The Well-Informed Beagle

In the morning I turn on the Weather Channel as I eat my breakfast and check my email. Then I switch over to CNN after I get the chance to see the animated “Local on the 8’s” update with the bad musak and the ro.bo.tic.voice.tell.ing.me.a.bout.the.temp.er.a.ture that will let me know what to wear that day.

After a few minutes of CNN, I hook the leash on Griffen and we head out for a run. I haven’t been talking about my running goal lately, though I used to keep you all updated with my progress every month. I started 2008 with 1801 miles on my pedometer, and I want it to read 3000 miles by the end of the year—I would have to run roughly 100 miles per month. I used to update you all every month with my progress, and even pictures of my pedometer. But then life got busy. I moved house. I unpacked the boxes. I found places to put things, then moved things to other places only to forget where I moved them and I still head for the drawer to the left of the stove for a spoon instead of the one to the right of the dishwasher, which is where they now live.

The second week of April, after not running for about 2 weeks, I set out to get myself back on track with my running and my goal. (Kinda. There was a bout of laziness and a trip to California that got in the way.) The first thing I needed to do was to find somewhere to run. The street we live on now is a busy street. It is pin straight, and people (myself included) speed on it all the time. It’s so easy to look down and discover that you are driving more than 60 mph without feeling like you are diving that fast. (In fact just yesterday a state trooper blew right by me as I walked out to the mailbox, he was easily doing 70.) Because our street is so busy, I was nervous about running with Griffen on our street.

There is a satellite URI campus just a few miles down the street that Todd and I drove through when we first moved here. It’s a beautiful setting with a working farm, lakes that perfectly reflect the trees on shore, and a conference center in the very back of the campus. In other words, heaven. We stopped in at the conference center and asked if jogging was permitted on the campus. The woman manning the desk said “Yes, we encourage joggers to use the facility, here’s a trail map.” I was excited to find a 4 mile route that was not only safely off the road, but in such a beautiful setting.

After jogging there every day for two weeks, and racking up an impressive 40 some-odd miles, I was stopped by the director of the campus and told that I am not permitted to jog on this campus. It would seem that they hold children’s programs there in the summer and need to keep the (tax paying) riff-raff off campus.

“Well, then I suggest you tell the folks in the conference center to stop handing out trail maps and ‘encouraging’ joggers to use the campus,” I replied, trying very hard not to sound like a smart ass, but sometimes (well, most of the time) I just cannot help it.

I mean, I understand the precautions that the staff needs to take in keeping the children on campus safe. It annoys me that I am prohibited from jogging on a state university campus during the early morning or evening hours when the children are not there. (It’s been about a month since I was banned from campus, and I am still a bit irritated with the situation. I will get over it soon. Maybe. I make no guarantees.)

I’ve since fooled around with Google Pedometer, which is the best invention for road runners looking for new places to go, and set up a new route and have taken to running on my street—which really is not as bad as it first seemed, and am now back to doing 4-5 miles per day. (Not running all the way, yet. But I am working on it. What can I say, there are lots of hills. Big ones that make me very tired.)

Today I’ve hit 2190 miles on the pedometer. By Friday I expect to cross into the 2200’s. That means that since the start of the year I’ve gone nearly 400 miles and am somehow still 100 miles shy of my goal to date. (That’s what happens when you take most of April and May off, after running your ass off January-March.)

There are two side effects to all the running. The first is my jeans are falling off of me. Literally. I can take my jeans off without unbuttoning them now. I’ve lost about 12-15 pounds, depending on the day. Before we left for San Diego I hit up the local consignment stores in town and bought 3 new pairs of jeans, and one of them is already falling off of me. I am in that awkward place between two sizes and the larger of the two is what falls off of me, but the smaller of the two is uncomfortable to wear. That’s what happens when the hips are about a mile larger than the waist—my jeans sag, and dresses cling to my ass while hanging shapelessly over my chest.

The second side effect is that Nemo, the dog I normally leave behind when I go jogging, would be able to display an encyclopedic knowledge of current events if he could talk. I leave CNN on while Griffen and I are out, so he has some noise to distract him from the injustice of being left home alone. As I am implanting my ear buds into my ears to drown out the mournful beagle howl that equates being left home alone to being skinned alive with a butter knife, he eventually flops back onto his dog bed and watches “American Morning” while Griffen and I rack up the miles.

If he could vote, I wonder who he’d vote for in November.

Can A Rash Spread and Get Better at the Same Time?

The creeping crud I picked up from the hot tub is getting better. But it’s spreading too. How is that possible. You'd think that when it's getting better it won't spread, right? It's now on the backs of my thighs, and I've seen a few more spots on my arms. It hurts a lot less, and I can wear jeans again without pain. On Sunday night I was completely horrified with myself because I wore sweatpants into the Chinese restaurant for dinner. I don’t like to go out in sweatpants, unless I am to or from the gym.

It looks like I have a million zits on my body. Because it’s so widely spread all over my body I’ve already used up one of the tiny tubes of ointment as of Monday night, and am now raiding Todd’s tube. Todd doesn’t have it as badly as I do; he has a dozen or so spots, where mine number into the thousands. I bought the ointment on Sunday and now need more. For some reason the pharmacy won’t let me refill the prescription because it’s too soon.

We have since drained the hot tub, re filled it, ran jet cleaner in it—which involved running it for 15 minutes, then letting it sit stagnant for an hour and running it again. The first time the jet cleaner was run the cleaner got so foamy it began to bubble out from under the cover and down the sides of the tub a la an I Love Lucy episode where Lucy puts too much detergent in the washer and ends up with a house full of suds. After the jet cleaner finished we had to drain the tub again, hose it down, and then refill it again.

Today the guy from the hot tub store is coming to check it out. I keep cracking up at the concept of having a “pool boy” at our house and what might or might not happen in the cabana. But then Todd reminds me that we don’t have a cabana. Not that the pool boy would come near me anyway, see above “creeping crud,” a “million zits.”

:::

I need to get back into running. I ended up about 10 miles shy of my March running goal. With the move I haven’t run all week. Now that I have this rash I am afraid to run and chafe the sores with a sports bra or sweat on them. The days are going by and my mileage goal for the month is starting to become a joke. The moment this stupid rash is gone, I am getting back into my routine. Up the street from my house is a University of RI remote campus that is insanely beautiful. I will plot out a running route through there when I am ready to get back into it again.

My Body, Circa 2008

I was reading my pal Gypsy’s blog today, and in this entry she asks the Universe for her body circa 1994. So it got me thinking of what my body was like back in 1994.

In 1994 I was 20 and was in college. I played field hockey in the fall and ran track in the spring. I was too busy to eat junk--with all the practices, classes, my radio show, and hanging out with my friends. I ran 3-4 miles per day, at least, and I trained in the gym almost every day so I could jump higher, run the hurdles faster, and throw my shot puts and discus further. My stomach was flat; my legs were toned to the point where you could see the definition of every single muscle when I was just standing around.

Since then I’ve gained pounds and lost pounds, but I still—for the most part—have been a runner. I am proud of the miles I rack up, but I still don’t have the see-every-muscle-toned-legs that I had back then. I suspect it might have something to do with the fact that I eat way more ice cream now than I did back then.

Today I walked 6 miles with a dog that belongs to some very dear friends of ours. While we were walking I thought about my body circa 1994. Back then I didn’t pay attention to how flat my belly was. I didn’t pay attention to how toned my legs were. Those were all just parts of my body that helped me compete better. I didn't obsess about the loss of muscle tone on my thighs as I do now.

The other night I was cleaning out the closet, in preparation to move, and found a belt I used to wear back then. I used to wear it on the tightest notch, and it was loose on me then at the tightest notch. I tried it on again, the other night, and was happy to see that I could latch it on the tightest notch, but it wasn’t as loose as it was in 1994. I ended up throwing the belt into the bag of stuff we’re donating to the Salvation Army, and cast it off with a “Quit livin in the past, man,” kind of flourish.

You all know I’ve been running/walking my ass off these last few months, literally, trying to reach my goal of 3,000 miles on the pedometer. This week I am trying to squeeze in 57 miles, because I was out of commission last week from my Life of Plague and Pestilence death-warmed-over-nauseafest-2008. I am proud to say that it’s Wednesday night and I’ve already put down 34 miles. Go me!

Since I started this 3,000 mile project I’ve lost about 10-13 pounds, though about half of that loss is due to not eating all last week (see above, Plague and Pestilence.) I am proud to say that my belly is flat, but I still don’t have the see-every-muscle toned legs I had then—but they're almost there.

It would be nice to end this post with something like “Here comes my body, circa 1994.” But you know what? My body, circa 2008 has travelled. It's since learned to sail, learned to dive, now wraps its arms around a husband and feels the slight weight of a wedding ring on its finger. My body, circa 2008, has since been skinny dipping, and has broken its toe. My body, circa 2008, has since witnessed the death of its mother and still feels its throat close up when the body's brain thinks about it.

Maybe I didn't appreciate my body, circa 1994, as much as I should have. But I sure as hell appreciate my body, circa 2008, and all it's done a whole lot more.

And Then Lance Armstrong Congratulated Me

My birthday was on Tuesday, and of course Todd spoiled me absolutely rotten. I've been needing some new running shoes, and he got me a sizeable gift certificate to The Sports Authority. But then he also bought me something really really cool. Have you guys heard of the Nike+ system? It's a transmitter that you place inside your shoe, and it tracks your workout--distance, pace, etc. and transmits that to an iPod. Then as you're working out you can see on the iPod screen all your pedometer data, and every so often it will tell you either how far you've gone, or how long you've been at it.

I have an iPod Shuffle and the Nike+ only works with the iPod Nano. I said to Todd that I can't use this thing because I don't have the right iPod. He said "Yes you do. I ordered one, it just hasn't come yet." So, the night of my birthday I also got a brand new, green and shiny iPod Nano.

This morning I took the Nike+ and iPod to the gym for a spin on the treadmills. (Man, I had forgotten what great running music Metallica is. "Enter night.... Exit light....") I ran for 46 minutes, and then the little Nike+ voice told me that my workout was done. Then Lance Armstrong got on to congratulate me on my longest workout yet. Lance Fricken Armstrong. How cool is that?

:::

This morning as I was rocking out to Metallica, listening to the voice tell me every 5 minutes how much time I've been running, and hoping that I won't disappoint Mr. Armstrong I was watching CNN on the treadmill's TV. I was reading the closed captions, and chuckling to myself at the weird mistakes that closed captioning makes sometimes when it's trying to keep up with the news anchors talking. This morning during a segment on the Presidential Primaries the captions told me that predictions for the nation's economy were dependent on "Q4 tea leaves readings." So, that's how they decide when to lower or raise the interest rates! Reading tea leaves! Brilliant!

2010 Miles

I mentioned last month that my goal this year is to get my pedometer to read 3,000 by the end of 2008. On January 1 I started with 1,801 on my pedometer.

On Feb 1, this is what is read:


Today, on March 1, it reads:

Since Todd bought me this pedometer for my birthday I have run the distance between Providence to Minneapolis and BACK to Providence again.

Only 990 miles to go before the end of the year.

1901!

One of my exercise goals this year is to get my pedometer to read 3,000 by the end of the year. I started out 2008 with 1,801 miles, and figured out that over the course of 12 months I will have to walk/jog 1,200 miles to hit my goal, or 100 miles per month.

My goal for January was to hit 1,901 miles by the end of this month. Tonight when I arrived at the gym I was just six miles shy of my goal. I set the treadmill for an hour-long workout while Todd was off getting tortured by his trainer. In that hour I managed to put on 5.62 miles, just .38 shy of my goal. Todd decided he wanted to walk on the treadmill for a bit after his torture, um, training session. So I managed to put on the last .38 to get to 1901.

Behold the mighty pedometer. This is the thing that makes me want to run, so I can rack up the miles and hit my goal:
When Todd and I were on the treadmills at the end of the night, we were watching the little TV screens on our respective treadmills. When he wasn't looking I reached over and changed his TV to the Spanish channel.

He looked back up at the TV and said "What the hell is going on here? Why is it on the Spanish channel?" He turned it back to what he was watching. Then when he turned to look at the clock, I reached over and changed it again.

He looked at the Spanish captions and said again "What is going on with this thing? Why does it keep switching to the Spanish channel?"

I switched it again and he said "OK, I think we need to trade machines, this thing is driving me crazy." I did it one or two more times before I couldn't stand it anymore and started cracking up and he realized I was messing with his TV.

Then I finished my workout, and went to get the a bottle of disinfectant and paper towels. I casually reached over and switched his TV back to the Spanish channel again just before I stepped off my machine.

When I got back to his treadmill he was laughing and said "OK, that was not cool."