Nama-sand

I'm in the midst of one of those first-world, nearing-30, existential white-girl problems.

The struggle is real with me and beach yoga right now.

As you four dedicated readers (who are my family) know, I'm big into yoga and big into it being summer right now. Naturally these forces eventually had to combine to make some sort of lululemon-induced dream come true.

So my yoga dealer roots & [then] wings got me to do a beach yoga with her on Sunday morning. In theory, this sounded like a perfect Instagram picture- except real. In actuality, it was a sandy disaster.

As an oblivious child, sand never really bothered me. It wasn't until we started vacationing with my extra-old-lady-neurotic grandmother who Cannot Abide by sand that I got weird about it. Why she vacations on an island covered in sand is still a mystery- but she passed on her neurosis and now having sand on my towel, my seat, my swim suit is unacceptable.

I am not quite sure what I thought beach yoga was going to be... were they going to just, like, remove the sand to make way for yoga mats? Nope. We just laid our mats down right on top of North Avenue Beach's mess of cigarette butts, bottle caps, and hypodermic needles and set our intentions. 

Mine quickly became to just get through one flow before having to brush off my mat. It did not help that the wind off the lake wind would occasionally flip my yoga mat (and the mats of all my companions) over exposing us to more.sand. Tree Pose with a wily mat was really not the zen experience it is supposed to be.  The deal was really dealt when I watch a number of my fellow yogis take giant handfuls of sand and plop them like little hillocks on the corners of their mats to weigh the mats down.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? You are exacerbating the mat/sand problem!"

At the end of class, I had a long ponder about turning 30 and if this meant that I should step away from my comfort zone, and become one with the sand, or if it was finally time to just accept the fact that I am a crotchety-sand-hater. I never came up with an answer.

I feel like every couple of weeks I come to one of these moments where I feel as though I have met up with a bridge troll who is yelling at me that I'm getting old and it is time to make some gd. decisions about my life. As with many of the other times this has happened, I kind of shrugged and side stepped the question - this time by buying a 10-pack of beach yoga classes on groupon (instead of the unlimited one) - and figuring that by the end of the summer, I'll have decided one way or another. Until then, I'm just going to talk to invest in some "yoga rocks" (which are just regular rocks, but spiritual and more expensive).

A week away

So. I took a week off from blogging. I was tired and pulled away from everything that wasn't totally necessary. It was a week of saying no mostly, instead of yes.

Instead of blogging here are some things I did:

-smelled flowers (I was gifted not one, but TWO bouquets last week. Twice as many as I have ever received in ever. I love having fresh flowers around. It is quite addicting).
-ate things that were so delicious. Mostly this.
-slept on the couch too much.
-wrote thank you notes.
-went to the zoo.
-finished three books (almost. let's just say 2.75).
-did some lunges and squats.
-regretted most lunges and all squats.
-forgot to wash my hair.
-encouraged people.
-considered the future.
-planned a party.
-drank a mint julep.
-stole a gold-painted horse.

Real life (and blogging) starts again tomorrow.

Be Happy 2014. Be fit and that girl

So I spent all of March working out like a little work horse who is entered into a contest to lose weight.

I have talked about how much I enjoyed Air Aerial Fitness, and Tuesday night really sealed the deal for me.  After taking about 20 classes in 30 days, I found myself one of the people following the "advanced modification" directions.  I caught new girls giving me the side-eye.

No one in the history of ever has given me a side-eye in an athletic capacity. I am always the girl looking at other girls with a mix of jealousy and grouchiness. But I caught that look pointed in my direction and I was full of glee. Hurrah for the smallest and shallowest of victories.

Then today was my weigh-in for the fitness competition at work.  And I am mad at myself for slipping and chowing down on spinach dip last weekend, but even with that - I lost 13 pounds and 7% of my body fat plus a solid 6 inches off my waist in two months.

As the trainer who took all my measurements said, "Ya crushed it."

I know that this is will take an insane amount of maintenance. There are still three weeks without carbs and I am trying to figure out a workout plan that is fun and engaging and will allow me to maintain this body that I am almost-satisfied with - but for tonight I celebrate with maybe doing some planks during the commercials. Orrr, just eat dinner (butternut squash soup and cauliflower salad) and rub my belly in satisfaction.

Be Happy 2014. Ate well and now going upside down.

February was delicious. There is no such thing as too delicious, but I am deliriously stuffed.

These are just a taste of all the amazing things that I said yes to this month. The problem is, while I love the food, I do not love the way my jeans are fitting now.

So! This month is a little bit harder because it is not such an immediate happiness. This is about being happy for a few months, even if it means some bruised wrists and frustrated evenings in March.

This month is about exercise, but not running or even run of the mill yoga or Zumba. This month is going upside-down to get fit. I bought a Gilt city deal for Air Aerial Fitness. I took my first class today and it was not as fun and easy as I magically thought it was going to be but I feel like I worked hard and so I will go back tomorrow (and the next day, and the next, and the next until April 1). I have always loved going upside down and so I am hoping that the fun of that will keep me happy as I try to make my belly smaller.

Namaste. Bless You.

I think that yoga might be the one form of exercise I can do constantly without getting sick of while still deriving some sort of athletic benefit, but my current house of yoga costs way more than I can justify spending on anything these days. So I recently canceled my membership.

I think of yoga as a workout, it is how I justify eating all the snacks (and yes, I know we don't actually need to justify snacks, but unless you are going to buy me new pants - justify) but I know that for most people yoga has some deeper meaning. 

For the longest time, when I was told (asked?) to set an intention at the beginning of class, it was always, "let's just get through this." Then, when Boyfriend's mom got sick, the idea of dedicating my practice became a habit.  Occasionally it was for someone else, sometimes it was for me.

Today, I had an epiphany in class. Maybe it was because I was the sweatiest I had ever been. So sweaty, I thought I would dissolve into a swampy pile of yoga sweat goo. I just realized that this is as close to prayer I will ever get.

I have never been religious, and it has always felt pretty douchey to pray when things get bad, when I have never once prayed when things are good. Plus, if there is a man upstairs, he is probably actually a lady and thusly hates hypocrites. Lady Gods cannot abide by hypocrites.

When I dedicate a practice to someone it feels like an opportunity to try to take some of their pain or sadness or confusion away. As I sweat and strain I reach out into the universe, find one person and say, "I'm already working hard, give me some of your weariness because I can take it."

It feels stupidly wonderful (and very cliche-y) to have a workout with bonus substance. To not only feel like I've earned that extra beer but that I have stepped out of me and all of my goofy first world problems and given an hour and fifteen minutes of my breath and self to someone else.

Being the dick pragmatist I have always been, thoughts and breath come up short when what people need are medicine and cures, but as I have gotten older and life has gotten more real I have realized that thoughts (and prayers, if that is what you are cooking) are pretty valuable too.

I have about a month of yoga left in my membership before I move into other things and I try to find other ways to devote myself to others but until then, I will celebrate these opportunities to sweat it out for others.

And please, someone remind Boyfriend when I come home just smelling like a hockey locker room that sometimes, I do this for him.

Nap > Treadmill

Here are some reasons I don't go to the gym:

I have been at work from 9 AM until 7:30 PM.  I have put out 4 - 5 metaphorical fires, run up and down the stairs and drank three bottles of water to keep from passing out.

Its the one night of the week when I don't have rehearsals/a social engagement/late meetings/a work crisis and I just want to go home and sit on my couch for once in my life.

I haven't eaten since noon, its 6:30.  I am about to pass out from hunger.  I have to make the choice between going to the gym with a disturbingly growly stomach or eating dinner as soon as possible (guess which one always wins?!)

I have to start laundry (like, out of underwear, need to start laundry) and if I don't go home and do it now - it won't be done until like 2 or 3 in the morning because our dryer sucks.

I went to the gym yesterday and my legs feel all wobbly and weird.

...while I understand that these are all excuses, they seem so legit in my mind. So in 2012, I am going to figure out a way to make working out happen without all the excuses AND without going in the morning (fate worse than death).

Couch yogi

Work-out videos are real, real, real silly but effective.

I still find working out to be easily the worst way to spend my time, so I am trying to shorten the amount of time I spend thinking about it.  So I cut out the tedious prep work - carrying gym stuff to work, and then to the gym and then spending any time at all in the gym locker room (blech) and then being smelly in public.

So I am reverting to at-home work out videos.  So I can be sweaty in my own house and it doesn't require luggage.

The best thing, other than the feeling of hilarious and absurd self-consciousness (why you are embarrassed? No one can see you...) is the wonderful and all encompassing 90's-ness of these videos.

Perhaps there are some work-out videos that were made after 1995, but they don't let you watch them for free on Netflix.  So I have to assume that they stopped making work-out videos shortly after they discovered the internet.

I stick mostly with pilates and yoga videos and its interesting to see the number of dudes they put in these.  At most there is one dude wearing like old soccer shorts and a neon tank top - and he looks really uncomfortable.  As if he is deathly afraid of one of his brahs is going to accidently catch sight of him in one of these videos and never let him hear the end of it.

The one guy is stuck in the back along with the "overweight" girl who is so overeager and excited to be doing shape your buns pilates that she makes me feel bad about myself.  And I mean, its television and she is probably not at all fat, its just that she's standing next to a bunch of twigs in yoga pants and crop tops.

Ultimately, doing 30 minutes of pilates in my living room isn't going to make too much of a difference, especially since I answer my phone, spend time shoo-ing away my cat, and get distracted by noises outside the window.

Easily the best part of these videos is the 60-or-so seconds after the exercising is over and the leader and all of her little yoga minions stand around and pretend to be happy and talk to each other about things like the new sushi joint around the block and mens' inability to commit.  When clearly the leader-girl is desperate for everyone to be her friend and not talk about her behind her back, and the other people are wondering if their getting paid for this and where they can get a gd doughnut (just like me).

Resolutions Update (more chubs, but with a plan!)

I had the very jarring experience of having to put on a bathing suit for the first time all summer last week.  Needless to say, it was a very unfortunate reminder of just how poorly I am doing on one of my resolutions.

But, with that came a renewed passion to get in shape for bathing suit season 2012 (or possibly late 2011, if anyone wants to have a Caribbean Christmas, I am totally game).

I started counting calories, which has always been the most annoying thing ever, but made less annoying with a future phone app.  It has a whole bunch of brand name/restaurant name food on it - and the internet, at this point, pretty much has a calorie count for everything.  ALSO, in some parts of the world, they are required to post calorie counts in fast-food restaurants right on the menu.  This is totally something that Chicago needs to jump on.  Terrible and awesome at the same time (Chicago specializes in that particular combo).

Of course, the minute I realize I need to put on a bathing suit coincided with the minute I went on vacation, when eating as much as possible, all the time, became the name of the game.  It was very frustrating to attempt to count calories, only to be over my "limit" by my mid-morning snack.  So of course, I picked happiness and ate whatever I damn well wanted.  Happily into my work trip (which started exactly 12 hours after my vacation ended).  Eat eat eat.  And still no exercising.

Anyway - the plan is to quit the gym and find other ways to get exercising.  I realized recently that I hate the gym.  I hate everything about it.  There is no good quality except that it makes me skinnier and sometimes they give away free smoothie samples.  Even though my gym is incredibly convenient, and nice and affordable - the act of going to the gym makes me pretty miserable.

I'll probably give it another month, but I am on the hunt for other exercise options.  Now that its not blazing hot all the time, I may revisit the notion of biking places.  And if I can finally stop dragging my laptop everywhere, it makes the walk to the red line (when I punk out on biking) much much less miserable.

And I want to do other things.  I have a boot camp groupon that I am saving for October, and I am researching dance studios and yoga huts (or whatever they call them) that aren't crazy expensive.  Any other brilliant fitness ideas (that aren't "stop complaining and go the the gym like a grown-up") would be awesome...

So while I am quite sure that whatever silly fitness goal I made back on 1/1/2011 will never come true.  But no harm in putting my game face on for next year.

Also, apparently there are still 130 days left in the year.  In case you were thinking that you're running out of time... you totally are.

Party time in Reykjavik (Days 3 & 4)

I slept the most of any of the nights on that first one.  Mostly because I hadn't slept in two days.  But after that, no more than 6 hours.  Because while it is pretty weird going to bed when its bright as day outside, its way weirder to wake up, thinking, based on where the sun is in the sky, its 9 or 10 AM and having it actually be 5 or 5:15 AM.  So not so much with the sleeping, which is fine because there was plenty to do.

First things first, be interviewed on Icelandic Public Radio.  My Admiral Ackbar radar went off when the guy asked us questions about what we were excited to see, but I tried to answer honestly and not say too many Icelandic words because that's where I was going to embarrass myself.  Anyway, I have not heard anything about the three stupid, American girls who humiliated themselves on the radio.

The up the bell tower we went, so that we could see the city from a tall building.  Which is always fun.  Even though all cities kind of look the same from the tops of tall buildings.

After bell tower time it was pancake time.  I had heard a lot about Icelandic food but no one mentioned the pancakes and no one mentioned the rye bread (which I will get to later).  So we went to C is for Cookie for a pancake, slathered in chocolate and then piled high with perfectly, homemade (trust me, I know) whipped cream.  It was so sad when it was over.

We ate a LOT of food in Reykjavik.  Which was good, because we basically stopped eating once we got on the Ring Road.  All the food was delicious, but this was probably the most delightful.  Light and perfect.  Icelandic pancakes are by far the best of all pancakes.

And then it was off to the Icelandic History Museum.  Which was educational and awesome.  Why?  The kids section!  I feel like the kids section of most National museums is lacking, because they feel like they need to make the whole museum kid-friendly.  This of course, backfires because kids hate reading and you can only extrapolate so much from a poorly animated movie.  So instead, the Iceland Museum is a grown-up museum chock-full of knowledge but it had a room full of awesome kid things.

Like Dress Ups.

And Viking Props.

Other stuff too, but this was the best.

After learning it was time for more outside stuff.  And more eating.  We had our first Icelandic Hot Dog which was just as amazing as promised.  So amazing that we continued to eat one a day for the rest of the trip (no seriously, we did).  Then a bowl of rye bread ice cream at Cafe Loki.  Rye bread ice cream seems to only exist at Cafe Loki.  And its worth the cost of the plane ticket for a bowl or two. 

We went out for a late dinner. We had seriously problems getting a grip on what time it was ever, which made us really late for nearly anything we did after 6 PM.  The fact that we didn't have dusk to signify that the "day" was ending, so we better wrap things up like functional, polite humans was a serious problem, and to all the guesthouse owners who had to let us in at 11 PM or later, I most sincerely apologize.

Dinner at Cafe Paris, who was the only place that would seat us (at exactly 11 PM, which is when we sat down for dinner...while it was still light out) so we dined and then went on search of drunken adventure.

Here's the thing about being old crotchety ladies in our late 20's.  Our tolerance for loud noise and rude young people is very, very low.  So first we ended up at The Dubliner, which looks exactly like every Fado I've ever seen.  There was a special - 1000 ISK (so about $10) for a shot of Opal OR Topaz and then a cheap, terrible Icelandic beer.  Courtney managed to talk me into it.  And it was a terrible decision.  Opal or Topaz, which ever we ended up with (I'm honestly not sure) tasted like Jagermeister's skanky younger cousin that wears thigh-high boots to Christmas dinner.  The beer tasted like water that someone had left a nickel in.

Then we ended up at the English Pub.  You might think us xenophobic, but honestly they were the first two bars we came across that didn't have techno-dance-vom-bom music bursting through the closed doors.  In the English Pub, random strangers handed us beers and because we have never seen a Lifetime Movie, we happily took them.  This ended up being a totally fine choice, though probably not one we would have made in any other country (Icelanders have a rep for being really nice and not total sketch balls, and they totally live up to it).

Things get fuzzy from here on out.  All I know is that I spent most of the night dancing around as the band played covers of all the songs my parents used to list to, wearing the scarf I pilfered from our table at the Dubliner.  Occasionally I would strike up conversations with random strangers (and sometimes my two friends, when we weren't yelling at the single one to go make out with tall nordic lads, sorry McKim).  It was a lovely hazy blur.  And when we stumbled onto the street at the ripe hour of 3 AM, it looked like it was 6:30 at night.  It was still weird.

On the way home, in the vain hope of finding a clean bathroom, we ended up on a side street that had my favorite piece of street art ever.

In normal places, it would have been dark, so I would have never seen this.  But in Iceland it was just the perfect light for a picture.

 

I know you don't think I took these pictures at 3 AM.  But, trust me.  I did.

The next morning we got a late start as we realized our little respite was coming to an end and the real adventure was beginning.  First we took this bus to pick up our rental car.

If you know me, you know exactly why this was awesome and exactly why we took the bus when we could have easily walked the half mile to where we were going.

After we picked up the car, we went to the flea market, which reminded me of the Aloha Swap Meet on Oahu.  So many things about Iceland felt like Hawai'i.  These two very proud cultures living on crazy volcano islands that are gorgeous, but are also literally ticking time bombs just waiting to spew hot magma and ruin all your fun.  After a lunch at the extra kitschy Viking restaurant it was time for a ROAD TRIP.

On our road trip, we went clockwise at the island.  Starting at about 7:00 or so - (if you think of Iceland as a clock with the north of it being 12:00 - obviously) our first stop was Barnafoss and Hraunfossar.  This was the first time I knew that we were no longer in Kansas.  Gorgeous waterfalls steps from the high way with hilarious and amazing backstories.  Awesome.

Arnastapi (so 8:45 or so?) was our final destination.  On the way there, I fell in love with Iceland even more that I had before.  I totally got the best straw, in that my friends did all the driving while I sat in the back and took pretty pictures.  We stopped and drove up some random person's drive way because they had a waterfall in their backyard.  That was the first time I lost my marbles about how awesome everything was that day.

The second time was when I had the best lamb chop I had ever had.  Ever.  At dinner.  It was over priced and it took about an hour longer than it should have, but it was perfect.  Mmm. Lamb chops.  This was the last big fancy meal we had before the end of the trip and it was the best send off to a life of sandwiches and ramen I could have asked for.

Then, because it was 9 PM and still looked like this outside -

 

We went on a hike between Arnastapi and Hellnar that was basically a very easy and fully oxengenated hike on a mossy moon.

This was number three awesome sauce thing. As we collapsed into bed with the snoring man on the other side of the wall (lame sauce thing one) with the sun shining down on us we knew we were in for an adventure.

The Only Way to Fly

I have a ton of work to do before I ninja out next week, but I really wanted to write this blog - so I am going to take 10 minutes and give you, my loyal, wonderful readers, some advice.

Take a flying trapeze lesson.

No.  Seriously.  Do it.

I think I've gotten this reputation with most of my friends as the "kooky, weird one."  I have a strange job, that teaches me strange things.  I go on crazy adventures.  I blog (for Chrissakes). I make jokes and have this bizarre Peter Pan syndrome that manifests itself in all kinds of ways (I am wearing a skirt with an owl on it today.  An Owl).  But just because something is strange or unfamiliar - doesn't mean it isn't something everyone should try once or twice.

When I was 18, my dear Mother purchased a flying trapeze lesson for me in New York City.  This was before the Sex and the City episode when Carrie flies, so it was pretty low key.  It was merely an adventure.  My Mom knew I was always down for some adventure. This was so long ago that the pictures aren't even digital.  They are actual pictures.  Crazy.

Anyway - now Trapeze School New York is kind of a big deal and they have a location in lovely Chi-town, just South of Belmont harbor.  The guy who is running it is a cool dude, and so he let me and a whole bunch of kids I work with go flying on Thursday.

It was the best-worst, funnest-scariest thing I've done...possibly ever.

I am so much more aware of fear these days.  In everything, I see how it might hurt me, or how in providing this service, someone else might get hurt.  But despite all that, my pride won out in the end.  There was no way I could tell a bunch of 15 year-olds that I was going to do something, and then back out.  They would never let me live it down.  

It never got less scary. That instant when your feet leave the platform was never really okay.  But I did it.  And it was amazing.  Through the pain (ouchie mcgouchies, armpit muscles) and the fear (I really do hate heights, I really do) - it was incredible.  There is this moment, when you are reaching out for the bar, when you are completely convinced you are about to tumble into the abyss.

But you never ever do.  Which is a lovely (albeit cliched) metaphor for life and whatnot.  There are people supporting you (sometimes strangers) and if you trust them and believe in them, they will keep you from falling to your death.

The craziest part is the catch though.  Its weird, because its all about timing.  You are in the air, which hasn't gotten any less crazy in the three times you've done it, and you're listening So.Hard for the guy on the ground who is telling you what to do.  And then its all over, in one second you go from hanging by your knees to being held by a deceptively strong young lad.

And then its all over.  And you realize you've survived.  You might be a little shaky, but you're also smiling, in awe of the things you can accomplish.  And how cool gravity and physics and the human body are.  And how amazing you are for trying it.  Because no matter how scary it is- when they say Hup, you always jump off that platform.  You always do it.  Because fear can be accepted, but it shouldn't be limiting.

And so you should do it.  Even if you don't really love heights, or being upside down or anything.  You should try.  Take it from your kooky, weird friend - its worth the ladder climb.

Enjoy the video below.  My form needs some serious work, but it shows just how easy it really is (in the catching video I scream really loudly the moment I am caught and it's pretty embarrassing - so don't expect to see that on YouTube anytime soon).

Kicking myself

At 7:00 PM last Thursday, it was about 45 degrees on the Chicago lake front, with a blustery 10 mph wind blowing constantly off of of Lake Michigan.  It was decidedly Not Spring-like weather.  And yet, there I was voluntarily standing outside, because I had signed up for a Spring Soccer league.

At one moment, as I watched the ball sail out of bounds, wearing three layers of clothing and losing feeling in my fingers I pondered - what the blunt am I doing out here?

Soccer has been one of my most favorite things about Chicago.  What a random happenstance crazypants turn of events.  I go on exactly one social sports league website and answer exactly one ad looking for girls to play on a co-ed team.  Then 4 years later - I ended up with stronger calves, some awesome friends, a few crazy stories, a couple badass injuries and Boyfriend.  The roads life takes...

Soccer has not been all excuses not to go to the gym and finding cohabitation buddies and other wonderful things.  It has been frustrating for so many reasons - leagues that are run by, I am pretty sure, those same Nigerian guys who e-mail you about all the money they have for you, terrible referees (although no one ever says that people are good or fair referees - they are always terrible and always bad at their jobs.  I now kind of pity referees...but seriously the ones that do recreational soccer are really bad) and getting all busted up.

As I get older I become more and more aware of my own mortality - and more interest in prolonging this one little life I was given.  And, I really hate it when things are inconvienent. This tends to mean avoiding situations that might kill me or hurt me in such a way that I am unable to function to my normal standard.  And yet - I play soccer where I end up with jacked up (possibly fractured) feet and toes, unnaturally large bruises, undiagnosed concussions, and just a general feeling of abuse.

Its been a little bit my own fault - I play defense, and happily because it means less running, and I am nothing if not a chubchub who hates to run.  However, this does mean that I tend to find myself doing battle against people who play midfield and forward. For the most part, these people tend to be dudes who outweigh me by at least 80 lbs.  This means that when we both go for a live ball, there is a very real chance that we are going to collide at full speed.  And when a Honda Civic collides with an 18-wheeler, it is not very pretty for the Civic.

So I get knocked down (...and I get up again).  And I have loved it (but...)  I took almost a year off when I hurt my foot and then I would take time off because other things would pop up on my schedule and its gotten to the point where I've only played two sessions in the past year or so.  Which I think has killed the magic.  Maybe it was just this season - which was arguable the coldest Spring season on record (I think we only had one game where it was warmer than 50 degrees) or maybe its the boys who take it too seriously and yell and push or maybe its my constant fear of getting seriously hurt.

Or maybe its that I've already "accomplished" the social part of the equation.  And let's be real, the $80 every 6 weeks that I have been shelling out over the past 4 years has been totally worth it to meet Boyfriend who, despite what you think about fate and whatnot, I probably-definately never would have met otherwise.

I don't know if this is my retirment blog (sorry to overshadow you, Jim Tressel) or if I'll keep playing until I break my leg or get pregnant (and the way things are going, I am way more likely to get a leg sweep than a baby).  All I know is I want mother nature to get her act together (seriously, a monster fog?  In May?) and a good referee.

lunge your face

Dear Rachel,


Hey Fatty!  Remember when you made a New Year's Reservation to work out more?  How's that going?  PS- walking to the kitchen for a left over Reese's Easter Egg and then eating it and a cadbury caramel egg doesn't count.


Love, 
Everyone


Okay but seriously.  This is a problem.  I have been to the gym about three times in the past month (that is a very generous estimate) and now that Boyfriend's office is no longer on the way to the train, I have no excuse to walk anywhere.  On a really rough day in the office I get some stair climbing in, but those tend to also be the days I eat four or five two-bit "all butter" cinnamon rolls.  Rendering all fake attempts at exercise null and void.

Bikram is a blog post that must be written because my thoughts on it are too pretentious for just my own mind.

But things are turning around for every one's favorite couch potato.  One of the best ladies this side of Ohio is starting a personal training business and she's taken on me as one of her first clients!  I've only met with her once, but if that half-session was any indication, this is going to be insane.

The session itself was actually really fun in a torturous sort of way.  I am not quite sure how anyone can be that gd cheerful about squats and yet, there she was - a ray of pulse, pulse sunshine.  I knew it was a work out, but its hard to be sad when others are so happy.

The next day was a different matter.  Despite taking a bath to sooth my poor muscles and some advil - I was in so much pain that I was pretty sure the next logical step was double amputation.  There was nothing about life that wasn't painful.  I'm sure it didn't help that I spent the next two days adventuring with my mom and then working with kids.  But seriously - it was ridiculous

At one point on Friday, as one of the kids in my program decided to make a run for it (as they are wont to do since I spend my time torturing them with books and free food), I finally had to call out for him to stop and I explained, "seriously, I cannot chase you anymore."

This moment of honesty and pathetic-ness stopped him in his tracks.  He realized I was not kidding and came back.

I'm pretty much all back to normal now and super stoked for my next torture session.  2 of these monsters a week, plus a gym workout?  Doubtful, but maybe, just maybe I'll put the Peeps down and get  serious.

all the things

There's been a whole bunch going on in the past few weeks - I apologize for the lack of posts, but life keeps getting in the way.  It seems that with life and exercise and the need for cat food (how are we always out??), I can only manage to spend an hour or two at home before bed and that hour, I've decided, is best spent away from my computer and with Boyfriend and the hungry, hungry kitten.  And of course - on the never ending search for the missing drill bits.

Anyway - here is some stuff that is happening.

1-Last weekend Kristin and Howie got engaged last weekend.  Making them the 7th couple I know to get engaged since Christmas.  Congratulations KristinandHowie!! and the rest of you - and the 4 couples getting married this year.  I am totally happy for you - and also wondering if there is some sort of Kool-aid or water or something that I should be steering clear of.

2- I had blood drawn today and x-rays.  Nothing too big, but it required me to fast from midnight last night to 9:45 AM.  For normal people this would be no biggie - but I am an emotional wreak when it comes to food.  I am used to eating by 7 or 8 AM, if I'm awake.  So the fact that I did not get to eat until 11 (after all the testing was done) - meant that I was completely irrational.  There was a farmer's market inside the hospital (a bizarre occurence that I never even though to question while I was experiencing it). And so I had to buy 2 pounds of organic, free-range bratwursts and a loaf of banana chocolate chip bread.  This, in hindsite was dumb but I was so hungry!  They say not to go to the grocery store hungry. I say - don't put the grocery store inside a place where I am forced to be hungry.

3- I am excited that people are deciding to visit me this year.  Cougar AND Buttmunch might be coming, and my big 'Cuz!  Summer in Chicago is amazing, but its a bajillion times better when you get to share it with other people.

4- I finally bought a day planner two weeks ago.  I thought that maybe this would be the year I would become a digital planner, but since I STILL don't have an iphone (come on July!) this is not the case - because I have no way of synching my computer with my phone or anything else.  At least 5 days of the week - when I am glued to a computer, this is not a problem, but on the off chance you try to plan something with me on a weekend, for the entire month of January and most of February - There was a chance we would make plans and by the time I got home and powered up the laptop, I would have forgotten.  So I went to Borders and bought at $1.00 planner.  I keep forgetting I have it though.  At 10 cents a month, I still feel like I am getting my money's worth...

5- E! plays Sex and the City from 7 - 8 PM every weeknight.  It has made my hour on the elliptical far less tedious.  Even though I think I've decided I hate Carrie Bradshaw - its a nice walk down memory lane.

6- I think this might be the year I go downtown and watch them dye the Chicago river green for St. Patrick's Day.  I have a meeting that morning, so I won't be down there until noon, at which point it might be back to its normal green color.  I have this funny feeling that if I don't make a concerted effort to go see it in the next two years, I will be moving away in a decade or so and realize that I never saw them dye the river green.

That's all.  See you in a few days.

one two three four

JED 
[walking away] Numbers, Mrs. Landingham. 

MRS. LANDINGHAM
Excuse me?

JED
If you want to convince me of something, show me numbers! 

Its true - numbers are essential.  On the 31st (or the 1st - it was so long ago) I outlined my goals for the year.  Gym, writing, reading.  But after three days of being like, "yeah!  good things!" I realized I need to make things far more concrete for myself to have any chance of getting them done.

So here  it is - the numbers post.

42 books in 52 weeks.  That's less than a book a week - this will probably be the hardest thing as I also have to keep up the New Yorker and such as well.  I am hoping that this will also help keep me off facebook and the interwebs, except of course.

150 blog posts in 365 days.  A random number, sure, but I got so close last year to 100 that I had to up the ante.  Plus 42 of those posts are going to be freebies.

200 days of exercise.  Exercise includes: going to the gym, yoga class, biking (at least an hour, even if its broken up throughout the day), walking more than two miles in a stretch.  This will also be hard as we try to figure out where we are living and what we are doing this year.  And let's be real, this is the one where at the end of the year I am going to have to spend like 50 solid days working out.  One can only hope I'll have a gym membership again by then.

So here we go - for reals this time.

mile...after...nope, just one

So I now go to the gym 5 days a week (when I can). This is a change from my usual never ever going to the gym ever policy, but apparently my metabolism has decided to just stop. Like Stop. Food goes in my mouth and directly to my muffin top. The choices were to stop eating, or work out. Obviously option 1 is a horrible choice. I LOVE eating. So I have started working out.

I normally alternate between an hour of weight machines and an hour on the elliptical and I try to throw some sits ups and stretching in at the end. And I have seen some weight loss, which is awesome because I still eat as though its going to get taken away from me at any minute. But I am still having muffin top/bingo wing issues.

Apparently, according to my "trainer" the best way to deal with these monsters is straight up running. So I have made myself start running. On weight days I force myself to run a mile before I do anything else. It is a nightmare. It makes my shins and my feets and my back hurt, probably because a- treadmills are terrible and b- I have crappy shoes and c- I am easily the worst.runner.ever.

Aside from the painfulness of running, the thing that gets me is the delirious tedium of it. I listen to music or watch tv which helps, for sure, but eventually my brain starts to wander and I have an existential crisis and complete mental break down.

Here's how it goes.

Oh, I like this song. This song reminds me of high school. Its weird that I still listen to music from high school. I should probably listen to newer music but I think everything is whiny and there is too much guitar. Oh man, high school. That was the best worst time ever. No not even. It was just lame. Why did I think it was so important? High School was useless. I didn't really learn anything. Well, I mean I guess I learned some stuff. But mostly I just was skinny and awkward and I had bad skin. Oooophf. Man I was weird looking in high school. And then college. College was a little bit better I guess. Well, I mean, college was a pretty sweet time. I really had no responsibility and I ate everything and drank everything and still looked pretty great except for the skin. The skin was always bad. I wish I could be in college again. HOW HAVE I ONLY BEEN RUNNING FOR TWO MINUTES?! Why am I doing this to myself? Why can't I just be happy how I am? Am I ever going to be satisfied with anything in my life? Ugh, is there any other way to lose the muffin top? Maybe I'll just buy bigger jeans. But if you buy bigger jeans the terrorists WIN. I HAVE to be almost done right? Wrong. Maybe I can just do a half mile today because I worked with kids. Oh, come on, that's horse pucky. Lets do this.

And then I let myself get distracted by Fox News or Pardon the Interruption or whatever other crap tv is on. And eventually after 10 agonizing minutes I'm done. People say that it will get easier which, at this rate, will happen in 10 years. There is something to be said about the sadistic nature of making yourself run so you look better in jeans. I try not to think about it when I'm not running though.

If people have any good music recommendations, they would be appreciated.

Great Urban Race - Chi town

Okay - so, its a week late, but here's the lowdown on our very first Great Urban Race.

Boyfriend and I were there on time - early even, but didn't really want to drink a beer at the meet-up bar because the worst possible thing was to have to make a bathroom pit stop in the middle of the race.

One of the main flaws of GUR is the lack of chip timing. Because what it meant was that everyone was given an envelope of clues and then there was a mad rush for the door- had there been more people there could have been some serious injuries and we also saw at least one team make it out before the lady in charge said Go. But anyway - we opened the envelope of clues and just started running. We realized that the best bet was to just get on the Red Line and go downtown.

Once we got on the train platform (along with every other team) we waited for about 10 minutes for the train. In that 10 minutes we solved pretty much every clue that needed to be solved. Thanks to both of our internet-phones and our text-a-friend Little Brother. Once we got on the train we mapped out a route. Everything I had read about the race said that the most important part was to figure out which clue to skip to save yourself as much time as possible.

Boyfriend really wanted to skip the clue that told you to find someone in a tie-dyed shirt or Chuck Taylors. I was sure that that was going to be way easier than he thought, and sure enough - once we got off the train we (and a whole bunch of other teams) accosted this perfectly normal guy and asked to take a picture with him and his sneakers. He was very nice about it.



With that taken care of, we decided that if we couldn't find a job application or "Help Wanted" sign (harder than it would seem with this whole internet fad) before we finished all the downtown clues we would skip that and go find the clue that required us to do a relay race. Once we get off the train, we start with the clues that are furthest south.

We had to take a picture in front of Berghoff's restaurant with 8 other people doing the "Superstar" pose (never gets old, right?) I thought this was going to be impossible, as this is a pretty fanciest restaurant and normal people wandering around on a rainy Chicago Saturday aren't going to want to stop and pose like an idiot. Boyfriend realized that obviously there were going to be a lot of other teams down there too - so we should go and just take pictures with them. He was right.



I can't believe they accepted this picture at the finish line because there aren't really 10 people in it. But its fine. Also, thus begins the pattern of looking terrible and out-of-focus in every picture. In our own defenses - it was rainy and humid and we were running everywhere.

After we did that we split up. Boyfriend counted the number of flags on a building and I went to Walgreens to buy a toy for a toy-drive for the charity GUR was partnering with. Right after we split up, I realized that I had no phone and only like $5 cash. If for any reason, we can't meet up, I am totally stranded.

I buy a matchbox car and magically, Boyfriend meets up right with me. We run towards the drop off place for the toys and get our picture taken with the mascot of the charity.



Then as we race towards the Art Institute to take our picture with one of the lions, I stop into the Patty Melt restaurant and lo-and-behold! They still do paper job applications. The guy who gives me the application tries to have a conversation with me about what they're looking for in employees and I'm like, "yeah, great..." and run out.

Then we have this nice girl (who apparently had been asked to do this many times by the time we got there) take our pictures in front of the Lion. We were holding up 7 fingers because that's how many flags there were in the window that Boyfriend had counted.



At this point we were done with downtown, so we went to get on the Brown Line to head back north. At this point we WAIT and WAIT for the train, which became quite the pattern. We end up talking to a few other teams. They all seem really serious about the race, so we think that we're probably doing okay. Finally the train comes and we take it up to Armitage. We get off with everyone else doing the race and head towards the Tin Man statue in Wizard of Oz park.

This also caused a problem, because I am a) disturbingly out of shape, b) not a runner, and c) had jacked up my achillies with my bike pedal the day before and so was having more trouble than normal running. This was the farthest we had to run and I did not do a good job. But eventually we got to the Tin Man and got our picture taken.



Then we got on a Lincoln Bus to make our way to Kingston Mines for a dance lesson. The bus driver was kind of an idiot and lets us off a few stops too early and so we run to Kingston Mines. Then (mine and boyfriend's favorite clue) we had to do a 5 minute salsa lesson. While I was really anxious to get going it was really fun to get to dance in an air-conditioned roon for a few minutes. It gave us a chance to relax and have fun before heading back down to Fullerton and Lincoln to get our picture taken eating a hot dog. This is possibly the creepiest picture ever, btw.



After taking that first bite, I then decide that this is the appropriate time to go ahead and put some mustard and ketsup on the dog and eat THE WHOLE THING. Horrible, horrible idea - because then what do we have to do (wait for it) RUN. While digesting Hot Dog. Gross.

We run to the Fullerton Brown Line and then finally realize what the hold up has been. Apparently in our whole evening of studying the night before, we forget to check to see how the CTA is going to be running the next day. The brown and red lines are running on a single track so we wait and wait and wait for a train. At one point I say that I'm going to stab someone in the heart loud and forcefully enough for a girl to look at me and walk the other direction.

FINALLY the train comes and we think that we're doing pretty well. We only have two clues left and then we have to head back to Cubby Bear. We pass Wellington and the train just.stops. Not at the station (oh, no, that would be WAY too convenient), just past the station so we can't get off of it, we just have to wait and wait and wait and get really really mad at the world, and then take it out on each other. FINALLY the train starts moving again and we get off at Belmont. I still maintain that it was faster to take the train than to try to walk/run 20 blocks in the disgusting humidity. Boyfriend is not sure, but we were waiting long enough that I think it's what knocked us out of finishing in the top 25.

We get off at Belmont and go to Comedy Sportz where we have to play a round of charades. I got the word "soup" and it took Boyfriend approximately 7 seconds to guess it (no joke, the group next to us was there when we got there, and there when we left).

We are happy to be making up time and run to the Tattoo shop on Belmont to put a temporary tattoo on Boyfriend's face. All the time we made up with the charades is lost in our inability to successfully apply the tattoo. Had we been patient enough to wait the 30 seconds the first time we would have been fine, but no dice. After 4 tries we manage to get it to work.



Then we're done except for one last clue. For this I would like to send a shout out to the Penn Laurel Girl Scout Council for teaching me the game Between Green Glass Doors. The one "riddle" question we had gotten, I had figured out in less than 30 seconds. So while we are waiting for the light to change we get a random girl to hang up the phone with her mom and take our picture with the Sheffield street sign in the back.



Then its a straight shot up to the Cubby Bear. By this point my foot is killing me and I am hot and sweaty and we've run about 4 miles. I had not at all prepared myself to run this much and am miserable. Unfortunately both teammates have to cross the finish line at the same time, so Boyfriend, very sweetly walks with me until we get to about Strange Cargo (that made our awesome Baracketship tee-shirts) and then we run. We run until we get across the finish line.

Then I pass out.

Not really, but I do feel like it would be a good choice. At least so I don't have to stand anymore. But we get up to one of the judge's stations and realize there aren't that many people around. One of the judge's checks off all our clues and tells us we're good to go.

At this point its 2:30 and we decide that we're going to sit around and wait for the awards ceremony. We have a plate of loaded tater tots (which were amazing) and a beer and we kind of hang out.

We stay for the awards and realize, sadly, that we hadn't made the top 25. Two days later we get the results and find out that we finished 43rd out of 480 teams (so in the top 50 AND top 10th percentile). We were also only 6 minutes behind the 25th team. We were on the brown line for at least 10 minutes, so we have decided that we can blame it on that.

All in all, it was AWESOME. Next year I am going to a- train. It was a lot more running that I could have ever imagined. And b- check the train schedule. It would have been so much faster to take buses most of the way. Also, had we taken a minute to read the clues before running we would have realized that there were 2 clues close to the bar and that it might have been faster to do those at the beginning instead of the end.

We're coming for you 2010.

www.greaturbanrace.com