*scree*scree*scree* revisited

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

And this is why I don't weigh myself on a regular basis. I can tell from my face, extremities and the fact that I can wear a pair of jeans I've NEVER been able to fit in before that I have gotten smaller.

The lying fuck of a rat-bastard scale, however, informs me that not only have I only lost four pounds over six weeks, I have also miraculously GAINED back five pounds in one day. Which probably has much to do with the Crimson Tide and my body's habit of channeling your average camel and retaining enough water to make it across the Sahara.

See, Walt, this is why I don't look at the scale. Consider yourself damn lucky that you're penile-enhanced.

Back in the closet it goes, asshat piece of machinery that it is. And now, my friends, Mellie gets serious about throwing the iron around, because that is the ONLY way for this Eastern European to lose acceptable amounts of poundage.

Tuesday's total mileage: 1.32 miles. 500.76 miles to Isengard.


Tuesday, April 29, 2008

The title, by the way, is the closest I can come to the Psycho theme, which accurately reflects how I've been feeling today (well, that and this comic).

I can always tell when the Crimson Tide is about to make its grand appearance -- I start sloshing with retained water because my electrolytes are bouncing all over the place, and my temper turns homicidal. I should have done a stockup at Kroger this afternoon, but I took one look at the jammed parking lot and turned around. If I had to wade through that crowd, blood would have been spilt.

The exercise helps, of course. Still, I would give a pretty penny for a five day dose of Celebrex and a quart of Blue Bell Tin Roof ice cream. And maybe a good old fashioned bloodbath with lots of swordswomen. Yeah.

Monday's total mileage: 1.32 miles. 502.08 miles to Isengard.

Want to see who my hero is?

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Taffy Carlisle Huffington of Pod Is My Copilot has spent the last 10 months achieving a single goal: to lose 150 pounds in one year. She is closing in on her goal, and should achieve it on schedule in June.

Go here to see what she did. Taffy, darlin', you are one hell of an inspiration!

Good to know!

Note to self: before sitting down to record a brand new podcast, go off and do your walk because otherwise you'll spend 6 -8 hours recording the podcast, editing the podcast, setting up a website, creating artwork, uploading MP3s to LibSyn and doing the other work that goes into a podcast launch, and after the sun comes up and you're blearily staring at your screen trying to remember what the squiggly black marks mean is not the best time to go exercise.

Mmm, planning this out a bit more in advance might have been a good idea, yes?

So, no walks on Friday and Saturday, but I did keep the calories within acceptable levels so that's not necessarily a huge downer. Now if I can just convince the black and white cat that I am not into bestiality and he should stop trying to push his head up my butt while I'm sleeping, everything would be good!

Sunday's total mileage: 503.40 miles to Isengard.
Weight work:

Set #1
Set #2
Set #3
Set #4
Split Squat
Stiff Legged Deadlift
Calf Raises


Thursday, April 24, 2008

I'm sitting here wearing a pair of jeans that I bought about two years ago. They were an emergency purchase, grabbed just before we flew to England to attend my SIL's wedding, and even though they were kinda small I bought them because I knew I wasn't going to get through an entire week on just two pairs of old black jeans, which were the only things I had at the time that fit me.

And I was right -- the new jeans didn't really fit very well. I couldn't sit comfortably in them, and when I took them off I had this horrible red welt all around my waist from the band cutting into my skin. I struggled through the week in England, then as soon as I got home I put them on my "too small" shelf with all the clothes that didn't fit me anymore. And there they sat for two years, despite occasional try-ons, because they still didn't fit.

This morning, while getting dressed, I decided to jump the gun a little bit. I was going to hold off trying them on again until May 1, when I did my weigh-in, but since all of my shorts and jeans were in the wash I figured, "What the hell."

Go back to the first sentence in this post. I'm sitting here wearing a pair of jeans... I'm not gasping for breath or wincing in pain. I don't feel as if they're slowly sawing me in half. They're still the tiniest bit snug, but I wouldn't shy away from wearing them in public.

Oh, yeah.

Thursday's total mileage: 504.65 miles to Isengard.

Back to throwing iron around

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Huzzah! Today marks my return to weightlifting, and oh dear, where did my upper body musculature go? I know I had some muscles, somewhere...

As shown in this shot (yes, I know it's blurred -- it was taken with my cameraphone), you can see Your Hostess just after finishing 40 minutes of cardio and before she prepares to throw the iron around. Just be grateful you can't see the rivulets of sweat coursing off my brow -- it ain't pretty, folks.

By the way, I'm posting this picture, unflattering as it is, to prove a point -- I am not some slender willow fretting about putting on three ounces after having an extra helping of celery at lunch. I'm a big ol' gal, without a doubt. From the side, I look like a duck. I'm hefty. And I need to lose at least 140 pounds. Whee...

Which is why I'm in the gym lifting weights, walking on the treadmill and generally doing things that are considered beneficial for my health. Yeah, I know I look nothing like most of the other folks in the gym, and Lord knows I'm not wearing stylish exercise togs. In fact, I think I'm wearing a Dave Matthews Band cap, Windycon t-shirt, cutoff sweatpants, black crew socks and my Dr. Scholl gymshoes in that pic. Fabulous!

Thing is, I'm not there to impress anyone with my fashion sense, and I really don't give a rat's ass what someone thinks when they look at me. I suspect too many people in my condition are shamed into thinking that they can't step foot into a gym, looking the way they do -- the perfect people might point and laugh, after all.

My attitude? "Bite me." I'm there to sweat, grunt, swear, haul weights, flop my fat around, and perform whatever I need to do in order to build muscles, strengthen bones and keep my heart pumping for years to come. If the perfect people don't like what they see, that's what the gym TV's are for.

Oh, yeah -- despite the fact that I'm a big ol' gal, my resting heart rate is currently 77. Normal is anywhere between 70 - 80. I've had it as low as 65, and I intend to get it even lower this time. And the calves are starting to cut in quite nicely, thank you very much.

Wednesday's total mileage: 505.99 miles to Isengard.

Weight work:

Set #1
Set #2
Set #3
Set #4
Triceps Press
Shoulder Press
Ab Crunches

Spring has sprung

Yes, we have seen the last of the cool, pleasant days in the clavicle of Texas until October or so. I don't necessarily mind the heat all that much, but the humidity just makes me want to flop onto a recliner posed in front of a strategic air vent and swill ice water.

On the plus side, I now have a nice short bob so the sweat on the back of my neck manages to evaporate, which came in handy as I plodded around the complex this evening. I may have to just suck it up and start using the treadmill again (which is good because it's in the A/C, but bad because it's pretty much relentless and stopping to take a break is somewhat problematic).

Oh, also had a kickass job interview today. Think good thoughts for me, please!

Tuesday's total mileage: 507.33 miles to Isengard.

Catching Up

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Sorry about that, folks. I've been sort of bad about the updates over the last two days. Thursday I don't know what happened, and Friday I was up until 2:00 AM or so doing a podcast with some very crazy folks. Nonetheless, I got back on the horse yesterday, and I'm about to go out and do tonight's walk with all the very, VERY chatty birds out there. I thought birds slept during the night -- shows what I know.

More when I come back from the walk.

LATER: Yeah, so that didn't go quite as well as I'd hoped, mainly because JJ came down to the door with me in the hopes that I'd let him go outside. Normally he's an indoor cat, but I know he gets very bored so sometimes I'll let him go out and follow him around the apartment building while he checks out trees, bushes, that sort of thing. After fifteen minutes or so, I pick him up and take him in the house, no problem.

Not tonight. He went out, rolled around on the sidewalk as per usual, went over to the A/C units to inspect them, then dove into a trio of bushes. I waited for him to come out.

Nothing. "JJ?" I call.

I see this little head poke out of the bushes and look at me as if I'm a total stranger, and he made this noise that I'd never heard him make before -- the only way I can describe it is as a warning meow (with more of a growly purr on the end of it).

So I stand there for a minute or two, waiting for him to come out. When he doesn't, I decide to pry open the bushes and see what's happening -- and the little bastard yowls at me. Thinking maybe he's stuck on something, I try to reach in...

...and he claws my fingers.

The FUCK? In the six years that I've had him, JJ has never, EVER scratched me on purpose. I jump back, pissed off, then try to prod him out with my foot. Yowling even louder, he takes a swipe at my leg (luckily protected by thick sweatpants and my gymshoes).

Time for the big guns. I pick up the water bottle, uncap it and dump it on the bush. Very reluctantly, he slinks out and heads to the front door, still giving me that warning sound every time I get near him. VERY cautiously, I open the door and he shoots upstairs.

Well, I have to follow in order to clean off the blood now dripping from my left hand. After doing that and dabbing on some triple antibiotic, I give JJ (who is giving me a foul look) some treats, refill the water bottle and head out on my walk, figuring that we both need to calm down before we can figure out what the hell was going on. When I get back, he's waiting on the rug inside the foyer.

Okay, I know he's bored stupid. Maybe he just wants to spend some time outside. So I open the door -- after a moment's hesitation, he goes out, and I sit down on the stoop to wait for him to do whatever it is he needs to do. Kill a bird, piss on a tree, whatever.

So what does he do? Rub his head against the brickwork, then head back to the door and meow piteously. Son of a bitch. I open the door and he STREAKS back in, as if freaked out of his tiny little head.

I figured he needed some TLC, so I spent twenty minutes playing with his rod-and-reel cat toy, then gave him a good brushing and reassured him that he's my favorite black cat. He's now snoozing quite happily on his bed, and I'm still wondering what the whole bush problem was all about -- I don't know if he was scared by something and was hiding or what.

I do know that he's not going outside again anytime soon. He'll just have to wait until we get a house with a yard that we can enclose with a cat-proof fence (aka the type that gives an animal wearing a collar a mild shock if it tries to cross it). Then I'll toss a collar on him and he can be the Great Black Hunter as much as he likes.

In the meantime, damn, my fingers hurt.

Saturday's total mileage: 510.01 miles to Isengard
Sunday's total mileage: 508.67 miles to Isengard

A short one

Thursday, April 17, 2008

I'm two weeks away from my first weigh-in since I started all the walking. As I explained to Walt, the reason why I'm not weighing myself more often, even on a weekly basis, is because I know from past experience that if:

  • there's a significant loss I'll celebrate by pigging out, and

  • if there's no loss or (please God, no) a gain, I'll spiral into a self-loathing depression, which is tiresome.

So I figure a weigh-in every couple of months is satisfactory. For day-to-day purposes, I'm basing things on how well I fit into my jeans. I have a collection of them across a spectrum of sizes, and as I posted earlier I can now get into the largest of the sizes, albeit with a certain degree of muffin toppage. I figure that in two weeks much of that will be gone, and I can wear the jeans comfortably (i.e. sit down in them without breathing problems or stopping blood flow to my lower body). When I get to a certain set of jeans, I'll know I'm at the weight I was in 2003, which was the lowest I'd been since returning to the States.

Wednesday's total mileage: 511.35 miles to Isengard.


Wednesday, April 16, 2008

I am a happy podcast-listening walker! Not only did We're Mean Because You're Stupid post a new ep yesterday, not only did the QCast Connection post a new episode today, but so did Pod Is My Copilot in time for tonight's walk, and Taylor the Latte Boy said the sweetest things about my phone calls to other podcasts! I love me some Taylor, Taffy and Rodan (and Walt, Nessa and Holly. And Michael, Mister Bee and British John. Oh, hell, I love you all).

Unfortunately, I only did 30 minutes tonight because I did something...interesting...to my back, which now feels like I got punched right between the shoulder blades. As a result, walking upright was sorta painful. Yes, I am falling apart at a rate of knots, people -- pretty soon, the Bodacious Brit will have to take my Zimmer frame in and have it pimped.

On the plus side, the legs are starting to show even more signs of muscle development, and I figure I'm about two weeks away from fitting comfortably into the jeans I haven't been able to wear for a year or so (I can get them ON now, mind you, but there is serious muffin toppage when I do and that shit ain't right). So that's all good.

Tuesday's total mileage: 512.69 miles to Isengard.

Oh, dear Glory

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Now you know what I looked like when I was sixteen. Even then, I looked like I was plotting something...

Create Fake Magazine Covers with your own picture at MagMyPic.com

Of course, the scary thing is that I still look recognizably like me, as this picture of me at 35 demonstrates.

To be honest, there are baby pictures of me at 1 year old where it's totally obvious it's me. The Bodacious Brit says that I don't age much, and I'm starting to think he's right.


Monday, April 14, 2008

Which is how I'm feeling, thanks to all the freaking tree sex going on out there and my sinuses going completely apeshit. What I really, REALLY want to do is crawl into bed and hibernate until September.

What I did anyway is haul my ass out to Stonebriar to order a new pair of glasses (my left earpiece snapped off yesterday, and I have rimless glasses so there's almost no way to fix this. Did I mention that I have a job interview tomorrow? Fabulous...), pick up some new tank shells for interview purposes, do laundry, and go out there into the vegetative smegma and get my walk in for today. At least I had a new episode of We're Mean Because You're Stupid to keep me company, she said, giving The QCast Connection a meaningful look.

Monday's total mileage: 513.94 miles to Isengard.

Yeah, so...

Sunday, April 13, 2008

I skipped the walk yesterday, mainly because I got sucked into finishing this jacket for a friend and when I looked up it was 2:00 AM and I figured, "Screw it, I'm tired."

But I did the walk tonight, and the whole complex has this wonderful woody smell from all the downed trees that reminds me of...actually, I'm not sure. Band camp? All I know is that it smells yummy, and has some mildly erotic connotations because of 1) the age I was at when I first smelled it and 2) the person who was carbonating my hormones at that time. Completely and utterly unavailable, of course, but Lord, he was fine. If I could pull a Peggy Sue Got Married dealie and mentally travel back to that point in time, I do believe I'd take the opportunity to give him a slow, thorough up-and-down look. And then I'd smile.

I bet I could make him blush. Of course, making him moan would be so much more fun...

Um. Did I mention that the exercise was having a beneficial effect on my libido? Yeah.

Saturday's total mileage: 515.28 miles to Isengard. Which means I've covered just under 20 miles so far. Nicht sehr schlect, ja?

Just in case you thought I was some kind of saint

Friday, April 11, 2008

I'm not. Yes, I've been good about doing the walking and keeping an eye on what I eat, but sometimes I also think, "Fuck it" and fling caution to the winds.

Such as today, when breakfast was two pieces of leftover deep dish pizza. Mmm...deep dish. We're lucky enough to have a really good Chicago-style pizza place here (called, appropriately enough, Chicago St. Pizza), and by now they recognize my voice when I call and order a medium deep dish, sausage only, for pickup.

Then this afternoon I had an unusual but intense craving for good ice cream. Since the Paciugo in the new strip mall across the street STILL isn't open, dammit, I settled for a double scoop cone of Amaretto and Cheesecake ice cream from Marble Slab Creamery. Good stuff, Maynard, and it hit the spot nicely.

Yeah, I could probably lose weight faster if I ate nothing but unprocessed foods and never allowed sugar to pass my lips. But screw it, where's the fun in that?

I appear to have done something interesting to my toe

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Specifically the toe next to the big toe on my left foot. More specifically, it doesn't want to straighten out completely, and when I put weight on it it complains. Loudly.

I suspect I have done something to the first joint joining the tarsal and metatarsal. I don't think it's broken -- it's not lumpy/swollen/discolored and while it hurts it CAN support my weight -- but a sprain is certainly possible, And it made today's walk more than a little difficult, to the point where I had to sit down for a bit on a little stone wall and rest the foot. Yeah, have I mentioned that this whole growing older stuff sucks donkey balls?

At least I did get the walk in. And I took lots of pictures of the storm damage in the complex -- compared to other parts of the Metroplex we got off lightly, but there are at least 7 downed trees, two downed light posts, a flagpole that is now parallel to the ground, a bunch of shredded shingles/deshingled roof sections, and some decapitated chimney caps here.

Springtime in Texas can be a real bitch, y'all.

Thursday's total mileage: 516.62 miles to Isengard.

Auntie Em, Auntie Em!

I went out for my evening walk, like I do, and walked straight into the teeth of one bitching wind mixed with oh dear God amounts of humidity. We have a tornado watch for the clavicle of Texas until 6:00 AM tomorrow morning, you see, after a first wave of meteorological ick that thoroughly drenched us earlier in the evening, and I keep checking Weather Underground's radar and watching this very, very large and increasingly nasty wall of weather sweep towards me.

Have I mentioned that I live in a second-story apartment? If my complex ever gets hit by a funnel cloud, we're totally and utterly screwed.

But I got my 40 minutes in, dammit, so take THAT, rain gods!

Wednesday's total mileage: 517.92 miles to Isengard.


Tuesday, April 8, 2008

So I was checking Weather Underground for my area as we had the promise of craptacular weather on the way, and I saw a Weight Watchers banner that just bemused the life out of me.

Weight Watchers Online FOR MEN: Learn How to Lose Weight and Still Eat Like a Man.

Now, I'm curious -- how does one eat like a man, anyway? With your hands? Sans serviettes? Do you chase down a wild impala, throw it to the savanna floor and tear at it with your teeth? Granted, that would certainly burn a hella bunch of calories, but where are you going to find a wild impala in your average urban sprawl? And have you ever tried to get animal blood out of an Armani suit? I mean, really.

But I'm even more confused. See, I live with a man, and he eats pretty much the same way I do, and he lost a boatload of weight over the last year. He's certainly not a woman (and I can attest to that personally, hur hur). Does that make me a man? Not with this bodacious set of ta-tas, I'm thinking.

What this is, of course, is some truly dumbass sexist advertising. The subtext is: "Only sissy girls go on diets, and eat vegetables and salads, and stop when they're full. You don't want people to point at you and call you a woman, do ya? Real men eat whenever they feel like it! They gorge on bowls of fried chicken, bags of snacks, anything they like! And they eat meat -- raw, bloody meat! But it's hard to pick up the babes when you weigh 400 pounds, so sign up with us and for a low price we'll fool you into thinking that you're eating the same artery-clogging crap that your father and grandfather ate!"

Okay. I take two talking points away from this whole ad campaign:

1) How on God's green earth can eating healthy foods like salads, vegetables and other unprocessed foods be considered unmanly? Is it because you don't harvest corn with a bow and arrow? Would it be more acceptable if you could mount heads of lettuce over your mantelpiece? Someone, please, show me the logical chain where eating a chunk of beef or a bag of Doritos induces testosterone production and the urge to watch "Girls Gone Wild" videos.

2) As I don't think WWOFM is into bestiality, it stands to reason that the phrase "lose weight and still eat like a man" implies that other weight loss methods, such as consumption of unprocessed foods, eating in moderation, keeping an eye on your calories, etc. must be "eating like a woman." Yah. Tell me, O gurus of weight loss, why this is a bad thing? Because up until recently, women outlived men by a statistically significant percentage; from this, you would assume that eating like a woman is a positive thing to push, at least from a longevity point of view. And it's hardly as if guys are required to don a skirt and false eyelashes if they order a Chinese chicken salad. Of course, they can if they want to, but that's a whole 'nother issue.

I'll tell you this much, kidlets; one of the nice things about growing older is that I'm more willing to cry "BULLSHIT!" at dumbassery like this. By all means, WWOFM should help men with losing weight. But for the love of all that's holy, stop doing it by dissing my gender, goddamnit.

Tuesday's total mileage: 519.22 miles to Isengard.

A rather nice Monday

And indeed it was -- in addition to doing some very necessary laundry (clean underwear is always a goodness, particularly after a shower), I critiqued three stories for my writing group and got my story "Lusts of the Cat Queen: A Dash Manning Adventure" critiqued tonight. And yes, "Lusts..." is just as pulpy as it sounds, except for one eensy twist: my hero, Captain Dash Manning, is tall, blond, square-jawed, handsome, smart, brave, resourceful, helpful to little old ladies, and is the poster boy for the Galactic Rangers. He's also gay as an Easter frock. This causes some consternation in the Ranger's PR arm, much amusement to his girl sidekick Ginny Mardon, and rabid delight among well-endowed male aliens everywhere.

And no, he bears no resemblance whatsoever to Captain Jack Harkness. I wrote the first half of this story two years ago, well before I ever set eyes on the beauteous and talented John Barrowman. But I digress.

Our group meets twice a month in a local Chinese restaurant, mainly because they're tolerant of us sitting there for a couple of hours and talking loudly about SF and fantasy geekery, so the critiquing took place while devouring a lovely dish of lemon chicken with some egg drop soup on the side (hmm -- maybe Nessa and Fairy Princess Holly have a point about Walt speaking Chinese when he starts talking about comic books and such...). In addition to getting useful feedback on my stories, the other nice thing about these meetings is that I always feel mentally pumped afterwards; there's just something about talking shop with a bunch of irreverent genre writers that kicks my brain into high gear, which translates nicely into creative energy. So, after slinging my butt around the complex for 40 minutes to get some physical pumping action as well, I'm about to head to the Office of Doom and see if I can finish a story before hitting the hay.

So how was your Monday?

Monday's total mileage: 519.87 miles to Isengard.

A Happy Moment

Monday, April 7, 2008

Lyndon wanted to clean his office on Saturday and needed to use mine as temporary storage space, so I was sweetly asked to make myself scarce for a couple of hours. As I didn't have a problem with this whatsoever, I cheerfully packed up the laptop and headed to Stonebriar Mall where I could have lunch at the Cheesecake Factory and write at the Barnes and Noble Starbucks afterwards.

Now, as much as I adore the Factory's crispy chicken sandwich with chipotle mayo, I equally loathe the CF chairs -- they're rattan, have arms and are incredibly uncomfortable for me to sit in. Given my druthers I prefer to sit on the banquette, but getting to it can be a problem -- the tables at my local CF are placed close together, and sidling between them usually means that I'm dangling some part of my body over someone's dinner. Not cool.

Today the tables on either side of me were full, so the waitress pulled out the chair for me. I gritted my teeth and sat down, waiting to feel the arms gouge into my sides like a vise...

...and they didn't. Oh, the chair was skin-tight, don't get me wrong, but I could sit in it without leaving marks in my flanks. Huzzah!

I R Sick

Sunday, April 6, 2008

I'm assuming this is the same thing the Bodacious Brit had last week -- general achiness, tired all the time, sore throat, congestion up the wazoo.

So I slept for the bulk of the day, indulged in some junk food for dinner, then walked. Mainly because I hadn't walked for the last two days, and sick or not I didn't want to make it three. I know you're not supposed to work out extensively if you're sick, so I figured I could set up the treadmill and amble along for twenty minutes or so, just to see how well I could handle it.

Turned out I handled it fairly well. Having a squeezie of water to wash away the gunk in my throat helped. And after I sat down for a twenty minute break, I felt like I could do a little more, so I ambled along for another twenty minutes, which got me my 40 minutes for the day. I didn't go quite as far as I usually do because of the ambling, but that's okay -- the whole "Walking to Bag End" thing is cumulative, not "I HAVE to walk X miles every day or the world will end!"

I also tried something different while walking. Various people around the blogosphere are turning their iPods on shuffle and listing the first twelve songs that pop up, so this is what happens when I do it to mine:

1) Maria Maria - Santana
2) Come Out of the Closet - Eric Schwartz
3) Crawl - Think of England
4) The Flower of Carnage - Meiko Kaji
5) Fun and Games - Barenaked Ladies
6) Hey Mama - Black Eyed Peas
7) Plainsong - The Cure
8) The Right Time - The Corrs
9) Life Is a Lemon and I Want My Money Back - Meatloaf
10) Deeper Understanding - Kate Bush
11) Venus As a Boy - Bjork
12) The Rhythm of the Heat - Peter Gabriel

For some reason, Venus As a Boy always makes me think about jumping Sam Neill. I have no idea why. But I digress.

I've kept the iPod on shuffle all night, and it's been kinda fun to listen to what comes up next. I'd totally forgotten that I had certain albums -- I need to listen to those more often.

Sunday's total mileage: 521.21 miles to Isengard.

Okay, that wasn't smart

Thursday, April 3, 2008

I wore an old pair of dress shoes to a job interview today. The shoes have absolutely no support whatsoever; as a result of spending a couple of hours in them this morning and afternoon, my feet are screaming imprecations at me and threatening to have Tony Soprano break my kneecaps. How that's going to help them, I have no idea -- they're not really au fait with the whole nervous and circulatory system dealie.

Yeah, so, I think I will be hitting the shoe stores tomorrow and see if I can find any decent flats with some sort of arch support. I have slip-in supports, of course, but if the shoes are fairly low as flats usually are, the supports lift my feet just enough so that the backs rub hell out of my heels. Damn, but I miss my nice Dr. Scholl Mary-Janes.

I know this must be fascinating. I'll shut up now about the shoes.

The actual workout, however, was good and assisted in dispelling some free-floating irritation about various things that I can't talk about because this is a public site. You know the drill. Plus it's warm, windy and smells fantastic out here in the clavicle of Texas, so walking around in the heavy weather helped soothe my savage breast(s).


Down, girls.

Thursday's total mileage: 522.38 miles to Isengard.

Recovery Day

Wednesday was a Recovery Day, thus there was no walking in Middle Earth or Plano. This is mainly because I got to 10:00 PM after a day full of running around like a headless chicken, and realized that if I did my walk I'd be charged up and awake for the next few hours, and since I had to get to sleep early for a 9:00 AM job interview maybe this wouldn't be the greatest idea?

I like it when I can give my excuses extenuating circumstances.

Some things I've noticed

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

I have now been doing the walking thing for (checks calendar) 13 days, now. So far, I have noticed the following:

  • It's easier for me to get up from the couch -- no more steeling myself for the flare of agony in my knees.

  • I can see definition in my calves, and some in my thighs.

  • It's easier for me to get to sleep.

  • We've already talked about the increasing sex drive.

  • The tummy has deflated the tiniest bit.

  • So has the butt. I no longer look like I'm either a duck or 9 months' pregnant from the side.

  • I got dressed for a job interview this morning, and wound up pulling up the dress pants without having to unbutton them.

  • When I cuddled with Lyndon this evening, I didn't immediately think, "Eeeee! He's touching my fat!" In fact, it was downright comfy and sensual. Yay!

So, no huge change in size, but there are definitely some benefits to all this cardio that are making themselves known. That's hot.

Tuesday's total mileage: 523.72 miles to Isengard.


Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Thought that would get your attention.

I don't know about anyone else, but in my case there's a very strong correlation between regular exercise and a rise in the sex drive. Which can be pleasantly entertaining at times, and more than somewhat distracting at others, particularly when I'm trying to deal with Dallas traffic. And then there are the just plain weird times when I obsessively replay the scene in "The Pancake Batter Anomaly" episode of The Big Bang Theory where Penny is rubbing Vicks on a congested Sheldon's chest and wish that Penny had agreed to his (admittedly platonic -- well, hey, it's Sheldon) request for sponge baths.

Yeah, I never said I was normal. And Jim Parsons is one slender man. Nice voice, though, and cute, and it's cool to get confirmation that Sheldon is from Texas. But I digress.

So the hormones are making themselves known with all the walking, and judging from previous experience the effect will be even more pronounced when I start lifting weights again. This could get rather...interesting.

And in closing, my new favorite video. Okay, the doll fetishism is a bit weird, but thanks to the tatted Gerard Butler clone I think I just ovulated.