Bowling=Beer

Last night was our first night of summer league bowling, and for those of you who read my blog last summer, you'll recall that the key thing about league is beer, and lots of it.

First though, let me talk about the actual bowling. I was really excited to bowl last night, not just because it was the first night of league and I love league, but because I was recently outfitted in all new bowling equipment: I got new shoes, my own ball, and even a snazzy bag (for carrying the aforementioned shoes and ball). My ball is red and sparkly, and they put my bowling name on it -- Rizzo.

I've never had my own ball before, and I gotta tell ya, it was great. So smooth and so straight, and my first game was pretty good, not as good as the practice games I had last week, but not too shabby. Hopes were high that I might improve with the games, but then beer came into the factor -- draft beer -- my arch nemesis. For some reason, draft beer goes down so much faster, and I can never keep track of how many I've had, unlike bottled beer where it's easy to count up how many I've consumed.

By my last game, I was bowling terrible, and I don't even want to reveal my score. It was a terrible blow to my team, The Pinderellas, since we were undefeated last year, and in our first night, we were creamed (what makes it even more unbearable is that three of our husbands were on the team that beat us, and they won't let us forget it). Oh well, we said all along last year that we were just there to play and have fun, but it was awesome to win that trophy last year. Perhaps this weekend, I'll have to get some practice games in; break in the new ball -- maybe I'll have to stay away from the beer.

Water Aerobics

This morning I attended my first class in water aerobics, and I feel as though I got a good workout. I spent the first twenty-five or thirty minutes feeling completely lost, and I'm pretty sure I was just randomly kicking instead of doing the prescribed movements, but I assume that portion of class was meant to get your heart rate up, so I think I accomplished that even if I couldn't master walking and kicking at the same time (elementary gym teachers can probably attest to my lack of coordination -- I was the kid who was always tripping and falling down or running into the wall during capture the flag).

But the second half of class I understood and it was pretty challenging. We did lots of ab work and arm work with floaty weights, and lastly, the instructor walked us through some yoga-pilates types of moves. I have a feeling that my abs will be a little achy tomorrow and I can already feel how challenged my muscles in my shoulders were by a couple of the exercises (it's surprisingly hard to move styrofoam through water, especially while trying not to float up yourself).

Plus, being in the water for the workout was refreshing. True, the water is nearly the same temperature as the air, but the wet quality makes it a little better, and it's such a relief after running and sweating so goddamn much. (Last night, I ran at 9 pm and it was still 88 degrees outside and I was a sweaty monkey.)

All in all, it made for a good workout on a non-running day and I really do feel as though I helped in some toning; I'm such a cheater with my strength training that it probably was the hardest weight session I've done in awhile!

Do Something Hard

I was reading earlier today and in the book I'm reading, the author gives a piece of advice to some young women (it's a memoir and she's speaking at a conference when she dispenses the advice), and the advice she offers to help make life more rewarding and, ultimately, more worthwhile is to do something hard. It really struck a chord with me: Do something hard.

It's probably human nature, or animal nature, to drift into the actions, thoughts, and ideas that are easiest and offer the least resistance -- it makes for smooth sailing, but we all know that, truthfully, "easy" often equals "boring." This is probably how so many end up in mid-life feeling disappointed, disillusioned, and dissatisfied. I am no where near mid-life, and I can't say I am any of the three D's, but I do know that part of this running business, and especially this marathon business, is about adding meaning to my life by accomplishing something hard. For me, I can think of few things that seem harder than running 26.2 miles, and it must be the idea of it's difficulty that also adds to the hope that it will be rewarding.

Every once in a while, I get frustrated with running and feel as though I make little progress or improvement, but then I am reminded that running is hard and that it takes time and dedication to master and to improve upon. And, as with most things that take time and dedication and that are just plain hard, I have confidence that this endeavor will be rewarding and satisfying.

I suppose it's the lessen my parents tried to teach me when they made me work to pay for my first car; I would appreciate it more if I had to work for it (it was my parents' firm belief that children who were bestowed everything in life were those who came to be the dissatisified -- I guess that's supposed to make me feel better that some people always get what they want with ease). Grudgingly, I can now see the wisdom in my parents' lessen, and I can see how it applies to my running, and, really, to my life.

Right now, running this marathon in January is my version of doing something hard. Perhaps it will be just the beginning, I don't know, maybe it's a whole road of "hard" to finish happy.

A Coat of Bugs

Yesterday, I did run outside (not as rainy as predicted, but very humid -- still is; it's like walking around in a rain cloud) and I got coated in bugs. I don't know what is up with the gnat population as of late, but I was wiping them off my face the whole time I ran. When I got home, I discovered that they were all over my neck and shoulders as well; I felt like the windshield of a car. I don't really love to wear bugs, so it wasn't a look that worked for me.

And as far as Alberto goes, it seems he was more threatening on paper than in reality; although, for a moment yesterday afternoon they were predicting that he'd morph into a category one hurricane before reaching the panhandle. Thankfully, that didn't happen. But if you live in Georgia or the Carolinas, you are probably going to get some rain tomorrow and Thursday. As for here, it's once again cloudy and humid, a little breezy, but nothing else.

Alberto

So, this is Alberto on Monday morning. He looks meaner than he really is (I think it's his coloring -- red makes him look angry, maybe those meteorologists should re-think their color schemes in order to be more soothing), but he's still gonna dump a lot of rain on Florida. I'm down in the very bottom of Florida, so it won't be as much here as it will in central and northern Florida.
The projected path then takes Alberto through south Georgia and the Carolinas, so they'll be getting a lot of rain as well. In fact, my guess is that the whole eastern seaboard gets damp because of Alberto. As a result of this storm bearing down on the state, the weather today looks much like it did yesterday: Cloudy, rainy, and unbelievably humid (last night it was so humid our windows were fogging up at home).

Yesterday, I did decide to run outside, and because of the humidity and the sprinkly rain, I came home pretty wet. Today I face the same dilema: To run outside in the weather or to run at the gym on the treadmill. Part of me knows that inside on the treadmill will be more comfortable, but I am also easily fooled into thinking that just because it is cloudy and rainy that it is cooler out (not true!) so I will probably end up running outside this afternoon and after I return home dripping sweat, I will wonder about my intelligence. The fact that I can predict this ahead of time only makes me wonder more.

Rainy Day Sunday

We have our first named Tropical Storm of the year, and he goes by the moniker "Alberto." So, we're currenlty getting rain and some wind. It won't be much more than a regular thunderstorm here, but it does mark the beginning of what could be another busy hurricane season. We'll see what the next six months bring as far as hurricanes and other foul weather, but for now, it's kinda nice to enjoy a rainy day.

Of course, it doesn't motivate me to get out there and run. On rainy days, I prefer to sit inside curled up with a book and a cup o' tea. However, I think I will shortly get my running clothes on and go to the gym to run my miles on the treadmill. But maybe there will be a break in the drizzle so I can run outside. I plan on sitting around for another hour to see.

RW Self Test Cont'd

So, as I wrote yesterday, I looked closely at the six questions Runner's World asked of the new marathoner, and the first three questions, which I addressed in yesterday's post, yielded fine results, but the second three made me think closely about what it means to train for a marathon.

4. Are you eating for performance or are you just eating?

Crap. My achilles heel. My eating has never been like I imagine an athlete's eating is supposed to be. I eat healthy erratically and often eat all the foods and drink all the drinks I shouldn't. But the running is supposed to make up for those errors, right? After keeping a food journal for the assigned three days, I can see three things: 1. The night time is not the right time: Generally I seem to consume roughly two-thirds of my calories after 3 pm. I am good in the morning -- fruit, salad for lunch, but something changes in the afternoon and suddenly there are handfuls of chips, a big dinner, an evening with some ice cream. 2. I have a weakness for Chewy granola bars with chocolate chips, and an unnatural love of chips before meals (I get hungry while I'm cooking!). 3. I need to skim the portions down. I try to stick to smaller plates to eat my dinner, but sometimes I know I could take half a scoop less of something, but it just tastes so damn good. Like risotto. I made risotto with our Chicken Marasala (yummy) last night, and I L-O-V-E risotto, so even when I was full I went back for just half a serving more. Couldn't have done without it.

I guess I need to learn to balance out some of my meals, and definitely work on incorporating healthier food into my diet. Also, the RW article advises cutting "excessive" caffeine. How would one define "excessive"? Is a cup or two of coffee and a soda excessive? I can't live without my caffeine.

5. Why are you training?

For this, I was supposed to write five reasons why I want to run this marathon. Okay, beyond getting in shape, losing weight, and accomplishing a lifelong goal, I couldn't think of two more reasons. To prove I can? Is that a legitimate reason?

6. Do you have the right gear?

I bought new running shoes last fall, and in some ways they still feel like my "new" shoes, but I know it is time to trade them up. However, running shoes are expensive, and I can't just drop a hundred dollars on shoes every few months. Still, I know if I am to avoid injury and the loss of another toe nail, I should get over to the running store soon and purchase a new pair. Also, I still haven't been completely satisfied with my short situation, and I keep reading about this running skirt; I have to say that I'm skeptical, but thinking about giving it a try. Just worried about the chub rub. And lastly, gearwise, there is my MP3 player, which is wonderful, but which rubs my arm on longer runs. Does everyone else just lose the tunes, or do you grease up around that arm strap? Perhaps I should purchase a newer, lighter model. But again, money doesn't grow on trees, even in South Florida where many things are growing on trees.

In the end, I feel as though I tested pretty well, and even if I can't find five solid reasons to run, I think three is good. And new gear is probably needed, but not yet a dire emergency. But I do know that my diet will have to change over the next few months. If I shed a few pounds, think how much lighter my load would be as I run!

RW Self Test

In the newest edition of Runner's World, there was the beginning of a five part series about marathon preparation, and since it was the first in the five month series, it began with a "systems check." Because I plan to run a marathon in January, I thought the systems check would be just right for me at this point in order to get a good sense of where I'm starting from. There were six questions to ask yourself as a runner: I'll address three today and three tomorrow.

1. Are you experiencing any pain? Do you suspect you might have a running related injury?

No. That was the easiest question. I haven't ever had any running injuries to speak of. I had a sore knee for a short length of time about six months ago, but I think that was more related to the heels I was wearing and not the running. In high school, I had shin splints, but they have never bothered me since. So, I guess I'm pretty lucky; I'm starting out healthy.

2. How flexible are you?

This question asks you to test yourself at www.runnersworld.com/whartons to gauge your flexibility. I did the exercises and did them easily. Yoga has been part of my life off and on for years, and I was always comfortably felxible before yoga (I've never been gymnast or dancer flexible, but I've never had any trouble), so there were no "tight" spots to note. And I figure if I continue with yoga as part of my running routine, I should be good.

3. How do you line up?

For this question, I had to line up barefoot against a wall with heels, butt, and shoulder blades against the wall. I stepped forward from the wall, and if I could hold the position without effort, it meant I had good posture, which I did. I've never had issue with posture: Partially, because it was something my mom drilled into me about a gazillion times when I was a kid (she was always poking me between the shoulder blades when I was slouching and she warned against the terrible "hump" that could form if I slouched -- I did not want to look like Quasimodo). Plus, I'm very short, so slouching doesn't help me look any taller. I've always been conscious of standing up straight with my shoulders back so that I at least appear a half inch taller or so.This is good, according to RW because posture is the beginning of good or bad form, so it looks I score again.

After completing the first three questions, I felt very good about my marathon prospectives, but the second group of three revealed some areas that perhaps need improvement. I'll talk about them in tomorrow's post.

Dental Dummy

This morning I had a dentist appointment, and I have to admit that I was more than a little apprehensive. Mostly because I haven't been to the dentist in about five or six years. Yikes! I know that's a long time and that I shouldn't have let it be that long, but for years I was without insurance, and I was also incredibly lazy, so I just didn't go. But because I am now among the insured, and because I am trying not to be such a procrastinator about such important stuff, I called yesterday hoping to get an appointment in the next few weeks, and to my dismay, they fit me in today.

So, the first question the hygenist asked was: "When was your last cleaning?" I was embarassed to admit that it had been years, and when she looked at my teeth, my plaque build up confirmed that I had spoken truthfully. For the next thirty to forty-five minutes, she ground away at the disgusting plaque with her little tools and I could feel my gums bleeding (weaklings!). In the end, after she polished and flossed my teeth, and they were sparkly, clean, and smooth, I also noted how much bigger they looked: Apparently, there's a lot more tooth there when it's clean. Anyway, I humbly submitted to her chastising about regular visits and cleaning and swore that I did not want gum disease and, therefore, would come back in December for my next check up.

Thankfully, I didn't have any cavities (an amazing feat for someone who visits the clinic so rarely; the dentist seemed impressed by the quality of my teeth; he should be -- I grew them myself). But I know I have been bad about visits, and I honestly do worry about gum disease, more so than rotten teeth.

I read not too long ago in a "Time" article about health how keeping up with regualr dentist appointments and cleanings can extend your longevity and improve your overall health, and it's easy to overlook the chompers. We get so concerned with the food we eat that we tend (or, at least, I do) to forget the teeth that have to chew that food day in and day out. So, I guess I should start making a real effort to floss (I'm a good brusher, years with braces taught me that, but I hate to floss) so that next time the hygenist can praise my teeth and gums instead of spend half her morning scraping away at them.

Blah

I've been feeling a little blah the last few days, and I know it's because I haven't been running. I went on Monday (bugs galore), but didn't do an iota of exercise yesterday (well, not entirely true, I did dance around at the Greek restaurant last night -- that burned off part of my dinner), and I don't know if I'll get to any exercise today. First off, this morning I slept way too late in order to get a run in the early morning, and after running a few errands this morning (Scooter got his neuter stitches out), I have an afternoon of schoolwork to try and get done. I have a pile of essays to read, and something tells me I won't be able to read them all before class this evening.

It's easy to see how not running can so easily snowball into not running or working out at all for several days. And then I'm left feeling kinda mushy and squishy. Hopefully, I'll rediscover my mojo tomorrow, or maybe even somewhere later in the day today. I don't like feeling sluggish.

Bug Bombers

The bugs were drawn to face today like a fat kid is to a donut. I don't know if I was running through clouds, or if the sweat was calling to them from miles away, but I kept getting hammered by miniscule gnats who were pelting my cheeks, nose, lips and eyeballs. I swallowed two, one went right up my nose, and one smacked into the corner of my eye. I don't know what was up, but I was wiping away little black bodies every few minutes.

When I got home, it felt good to shower and get not just the sweat off, but the bug guts as well. Eww.

Back to the Heat and Humidity

I'm home! Got home about a half hour ago, and I'm soaking in the moisture from the air. Denver is so dry -- so very pleasant (can be 90 degrees but feels great), but so very dry. My lips were parched and my skin was flaky.

Originally, I had planned to do some running and I dutifully packed my shorts, sports bras, running socks and shoes, but in the end, they just took up space in my bag. I was just too busy visiting with family and playing; although, I did play an afternoon game of croquet, which is technically a sport, one day with my family. We played about three games total, but the only sweat we broke was from the sun, not exertion, and I drank enough beer to soak up any latent calories that might be burned through sweat.

Otherwise, we visited the Mint, spent time downtown chillin', went to Casa Bonita (a childhood favorite, which was surprisingly fun even as an adult -- hooky, but awesome), and went to Six Flags Elitch's, which was also awesome -- rode many coasters. All in all, it was a good trip, but I ate too much every day, and now I fear how running will go tomorrow. I already feel a little soggy from my time off.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

All of us know that flying across country can make us feel worn out and exhausted, but while we frequently blame the mysterious "jet lag," what is more often to blame is dehydration.

An airplane's cabin has close to zero humidity in it (a result of cabin pressure and the air conditioning systems), and passengers who are aboard a flight for more than two hours will mostly likely suffer from some dehydration (the degree to which is most likely determined by the individual). I'm flying to Denver this afternoon and our flight is four hours (it's a long way from Ft Lauderdale to the Wild West), so I will most certainly need to drink my water.

Dehydration can have several effects: muscle aches, stiffness, and soreness, headaches, itchy eyes, dry skin, bloody nose, and even constipation. Combine that with the fact that a passenger is generally asked to stay seated the entire flight, and you get people who are walking off the plane with limps and aching backs and pounding headaches. Personally, I have to take Dramamine on a flight because I get motion sick very easily, so I never chance a flight without the drug (projectile vomit is never cute). It knocks me out, so I sleep for most of any flight. Because I sleep most of a flight, I generally don't drink much water and inevitably stay seated during the duration of our air time. Add to that the fact that Dramamine gives you cotton mouth, and it's no wonder that I always feel groggy and sore after I travel by air.

Today, I am trying to hydrate as best I can by drinking lots of water, and I plan to bring a bottle with me on the plane (always drink airplane water from a bottled source; there have been several contaminants found in airline water -- if you get one of those bugs, the explosive diarhea you'll get will certainly dehydrate you). Hydration is one of the key aspects to anyone's health, but especially for a runner, so in order to lessen the effects of such a thirst inducing environment, a runner needs to board a plane prepared.

I don't know if I'll post while away for the next few days, but I return on Sunday, the 4th, and will post then! Talk to everyone soon!

Namaste

One of my biggest pet peeves at the gym is people who come into class late. It probably bothers me so much because I am a teacher, and it bugs me when students arrive to class late -- even when I was a student, I could seen that late arrival was a disruption. Same holds true in the classes held at the gym. Maybe I'm just uptight about being punctual, I don't know, but it really bothers me (my parents are very punctual people and we were always five minutes early to anything we ever did). Especially during yoga.

Yoga is not like spinning or an aerobics class where you can come in a little late and catch up with the class. It is a practice that is very much about unity, and it requires a certain state of mind to help each individual make the most of the time there. Inevitably, people are late though, usually just a few minutes, but their shuffling to get a mat and settle into their spot is disruptive, but I can usually shake it off. But today's class was really bad.

Two people came in about two or three minutes late, not so bad, and the instructor was just getting us settled and focused on our breath. Then, two more walk in at five after. Several people were visibly pissed at the late comers, but the instructor was talking about grace and acceptance in our lives and as a part of our practice, so everyone had to pretend as though they were accepting of the lateness and willing to accomodate those who were noisily shaking out their mats. But then one person came in at ten after, another at a quarter after and a last person at twenty after! (Now, it is my opinion that if you are going to be twenty minutes late, that you just don't go.)

I could tell the instructor's patience was being challenged at this point, but she asked us to make room for each new arrival; however, her own grace seemed to waiver when it became clear that many of these new arrivals were brand new to yoga. The instructor had to break free of her instructions to help with mats, and to help catch them up to what we were doing (if you've never heard of a sun salutation, you are going to be lost if the rest of the class is in the middle of a sequence). The class must be a hard one to teach because is there is often varying skill level, but the instructor is usually very good at creating a routine that is both challenging to those well-aquainted with yoga and approachable for those who aren't. But today, perhaps realizing that the majority of her audience was new to yoga, the instructor took it easy -- too easy for my taste and I never felt challenged in the least, and I could've stretched like that at home.

At the end of class, after relaxation, and we'd bowed and said "namaste" (traditional close to yoga -- for those unfamiliar, it's a show of respect to the instructor and to the others in class and literally traslates to mean "I respectfully salute you"), she addressed the new comers indirectly by emphasizing the importance of arriving on time for the sake of their own practice. I could hear a hint of annoyance in her voice and wondered if she'd truly felt the grace and acceptance she'd spoken of earlier in class. Sometimes it is difficult to maintain the teachings of yoga when people are so damn rude.

Memorial Weekend

Here's the breakdown on the important statistics for the Memorial Weekend BBQ/Pool Party yesterday:

Number of beers consumed: Approximately 10.

Pounds of food consumed: Approximately 10.

Pounds of food consumed that were chip-based: Approximately 8.5.

Number of hours spent in the pool playing volleyball: 5.

Number of pruny wrinkles as a result: 3,468.

Hours in the sun without taking a single sip of water (those would be sips reserved for beer): Approximately 6.

On a Richter scale of 1-10 (10 being the strongest, most destructive), my headache this morning measured a: 10.

Locked Out: Almost

Yesterday, my husband and I were charged with watching a friend's dog overnight, so we figured we would just stay at their house and bring Scooter with us (friends have the bigger house and a nice yard for the dogs to play in and wear themselves out). This morning, I decided I would get up early and run home (5.3 miles) and my husband would drive home with Scooter a little later when they were ready.

So, I got up at 6 am and headed out the door, but was wise to not forget to detach my house key and stick it in the little pocket of my running shorts. I set out on my run, which was very nice; it was a beautiful morning, humid but nice, and I had a good run. As I reached home, I stuck my finger into that shallow pocket and felt -- nothing. It was gone; the key was gone. I turned the little pocket inside out and searched the ground before me. Where had it fallen out? Clearly, it could have fallen out a block before home or it could have fallen out a block from my friend's house.

For a moment I thought about re-tracing my steps back to their house in the hopes of finding it, and if I didn't find it at least ending up back where my husband was with his keys. But I was tired after my run and reluctant to walk back the same distance, so I figured I would just wait for my husband. I checked the front door of our condo just to see if it was locked, and indeed it was, so I went out by the pool where I could at least sit down for, what could be, a long wait. But then I decided to double check my shorts. You see they're the sort of shorts with the built-in underwear lining, and even though I had briefly looked in there when I first noticed the missing key, I thought I should give it another look. And there, glimmering in the elastic was the shiny house key! It was glorious!

Internally, I did a little victory dance and then let myself in the house. And even though I did manage to get in the house this time without having to wake a neighbor, it has me thinking about stashing a spare key somewhere outside the house. It's just so risky -- every time I leave the house for a run, there's a chance I won't be able to get back in.

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.