Pendalton,

hello you. so warrior dash... rock! i unfortunately didn't take but 2 or so pics from my cellphone. in hindsight i wouldve taken a water proof cam with as i had time. but maryann will hopefully let me download some of the highlights so those of you not stalking me on facebook will be able to see them.

we got there early enough. the vibe was subdued but for a few rolicking types in full regalia sending out warrior cries with flowing beards. the rest of us weren't sure what exactly we'd gotten in to. and once we'd lined up to start doubly so. the first experiment is in pack mentality. it is enormous pressure to not run with the herd. to deliberately draw yourself back, and say, I will not run. I will not run. and watch them disappear in a literal cloud of dust. And as I encounterd each obstacle none of them were that scary. I can imagine the energy as lots of people mightve surged over the stack of haybales but by myself i smirked and clambered over with no competition in sight and the asian girl volunteers stopped tweeting long enough to be all, like, woo! and you can do it! and then went back to looking bored. clambering over the vehicles, no problem. and my breathing was good as i took some water at the 1/2 point, and complained to the guys that a 3ft wall, 3 in a row, regardless- sucks. granted had it been taller i would've actually had to face the question if i could pull myself up it, but maybe another year of training (or 2) i can face a truly scary course like 'the camp pendleton mud run' which has a time limit of 2 hours and 45min in which you must traverse over 6 miles. it sounds like you might actually have to dash this course in order to do it.

but back to my race. half way through i found it shockingly curious i had not been overcome by the 2nd wave. I'd gotten far enough, about the 1/2 way point and should've faced another pack of people battering their way through the cardboard tube that i shuffled through and then some more lovely landscape of blooming heather in this flat field of a landscape, moored by rolling hills and green grass, birds overhead and a golf course nearby, but none came to challenge me. It was gorgeous. But still as I went over the gully of sharp rocks on a plank, which did require balance and then up and down the loose rocks to then yes, leap over some tumbleweeds, still not overtaken, I was nearly there. I hit the not so vertical rope wall and only then some very tired 2nd wave folks came by, but few. And then after I vanquished the upthehill tire obstacle, i stopped to chat about the race with a curious volunteer and then turned the corner to yes take a running start at the wall of fire. which as it billowed its smoke and blackness, the flames funneling toward you because of the wind, i felt a sensation of being warm as I did in fact leap over it, and then jog walked down the bank into the cold water and as i lifted my leg on the first one nearly lost my shoe in the silt, but luckily with a little height advantage managed to make it over the next 2 no problem. i admit some humourous shots were taken. and heard as i dove into the mud, which was more like a watery loam-like compost, the cheers of my friends who had finished the course, filled me with humor, i made it with good spirits through and then ran the rest of the .08 through to the finish line.

Hazah!

i then had a banana, which you know in doing anything really taxing its totally a good thing to do. (did not help as my calf was seizing as i walked toward the car however and is still strangely sore today-) i then capped it off with water and gatorade and then went to frolick in the water channel nearby to clean myself off proper. (more excellent pics taken here) and then found out later that the 2nd wave- and this is epic- went 2 (two) miles in the WRONG direction. All of them. The whole fast running lot, like lemmings off a cliff. And were only after a bit, tracked down by a person in a golf cart and told to turn around. mwah! awesome.

by then the happy endorphins of exercise and fun had kicked in and all of us were pleased to be walking around dirty, tracking down our free beer, buying turkey legs to eat, (which i like way more in theory then in actuality) and then we all got stuck in traffic on our way to chick-fil-a. were more giddyness abounded as we wore our newly aquired viking helmets, medals and t-shirts... it is quite possible the next day at church we showed up in the hats, but that is only rumor.

bounce

This post is sooo long overdue, but here I am. After K.Lo’s Bouncy Party in January, I was all psyched on the idea of bouncing, and wished to muse. I briefly pondered the purchase of a trampoline, and still it remains tucked away on my secret wish list for someday. Maybe when the children are older and I can better justify the monetary and yard space costs? All I know is, it’s an amazing workout: cardio and calves both feel the burn. But so much better is the experience of bouncing. It is instant tele-transportation back to childhood. It is brain on ice. There are very few activities in my world where I feel freedom from thought. Not of thought; there is plenty of that. From thought. Most nights I have trouble getting to sleep because I can’t shut my mind down, and must make a concerted effort to do so. It’s an interesting problem to have, over-thinking. Not bad necessarily, just interesting. Maybe that’s just what it is to be a girl. It is my personal advantage and disadvantage, assisting me only up to a point. For instance, I type really well—until I start to think about it. Same thing with walking. Talking. And parenting. It’s why I’m bad at exercise as well, too much time and space to think about the action of exercise, and ponder its futility. All exercise should be like bouncing, where there is nothing to do but bounce and fully immerse oneself in the physical action of it. And in a bouncy castle, creepy as m claims them to be, all I see, all I know in that space is color and laughter and the green and blue and brown world tossing about just on the other side of the net, and it’s a beautiful thing.

 

Valentino

We decided for a mellow day but rallied and actually left the bus- and the MarioKart and went out for a 2.5walk in Wrightsville called the "loop".. We glimpsed the beach at a distance but Pen wouldn't let me get too close and we crossed some inlets and lots of those crazy runner types...We capped it off with some coffee and Pen went out for a night on the town while Mendacious practiced her madmariokart skills back with the crew- The band gave ourselves a totally satisfied-5... high 5!

Today I, by pen

…did an ab exercise segment in which the lady used the word “awesome” so many times that if it were a drinking game instead, I would have easily been drunk, in a coma, and then dead.

fan-tizzy-tastic, by pen

So now, in addition to exercise, I need to start eating better, too? WTF. All I know is, I’ve been working out 4 days a week for maybe 5 weeks now, getting in my cardio requirements as well as strength training, and that stinking scale has.not.budged. Not one iota. All right, it did budge, a few weeks ago, when I gained two pounds. Motha.

When I look in the mirror, it appears as though I have slimmed down some, and I do seem to have some more muscle tone overall, and yes, yes, I know muscle weighs more than fat, yadda yadda, but hell. Some concrete benefits to this whole “wellness” bullshit would be super. I want numbers, people, smaller numbers!

So logic tells me I need to eat less chocolate, and possibly more fruits and vegetables? And maybe quit snacking so much, especially at night? Logic is not my friend. Logic can suck it, Trebek.

I’ll be sulking in the corner, pondering this whole “working for you want” racket.

oh hell. by pen.

It’s becoming unfortunately clear that my informal resolution to avoid all forms of exercise until at least the end of 2008 needs to be revised. I enjoy eating, and I sit around all day. It’s not a good combination. The scale is rising. And while I’d like to kick it to pieces, it occurs to me that I may not have the leg muscles to do it properly, not anymore.

I brought the issue up with J.Lo, and he pointed out that this new plan can bring nothing good:

• I’ll feel better in terms of activity and productivity.
• K.Lo will by default involve herself, and so it will be a fun new thing to do together.
• I might even lose weight and stuff.
• And gain back some muscle tone.
• And so then more of my clothes will fit.
• And then I won’t be all sensitive about the scale.
• Or worry so much about what I eat.
• Overall stress levels will fall, while satisfaction levels will rise.

Frankly, it all sounds overly logical to me, but whatever. I ordered a few videos. I’ll exercise. I’ll set a good example for the children. FINE.

Bad Workout Mojo

Worst workout in history!

Though my amusement at the gym has waned with the lack of said posts about ever-sweaters (guys who sweat allovertheequipment) and sweaty-cakes (girls who wear makeup to the gym)... and well jason the trainer and i, broke up, like i just couldn't afford the lifestyle he kept throwing me into. But everything slipped into a tranquil bliss of liking to go to the gym and routine and the pool being one sanctuary that I looked forward to... though it be small and humble.

I had a recent knee injury as it's all angry and sorta swelly- I blame my affection for the rowing machine. Anyway which means I've amped up my swimming, and lately my time in the pool has been unpleasant-- with summer it's brought out all the bullies.

And by bullies I mean people who walk in with the attitude of hi, i'm an aggressive swimmer. People fear me in the wake that I create. I will kick and plow with an unparalleled and disruptive vengeance because as you see I'm very VERY serious about what I do. And I will somersault, violently pushing off from one end to another. Mostly these asshats are male but occasionally we get a gung-ho asshat girl. Yesterday they all came out in record numbers, scaring all the quiet, graceful water nymphs away.

I maintained my position as a fight for all the meditative meek ones out there, though I'm not that. I'm just a middle of the road big woman who wants some peace and quiet and not the pool lapping up at me like I'm in open water. At one point 2 guys come in (speedos, caps, goggles, swim toned bodies- sure asshat warning signs). I see the one in the redhat jump into my lane already filled with one marginal ass-hat and me...who uses hand paddles to improve performance. (eyeroll) I think you've got to be kidding. And sure enough midway thru he collides with me, pops up and tells me pertly that "It's protocol. We swim in a circle."... Right. Like I can keep up with tweedle-dee and his dumber brother. In a beat he moves to another lane and collides with ANOTHER person. An older man who, by the time I popped my head up was fully chastising him about courtesy, manners and not being an ass-hat, bringing all the people in the pool to a water-dropped screech. He stuck it out with the 2 asshats in his lane, defiant. Daring them to provoke him. By then a vast desert of awkward muck had evaporated most of the swimmers. I moved into the middle lane, quiet and peaceful which was not to last.

Abruptly ruined by an older ass-hat who was putting on fins. Yes. Fins. Whose opening line to me was "Want to watch a beautiful body in the water?" ... He promptly took off and flipped water into my face. I thought, that's it. I have to leave. I've been broken. They've beat me. I got out and sat in the bubbly hot water goodness and tried not to think of ways to drown them all, but it persisted all the way out of the gym and home. Fully marinated in badvibes and hostility.

I need to return to the gym just like returning to the murder scene. Try to sort it out, understand, walk in a place that's normally so full of peace and goodness that it's incomprehensible that such evil could take place there. Maybe lay some flowers down and put it to rest. And hope it won't happen again. Or if does have a better answer for it than murderous rage? Maybe not.

january, by pen

Someday, I may or may not blog about the following. It's some of what I would have blogged about in January. Maybe someday you'll be treated to an explanation, maybe you will not.

-One day while it was raining, a teenaged boy, possibly deranged, likely just stupid and teenaged, walked backward down the street for several long paces until I could see him no more. Our corner is apparently a magnet for crazies.

-I wear socks inside the house with no slippers or shoes. Does anyone else do this and also, as a result, have exceptionally dirty-bottomed/holey socks? What is acceptable Sock Protocol. Or am I a total Sock Slob.

-I haven't really been exercising consistently as I aspired to after having Baby 2. But, I don't feel like a complete lump, I'm not eating total crap (only intermittent crap with several bouts of fruit), and so I don't feel too terrible about it? I would like to tone up. I'd like to do more aerobics. But I read once that Kate Winslet, who is beautiful and lovely, is not consistent with her exercise either, that she just does it when she has the time/drive, and so at the moment I am content to subscribe to this same philosophy.

-I saw "27 Dresses" with Mel, incidentally while the boys went to see "Rambo," and I loved it. In one scene, Katherine Heigl is ferociously cleaning her dishes, and says something about harnessing her chi. Perhaps this is what I am going for when I clean to make myself feel better, to reestablish control in some twisted way? Maybe I can just euphemism it all and now say I am harnessing my chi. I've blogged about this topic before, but I can't find the post to link it. Probably you wouldn't have looked at it anyway.

-Heath Ledger died. Mendacious commented that this is a terrible waste of hotness, and I have to agree. It's also just a terrible waste of talent and life.

-We needed to replenish our fish population, as we were down to maybe 9 fish. I swear I don't even see them die anymore, they are just one day dead, eaten, obliterated, and recycled into fish poo. But whatever. Anyway, I bought 5 new sunfire or sunset or sun-something-whatever Platy-whatsits from this guy at Petco who talked exactly like Kenneth the Page on 30 Rock. I mean seriously, if Jack McBrayer had longer, darker hair and worked at Petco in ILM, he would have convinced me to buy all 4 of the one type of fish so one wouldn't be left behind--and then accidentally scoop up another variety and convince me it was entirely okay for that one to be in our tank all by himself. Does he get commission from fish sales? Does he know that he has completely contradicted himself on the subject of so-called fish loneliness? I know not. Anyway, the fourth Platy-whatsit that Kenneth the Petco Fishmonger made me buy died, but I can't even bring the body back for a refund because of course it has disappeared.

-Paige is coming back to "Trading Spaces." Fired 3 years ago, and then invited back by new execs. I never really was on Team Paige, but as I haven't watched "TS" in a long time and suddenly Paige is back, I'm feeling nostalgic and might reconsider.

-The Writer's Strike isn't over. There's a few new good shows on, such as "Breaking Bad," but mostly, TV is a wasteland. There was a really great Strike Survival Guide in EW Magazine. I would have talked about that, if we were still in January.

-Katie Holmes is a vapid, Stepford-wifey space cadet, as fully apparent in a YouTube clip mendacious sent me. I was in denial, hoping she'd snap out of it, but now I'm just completely disappointed and missing Katie of yesteryear.

-Mendacious told me at some point in our project discussions that I have true talent for repression. I'd like to discuss this someday... something about the duality of my snark. I have notes on the matter. But it's not January anymore. So all I can provide is a Maybe and a Someday and a We Will See.

It's good to be back.

miscellany and hope

ON BEING HOPEFUL

uncertain: As in, though at the moment I have a hard unpleasant feeling in my stomach, I would hope I would not throw up…. I’m chewing gum and drinking chamomile tea (there was no peppermint).

back and forth: in fighting for sleep last night I talked myself out of malaise… no, m, your debt IS going down. No, M, you’re not a complete loaf, you work out at least 3x a week. No. no. no. There's hope. One piece of debt number at a time.

then: I wish we had digital tracking meters that showed the distance traveled. Then i could more spot focus what i need to work on... Oh you see self, it’s not so bad. In the span of your life look how much you’ve accomplished. Or, danger. Danger. Self. You have completely neglected french.

hopeless: quatre-vingt-dix-neuf... you tell me why that's 99. (4-20-10-9) (4x20+10+9)