Surreal Saturday

The following conversation was captured in a video conference room by corporate security, the two dolts suspects having inadvertently turned on the equipment when entering the room. The tape has been handed over to the proper authorities (PETA) so that both idiots suspects can look forward to long winded monologues from Dennis Rodman and Alicia Silverstone. Facial recognition software identified the two as Bill, a nefarious figure of ill repute and either the most recent winner on Jeopardy or MrGriffith another dark, shadowy miscreant.

MrGriffith: V8?

Bill: A vegetable drink MarathonMan used to lose weight. He hates vegetables and is always asking me to partake in his madness. I’ll try anything once (generally, suicide and death cults are out right off the bat) which lead to mucho trouble in the 70s, 80s, 90s, etc. The drink is gawd awful no matter how much Tabasco you dump in it.

MrGriffith: I know what it is... but a craving for it seems... well... the words "inhuman" and "psychotic" come to mind. The only way I ever got to enjoy V8 was to pour half a can into a glass, pour any other drink into another glass, drink the other drink, and then dump out the V8. The second half, still in the can, was emptied onto a potted plant that had angered me.

Bill: I figured you knew what it was – I was trying to provide context and the craving passed. Now I have a fridge with six or so cans of the vile stuff in it – want some? ::innocent look::

MrGriffith: As I have already defeated all my plant enemies, no. I don't need any. Thanks, though.

::pauses for thought::

Another good way to get rid of 5 cans of V8 is to pour them into the sink at work. Makes people wonder.

Bill: I’d rather douse my hands in the stuff and mutter, “Not again!” in the lunch line while looking peeved.

MrGriffith: Nice. A long trail of it leading from the trunk of someone's car, through the parking lot, and into a sewer grate might be fun, too.

Bill: FOCUS! ::shakes MrGriffith:: we have six cans – surely you don’t want to purchase MORE! We should frame someone other than my wife since there would be repercussions I don’t wish to consider on a Friday!

MrGriffith: Sorry... Sorry... ::walks back and forth aimlessly, hands clenching and loosening::. It's just... Well... Since the summer I worked at the vegan hostel, the smell of that stuff just...

::snaps fingers:: I know! We can dump it all in Lake Fred! They'll blame the foxes! And everyone hates the geese anyway.

If only we had some suet...

[END TRANSCRIPT]

I met MrGriffith yesterday on my way to get coffee with my wife. My wife knows him, he's a blogger and we exchange URLs with the traditional, "You don't have to read it..." and underlying "you had better read every gosh-darned word!" handshake.

I haven't read his blog yet but I will do so this weekend. I doubt it's an exercise blog which mine sort of is but I don't have a clue. I know MrGriffith has an enticing name for his ramblings, TinkerX. I find the 'X' intriguing and cling to the faint hope its a naughty exercise blog about Tinkerbell.

Given how quickly MrGriffith was able go go surreal with me in the above, verbatim email exchange, I'm going to have to keep my eye on that boy. Already I'm trying to figure out how to get him into the gym, I may have to consult with the furtive Friday Fun Run cabal.

Today was my favorite workout day (though I also seem to enjoy Tempo Tuesday). I decided to listen to Homer's The Iliad since I forgot to put Hamlet on the stupid iPod, silly rabbit that I am. That was fairly entertaining, but when is bickering not entertaining? I never got to the slaughter, maybe next time. Those insults are impressive. I'll try them on my thighs:

Thighs of evil, you never yet prophesied smooth things concerning me, but have ever loved to foretell that which was evil. You have brought me neither comfort nor performance; and now you come complaining, saying that Lactic has plagued me because I would not breath properly...

I went to the gym twice today. The second to walk my wife through some of it, she was shy about it. I hope I helped. I pretty much hung out watching her work on the elliptical and treadmill and did three reps of curls (15lbs x 15). I used wickedWoman's spreadsheet for her HR and kept her in zone three. Whenever I'd come over to talk to her her HR would shoot up to zone four, that and spiking blood pressure are my effects on her. We played some ping-pong and I went down in ignominious defeat, I think she had fun.

She did twenty on the elliptical and ten on the treadmill. I'm proud of her - I hope she sleeps well tonight!

Gabbed enough huh? I hope your weekend is a pleasant as mine currently is.

Darkness Rising

The first sign of trouble occurred when I was in the locker room. A flicker of light and then some distant machine spinning up. I wonder how many peoples morning over at the big house were just ruined or if the emergency backup system cut over in time.

I'm mildly indifferent, it's workout time. Though I hope MarathonMan got a night off, sheesh!

I walk out of the lockers with IronMan and we stare down the hallway into... darkness.

I can hear the whir of AT Everest's elliptical. Oddly the TVs are on providing ambiance. As we enter the room I see AT Everest (how does she do that day after day?), ponyTail, and two others that might need names all on various machines. Their faces illuminated by the control panels like tiny campfires.

They look over at me, ghostly apparitions. Hardcore. People who smirk at this implicit wrath of God.

I hop on my elliptical for my seven and begin considering the placement of the scented candles, perhaps a breakfast bar, I'm certain the cafeteria would have no problem bringing over something. I have my little moleskine with me - I'll take orders. I wonder if the Sirius radio has some Barry White 24/7...

The lights are slowly coming back on. awesomeGirl comes in questioning why it's so dark to which I reply, "We like it that way!" She joins IronMan on a stair climber, IronMan has his set to level 205 or something.

We bang on for a bit when suddenly WHACK the power goes out again but only briefly, this was enough of an interruption to cause the satellite TVs to reboot. The stair climbers and treadmills begin working again.

I'm off my elliptical and suggesting that maybe we're all pushing it a bit here, that the Lord is suggesting we go to Bob Evens today. My helpful suggestion is ignored and workouts continue.

WHACK

The stream of profanity that issued from awesomeGirl's mouth peeled paint right off the walls. OK, OK, I am embellishing, but I think it's fair to say that awesomeGirl was NOT pleased with this latest interruption to her stair climber ordeal.

I go to a drinking fountain to refill my water bottle. As I head back I hear the soft clink of weights and the hum of the machines. It brings a smile to my face, yeah, I'm hooked, go figure.

I'm not into it today but I'm determined to get through it. goodMood assures me that you have days like that. This is reflected in my heart chart - I just couldn't get my HR up today, did the RackRuns! take it out of me?

The lights flick on and normal Friday activity resumes.

I see IronMan demonstrating by example some new horror, he's strapped himself into the Rack of Abdominal Despair. This device, fresh from 'ze camps' has you put your elbows into these straps and then hoist your legs up (bent) as high as you can, without swinging! IronMan was adamant about that. THERE IS NO SWINGING ON THE RACK OF ABDOMINAL DESPAIR GOSH DARN-IT!!!

Naturally I have to try it. I manage to hoist my legs up to near ninety degrees with my abs calling out a bit of discomfort and then had to repeat because swinging was detected. OK, no swinging, hoist legs up, got it. I resume the dreaded dumbbell lunges.

IronMan ups the ante by putting an eight pound medicine ball on the floor, picking it up between his feet and hoisting his legs up.

Naturally I have to try it. I manage to hoist my legs up to near ninety degrees with my abs screaming out, "HEY! Half-wit did you forget about ABS class yesterday?! HUH?!"

ponyTail and Kojak do it too.

I plop down next to awesomeGirl on an open recombinant and ask what she made of the ABS class, she shudders at the recollection of the Planks of Eternal Torment but overall thought the class was doable. I forgot to ask if she'll be back, I guess I'll find out on Tuesday.

Tuesday/Thursday have grown into additional exercises for me without me even noticing. Now I'm doing ABS and RackRuns! and even looking forward to it, well sorta :-)

One final thing. According to the poll I took last week, three out of five people think I'll be able to reach my inner Adonis before it kills me. I like those odds!

Have a fantastic weekend!

Wicked Women

I'm gabbing with my family at dinner last night, talking about my nemesis the stair climber. This after an innocent question from my son causing me to get my self destructive hackles up. My son is looking alarmed and my wife sort of resigned...

"Are you saying I can't do it?"

"You've only gone seven minutes!" implores my son silently adding 'YOU FOOL!' to the end of the sentence.

On my way into the gym I consult my final check and balance, IronMan.

"Do you think I should do it?"

"Of course!"

Now IronMan doesn't have a clue as to what 'it' is, but his reply is workout logic pure. Of course I should do it, I should try to go a little further, try new things, even if they turn out to be sucky.

I suspect the 'suck' factor will be high on this one.

I clamber on the stair climber, plugging in 25 minutes of intervals, level two, select Southern Rock Opera for some gosh darned reason, I think it would help me imagine I was on the wrong end of Pickett's Charge and go. As the machine starts working its magic! I reflect on an email from notFestus:

p.s. intervals on the stair climber are much easier than just the steady pace….really! Just punch in intervals and level and off you go!

As you can see from my heart chart as far as 'intervals' my heart pretty much ignored the cool down phase. I have control issues on just about anything, ask my wife. I'll have to consult some Zen master on getting a grip on my insolent heart.

After the first interval I'm bored with level two and ramp the thing up to level six. Sweet, sweet sweat begins to flow. I listen to Southern wisdom coming out of my ear-buds, in two weeks I'll be in NC battling the forces of EVIL, the monstrous DOOK and I'm using this album to get into the flow of it. The deep south has its own rhythm.

I'm lording over the gym, Top of the World Ma! and I'm realizing notFestus is right or I'm not doing it right, but I'm not dying on this thing like I was the upright to nowhere on Tuesday. I rapidly modify some Monkey's tune, "Take the upright to nowhere and I'll meet you at the station..." Chuckling at my wit, yes my name is Bill Wit. Sheesh, this machine must be effecting me more than I thought!

MarathonMan comes stumbling in and heads towards a treadmill. I pop out an ear bud curious about why he looks so exhausted before the workout.

"Did operations give you your morning wake up call telling you to come into the gym?"

He processes the question and tiredly replies, "They called last night and I've been here since."

Ouch.

Kojak cuts across my field of vision on his way to an upright and I pop out my other ear-bud, "You're out of detox earlier than I thought!" I know he's been to Mardi Gras. He smiles and mumbles something back looking like he could use another day with the IV.

I plod on when suddenly IronMan is in front of me looking like an irate elf from my lofty perch, "How much longer?!" I tell him about ten minutes and he wanders back, both he and goodMood have already gotten themselves all worked up and are starting RackRuns!.

I finish up and continue for a bit on cool down. I wish I had gone for thirty but now I have an understanding of the experience, it can be done. I head for the racks.

IronMan explains the hellish exercise to me delighting in his wife's wicked ways. There's some debate over who actually devised it, in email from JRock she points an accusing finger at notFestus going so far as to call her, well heck you read it:

And just an FYI - that "modified" rack run I was telling goodMood and Ironman about - was one that notFestus introduced to our regimen a few months ago.
She = wicked woman. SMILE!

I see she's clouding the issue wanting to deflect the blame when my aggrieved shoulders work up the will to consult AllyMcBeal and the lawsuits start flying. She's also inadvertently given me a new name for notFestus. You see notFestus might end up bearing two names just to keep my gentle readers on their toes. When she's gimping around having hurt herself (something that happens with some frequency I hear) she'll be notFestus, but when she's at the height of her demonic powers and not distracted a bum knee, ankle or what not she shall bear the moniker wickedWoman. She's been noticeably limp free of late :-)

So you start the run doing what Bubbles told me was a 'Military Press' on the way up. IronMan also wants me to go higher in weight, I think I went to 15 pounds, they were laid out to 25 I think. Anyway on the way down you modify the military press going up and turning the weight perpendicular and bringing your hands together over your head. This is quite motivational, as my exhaustion grew I spent a lot of time making sure I didn't drop a dumbbell on my head.

Going up the run wasn't much problem, going down... owwwie! Those things killed my shoulders! IronMan and goodMood were threatening to tie a big pink bow on my head if I didn't do a second run. Well pink would clash with my shiny bald head, plus I might look like a dork so I did another one. Oh My Gosh my shoulders were complaining big time, finally falling silent when I was struggling to get the three pounders over my head, implying by their silence of serious payback later.

While this is going on IronMan is bragging about his wife, it's obvious he totally adores her. This kind of talk has goodMood splayed on some flexibility ball trying to hold some dumbbells in front of him and to the side like JRock can. Then both of them start another RackRun! taking the weights and holding them out to their sides, I'm practicing my invisibility skills.

I did one rack run of biceps and was done ('hammers' you hold the dumbbell like a hammer and curl it). goodMood and I clean up the dumbbells and I see awesomeGirl in part of her routine. I ask if she's destroyed her thighs yet and she tells me that's next. She tries to talk me into doing some more time on any machine since its ten minutes till ABS.

Another wicked woman! awesomeGirl knows if I continue to listen I'll succumb and do something further to exhaust myself before ABS. I get out of her field of vision sitting on a chair in the lobby.

Bubbles comes out of the locker room looking all pink in her sweats. We gab about this and that and she's showing me steps on a coordination ladder or whatever you call a rope ladder on the floor. I should have tried a few but didn't.

Time for ABS and it was tireTosser, Kojak, me and awesomeGirl. awesomeGirl shyly asking if she can partake of the misery. PLEASE DO! Bubbles was in a good mood (when is she not?) and lead us through various nightmares but I was holding my own fairly well, it's weird when my abs give out, they give out! I learned that for one type of crunches on the flexibility ball I needed to get more of my back on the ball, to trust the ball (AS IF! I have first hand experience on their trechery) but if I don't it just kills my lower back.

Deciding not to be left out of the 'wicked women' club Bubbles introduces these planks of eternal torment at the end of ABS. They are unspeakable!

MarathonMan shows up asking Bubbles for a ruling, "Do Zingers at 3AM 'count'?" Bubbles thinks on it before ruling that in this case and the fact that he just spent 40 minutes on the treadmill in atonement they do not count. MathonMan leaves with a hop in his step.

I received one 'correction' in my mailbox today from JRock:

I'm on the phone to IronMan now - I DO NOT do 20lbs. on the "Prone Shoulder Press" (laying down on the bench - you all did it on the ball?) - I only use "8's"

Anyone buy that? Me either.

Have a great day!

Wednesday Blackout

Ever wake up with blood all over your hands and no recollection of how it got there? Yeah? Me too. I'm still suffering from the side effects of yesterday's bike/bicep/abs extravaganza. Neurons that disconnected in horror during the ordeal have yet to realize that the coast is clear and it's OK to come back. REALLY!

I promise not to do it again until next time.

The day did not start off well, I forgot my heart rate monitor strap! I empty my gym bag out and nada. I consult my mental Magic Eight Ball, "What would Bubbles do?" Oh yeah, she'd laugh in my face and tell me to quit stalling. It was bound to happen sooner or later but still - it irritates me when it finally happens. So all I have is a fist full of affidavits from Diablo, ponyTail, IronMan, awesomeGirl and goodMood swearing I was there along with this lame metric chart from the Garmin.

bitter sigh

I'm running around on my total body thingy still avoiding the stair climber, but that upcoming nightmare is now planted in the back of my mind and there will have to be a showdown. It's time to saddle up soldier and join General Custer for a seven minute last stand.

There seemed to be a lot of Bubbles related suffering today, ponyTail on a recombinant, awesomeGirl on the treadmill neither looking happy about it. I plop down next to ponyTail on another recombinant and ask how's it going? She mutters, "Twenty minutes to go. I seem to be having trouble getting my heart rate up to where 'she' wants it."

I relate that I have similar difficulty on a recombinant. ponyTail thinks it's because it's too easy for her to back off on the machine. She might have a point. For me it's ramping up to the target zone, once I get there I can usually hold it.

Meanwhile IronMan is telling goodMood about the next RackRun! scheduled for Thursday. I won't name names ::cough::JRock::cough:: but a certain someone has modified the routine. Oh boy! He prepares by whipping a manhole cover around like it was a medicine ball.

Diablo is headed to spring training down in Florida for a few days and a substitute trainer will be about. I wonder if I'll meet her and if she'll end up 'tagged'. He also says the Gym 411 membership thing went well with I believe seven new members, plus a few renewals, signed up in two hours and fifteen minutes. Not bad! He's considering getting more face time over at the big house, maybe in August.

OH! OH! Check this out. Yesterday my blog entry was late because I got sucked into some four hour meeting that turned into a blue bar day (manager speak for being booked in meetings, I'm totally blue barred, blah blah blah) so I had to commit a Fat Tuesday Cardinal Sin and do some work from home in the evening sigh it always starts small doesn't it? Anyhoo I had promised my son the night before that we'd do a little workout. Wrestling season is over and I want him to be a little active.

Sitting in a big cushy chair, I'm cranky because I pushed it and now I have to do at least a little work. I spend time on the computer getting things set up for today etc. shut it down and head into the the bedroom. It's 9PM near my bedtime - awesome party monster that I am. My son is sitting on the couch reading a Discover magazine not saying a word.

I change into my jammies (sweats) and start packing the gym bag for today. I get most of it packed (forgetting the HR strap) when I remember my promise. I head back into the living room and say, "You ready?"

My son beams! He's still in jeans and whatnot but, oh yeah, he's ready teddy!

We start with push-ups and then trade various calisthenics. He's showing me some calisthenics that I just know I can't do - SpiderMan level. We try a few 'dead cockroaches' AKA Bubbles 'dead bugs' and what not - I can hang on some, others - nope. What fun! We're going to do it again tonight.

Totally worth a forgotten HR strap - have a great day!!!

Bubbles by Any Other Name...

I hope you found time to talk with the trainers yesterday. I hope they had a good turnout. My wife signed up after receiving promises, in writing, that I would have nothing to do with her training. She reads my blog you see, cuz I make her.

I'm jawing a bit with my trainer working through some test about what I'd like to see at the gym. Those are tough when you're happy, I'm good but I try to provide some feedback. I'm telling her that I'm considering doing this ten minute STRETCH course, I don't mention my motivation, my sad weepy tale of the bike bottle cage and my inability to reach it.

My trainer glances at some clock, "It's about to start."

"Do you get sweaty?" You wouldn't want to be in a meeting with me if I've been sweaty.

"No, I sink you should go."

OK she didn't say it with a heavy German accent but she wanted to and it was totally implied anyway.

I go figuring a few folk will show up, stretch for ten minutes and then wander off.

Nope. This stretch thing is the cool down for something called Strength & Tone. This course, led by Diablo, is packed full of serious athletes, all of them female. This explains last Friday. It's well documented that prolonged exposure to this much concentrated estrogen would gender confuse any male.

The girls are telling me, in a manner that suspiciously resembles the Fun Run coaxing, that I simply must do this thing called ZUMBA. They're saying, "You may want to rename theLibrarian after you take that course!" I'm thinking of renaming theLibrarian anyway - the name doesn't 'work' for her. I told them OK but after I sprinted back to my desk I googled it and discovered ZUMBA is Aztec for "Dance Till You Puke in Joy!" A mouthful, but accurate - google it yourself if you don't believe me.

Go on!

Sucker :-)

Anyway, so what? I want to experience as much as I can, ya know? I'll try Zumba and this Strength & Tone thing but schedules must be observed. I'm not sure I can fold it into the routine. I do this stretch thing and I feel better that Diablo didn't call out the crotch ripper or anything that would have blown the back end of my jeans out. I'm certain quite a few folk are appreciative of his consideration. Thing is I can't, as I sit here typing this, remember even one of the stretches. That's OK, I'll go back.

Today was a tempo workout. I chose an upright bike for forty-five minutes and just died on it. I achieved my objective but at what cost? I went for forty-five minutes on the bike with and average HR of 144 bpm. I'm pleased but I only had one out of body experience. That's where I'm just gone, peddling on autopilot. You can lose a lot of minutes that way as opposed to watching that darned clock click down in slowmo.

IronMan is setting up for a rack run and goodMood is watching him and asking questions. I'm humping this stupid upright to nowhere sucking wind and wishing my thighs didn't hurt. They are feeeeeeling it today, the treacherous bastards and I'm starting to wonder if I'll be able to walk when I get off this thing.

Suddenly IronMan appears all shimmery in my anaerobic gaze, "Twenty minutes to go? Man!" I realize he fully intends for me to do a rack run myself. STUPID BLOG! Where are the EMTs? Where are my attorneys? I gasp something back before returning to my misery, myopically staring out at IronMan and goodMood starting their runs, blinking at the sweat in my eyes. I think they did three runs each but I don't know up to what weight, maybe 85 pounds, whatever it was it was impressive.

I destroy my rhythm standing up in the pedals, it's a little trickier on an upright than a real bike, the thing getting kinda wobbly. My pal the coccyx explodes in pain before I brutally shut it down. No time for that! I gingerly sit back down and resume finding my cadence.

Sweat is running down my forearms making drip drip drip puddles on the support legs of the bike. That's new, I idly think. I risk checking the time. Seven minutes, the clock running in geological time now, each tick taking ten seconds. I'm not irritated, I'm resolute. I'm going to finish this thing. It's personal now.

The last two minutes are the worst. My legs have nothing, I'm dialing back from 8 to 6 and pedaling faster to keep the HR up. I don't know why.

Thirty seconds, through sheer force of will I'm making my legs move. I don't know why I have nothing, I just don't. Deal. I wish I had eaten a little more of that pear this morning.

It's over. Time's up.

I pedal slowly trying to catch my breath, not doing a very good job at it. I hop off the bike, nooooo, I manage to get off the bike. My coccyx again voicing its displeasure but not as loudly, more in relief. I stagger around in an anaerobic daze. I think I talked to people. I'm doing stretches to help mitigate the lactic pain that will soon drop by and then head over to the dumbbell rack.

IronMan has laid out three sets of weights for me, 3, 5, and 8 pounders. You pick them up, do five, then the next weights, do five all the way to the top and then work your way back down.

By the time I'm at the eight pounds IronMan is standing near me, he says, "You have good form, you might want to go to ten pounds." He's involved in some other masochistic thing with goodMood where they're laying manhole covers across their thighs and doing some arm thing. I appreciate that both he and goodMood are keeping an eye on my form. I go to ten pounds.

It's an interesting exercise, going up wasn't too bad, going back down I'm feeling it in the biceps. The three pounder actually felt like it was exercising a different part of the bicep by the time I got back to it.

I watch IronMan and goodMood, both determined to destroy themselves now. goodMood is wondering if he'll be able to lift a coffee cup later, it's gotten to that. IronMan wheels and orders me to do another set.

I do, feeling the burn even more - I'm going to have to continue practicing these things. IronMan says my form is fine. Form is important in everything you do, or injury or loss of benefit will result - at least that's my understanding.

I put away the dumbbells and head for the lockers. I pass my trainer deciding she must be renamed. theLibrarian is NOT her name, doesn't work, what does?

Time for ABS. The TOSRVs are in Vegas and Kojak is at Mardi Gras so turnout is lighter. I go about five minutes before it gets ugly for me. My trainer looking over and is trying to encourage me but for some reason, like on leg lifting anything my thighs are saying, "After later" and then various sections of my abs are destroyed piecemeal and I'm done. I feel like I went down swinging though.

I help put stuff away and then ask my trainer if I can talk to her for a minute, "theLibrarian just isn't working for you. I have to change your name."

She says something about not wearing her her glasses recently that I didn't quite catch because my mind jumped tracks and I need to be brutally clear. I love those tiny glasses, I'm jealous that they work on her and on me I'd look even dorkier. I plod on not wanting to sidetrack the conversation, I'm about to collapse. I'm tired.

I ask her, "Do you have a red scrunchie?" I'm thinking Powerpuff Girls particularly Blossom (who wore the big red bow). She wanders over to some bag saying no she didn't think so, locating the pepper spray I presume. I'm not sure if asking what color of scrunchie one wears has crossed some line or not. Probably not, she probably just thinks I'm weird, I get that A LOT.

She's looking at me questioningly and I go for broke, "Well I was thinking Powerpuff Girls, particularly Blossom who wore..."

"BUBBLES! That was my nickname in college!" She breaks into a huge grin.

Sometimes it just all comes together. No longer theLibrarian, hi there Bubbles :-)

They Say It's Your Birthday

I just want to wish a very

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

to my sweet wife!!! Wanna see her cake? Thought so...

I could explain the whole Hannah Montana thing but why bother? My wife will be happy to fill you in should you choose to ask her while wishing her all the best on her special day.

The trainers even decided to hold a special event for my lovah, just for her on this wonderful day! They'll be over at the big house trying to increase membership to the gym. I have mixed emotions on that since I might have to shove some FNG off a machine I want to use. What if there are lines? GASP! I need to buy some more mace make plans!

Last night, after all the big, big stars went into the that Chinese theater and started their orgy of self congratulation, leaving my wife forlorn at the thought of no more gowns, we sat down and watched Michael Clayton. This kept me up late and I'm paying dues today. You might want to keep your distance, I'm certain to be a joy.

I forced myself out of bed at 4:45am and into the gym by holding the mental equivalent of a Luger to my head. Today is weigh-in and that little fact is at the back of my head. Turnout is somewhat sparse. Everyone in the grips of a late February lethargy. This is the time of year when my thoughts turn towards... suicide.

I watch ponyTail stall as long as possible before finally mounting the stair climber. She's a better athlete than I am this morning. I wouldn't do it, I think my knee's about ready. I consult AT Everest for wisdom. She's her usual upbeat self and says, "Just get on the thing and tell yourself you're only going to do five and when you get there see if you can keep going."

sigh

She's right of course. I wont go through life in the grips of Climacophobia. I just wont, darn it!

I weigh in. I lost no weight over the course of the week. Boogers! Now I must suffer because I have to face the facts. I was back sliding in the diet department - it's obvious. Ice cream sandwiches, though 'mini' ones I would eat two. I'm certain the birthday cake didn't help either.

I'm a wicked, wicked man who must atone for his erring ways.

See ya at the salad bar. I'm the bitter one, on the left.

Southern Rock Opera

I woke up filled with desire to... um... exercise, at 5am my wife had other thoughts so I headed into the gym. That weird time dilation thing continues, it doesn't matter when I leave for the gym I can't seem to start my workout until around 6AM.

I decide to spend an hour on an upright bike keeping my eye towards spring.

I view Saturdays as experimental. It's also 'me' time. I get up, get pretty (shave) and go into the gym to be all alone with my thought. Alas the no name dude who's already there reflects my disappointment in his eyes. We proceed to ignore each other like two girls wearing the same dress at prom.

Today's experiment was listening to Southern Rock Opera by the Drive-By Truckers in its entirety. I figure listening to Zip City in context might shed some light on the raging, great workout song debate introduced by that incessant pot stirrer TomS. I select Chiller TV figuring I'll soon be in The Twilight Zone. I plug in the ear-buds and go.

This album is suppose to be some sort of Lynard Skynard tribute and I guess there's an element of truth to that but it has a melancholy feel to it, interlaced with humor. For me it brought back memories and emotions that are never far from the surface. I suspect a lot of you know of what I speak. I wont go through a track by track listing but will pick out ones that stuck with me on this first listen.

Do you read liner notes? Do you remember liner notes? I pull them out of my short's pocket and start to read Betamax Guillotine I'd toss excerpts in here except for the language. If you decide to check out this album read the liner notes - they struck a chord, set the tone for what was to come. Clearly written from the heart, as was the whole album.

These boys can write and play. It figures I'm just now learning of them, this album was released eight years ago.

I'm not sure I'm brave enough to share but I'll try. The album opens with two kids killed in a car wreck - maybe it's the soft southern drawl that calls all these memories, "But this night he banked that curve just a little too hard and that 442 went airborne" and my mind and heart turn to Susan, Marybeth, Grace, Walt and Betty. I'm not exactly sad, there's a joy in remembering no matter the circumstance, a fondness.

Susan was a tomboy, funny and a serious golfer probably good enough to have made pro. When my mind drifts to Marybeth it always starts with an image of her at the beach. My sister and I teasing her about her Southern accent and Marybeth getting her hackles up and spitting back all nasal, "Well at least I don't sound like I'm from Cincinnati!" You probably had to hear it but I always laugh when I think on it.

Both were killed by drunk drivers and died within two years of each other, about a mile apart, each when they were twenty years old. The effect on Walt, their father was profound and yet you will never meet a more loving spirit. We recently buried Walt, my father's twin. They had one of those twin languages and called each other Dar and Dal.

Grace, the marathon runner to be is the kindest, funnest person you could ever meet; she is just a joy. She's a blessing and lives up to her name. Betty is 'Southern' incarnate, she says 'forehead' correctly (pronounced far-head for you Yankees out there). She made the cover of Life magazine and is so beautiful.

I pedal on wondering where this album will take me next.

The next song that brings a bit of a grin is Dead Drunk and Naked with the opening line,

When I was a young boy I sniffed a lot of glue.

It's just fun.

The various songs weave in and out but I get roped back in with The Three Great Alabama Icons and the hook, "such is the Duality of the Southern Thing…" It's spoken so I know I can sing it.

My father is deep south and my mother, born north of the Mason-Dixon in Clinton Iowa, will forever be classified a Yankee (such is the Duality of the Southern Thing…). I smile as I recall my Uncle 'B' and a story of how my father nervously told his family he intended to marry my fair mother. B was dead serious when he told my dad, "Tell her you have fits!" meaning epilepsy. You have to stretch 'fits' into next Tuesday to get a feel for the statement, the enunciation.

My father decided to ignore the council of his oldest brother and here I stand.

There's an underlying tone of anger? disappointment? whatever you feel when you're misunderstood coursing through the album; but it's also interspersed with fun and humor (such is the Duality of the Southern Thing…).

That was the effect the album had on me.

Is this a workout album? I remain unconvinced but it was fine if you're planning on spending an hour or so on a bike on a slow tempo workout and you're in the mood to listen.

I'm told that my blog entries are long. I don't know if I should apologize or not, I'm not sure if "boring" is implicit in the comment. Today I told you a bit about part of my family (just wait until you hear about my grandmother Linn). My family deserves a book, they are such characters. In the future I'll try (keyword try) to be briefer. I hope I don't get a cranky email from any of my kin. I hope I didn't over-share!

As I was wrapping doing some curls MarathonMan enters looking sleep deprived and cranky. I pop out the ear buds ending this Southern Rock Opera. He'd been on the phone off and on with operations during the night. The last time they called they told him to get his butt into the gym.

I hope you have a wonderful day!

Freaky Friday!

Last night I wrote this sappy post (Ode to the Trainers) about naming the trainers. It boiled down to this, I respect them and have a lot of fun with them. It will never see the light of day unless I get into the liquor cabinet. Still it was an interesting exercise. So the trainers need names and now they have them. As usual I'm just amazed at what happens there in an hour's time.

Let's get started ::cracks knuckles::

Diablo enters the gym dragging ponyTail behind him. He's carrying a clipboard, a new Librarian routine has been developed. He goes over and hauls goodMood off of one of the stair climbers not daring to mess with awesomeGirl, today's pecking order brutally established.

I'm acting invisible on one of the ellipticals and goodMood comes over next to me and AT Everest and starts getting his HR up.

Diablo appears to be in something of a good mood as hapless ponyTail mounts the stair climber. He announces to the suffering crowd, "Today I am The Librarian!" Suddenly his eyes dart around in panic before locking on mine, "That had better not end up in your blog!!!"

No worries Diablo. I wouldn't dream of it.

theLibrarian is an internal name for my trainer. She wears these funky glasses that actually work for her but also endow her with an authoritarian aspect. Frankly she scares me a wittle, I'm constantly expecting her to shhhh! me.

I'm doing my total body workout today so I can mingle and not just observe, running around from machine to machine in delight, having fun. I remind goodMood, who's resumed his perch on the stair climber to ask IronMan about the rack run. I've been informed in email that's what his awesome feat is called, a rack run.

I learn the next rack run will be Tuesday, February 24th. I think it will be a bicep bitch fest of epic proportions! Who will succumb to lactic lethargy first? IronMan or goodMood? Thing is I wanna play but don't put any money on me unless the 'fix' is in.

After the poll is over I'm going to put an upcoming events thingy over there in its place - like Friday Fun Runs etc - there seems to be something always going on!

DiabloLibrarian is showing ponyTail some thing... you're in a plank position holding dumbbells and then you're suppose to raise one arm straight back. I'm watching closely from an upright bike constantly on the lookout for a new way to hurt myself. ponyTail does one but is not happy. I want to make her feel better by illustrating what NOT to do and see what happens when I try, so I ask if I can give it a go. I actually do one! You would have busted a gut if you could have seen all three of our faces, dumb shock!

I notice AllyMcBeal over on the stair climber strolling her way up to her eighty-sixth floor office. Being a good gym denizen I figure I should warn her, "Listen, Diablo thinks he's the Librarian today... you might want to humor him." She grins, saying something like, "OK" and leaving me with the impression this isn't the first time this has happened.

I'm just a busy bee over by the kowtow machine, hiding behind it, doing my dumbbell step lunges. goodMood is on the thigh destroyer giving DiabloLibrarian static as he walks by with a medicine ball. Is he insane? You never taunt a temporarily gender confused trainer holding a medicine ball!

At one point JRock shows up glaring about the gym in her overcoat. Uh oh. I stroll over half wondering what IronMan did before discovering she's on The Case of the Missing Umbrella! I'd name her NancyDrew if she didn't already have a name.

As I'm headed to the recombinant I notice ponyTail and DiabloLibrarian doing an extremely difficult 'synchronized ABS' routine. As the American judge I have to give them a 6.0 since the East German 'woman' was about a quarter beat behind her American partner. Immediately DiabloLibrarian is in my face questioning the call! It was quite intimidating but I held my ground. He goes back to torturing ponyTail.

I'm rethinking the soap opera aspects of this place. theLibrarian is on to something...

Have a Freaky (or Phreaky) Friday and a fantastic weekend y'all!!!

The Days of Our Thighs

I see my readership is torn on whether I'll achieve my goal of becoming The New Adonis™© or if it will kill me. This poll is turning out to be a real nail biter!

Walking into the gym I glance over and see awesomeGirl on the Lateral Crusher (I've decided to make up horrific names for machines that I don't know the names of in hopes of making you understand that exercise is a serious business! And maybe increasing my readership some...). Should I make my blog a tabloid? My trainer has suggested a soap opera.

Hmmm....

newGirl walks into the gym pointing a forty-five at Bill who's slowly dying on the Stair Climber. In a thin, lobotomized voice she calls out, "He put me in an... institution!"

"Because I LOVE YA BABY!!!"

BAM BAM BAM!!!

::cue music::

For These are the Days of Our Thighs...

Could work. I'm not sure I have the legs for it though.

I'm calling out that I have to do intervals, what machine should I use? Grinning evilly awesomeGirl, who's not about to suffer alone suggests the Stair Climber.

Intervals on the stair climber? I don't think so... I start to tell her the tragic tale of my knee watching her eyes glaze over about three words into it. We've all heard tragic knee tales before. Still I'm giving my knee the week off no matter how much it bores awesomeGirl.

I pop in the ear buds vowing no song shall be skipped and go to work. The machine is a little quirky on setting up the intervals. I decide for 8/11, it starts you at 1/8 so I go 6/8 until it hits the first 'hill' and then pop it up to 11.

I then watch awesomeGirl systematically and with the focus of a neurosurgeon destroy her thighs. At one point she comes over to get some water and mouths something. I'm listening to Beck's Loser while rethinking how inspirational that song might be for workout purposes. I pop out an ear bud saying, "I'm sorry?"

She smiles the smile of the self-damned, "I wont be able to walk tomorrow."

That must be her objective. She isn't holding back.

An FNG comes in looking for my trainer, she hasn't arrived yet. On a personal note, just a little shout out to my trainer, "I hope you're OK trainer lady! I hope that you overslept or were stuck in traffic all weird and irritated! Not in some awful accident."

After wrapping up the intervals, I'm yakking with goodMood over by the dumbbells telling him of IronMan's awesome feat yesterday. He's intrigued saying, "I'm gonna have to have him show me tomorrow." I immediately start planning on coming in about fifteen minutes after he shows goodMood, "IronMan would you show me that bicep thing?" Evil grin.

goodMood teaches me the name of another machine called a Preacher's Chair which helps you keep your form while doing curls. I do some of those wondering if my trainer is OK and secretly (because I'm a little, little man!) hoping that I might get out of ABS - which happened.

Have a wondrous day!

Wing It Wednesday

Pretty normal workout today, very little drama except for the fact that I had a harried division director in my office yesterday asking me a bunch of questions I didn't know the answer to. Short story, I was digging through my backpack and ended up leaving my workout routine on my desk. So I'm digging through my backpack this morning before realizing what had happened.

Division directors and VPs can get me dangerously excited! Bastards.

Now I'm off routine and must... improvise!!!

I dig through my gym bag and pull out my moleskine, this little notebook I carry around in case I have some really great idea that must be recorded for the ages! It's mostly blank.

As I'm writing stuff down ponyTail comes over and starts recording numbers on her sheet. She begins to covet my moleskine saying it's perfect for this sort of stuff. I had no idea I was so cool.

I think I remembered everything that I was supposed to do during this workout. I sadly remembered both sets of lunges :-( However the dumbbell lunges turned out to be a good thing! As I was, well hating them, I noticed ironMan over by the dumbbells selecting various paired dumbbells and laying them out in a obsessive compulsive order that appears to be common among gym folk. He then picked up the lightest pair and did alternating curls of eight reps (I think) working his way up to 25 pounds and then back down in some weird sort of sprint. By the end of it he was hurting. I call out from my wobbly perch on the step, "You can do it!" hoping it helps.

Afterward I go over to him letting him know that was totally awesome to see! He said forlornly, "I use to go to to thirty, now it's twenty five."

DUDE!

You ROCK hardcore. For what it's worth while I was watching your exhibition I started trying to do my little step lunges better, I tightened up - ya know? The next time I inadvertently have an EMT at the gym I'm soooo gonna have to try that. WOW!

If you look over at the sidebar you'll notice I have added a little poll that will run until Friday at 5PM. My son and I were discussing Kafka's The Metamorphosis for some reason and he got me laughing. He was wondering if I was the protagonist in the book what would I wake up as? An insect? Adonis? Or not at all (i.e. dead)?

Let's find out! Cast your votes if you wanna!

Wonder

Timing is everything and I may be getting it righterer...er. I wanted to do ABS today and today is a tempo workout so easy to time it. I opt to not do the full hour, my boss telling me that part of the problem is probably over use. Um, yeah, compared to where I was on 27 December this knee is definitely not use to this sort of use. So I'm dialing back because when the knee is bugging me - it's really bugging me, there is no middle ground. I've been interviewing everybody about my knee injury who'll listen to me. So instead of a full hour on the elliptical I opt for fifty minutes and then ice it before ABS.

As I stroll into the gym I stop in wonder. Glaring at me like I personally stuck her on the upright exercise bike at 5:45 AM was...

notFestus!!!

Careful to keep some exercise equipment between us, as I'm getting a serious vibe that notFestus isn't a morning person, I ask, "What's up?" Turns out she has some afternoon thingy that can't be broken. I back away from her, she's far too close to the dumbbells to be cavalier about this.

I hop onto precious my some elliptical before Trebek can swoop in and steal it and go to work. I dial up Zip City so that I can get the full workout experience and spend the next five minutes in absolute wonder that my buddy TomS would consider this a workout song. As far as seventeen year old truck driving psychopaths and their fifteen year old girlfriends go it's a fine song but the tempo had me trying to country waltz on the elliptical, not easy. I like the song, I love the wall of guitars sound it has, but a workout song? Bill must turn his thumb... DOWN!

As I'm sweating up a storm I'm watching the ebb and flow in the gym. So much activity! This one dude comes in and give a demonstration of what perfect form would look like on the treadmill. notFestus is doing some sort of calisthenic and then punishing herself if her form's off by getting back on the bike. Kojack (was FNG but he isn't anymore) is being shown interesting things you can do with weights and lunges by my trainer. IronMan and awesomeGirl are doing amazing things and all this activity just fills me with... wonder as I keep an eye on my HR.

You'll all be relieved to know (probably not as much as the attendees) that I've managed to attend three or four ABS classes and not pass gas! I live in mortal fear of that. I did a little better in class today but still no great shakes. My trainer wore me down, broke me and moved on but I hung in there a little longer :-)

I get back to my desk and read the following from my cousin, a Forerunner 305 user.

Just wanted to tell you I use my gps 4x a week. However, I can't seem to ever find time to sync it to the computer, but it helps me tons as I try to prep for a marathon at end of April. You are one good Santa.

On the Santa thing, I'm working on my weight - honest! But how cool is it that my cousin is going to attempt a marathon? It was just a few years ago she was attempting 5Ks and now look at her, currently at 12 miles and angling for 26.2 by 25 April. She'll be insufferable but I hope she pulls this off! You GO girl!

And then what? I idly wonder...

MarathonMan dropped by my office yesterday. He's in training for another marathon, probably to get the moniker MarathonX2Man. I think he was trying to make me feel better or relate to the sound whopping spiderMan (heck everyone) gave me on the Fun Run last Friday. He was telling me about this guy who's name I'm drawing a blank on who lapped him four times at this half-marathon thing he did for yucks and giggles on Saturday. A mile long course you run around 13 times or something like that. Anyway this dude, I'll call him lappyMakesMeHappy was tearing the course up. MarathonMan says lappyMakesMeHappy likes to run consecutive marathons, as in Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and he wins a fair number of them!

Is that my cousin's fate? MarathonMan's? Mine? Yours?!

As the addiction to endorphins and accomplishments mount will we just keep looking for the next big rush, junkies that we are?

TomS ran at least two marathons (three?) before taking up residence in his mysterious labs. I was there when he crossed the finish line of the first one. He looked pretty tore up. I don't think these things can be classified as easy. Already I feel the faint tug of the marathon hook...

Wouldn't it be wondrous if I could pull off such an accomplishment given my various handicaps?

Recently, my wife will just stop and stare at me in wonder, calling to mind that old saw, "Behind every successful man is a surprised woman." She figured I would have quit this madness by now, to say I suffer from ADD would be a kindness, I bore easily. My son, daily, asks if anything interesting happened at the gym, not work, the gym. My daughter shyly asks about my knee or other ailment. My dad calls up and asks how much weight I've lost before whining like a supermodel that I'm making him look bad!

Then it occurs to me, I'm already doing something wondrous!

I'm certain you are too! Whether you're trying for a marathon, one more sit-up or working up the will to come into the gym at all.

Wondrous!

Bang on... you're filling someone with wonder! Count on it.

Note from the Void

Awash in endorphins the previous twenty-four hours of 'cold turkey' are already receding like fog on a sunlit morn...

Oh jeeze. Did I just write that? Maybe that workout outage effected me more than I thought.

The gym was packed for that time of the morning. Has the sun crossed the vernal equinox? What gives? It's pretty cool though, as long as no one is on MY machines when I need them, all shall be well.

AlexTrebek is on my elliptical! He is ensconced on my elliptical, thumbing through some magazine while pounding out a pace. Mentally I go full Rain Man before carefully dialing it down to the point where I know for a certainty it would be a bad idea for me to ask him if I could borrow it for seven minutes. Particularly since there's a perfectly fine one next to AT Everest... but it's not mine.

I hop on to somebody else's elliptical and notice that my HR pretty much just bullets right up there. Weird. I have had that happen a few times but I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing, personally I don't like it. I like having to coax my HR up - come on baby! - it feels 'stronger' to me. This feels 'thready' - once it's up there and reasonably steady all is well.

I get through the workout OK. I've got an ace 'compression' type bandage on my knee. I asked the trainer about it and he's of the opinion its more of a psychological benefit then providing any real stability. I don't know if it helped or not - my knee didn't bug me at all during the workout but now that I'm sitting here typing this its feeling distantly sore.

The trainer and I were of pretty much the same mindset about avoiding the stair climber for a bit. He's right, you develop this kind of love/hate thing with the machine (mine's mostly hate which is why the stair climber didn't get a Valentine's from me!) but I want to get on it again. There's something oddly addicting about how that machine sucks your soul dry and crushes your will to live - but then TIMES UP - you did your time and you licked that machine! I'm also shying away from the treadmill at the moment.

So my aerobic intervals were, somebody elses elliptical, upright bike and recombinant bike and my HR was impressive (for me) on all three. I noticed on the recombinant that my knee got a little hurty-like (might be because it was last), not on the other two machines.

I get back to my office and have an email! It's from the legend, a man swathed in mystery who only goes by the acronym 'TomS,' frequently mistaken for 'Tums' TomS has set up a secret laboratory in his basement where he practices his dark experiments in exercise. No one knows what goes on down there. Neighbors report "whiny animal grunts and pathetic whimpers and moans" emanating from the place. Once PETA sent in a team, no one returned.

What could this pantheon in secrecy want with me? I nervously read the missive...

OK Bill,

Here is a perfect song for your work-out collection or any other collection for that matter...Zip City by Drive-By Truckers.

I love the lyrics and best of all, WE CAN PLAY THIS THING!

This just screams for YOUR Tele.

Let me know what you think.

Hmmmm, I see his latest research has driven him mad. The only thing I can play, off key, is a kazoo. Still, maybe my NEW Tele when I get it, if I get it :-) I'm intrigued and there's probably hidden meaning in the lyrics.

I ain't got no good intentions

A double negative... is TomS telling me he has plans for me in his lab, or not??? What's it mean?! I must ponder this.

Cold Turkey

Temperature's rising, fever is high
Can't see no future, no burn in my thighs

My feet are so heavy, so is my head
I wish I was sweaty, I must lift some lead

Cold turkey has got me on the run

My body is aching, losing muscle tone
Can't see no buddies, left knee's been blown

My eyes are wide open, too wired to sleep
One thing I'm sure of, I'm unable to leap

Cold turkey has got me on the run

Thirty-six hours, knee in pain
Praying to someone, Aleve me again

Oh I'll be a good boy, please make me well
I promise you anything, working out would be swell

Cold turkey has got me on the run

WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING WITH THAT GYM BAG MISTER?! IS THAT A HEART RATE MONITOR YOU'RE WEARING?!

Cold turkey has got meeee... on the run!

Saturday Slow Burn

I made some minor corrections to yesterday's post. That was a rush job but I had two objectives, one was to capture how it felt before the stiffness set in, the other to get it up in a hurry so I wouldn't have to be at work till seven pm. It's scattered and a bit disjointed and has the feel of the run. Disjointed unlike my normal, lucid posts, right? Riiiggghhhttt??!!!

The corrections were to names. One was because somebody let something slip in an email - silly rabbit! The other was the temp name 'MyFormerBoss,' even as a temp name I hated it! It sounded like we went through some horrible divorce, "Yeah she got the pay grade and I got this dinky cubicle..."

While I was taking it easy on the bike today, protecting my knee, I thought about it. I've known this girl forever, she's got a slavicy sounding name, she's a dook fan - though unforgivable we all have faults, she's a cool chick. coolChick. If you say it fast it has a slavicy ring to it... bingo.

Throughout the rest of the day my knee both stiffened up and got simultaneously tender. It's pretty cross with me and very bitchy twitchy - if I don't do certain moves it merely throbs but if I forget - OW! So I was gimping around last night like notFestus use to, though she's looking pretty spry now.

I did the best I could at the GirlScout disco dance, stiff as a board, a quarter-beat off the rhythm, my date ignoring me while she gabbed with her friends. Wow, just like high school! Tears of remembrance flowed down my cheeks, which is how I ended up in the attic calling down through the access hole to my wife.

"Honey, have you seen the bong? I can't find it!"

"Michael Phelps took it."

"Tell him I want it back!"

"NO!"

Bits and pieces of yesterday's Fun Run are coming back. I had a morning conversation with my trainer when I dropped by the gym and she told me to ice the knee after the run. I dutifully filled my trusty water bottle with ice figuring it would be pretty cold when I got back, and it was, so I drank it!

Note to self, one is thirsty and a tad disoriented after a fun run - double up on the ice!

As I was wrapping up yesterday's blog entry the phone rang, I glance over at it and it say's something like, "Irked Trainer" I'm thinking, "Oh no they found the tape!" I answer it asking, "What did I do now?"

He says, "Nothing, but we're still looking!"

It turns out they'd like to use some of the pics I took of the gym for a recruitment drive and he was wondering if that would be OK. I'm mega flattered! My 'self-portrait' should bring them in in droves! Sadly, that one didn't make the cut but he tells me which ones and I zip them up and send them on their way. I hope it helps increase membership to the gym! The pics Patsy took of the ladies locker room should help too if they use them!

I'm certain the recruitment drive will be a success - with these trainers, this facility and the goofballs who already inhabit it who wouldn't want to come plaaayyyy??? I just hope the Lord will toss me a bone and I'll have a few easy names like facialTic or pegLeg.

While describing one of the pics he was after he says, "You can just see the corner of the Roman Chair."

My mind immediately jumps tracks. Roman Chair?! Why that sounds positively medieval! "OK Bill you pantywaist, since you're whining get your butt over to THE ROMAN CHAIR! You're in time out for ten minutes mister! Lift those legs crybaby!!! DON'T YOU MAKE ME COME OVER THERE!"

Then he says I should consider writing professionally. He'd buy my book, again I'm beyond flattered. He's not the first to make that observation. With all these folk helping me with my confidence... you might have noticed, I seem to enjoy writing. A line from Round Here floats by...

But the girl on car in the parking lot says, "Man you should try to take a shot"

Maybe I will :-)

This morning, while limping to the bike there's a girl on the stair climber flying on it, like she's trying out to be a fireman or a Navy Seal. I didn't know the machine could go that fast, seriously! Spidey might have a bit-o-competition on a Fun Run... mmhmm. She pauses the machine, pops out her ear buds and I ask her what level is the machine at, nine billion? She says, "Something like that - this machine makes me feel like I'm getting a workout!" while taking a swig of water. She tells me she normally does thirty or so minutes on it but has to cut it short today before restarting the devil's appliance and flying up the stairs, clutching the rails not for support but to keep from running right over the top of the thing.

I listen to the whine of the machine, a grin breaking out across my face.

Yep! The Stair Climber was WHINING!

Oh this is going to be a gooood day!
PS: My thighs burn... for my wife! :-) Happy Valentine's Day y'all!

Fun Run

Well what to say? I'm still in some sort of an oxygen deprived daze. Best just get to brass tacks and report on it.
First, like any great exploration into the unknown there were technical difficulties! I think the Garmin wants you to hold real still while it's acquiring satellites so if finally did that right about when we, we?, what am I saying, me and two guys (the kind tireTosser and his kind buddy 'needs a name') who decided to hang with me while I was futzing about with all this technology.

I was a bit bitter that I couldn't give team FunRun accurate stats for the walk down there, but the walk back is 1.15mi :-)

Then the Flip camera - a completely solid state device FROZE - go figure. I have plans of making a video and I think I'll drag this wonder around (now that I know how to unfreeze the bad boy) and tape various activities of all the stuff that goes on around here. Heck, with my wife's permission (since its her's) maybe the trainers can use it for a day (?)

I have music already picked out but I'm open to suggestions. coolChick was wondering what it was - here's a YouTube URL to Feel Good Inc. so you can see where my head's at.

OK, how'd I do? So-so I'd say but here's the skinny of what it felt like.

First things first. SpiderMan lapped me once on the stairs (it would have been twice except I wouldn't let him pass :-) nah he hung back till I got to the top) and twice on the hills. That was fun!

OK, you start at the top of the stairs and go down them. No biggie. Then you go up them. The first time I'm OK, the second time, not so much in a diminishing returns sort of way. The third time pain is setting in on the thighs and taking a nice firm hold, pain likes it here figuring it will hang for awhile. The fourth time... the tank is empty, I'm getting up the stairs on will power alone and creating a hazard for Spidey. If you look at my heart chart between minutes 20-25 you'll see four little spikes. Those have me at 78-85% of MaxHR - in short my ticker was working.

Then minutes 25-38 are the hills. That hill is tough! It starts at a reasonable grade but when you hit the top, OH MY GAWD! this thing is soooo ADA non compliant! Every time I ran it I was certain I could make it to the top at a run or the lumbering I call a run, every time I broke. Then this walk back to the stairs and another lap.

Folk are doing walking lunges or side lunges but not cartwheels, noooo Bill's latest idea was gunned downed. Me? I was doing either 'the stagger' or 'the thousand yard stare.' There is a weird sort of dread that forms after the second lap, you absolutely know what's coming as you head, sheep tp the slaughter, back for another lap.

And people are talking, at times I think even to me but honestly I can't remember, my mindset was one of getting through it, this is something to be endured.

Sounds awful doesn't it?

It is not. I don't have the writing skill to convey the experience of it. There is something really positive that one feels (well me anyway) of getting through it, enduring something challenging.

When the hill is done, on each landing of the steps going back up, a different calisthenic is chosen and you do some insane number of them (25?). I remember something as basic as jumping jacks I was so off rhythm, that I started laughing at myself, arms up legs in place, vise-a-versa. Mostly I watched these - I'm out of gas.

Finally the walk back where JRock challenged fate by walking up a hill backward daring a car to hit her! We went through the woods on the way back passing only one psychopath before getting to the best part!

The ABS workout! I am so glad I didn't pass on this. Don't get me wrong I still suck at ABS but the clowning around was so worth it. princessLongLegs set the tone by setting off the alarm to the defibrillator and then ratting herself out to the receptionist, after that it was giggle city.

Wanna find out what was said? Come along! Seriously! If this candy-ass can do it so can you, I'll make you look good on the hills I'm certain of that.

There's a lot more I could say about this but I'm out of time. I get to take my daughter to a 70s dance for her Girl Scout thingy! How cool is that?!

Will I do it again?

mmhmm, yes, sure, why not? But currently I feel every muscle in my body tightening and my knee is complaining and twitchyer so um not tomorrow :-)

Next week? Heck that's in seven days - weather, knee permitting etc, yep.

Thanks for inviting me!

Pregame Jitters - Fun Run

Who knew fitness could be so... Machiavellian?! That's what all the giggling was about, huh?

I'm writing this from my past into my future and what will be your present! It's quite simple really, I just fire a high energy stream of virtual particles into a hyperspatial matrix allowing the Casimir Effect to create a sufficient amount of quantum foam to curve spacetime significantly enough... for a squirt transmission... into the resultant wormhole...

Look, blogging is complex!!!

I'm sorry, I'm nervous. Call it pregame jitters and give me a pass 'k?

Yesterday an email went out informing the vast collective that the Fun Run time had been changed from the traditional 12:45pm to an 11:45am departure. I was both relieved and disappointed. Relieved because of my twitchy knee and disappointed because I had actually made space in my schedule for it. I was apprehensively 'in.'

I had a meeting I could not break so I replied back, sorry maybe next week. Figuring that the week might give my knee time to get back in order.

Then I got angry. I am so tired of being 'apprehensive' and what if the darned knee isn't any better? Huh? Surgery? Docs - the leeches??!! I do probably need to be careful with the knee and have been thinking of some sort of support brace but... I don't know.

My trainer, who's subtlety approaches the sublime has been (I suspect) guiding me down a path towards increased athletic confidence. With her 'try at least two' comments and emails of support, her backstabbing 'sure do the fun run' and 'why don't you go for 144bpm' on a tempo workout.

My wife has been just as encouraging if less subtle about it. A cherished moment was way back in this blog when my muscles were bathing in lactic acid and I was whining about going into the gym and she just laughed. Just laughed with such humor that I laughed too ... and went in. She's also shown her appreciation for my efforts in um other ways...

And then those of you who choose to read this blog.

It all helps! Who knew I'd enjoy babbling about it all? How wondrous it would be.

So, I'm trying to be a little less cautious, a little less worried about failing or getting hurt or whatever and in doing so I'm learning all sorts of interesting ways of being in pain, of finding what I can do, of being more alert and having a better attitude. Then there's you crazy fools :-)

Anyway, forces not to be trifled with were stirring while I was in some meeting. The super secret Friday Fun Run CABAL was convening and by the time I returned to my desk it was all arranged. The Fun Run would commence at 12:30pm. I accepted... my fate.

So bags packed, lots of Aleve on hand, I'm good.

This morning I annoyed my wife to no end, she's use to me being gone by this time of the morning. I finally get the message and leave, sheesh! I'm obsessing she says... what's her point?! I have my little gym bag all packed but I don't know what to wear - do I need a sweatshirt cuz I don't have one - a warm up jacket is packed, blah blah blah.

I also brought a Flip - I figure that and the Garmin should act as a 'black box' and tell investigators exactly what happened. Plus I plan to make a video - if it ever sees the light of day is a big TBD.

I drop by Starbucks and get a monster latte knowing excess caffeine will calm my nerves. Then I drop by the gym (lol) and check in since this had better count and I doubt the ambulance crew will let me clock in (as my trainer puts it) on the way to the ER. It's a full house! AllyMcBeal is on the treadmill, awesomeGirl is doing something that looks like splits with dumbbells on the floor, IronMan is kowtowing to some device - strengthening his neck, FNG is curling big ol' weights, goodMood might have just come off the stair climber, 'needs a name' is sitting on a stability ball and AT Everest is stretching.

I grin, these are my kind of people and I'm beginning to feel like I fit in. awesomeGirl lightheartedly calls out, "Are you dogging it?" I reply that I've been roped into the Fun Run and thought I'd just drop by, sip my coffee and watch you fools work. This gets a chuckle and the news of my impending Fun Run brings a lot of rueful smiles. I don't care - that bullet has long since left the chamber, all that's left is the knowing.

goodMood tells me I should have brought in a big breakfast to munch while all this activity is going on. I wish I had thought of it. I leave them to it, a smile on my face.

As I'm heading to the car my Trainer pulls in. I call out to her across the parking lot hoping for some last minute advice on my knee. She tells me to ice it afterward and take some Advil or ibuprofen as an anti-inflammatory. "Will Aleve cut it?" Apparently not.

All is ready - Bring It!

Go Tar Heels!

Silly boy! Those aren't the metrics from today's workout! Here they are...

Ooopsssie! Butterfingers! Where did I put them? Ah...

I went to college at Carolina so these sorts of victories are particularly tasty! Dook, I loatheth it so! :-)

Even waking up with a gloat filled heart, the day started off filled with rage and storm clouds. My wife, whom I adore above all others had forgotten to plug in the iPod and I was certain it was kaput. I fish around in that cavern she calls a purse pull it out and flip it on.

Full charge. Doves lit on my shoulders, butterflies danced and my day brightened considerably. All was forgiven.

In the locker I formally introduce myself to the other early riser. I've been struggling with a name for both of them for weeks even resorting to asking his wife if she might have any pet names for the boy, you know like pookie or teddy bear? She clams up on that front informing me I'm on my own. So I go back to pondering and decide on IronMan. What sealed it was watching him on the dread stair climber, hands behind his back in defiance! No clinging to the rails, gasping out faint pleas for mercy, sobbing like a pansy... like me. IronMan it is.

Still reveling in my rebel without a clue mindset I forgo, yes forgo the treadmill and do my intervals on the elliptical. I glower at my trainer like a recalcitrant teenager! mmhmm... that's right I'm glowering... ok look my left knee is bugging me and there's talk of a Fun Run tomorrow (more on that later) and I don't want to injure it and end up limping around like notFestus (smile, I just HAD to do it, forgive me - it's not a permanent name!!!).

I hop off the elliptical all sweaty and gross and see it's a good thirty minutes before abs... I could just leave but deep down I don't wanna.

I approach goodMood telling him my biceps yearn to burn like my thighs (my trainer was taking FNG or maybe awesomeGirl at the time through their personally designed circles of hell) and he helps me out saying it might not be the best idea to start out with the fifty pound dumbbells that I was considering. I have a nice burn with fifteen pounders at the end of the reps, hey it's a start!

I then spot AllyMcBeal wondering through a maze of exercise equipment and ask for some legal advice. Mums the word on that though, attorney-client privilege ya know. She then informs me she reads my blog.

I'm certain I blushed! Listen, I really should hush about it but thank all of you! for keeping an eye on me! It soooo helps keep me going! Thanks!

Then it was time for abs class. I think I did a little better. I was kind of watching the clock so I can say I broke around the five minute mark. I asked someone to take my picture so you could see my quivering lower lip...
OH, I'm sorry! That's coach Krzyzewski watching Carolina destroy his team during the second half. Still you get the idea. Anyway I'd say my attitude remained pretty good even if I'm still worst in show during the class, oh and it was a full one, eight of us and the trainer. Heck even tireTosser was on time!

My trainer got annoyed with me once when she had us performing some bizarre act with the balls that even seals would blanch at. You're in some sort of V, well I was trying for a V but it was probably closer to a dash, i.e. flat on my back, and then your suppose to do something like a crunch maybe (I'm pretty sure I blacked out) and she says over in my direction, "Try at least TWO!" I'm pretty sure it was at me since the rest of the class had kind of inched away from me and I was between the TOSRVs. I know she wasn't talking to them. I try, my stomach feeling like John Hurt's must have in Alien. I sorta did them :-) sorta...

I'm always amazed that I have anything to say but this place is just so full of... life! And there are so many interesting characters. OK one more thing and I'll hush.

Monday I got the following email:

Hi Bill,
I have thoroughly enjoyed reading your blog and I am proud of your commitment and adventurous spirit. That said, I see that the forecast for Friday is looking quite promising…almost spring-like. So, pack your gear for Friday's Fun Run, and get some good cardio, calisthenics and camaraderie. You wouldn’t want to miss it!

I make some sort of lame reply while frantically checking for any meeting I could attend. Nope. Now this person works in finance so she's used to predicting weather and it looks like she might be right.

I'm hoping notFestus might feel up for it but it looks doubtful, then it could be Ahab because of my knee and notFestus keeping me company while watching the herd disappear into the distance.

Well I need to do a rain-dance some work.

Be Well

PS: notFestus will not be this individual's name but honestly it was like waving an O2 mask and an IV in front of me when I'm on the stair climber :-)

Er...