Breaking the Color Barrier.

Today, I crossed the 3106 mile mark on my Nike+ Sportband.

I had no idea why Nike chose that number, but then my innate Canadianism kicked in and I realized it was 5000km -  this feat has moved me from the grandiose color of "Purple" to the (I imagine) more elite color of "Black".

I feel like a refurbished Kenyan.

I'm not sure if Americans get to progress on the color meter at a more rounded number, like say 3000 miles, or if they just stare at the screen and think that the Nike guys are either crazy or smoke a lot of pot while designing their website.

I was already in the Purple category when Nike rolled out their color idea, so the change doesn't mean to much to me - except that thankfully everything on the Nike+ website no longer has a purple tinge to it.

It just seems "Manlier" now, right?

But as you can see, my January totals aren't too bad.

22 Runs, 93 miles, and my average pace is 8'47"  - I can be happy with that, as it feels like an improvement from when I got back on the horse, so to speak. (Or Moose - I'm Canadian, remember?)

We'll see how it progresses in February, and if I can be just as pleased going into March and my Half.

Another plus - there was no Mabel today, and My Baby purred like a kitten. (For those of you who think that sentence sounds retarded, just read my previous post and all will be made clear.)

Now I'm heading to Hockey, and then I'm going to get to spend some quality time with the couch.

Really, could you ask for a better day?

Jackie Robinson wishes he was me.







Later.

Mabel & The Seven Treadmills.

I ran into a Mabel today.

I'm sneezing and sniffling, so for today's run I packed up and headed to the gym to hit the treadmill. I'm not going to risk having a cold or worse fuck up my training for the Half - I'm selfish that way. (Or a wuss - call it as you see it.)

The thing about my gym, if I haven't mentioned it before, is that it only has 7 treadmills - and much like the seven dwarves, each of them has a different "personality" that can be summed up in what I call them:

• Oldie - This treadmill was born during the jögging (Scandinavian pronunciation) phenomenon of the 70's. When I run on it I get the feeling that it wants to tell me about how running was harder "back in the day" and tell me to "hit the sauna" afterwards.
• Corpse - This is Oldie's brother. I have never seen this one in working order - I swear the "Out of Order" sign on it is older than my kids.
• Skipper - Although it sounds like Barbie's younger sister, (don't ask how I know) this machine is can only be used successfully by either a double-dutch team or the ghost of Terry Fox.
• Grinder - Grinder is deceptive - When he's set at walking speed, he's quiet as a mouse. The second he goes to any sort of faster pace the sound of gnashing metal teeth and screech of protests are enough to make everyone in the gym stop and stare. Grinder became who he was by having a 6-foot-4, 245 pound slab of muscle pound on him at 9.5 to 10mph about 5 days a week - if there's a hell for treadmills, Grinder's there.
• Looker - there's nothing wrong with Looker - perfectly fine treadmill, if you like being directly opposite the huge fucking mirror. I know it's weird, but I can't watch myself run - I have a vision of perfect posture, excellent stride, and flawless complexion when I run. Seeing the sweaty, flawed realism takes me out of my game.
• The Mistress - This is the newest treadmill at the gym. works good, bright and shiny, has all the bells and whistles. I would run the shit out of this one of it wasn't for...
• My Baby - My Baby is the cremé de la cremé of the gym treadmills - perfect position (can't see myself run), on the end of the line (no squeezing in between treadmills), and has never broken down or missed a day. (I have busted out a 12 mile run on this thing in the dead of winter - this treadmill is connected to my soul.) I guess because of where it is, not a lot of people like to run on it - except me - and most people know it as "my" treadmill.

Well, everyone except Mabel, that is.

I don't know if her name is Mabel and I don't care - she's 100 years old (Ok, maybe 60) and all she does is walk on the treadmill. - no incline, no increase in speed, no effort exerted at all beyond hitting the "Start" button.

And she was doing all of this nothing on my treadmill.

You think that she would have gone for Oldie - I'm sure she probably knew the original designer - or even tried out Looker for a better view of herself and the TV's - (did I mention that she was watching 100 Huntley Street? I think I should.) but no, she chose My Baby for her leisurely stroll.

I sucked it up and only ground my teeth a little as I went to The Mistress and did my run. It's a good treadmill, but it's not the same. And with Karma being what it is, Mabel's walk finished at exactly the same time as my run. I estimate that she maybe did one mile to my four - I was tempted to go run a couple miles on My Baby just to let her know I was there.

I appreciate that Mabel is getting out there and trying to stay in shape - if she had even attempted something more than a walk I'm sure that my bitterness would be much less. I swear if she had been reading a magazine while walking I don't think I would have been able to contain myself.

Does that make me crazy? Is that intervention on the way?

Whatever - I'm going to give it one more chance tomorrow - but if she's heading to the treadmills at the same time I am, I can't be held responsible for my actions.








Later.

Dimplification.

Dear Lady on the Stairclimber in front of me at the Gym:

I just wanted to say thank you. I know it sounds creepy and weird, but you were an inspiration to me today, and I really wanted you to know that.

I will admit that as I ran on the treadmill behind you, I initially wasn't looking - I was fascinated with the news about Maple Leaf Sports & Entertainment being bought out by the two major media giants in our fine country. (Until I realized that it meant potentially more Maple Leaf games on my T.V. - I then immediately lost interest.)

At first I noticed your calves - you were on the StairMaster after all, and I must say that as a guy who appreciates his own calves (I think they are my best feature, actually) yours looked stellar. Having read recently about Stilettos and high heels, I imagined you slipping into a pair of 5 inch ones when you change out of your runners. Maybe you did, maybe you didn't - I wasn't there to see it.

But I was there when you took off your warm up jacket and reveled a pair of back dimples the likes of which I have never seen. The sight of those Dimples of Venus (seriously, that's the name - I looked it up) were actually what kept me going for the last half mile today - I was fading fast, but somehow felt rejuvenated and I have to give the credit to your ahem...assets.

Unlike the creeper guy on the treadmill beside me, I didn't openly stare - I have some class after all - but I did just want you to know that all the hard work you do is appreciated, albeit silently. I found out guys can also have these sexy things, so now you've given me something to work for.

So thank you, dear lady - your efforts helped my efforts.

It's a win-win situation, see?





Later.

Fuck You, 5am.

Is that too bitter?

Don’t get me wrong - I’m enjoying my new routine - the legs are a little bit sore from the different weight program, but everything seems great so far - with one exception:

5am sucks.

I used to do it no prob - 5am, jump out of bed, head to the gym or out for a run. But when I started letting things slide this summer, the first thing to change was how much I hit the snooze button. Not good.

I read somewhere that the best way to establish a habit is to do it (or not do it, as the case may be) for 21 days. After 3 weeks, your body adjusts to the change and you just accept it. So my goal is to make sure that I’m getting up for that morning workout or run on a regular basis.

Yesterday the combination of getting up at 5, the new weight workout, and heading back from holidays to bust my ass at work had me in bed by 10:15! (Really - how sad is that?) Today is the same, except now it’s a night shift, which meant that the whole night drrrrraaaggged. (Sure, I could have slowed down and left myself with work to keep me busy, but that’s not how I roll.) And do you know how hard it is to stay awake when there’s nothing to do? I felt like taking a nap on the Bakery Table - and don’t say coffee, the stuff at work is a crime against man.

But I overcame that, and soon it’ll be Marathons while shoulder-pressing 120lbs on 4 hours sleep.

Ha! If that’s the case I must be dreaming - I’m off to bed.

5am comes early, ya know.


Later.

Of Oyster and Updates.

Yes it's been ages since I've updated, so here's a quick rundown of life:

• I'm back in the OR. (For those of you not in the know, that's Oyster River, not Operating Room.) Little bit of culture shock again, but I'm sure I'll adjust. Plus: I go trail running on my lunch hour - it's a fun, scenic change from just pounding on the Seawalk.

• Did the Comox Valley Half Marathon - rocked over last year - Improved by 6 minutes, finishing in 1:37:00! I was 111th out of 602, and 13th in my age group. Next up - the Merville 15K - a shorter run, but that just means I can hopefully go faster - looking to beat my 10th place finish from last year.

• I kicked ass in the Weight Loss Competition at my gym - won in all 3 categories for men - pounds lost, inches lost, and body fat % lost. But since you can only win one prize, I only got one package. Still, nice to know I did well. (Woulda thunk I could hit 172pds?)

• The night out with the Sidekick in the Riv? Yes - it was as sweet, and as full of G&T, as you would imagine.

• Reading a lot of Chuck Palahniuk - just finished Choke, Snuff, Fight Club, and Survivor. Also finished Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby and Up In The Air by Walter Kirn. Really enjoying reading out of my "comfort zone" if that makes any sense...

And really, next to all the running, working, and Home life, that's about it. It's not the most exciting, but it suits me, I guess.

Trust me, I'll post something pithy and funny soon - right now, I'm flashing back to the Trews, Foo, and City and Colour.. Being back in the OR will do that to ya.


Later.

SportFit.

Mondays and Thursdays are quickly becoming my favorite days of the week.

Those are the days that I go to SportFit.

SportFit is a program at The Sportsplex in town. I'd seen tons of people wearing SportFit jerseys and T-Shirts at the various races I run in, and they seem to do well - so it might just help me in my endeavors to hold back the passage of time. It's got a fairly harsh rep - when looking into it, I had heard lots of "It's hardcore." and "You'll be sore, it's too tough." - but I decided to bite the bullet and attend a class, just to see if I could cut it.

I love it.

The class starts out with an aerobic-type stretching session- we're kinda dancing to music, and just getting warmed up. (The whole class is set to music - it's God awful stuff, but whatever - I'm not there to hone my musical tastes.) after about 10 minutes of this, the The Run begins.

The Run is my favorite part of class. (Go figure.) The first couple of classes, I held back, just pacing in the middle of the pack, moving along with the group. Eventually, I realized that it's too slow back there and moved up to the front of the line where the pace picks up and you leave the stragglers in the dust. We usually average at least 4 miles in our 30 minutes of running.

After The Run, we immediately go back into the stretching, dancing thing for about another 10 minutes, and then get down to floor work.

Floor work varies from night to night - sometimes it's more abs-focused, sometimes, more legs. Tonight we did it all - upper-body, (push ups for ages) abs, and legs. By the end of that, I'm usually quivering in whatever body-part we've just finished pummeling. And then we do Yoga.

Now, the Yoga we do at SportFit isn't hardcore guru-style Yoga. Hell, the only reason I know it's Yoga at all is because I recognize some of the poses from Wii Fit. (Really, not kidding.) Stuff like Downward Dog, Tree and Warrior poses are mixed with stretches for hamstrings, calves, and core. It's right behind The Run as my favorite part just 'cause after it's done you feel so good. (Or maybe it's because class is over after that, so it could be either.)

I've been going twice a week for over a month now, and I really dig it - it's helped me pick up the pace on my short runs, and it's just nice to be around a bunch of people (there's about 40 in the class) who are interested and like doing the same things as me. (SportFit also has a Pub Night at The Willows every Thurs after class, but I haven't gone to that ...yet.)

I'm going to keep going - eventually I'll be able to put my head on my knees with straight legs... (Why I want to do that, I have no idea.. but a goal's a goal, right?) Wish me luck.



Later.

Hangin' Around.

Hey, I just flew into this blog, and boy, are my arms tired.
(Ba-dum Kssh)

Lame jokes aside, my arms are tired - from rock climbing.

I had no wife and no kids today, so like any normal guy I had coffee, read the paper, mowed the lawn, and then decided to try my hand at Indoor Rock Climbing.

I drive by On the Rocks at least once a week, (it's on the way to my parent's place) and having heard about it from other people, it seemed like something I'd like to try. But with always having the Boys, I've never gone in.

It was great.

For $20, I got shoes, a harness, and a quick introduction into the wonders of an auto-belay system. (The great thing is, it's $20 for an all-day pass - I'm going back after dinner tonight.) The auto-belay means you can climb alone, and once you reach the top, you can either climb back down (yeah right) or fling yourself into space, where it lowers you down gently rappel-style.

The gym was busier than I thought, with quite a few people there. Nobody seemed judgmental or rude, and everyone was enjoying themselves. The biggest shock to me was seeing a 8 year old boy scamper up the wall, racing his sister saying he's a "Spider Monkey". Once he hit the top, he just lowered himself down, unhooked and raced off to another area.

It may not be something that I'll do every week, but it's a nice alternative to have. (I'll tell you how nice tomorrow, depending how sore I am.)

I will say this: hardest upper body workout ever.


Later.

Denim 2.0

Remember Jeans Guy?

Pretty sure I met his Dad tonight.

I was at the gym, just starting my workout, when I see these two guys come in. There's nothing remarkable about either of them, except the one thing that stands out in a gym: One of the guys is wearing jeans.

I tried not to judge right away, but as he took his jacket off the stereotype clicked right into place - tight white t-shirt stretched over a beer gut, the jeans all ratty and shitty, and the only thing I saw him do was arm exercises. If that's not a redneck, I don't know what is. I almost looked out into the parking lot to see if his truck had a camper and Nascar stickers on it.

(He did remember to bring his workout gloves, towel and water bottle, so I'm sure the jeans were intentional.)

I just find it nasty and gross to work out in jeans, but like I said - I try not to judge. Otherwise people are going to talk about all the time I spend in the tanning booth.

Stay real, Jeans Guy - you're a rebel. Don't ever change.
(I imagine with the inbreeding, that won;t happen anyway.)




Later.

Swineful Behavior.

No, this isn't about swine flu - it's about me being a pig.

Sure, I got up and went to the gym today. Lifted weights, ran for a half hour, tanned - but then six hours later, I blow it all.

For some strange reason, I just demolished:

• A Peanut Butter sandwich
  
• Two sticks of pepperoni
• Chocolate Muffin
• Glass of Chocolate Milk

And that was after my lunch and hour ago - in which I had a healthy, fulfilling sandwich. (Mmm Turkey.) I think I know the culprit: boredom.

It's not that I'm bored, really - I'm hanging with my two Boys, so nothing is really boring. It's just that with the rain and wind we're inside - and even playing with them, there's some downtime, and they eat some snacks, and there's all this shitty food laying around, so...

I do it to myself.

It's easier when I can take them out and do something with them - it keeps me busy as well, and not being around all the shitty food is a plus.

But now I'm feeling guilty, and have already begun to plan my "revenge" workout for tomorrow in my head.

Yes, I know - I need help.

Don't worry about the binging - it's when I start purging that you can call in the shrinks...



Later.

Bubblicious.

Tip #1: Never look at yourself in the mirror while running on the treadmill. (Side profile)
Tip #2: If you do look, don't look at your ass.


Cold and Dreary - that means the treadmill. As I zoned out and lost my mind to the rhythm of the music and the pounding of my legs, I happened to glance around the gym, as I am wont to do.

Big mistake.

I was on a different treadmill than my usual one, and as my regular unit isn't in the line of sight of any of the mirrors, I never pay any attention to them. But My Baby's being used by someone else, so I'm on a treadmill next to the mirrored wall. I happen to glance downward - looking at my feet, for some reason. (I forget why.)

The first thing I notice is that - damn! - My legs are nice! Then I happen to glance up...

What the Fuck is That?

You see, I was always told I had no ass. As a fat guy with no ass, I just assumed that there was a straight line from my shoulders to my ankles. But I guess all the running changed more than just my frontal appearance.

...I should have realized it, too - running is mainly the work of your quads, glutes and hamstrings - quads lift the leg up and forward, but the propulsion power comes from the back of your legs and your ass.

I knew this. And appreciated it too - I've seen women runners in spandex, remember? I just never thought it would affect me.

I have a Bubble Ass.

I guess it's not a bad thing, as it's not a jiggly Bubble Ass, but still, since I've seen it I'm a little self conscious of people looking back there.

I think I'm going to need to get some new, baggier shorts - just so I don't feel funny while I'm running. It makes me think that all those comments about "looking good" I get when I'm running on the Seawalk weren't about my running posture and form...

Oh God - I feel so dirty...




Later.

Guilty Conscience

When it's cold, I don't like to run in the rain.

It seems that whenever I run when it's either really cold or raining and cold, it's inevitable that I get a cold or congested chest afterwards.

Because of this, when ever it's too chilly or chilly & wet, I hit the treadmill to get my mileage in. There's no shame in it, and at least I'm staying active and healthy.

So why do I feel so guilty if I see someone else running in the rain?

Take today: it's raining and cold - which means I'm heading to the gym to hit the 'mill and bust out 6 or 7 miles. As I'm driving there, I notice at least 3 sets of people running along the side of the road- jackets zipped up and hats pulled low. I'm cozy in my car, headed to my nice dry gym, to do the exact same thing they are doing.

So why do I feel like less of a runner?

Does not wanting to brave the elements make the distance that I run less?
Does not running against the wind and rain mean that I'm not really running?
Does it make me a pussy?

I know that in the grand scheme of things, it's not a big deal - both of us are better than the guy who never gets off the couch - but for some reason it bothers me. Like they're snickering at me as they run.."Look at the pansy in his truck, going to run on the spot in a room!"


I'm not a pansy - I'm a runner.
I just get a little stuffed up is all...




Later.

Holiday, Shmaliday.

After enjoying Turkey with all the trimmings post-late shift last night, I was looking forward to hitting the gym this morning. (Yes, I'm the sad type of person who looks forward to punishing their body physically.) Something about eating that much that late at night makes me crave the workout - like if I give the fat molecules any extra time to stay in my body, they'll never leave.

I had even planned on having a tan - with lotion!

I got up at my usual time, (5am) and headed off to the gym. It's never a shock to be the only car in the parking lot - when you go as early as I do, sometimes you're the only car there. But after 5 minutes, when none of the other regular's cars were showing up in the parking lot, I decided to go and see what was going on...

Closed.

Not reduced hours, not opening later - closed for the whole day.
(For Easter Monday? Really? We close a business for a Zombie Holiday?)


Fuck.

I'm awake already, so I don't want to go back to sleep. It's too cold at this time of the morning to run outside, so I'm at a loss as to what to do.

So I go home, make some coffee, and read until the sun comes up.

As much as I enjoyed the quiet time, I really wanted to get a workout in. I'll go for a run later, but nothing beats that 5:30am sweat - makes every calorie I consume later on feel guilt-free.

Goddamn Catholics and their fucking holidays - (right, Sidekick?) ruining my routine...




Later.

Enlightening Experience.

I am a bronzed God.

Not really; I'm still the pasty-white guy you all know and love - but I am a wee bit darker today.

I had my first fake-n-bake experience today.

I won a punch-pass for tanning as part of my Biggest Loser prize package. Since my normal skin tone is translucent, I figured I'd give the booth a try. I did tan a bit last year, due to all the running I did outside, and since I expect my mileage to go up this summer, I think a base coat is a must-have. So with some trepidation this morning, I stepped up and hit the bed.

It's an odd feeling for someone who's never seen the inside of a booth - it was like standing in a vertical coffin, naked, and then suddenly the eyes of God are upon you. For the first minute I kept my eyes closed, for fear of having my retinas singed. (Did I mention that I didn't get a very through walkthrough on this machine?) But eventually I did open them, and found that it's like playing with a blacklight when you were a teenager - the only difference being that my grey chest hairs didn't stand out quite so much as a teenager. (God, I'm old.)

I did find it oddly refreshing, which makes sense if you figure I compressed a half-day's sun into less than 10 minutes. All that melatonin coursing through your system has to make you feel a bit giddy.

I do have nine more times inside this thing, so hopefully at the end of it I come out looking ready for outdoor fun, and not like some orangeish-leathery-freak.


See you in the booth - next time: Lotions!!




Later.

Mourning My Mornings.

Usually my mornings go like this:

• 5am - Wake up, get dressed, go to gym.
• 6:45am - Leave gym, head home. Have coffee, check email, and relax before anyone's awake at -
• 7:15am Get kids up, get them ready, take Boy to school by 8:15, go to work.

But due to the fact that it's Spring Break for the Boy right now and we don't even have them 'cause they are staying at their Uncle's for three days and I'm working late shift three days in a row, my morning looks like this:

• 7am - Wake up, get dressed for the gym, wait for Wife to get ready for work.
• 8:15am - Drop Wife off at work, go to gym.
• 9:30am - Leave gym, go home and have coffee, eat etc.

My routine's all fucked up.

I don't mind the sleeping in, but the main thing I miss is the morning group at the gym and my quiet time by myself in the early morning.

Going to the gym with the later crowd is different - in the morning group, we're all fairly dedicated people, who realize that we are there that early for a reason: to work out and get on with our day. The people who go to the gym at 8:30 , for the most part, don't have jobs to go to - they are retired or just to old to work.

So a lot of talking happens with that crowd.

I'm not anti-social - far from it - but I don't go to the gym to socialize, so leave me the fuck alone and quit chattering to me. I swear to God I could have slapped three people today for nattering away at me.

I also miss the quietness of the house at 6:45am - nobody's up, the place is my own, and the day has yet to begin. It just isn't the same at 9:30 in the morning.


It'll all go back to normal soon - the kids are coming back tomorrow night - and once I'm done with the late shifts, my routine can settle once again.

And I'll never let it go.




Later.

Winning By Losing.

So we got the results today from the "Flex Fitness Challenge" I was in, which wrapped up yesterday. (Why is it a fitness challenge? Because you'd get your ass sued off if you called it a Biggest Loser contest.)

I won - kinda.

There were three main winners: one for pounds lost, one for inches lost, and one for body fat % lost. Although I was close in the pounds lost, I missed it by 2 - I only lost 14 pounds as opposed to the 16 that took the title.

I wasn't even close in the inches lost department - as overall I lost only 4 inches - the gains in my legs and chest actually held me back in that category.

So, by process of elimination, you can see I won the body fat % part of the completion - I lost 5.7% body fat - putting me at 21%. That's still a bit higher than I'd like, but considering a year ago I was still at around 35-38% , that's a drastic improvement.

The sad part of it is with going on holidays, my brother coming up, hockey games, and just life in general, my diet sucked over the last 3 weeks. It would have been nice to see what I could have done if I had been faithful to the program.

And although I said I'd like to be at 170 to run my half-marathon, I don't think the extra 6 pounds will hold me back much. (Probably keep me warm if it's cold.)

Would I do it again? Maybe. I think the competition helps, but I was never in any direct competition with anyone - I think if we did group weigh-ins and had more interaction with the other competitors, it would ramp up the tension and everyone would push just a little more.

But whatever - I'm happy with the results. (I consider myself a work in progress anyway.)


See you at the gym.




Later.

Rumors of My Demise...

.. have been greatly exaggerated.

With the Twin's family up for the Nephew's Hockey tourney, the last couple of days have been really hectic - hence no blogging. Having two extra kids in a house the size of mine is enough to throw anything off kilter, and being able to coherently form thoughts wasn't part of the bargain.

But I can tell you some things I've learned:

• I miss the extra padding my lard ass used to have - sitting in the stands at the Arena would have been warmer and more pleasant with a few extra pounds of padding back there.
• Tim Horton's Roll Up The Rim is a piece of shit. I haven't won a damn thing since it started this time, and that's just not right for a guy that drinks as much as I do. When's my time Lord? When's my time?
• I am pretty much the greatest Rock Band vocalist ever. I may not sound good to me or anyone else, but that game thinks I'm fucking amazing. 96-100% on almost every song? God, I'm good.
• If the weather in Courtenay is as shitty next Sunday as it was in Campbell River today, I'm going to be one wet Half-Marathoner. The fact that it's less than a week away now kinda freaks me out.
• The more I see one, the more I want an iPhone.
• As much as I was dreading the weekend, tomorrow's going to be just as bad - I have to do my last long run (10+ miles) , weigh in for the final of the weight-loss contest I joined, and get the Boy to school on time - then my day can start. (It'll only be 8:30am then.)

I'm going to get some sleep - but don't worry, you'll hear from me.



Later.

Comfort is ...

..A warm pair of running shoes.

After a weekend of Booze and Bad Food, (not bad per se, but bad for me) the greatest cure-all in the world is running 10 miles.

Try it sometime.

After eating things I don't normally eat & drinking way more than I usually drink, getting back to feeling like myself is a wonderful experience.

I think it hit around mile 7.

By that time, all the toxins have crawled out through my pores in their haste to escape what I'm doing to my body. I no longer have that bloated feeling, and all the stiffness is gone from my legs. Of course it only goes downhill from here, because no one is going to tell you they feel great after 10 miles - they may feel good, but the certainly don't feel great.

But I feel great now.

Go ahead, call me twisted - I don't care.

Me and my tight glutes and calves feel awesome.




Later.

Kiss My Ass, Billie Jean.

It finally happened.

After months and months, I finally beat that bitch.

I beat Billie Jean into the gym this morning.

It doesn't sound like much, but it's an accomplishment.

Billie Jean is always first in the gym. Monday to Friday, she's the first name on the sign in sheet. Doesn't matter if they open at 5:15 or 5:30am , she's first through the door. It's been a goal of mine to beat her. (Sad, isn't it?)

Today was my day.

Usually her car is parked right by the front, next to the handicapped spot. It's a sweet spot, but tricky to get into as you have to cut a sharp corner as you come into the parking lot.

I was right behind her as she pulled in today.

While she was wrangling her Honda into her favorite spot, I parked and calmly walked (fast, but definitely not a run) into the gym and signed in. Victory!

She didn't say anything, (Probably because she doesn't know of my obsession with beating her to the sign in sheet)but I could tell she was hurting inside.

At least I think it was that - she was doing lunges, so maybe the pained expression was from those.

But in my mind, she knows.
Oh yes, she knows.




Later.

5 Steps Short.

I messed up.

I went to the gym today with a purpose - to run 3.5 miles as fast as I could without killing myself, and then to get in at least another 30-or-so minutes on the weights.

You see, the 3.5 miles were important because they were going to put me over the 400 mile mark according to my Nike+ Sportband. That's a pretty big milestone to hit, and I was really pumped about it.

As I'm just about done my run, one of the guys I workout with shows up, and asks if I want to hit the weights in a circuit. I agree, check my mileage and see that I made it - I hop off the treadmill and hit the weight section. (But that's a story for later on.)

When I get home and plug my Sportband in, it tells me that I didn't hit 400 - I'm .1 miles short. I guess I misread it at the gym. I was all hyped up for this big feeling of accomplishment, and I can't even hit the mark until Sunday.

Why Sunday? Well, that leads to the next part.


You see, the workout partner and I did a circuit as follows:

• 10 Thrusters.
• 10 Side Lat Raises - alt with front raises in later sets.
• 20 Hanging Leg Raises - knees to elbows.
• 10 Leg Press
• 10 Leg Extension
• 10 Leg Curls
• 20 Decline Bench Situps
• 20 Straight Leg Raises
• 10 Burpees
• 20 Kettlebell Swings

And we did that 5 times around in less than 45 minutes. I was dead at the end of it.

It's been so long since I've really worked my legs - I can feel my hamstrings tightening up even from just typing what we did today. Throw 9 hours of work (On a major warehouse/receiving day, no less) and I'm wiped.

So tomorrow is a Rest Day. (I still have to work, but it's a rest day from the gym.) I'm going to take it easy on my legs and then come Sunday I'm going to kick some ass.

It'll just be a letdown, knowing that I'm not crossing this milestone at the end of a hard run, but with my warmup mile. Just seems anti-climactic.

Whatever, I'll take it.




Later.

Discomfort Is...

Going to the gym on your lunch hour, running your nuts off, (Literally, not figuratively.) and finding that you forgot to pack another pair of underwear.

Wearing sweaty boxer briefs underneath your uniform isn't the most pleasant experience in the world - especially if you have to go in & out of a freezer for half the night.

Sure, I could have gone commando - but my apron doesn't leave much to the imagination, and I wouldn't want to startle anyone.

They're pretty much dry now, but I tell you - next time I'll have 3 pairs in my gym bag - just to be sure.

Later.