OK, still trying to get through the week two weeks ago that sent my training into a tailspin.
Bro on Friday night and climbing all day Saturday. I decided that was enough exercise to excuse a weekend.
M&D and Bro for dinner on Saturday night, then just M&D.
M&D all day Sunday.
M&D and Sister on Sunday night in San Francisco for dinner.
Me all by my lonesome on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Still tired from staying up late/getting up early on the weekend. Not enough time for sleep, let alone running.
Friend from Vancouver and her friends on Thursday night.
School play and bowling on Friday night.
Los Gatos with Baby Mama and her Fam on the weekend. Rainy weather/hangover=no running.
After that crazy week, I knew I had to get back into it, but I only managed the one run during the week. I was going to do a 5 miler, but I wimped out and I'm still not sure how far I went. (I combined some routes in new ways, and I haven't looked it up yet.) I got out, but these things must change.
Which brings us to yesterday.
Back in Los Gatos for some quality time with two adorable pit bulls. Went down to the town proper for some running. Why is it that all the good running trails always run besides the highway? Beautiful greenway; nasty smells and sounds.
I've been watching some Seinfeld lately. I've even found some that I haven't seen before (or at least have forgotten that I've seen). But I was reminded of the Good Naked episode. Jerry had a girlfriend who was always naked at home. He was cool with it until she started doing things like floor sanding naked. He decided to teach her a lesson by wandering around his apartment naked, and she got grossed out. Her response was that all women are good naked. Men, on the other hand, are not. Men's bodies (she reasoned), were angular and functional, but not necessarily beautiful. You don't gaze at men's bodies, you use them. Hence, men should not just wander around naked.
So there I was on the trail, and there is this guy running the opposite way, and he's a bit on the husky side. So am I; I don't judge. But, I do wear a cute little running skirt over my spandex and I try not to advertise my jiggly middle. Dude, however, was running in spandex. No shorts, no covering of any kind. Just jiggly man-flesh encased in lycra. It was so not good. Just past him was another guy, far buffer. I might not have minded him in some spandex. He, however, was wearing normal shorts. Yay normal shorts!
I know we are all out there to get in shape, and it's not always the prettiest scene. That's fine. You do not have to look your absolute best on the trail. But dude, wear some shorts over your underwear. No one wants to see that.
And, I haven't figure out my mileages. (Maybe 6-7 miles?) But I was out for two hours, so I'm getting back on track with my distance weekends. New race: May 30. Shells is coming out to run with me. eeeeeeeee!
Saturday, May 9, 2009
On the Rock
So, I haven't been blogging lately. This is partly due to my extreme tiredness, and partly due to my extreme laziness. It all started two weeks ago: the Week of Out-of-Town Guests. First, my brother arrived on Friday and came bowling with the Cinco Equis. (There is nothing else to do but bowl on a Friday night, um, hello!) We slept; we woke up; we drove to Castle Rock State Park. We went climbing.
Climbing was good. We got there around 8. (We were among the first there. What is a late start time anywhere else seems to be super-early in the greater Santa Cruz area. Go figure.) I did OK on some climbs. He is certainly better than I (not to mention in much better practice and the owner of actual climbing gear -- a rack, a rope, you know -- the really important stuff), but I did well with what I could do. I managed to get past the cruxes of my routes. I didn't always (ever?) make the top, but I did get past the tough problems for me, which I consider a success. Katy will feel me on this, but I judge myself against myself, not against the best climber out there (or even out there that day). For me, 5.7 is HARD. The climbs in the book all started at 5.7 -- meaning there was no way I would ever get to the top of something.
In fact, I couldn't downclimb the "5.4" "walk-up" to se the anchor. The quotes are on purpose. It was no 5.4. Bro had to take his pack off to make the move (all unprotected -- this was supposed to be the walk to the top to set an anchor) so I climbed up a few feet to pass his pack over to him. It is impossible, you see, to set an anchor without any gear. I went up about 6 feet and he got his pack, but then the down was a big ol' Not So Much. I gotta give some props to my Bro, though. He got out the rope and tossed an end down to me. It wouldn't do much -- but then I wasn't more 'n 6 feet off the ground anyway. He told me to just tie it around me waist.
Wait! Wait! I know this!!!! I can tie a one-handed bowline around my waist. It was a parlor trick taught to me by my first climb leader in the car on the way to a conditioning hike. I'm good at knots (hey -- let me brag about the one thing I'm actually a natural at), so I picked it up quickly, and kept it. Cause there I was with a rope tied in a nice bowline, around my waist. I made it down fine. I would have made it down fine without the rope; I didn't use it. But Bro didn't make me feel bad about using it at all: no "You wuss" comments, no calling me a sissy. (If you know my Brother, you know he can be harsh. When push comes to shove, though, and his little sister is scared, he totally comes through.)
Anyway. After a second attempt, I make it past the difficult spot on our first climb. We go around the back to a crack and steal a belay off some other guys on the rock. They have their own issues, but I do get a nice belay. I didn't make the top -- I used up all my strength getting past the crux. It took me some time, I fell off once or twice. But with some good advice on how to attack the crack (it involved some stemming -- which isn't always intuitive -- and turning 90 degrees away from crack) I made it past the tough part. Then I fell and I knew I had nothing left to go higher. Bro even complimented me. The dudes were idiots, though, so we left.
We hiked to the other side of the park, and did some more climbing. There was another sketchy climb to set an anchor, but it was at a place where I could do a seated belay for Bro. He had tried to lead climb the thing, but it was too difficult a start. With a top rope, he made it up, however. I made it past the start. It was a difficult start, and I did the first-ever layback type move of my life. It wasn't a complete layback, but enough to make me think that I can, one day, do a layback. (I need more upper body strength, straight up.) So, I got six feet off the ground and told him I had nothing. He sorta laughed and said, "Yeah, I just wanted you to get that far." We moved over a route, and Bro played on the rock for a bit, but he was pretty spent. I went up as well, but I was spent, too. So we called it a day around 3.
As a side note, you've seen the rants about bicycle helmets. Imagine how much more annoyed I am when I see people climbing without helmets. Really? Are you shitting me? This couple is climbing a 5.11 or 5.11b WITHOUT HELMETS. Yeah, dude is good. Dude can climb a 5.11. But even dude falls off the rock while working out the problem, that's how you work out a problem. Imagine, however, what would happen if one time when he falls off the rock he smacks his head. Or what happens to his belay partner when he knocks a stone loose and it comes crashing down on her head. What happens when he's "walking" to the top to set an anchor and falls off. Oh, yeah -- this is what happens: YOU DIE! I read a post on Facebook not a month ago from a friend who was climbing with the Mazamas when a (non-Mazama) family had an accident on the rock and they ended up dead. This was at a very popular climbing spot -- I've been there 3-4 (5?) times myself. They were walking up to set an anchor, and this is an actual walk to the top, (they think -- investigations were still pending when I read the report) and fell. Or maybe the anchor failed. Regardless, they didn't have helmets on. There's not much you can do without a helmet. Why is death so cool? It's not. Bro's sticker on the top of his helmet reads: Contents Empty, Do Not Remove. Mine is a giant target, you know: hit me right here, I dare you. Helmets can be fun.
My same climber leader always said that if you see someone doing something stupid (like glissading with crampons on), tell them to stop doing then and get out of there so you don't have to help with the rescue.
Climbing was good. We got there around 8. (We were among the first there. What is a late start time anywhere else seems to be super-early in the greater Santa Cruz area. Go figure.) I did OK on some climbs. He is certainly better than I (not to mention in much better practice and the owner of actual climbing gear -- a rack, a rope, you know -- the really important stuff), but I did well with what I could do. I managed to get past the cruxes of my routes. I didn't always (ever?) make the top, but I did get past the tough problems for me, which I consider a success. Katy will feel me on this, but I judge myself against myself, not against the best climber out there (or even out there that day). For me, 5.7 is HARD. The climbs in the book all started at 5.7 -- meaning there was no way I would ever get to the top of something.
In fact, I couldn't downclimb the "5.4" "walk-up" to se the anchor. The quotes are on purpose. It was no 5.4. Bro had to take his pack off to make the move (all unprotected -- this was supposed to be the walk to the top to set an anchor) so I climbed up a few feet to pass his pack over to him. It is impossible, you see, to set an anchor without any gear. I went up about 6 feet and he got his pack, but then the down was a big ol' Not So Much. I gotta give some props to my Bro, though. He got out the rope and tossed an end down to me. It wouldn't do much -- but then I wasn't more 'n 6 feet off the ground anyway. He told me to just tie it around me waist.
Wait! Wait! I know this!!!! I can tie a one-handed bowline around my waist. It was a parlor trick taught to me by my first climb leader in the car on the way to a conditioning hike. I'm good at knots (hey -- let me brag about the one thing I'm actually a natural at), so I picked it up quickly, and kept it. Cause there I was with a rope tied in a nice bowline, around my waist. I made it down fine. I would have made it down fine without the rope; I didn't use it. But Bro didn't make me feel bad about using it at all: no "You wuss" comments, no calling me a sissy. (If you know my Brother, you know he can be harsh. When push comes to shove, though, and his little sister is scared, he totally comes through.)
Anyway. After a second attempt, I make it past the difficult spot on our first climb. We go around the back to a crack and steal a belay off some other guys on the rock. They have their own issues, but I do get a nice belay. I didn't make the top -- I used up all my strength getting past the crux. It took me some time, I fell off once or twice. But with some good advice on how to attack the crack (it involved some stemming -- which isn't always intuitive -- and turning 90 degrees away from crack) I made it past the tough part. Then I fell and I knew I had nothing left to go higher. Bro even complimented me. The dudes were idiots, though, so we left.
We hiked to the other side of the park, and did some more climbing. There was another sketchy climb to set an anchor, but it was at a place where I could do a seated belay for Bro. He had tried to lead climb the thing, but it was too difficult a start. With a top rope, he made it up, however. I made it past the start. It was a difficult start, and I did the first-ever layback type move of my life. It wasn't a complete layback, but enough to make me think that I can, one day, do a layback. (I need more upper body strength, straight up.) So, I got six feet off the ground and told him I had nothing. He sorta laughed and said, "Yeah, I just wanted you to get that far." We moved over a route, and Bro played on the rock for a bit, but he was pretty spent. I went up as well, but I was spent, too. So we called it a day around 3.
As a side note, you've seen the rants about bicycle helmets. Imagine how much more annoyed I am when I see people climbing without helmets. Really? Are you shitting me? This couple is climbing a 5.11 or 5.11b WITHOUT HELMETS. Yeah, dude is good. Dude can climb a 5.11. But even dude falls off the rock while working out the problem, that's how you work out a problem. Imagine, however, what would happen if one time when he falls off the rock he smacks his head. Or what happens to his belay partner when he knocks a stone loose and it comes crashing down on her head. What happens when he's "walking" to the top to set an anchor and falls off. Oh, yeah -- this is what happens: YOU DIE! I read a post on Facebook not a month ago from a friend who was climbing with the Mazamas when a (non-Mazama) family had an accident on the rock and they ended up dead. This was at a very popular climbing spot -- I've been there 3-4 (5?) times myself. They were walking up to set an anchor, and this is an actual walk to the top, (they think -- investigations were still pending when I read the report) and fell. Or maybe the anchor failed. Regardless, they didn't have helmets on. There's not much you can do without a helmet. Why is death so cool? It's not. Bro's sticker on the top of his helmet reads: Contents Empty, Do Not Remove. Mine is a giant target, you know: hit me right here, I dare you. Helmets can be fun.
My same climber leader always said that if you see someone doing something stupid (like glissading with crampons on), tell them to stop doing then and get out of there so you don't have to help with the rescue.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
It Was Nothing
I meant to post this last week, I just didn't.
I did 5 miles last Wednesday. Just, you know, get home from work and run 5 miles. The end of the loop I ran was the beginning of the loops I was running back when I started this project 8 weeks ago. I couldn't help but be amazed by how far I've come. Eight weeks ago, I couldn't run 2 miles; Wednesday I ran 5. Nice.
I did 5 miles last Wednesday. Just, you know, get home from work and run 5 miles. The end of the loop I ran was the beginning of the loops I was running back when I started this project 8 weeks ago. I couldn't help but be amazed by how far I've come. Eight weeks ago, I couldn't run 2 miles; Wednesday I ran 5. Nice.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Is That What I Think It Is?
On my last day of Spring Break (it was really my Easter Vacation day, but whatever), I decided to get some lunch. I had seen the Bar & Grill for awhile, but hadn't been by. But it looked like a decent-enough place, clean, plastic lines. You know, a Bar in a Box.
So I paid my taxes and spent money I didn't have on lunch. I ordered a burger and a Coke, took out my grading, and got to work. The burger came. I noticed the anaemic bun and the lack of mayo (grr!), but I was hungry so I started eating.
Wait a minute... does this burger taste like... a burger?
I opened up the lid to take a closer look at the patty. Check this out.
Yes, those are irregular edges you see on that patty. Do you know what irregular edges mean? It means someone's hands touched the burger. I know this connection between people and our food is supposed to gross us out. People do bad things, right? But the thing is, food tastes a whole lot worse (and carries just as much nasty buggies) when it only touches machines. We are far too disconnected from our food.
This burger was a hand-formed patty! No wonder it tasted like a burger and not a warm piece of cardboard. Mayo or no mayo, this is the best burger I've had since I left Durham. (Wimpy's Grill -- I've said it before and I'll say it again. Nothing beats a burger made from freshly ground beef. Nothing. Floofy buns or no floofy buns.) Sure, the man forgot the mayo. But he kept on foisting Coke on me (I do love my soda, too, especially while grading), didn't call me pet names, and wasn't overwhelmingly chipper and annoying. The fries were good, too. They weren't anything special, but they were hot, crispy, and lightly coated with a not-too-annoying seasoning.
This is how good the burger was.
And, they are a BAR & Grill, which means they shouldn't close at annoying times on me, like at 3pm on a Sunday. Yay bars!
So I paid my taxes and spent money I didn't have on lunch. I ordered a burger and a Coke, took out my grading, and got to work. The burger came. I noticed the anaemic bun and the lack of mayo (grr!), but I was hungry so I started eating.
Wait a minute... does this burger taste like... a burger?
I opened up the lid to take a closer look at the patty. Check this out.
Yes, those are irregular edges you see on that patty. Do you know what irregular edges mean? It means someone's hands touched the burger. I know this connection between people and our food is supposed to gross us out. People do bad things, right? But the thing is, food tastes a whole lot worse (and carries just as much nasty buggies) when it only touches machines. We are far too disconnected from our food.
This burger was a hand-formed patty! No wonder it tasted like a burger and not a warm piece of cardboard. Mayo or no mayo, this is the best burger I've had since I left Durham. (Wimpy's Grill -- I've said it before and I'll say it again. Nothing beats a burger made from freshly ground beef. Nothing. Floofy buns or no floofy buns.) Sure, the man forgot the mayo. But he kept on foisting Coke on me (I do love my soda, too, especially while grading), didn't call me pet names, and wasn't overwhelmingly chipper and annoying. The fries were good, too. They weren't anything special, but they were hot, crispy, and lightly coated with a not-too-annoying seasoning.
This is how good the burger was.
And, they are a BAR & Grill, which means they shouldn't close at annoying times on me, like at 3pm on a Sunday. Yay bars!
Some Days Really Are Better Than Others
Some thugs were driving around town this morning, threatening our students. Some epithets were tossed out, a weapon or two was brandished, shots were fired. Fortunately, no one was injured. We were on alert all morning, however, as the police did their thing, and we will have heightened police presence around the school this week. I noticed over the weekend that I heard a lot more helicopters and saw far more cop cars than I usually do. I don't know if something is going on around here (big drug score or something?), but it's not too fun. Here's hoping it stays to a dull roar while Ma and Pa are in town next weekend.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Some Days Are Better Than Others
I went for a run today. I *finally* managed to find the elusive Fort Ord Dunes State Park. Heaven forbid you take 2nd to 8th over the overpass. No you take 2nd past 8th to something else with a teeny sign saying "Fort Ord Dunes State Park" right. Then you turn right again, then left, then right, THEN left across the overpass to the parking lot. What. Ever.
Anyway, I started running and I was just not feeling it. I don't know. Maybe it was some combination of heat (it was very warm today), low-level dehydration, not enough calories (I got a later start than I had intended due to all the driving around), built-up tiredness, and the 2/3 into the program blas. Whatever it was, although nothing felt horrible in isolation (my lungs weren't burning, no blisters, knees fine), I was just not there mentally. Well, my conscious mind said, "Keep going," but my body and my subconscious were saying, "Oh, just walk already." My body finally won out. I did walk, not stroll. And that means I did get some exercise and distance, but not what I should have done. Oh well. I am only me, after all. I never was/never will be a world-class runner. Hell, I'll never be anyone who is a contender in any race.
However, I did actually pay my money for the race this evening, so there's not going back. I am registered to run on May 17th. eep.
Anyway, I started running and I was just not feeling it. I don't know. Maybe it was some combination of heat (it was very warm today), low-level dehydration, not enough calories (I got a later start than I had intended due to all the driving around), built-up tiredness, and the 2/3 into the program blas. Whatever it was, although nothing felt horrible in isolation (my lungs weren't burning, no blisters, knees fine), I was just not there mentally. Well, my conscious mind said, "Keep going," but my body and my subconscious were saying, "Oh, just walk already." My body finally won out. I did walk, not stroll. And that means I did get some exercise and distance, but not what I should have done. Oh well. I am only me, after all. I never was/never will be a world-class runner. Hell, I'll never be anyone who is a contender in any race.
However, I did actually pay my money for the race this evening, so there's not going back. I am registered to run on May 17th. eep.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Walk On
Yesterday: 4.5 miles.
Today: crazy, intense gym teacher tells me that I'm looking much thinner.
Today: crazy, intense gym teacher tells me that I'm looking much thinner.
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