home, showered, ate dinner, and have spent the past hour and a half laying in bed staring blankly at the TV. Thank god I plan on yoga tomorrow. I hope I don't feel like a pile of poo.

Naps

Today I chose a nap over running. I got to sleep in this morning, but I was still worn out and late this afternoon I laid down for a quick nap before I planned to run, and that quick nap turned into two solid hours of shut eye. When I woke up, it was dark out and I just didn't feel like going. Every once and awhile I need a day of naps and late sleeping. Now I think I will have an ice cream sandwich and watch the Oscars -- well, as much as I can stand. I really just like to see the pretty clothes.

No More Red

I saw an ad on TV yesterday that promoted a kind of "procedure" that eliminated red face. That's right -- the tomato face has a cure. I don't remember what the procedure (they did not say "surgery" nor was "medication" mentioned; it was very mysterious) was called, but the ad had a guy who was talking about how embarassing and horrible it was to return from a workout and have a beet colored complexion (I feel your pain buddy), but now he is so happy because he doesn't get a red face anymore!

I hate my red face too, but a procedure to eliminate it? What would that entail? Scraping off the first layer of face? Removing sweat glands? Performing a head transplant (because if we're gonna do that, I request Jennifer Aniston's head)? The whole thing just seems bizarre to me, but at the same time, I have to admit that my curiosity is piqued.

My face always looks like a stop light when I finish running, and it often takes awhile to cool off and resume its normal coloring. Should I visit this doctor's office nearby and have a look at the face scrap information? Tempting, but I don't think so. There's other important medical things I have to take care of first: Like getting a new pair of glasses and going to the dentist. The red face prodecure will have to take a back seat.

Locked Out

Well, it's only 9:15 am, but it's shaping up to be one helluva morning. I got up at 7 this morning to let the dog out and to get ready for my run. Left at about 7:15 to run. My husband leaves at about 7:40 for work and I told him I wouldn't be back before he left, kissed him goodbye and was off. The run went fine -- I'm not positive of my distance but it was somewhere between 5 and 6 miles (I'll have to take the car out later and retrace the route and measure the distance). But in the last half mile I had a premonition: I just knew my husband had locked me out of the house.

I don't have magical powers or ESP or anything: I just know my husband. Locking the door behind him is instinctual and I bet he checked it three times to make sure it was locked (he's a bit OCD). So I got home, tried the door, and sure enough, found myself shut out. At first I thought maybe a window was a possibility, but we have bushes that are right up against the building so unless I was going to brave the bushes, I wasn't getting in that way. Plus, even if I got past the bushes, and got a screen off, the windows would probably all be locked because my husband always checks them before we go to bed at night to ensure that they are latched. I knew the back door wasn't even worth trying -- my husband always ensures that door is double locked and that the patio door is latched (his concern for safety has made it impossible for me to break into our house).

At this point, the dog can hear me trying to get into the house and he is frantic to see me (he has a bit of separation anxiety) and he's barking up a storm: Yipping and yelping to beat the band.

So, finally I resigned myself to ringing the neighbor's doorbell. I just hadn't wanted to because it was still early and I know she has a young son and I could just tell by the stillness of their place that they were sleeping, and when I rang the bell, she appeared in her pajamas. But our neighbor is so nice and she didn't seem to mind being awakened to a sweaty neighbor and the sound of a maniac dog next door. She very graciously let me use her phone and I got ahold of my husband and he was able to leave work and come let me in. The dog, by this time, had worked himself into a tizzy.

I never take keys with me when I run because I don't like keeping track of them (ie, holding onto them or having them jiggle around in a pocket), but most of my shorts do have a small, inside pocket, so perhaps I should start making a mental note to slip the house key in there before I leave. That, or we need an extra key hidden outside somewhere -- maybe one of those fake rocks would help conceal its presence. Of course, my luck would dictate that the dog would see said rock, eat it (he has an affinity for swallowing rocks and chewing on sticks), and I'd still be locked out.

Chip Cuisine

Is it wrong to have chips as a side dish to Lean Cuisine?

You see, I was trying a new "cuisine" that was Southwest something or other, but it was rice and beans and some yummy sauce. It was very good, but after the first few bites, I decided it was missing something. What do I like to have with all my Mexican food? That's right, chips. So I got out the bag of Tostitos and happily dipped and enjoyed my rice and beans and chips. It wasn't until I was halfway through with the meal when the irony hit me: I was trying to stick to a low-cal meal and I was sabotaging it with chips!

I really can't do dieting properly. I'm just not cut out for it. I must have not felt too bad about it because I polished off my meal and a few more chips before returning the bag to the cupboard, and you know what? I think those chips really added something to the dish. Without them, it wouldn't have been quite so delicious.