Getting Ahead of Myself

Today training called for a quick two miles. No biggie. I could do that in my sleep now. Or so I thought.

I was feeling pretty empowered by the weekend's five mile jog and thought I would skimp on the warm up. The weather was beautiful for once. I thought it was a sign that I should just go ahead and push myself from the beginning. Oh how I paid for that little mishap.

I need to keep reminding myself that I am conditioning my body, not punishing it.

I came home and did a little stretch and make steak and salad. As I ate, all I could think of was how silly I was for trying to go too far too quickly.

All in good time grasshopper.

Damn.

Call it Out

Sometimes I forget how much positive reinforcement can do. Today was the first long run of marathon training. Mind you, last week, Halladay and I went around Iroquois park for five miles, but it was all walking. Today, it was intervals, and I was alone.

I loaded up my ipod and got ready to sweat. I mapped out a route in my neighborhood that would get me to my goal. The first two miles weren't bad and I was feeling pretty good about myself.

Mile three was the tough one for me. The heat made my head feel like it was on fire. Bugs were acting as mini kamakaze fighters diving at my face. The salt from my forehead sweat was burning my eyes. I had a moment of "what am I doing? I can't believe I agreed to do this. I'll never make it." That is when I passed a girl heading to a party I had just passed by. I smiled and her and said "hello."

Her response was an enthusiastic "Get it girl!" I flashed a toothy grin and started to jog. I don't think this complete stranger knew that she pushed me past a moment when I wanted to give up.

I've had moments before where I've seen runners struggling and I want do call out "you can do it!" I've shied away from it before. I won't again. If you see someone out in the heat pushing to run or walk or bike or whatever, cheer them on. It really does help.

It's too hot, too hot lady

Anyone who has been outside in the past week knows about the steamy weather. Growing up in Arizona, it used to frustrate the crap out of me when people said 110 degrees was ok because it was a "dry" heat. I now know the difference. However, I will not let my fellow Southern summer sufferers out that easy.

Today the temps soared into the 90's. The muggy 90's. I got into my car and it was miserable. I felt like I had a film on my skin. The air felt heavy in my lungs. I was a pool of sweat before my beloved AC could help. I grabbed the steering wheel and it was uncomfortably hot. I went on my merry way.

Now in the desert, the scenario is a bit different. You would have approached the car and played a game of either use your shirt to guard your hand from the hot door handle or the quick grab and pray that it doesn't take skin. As soon as the door would open, a wave of heat would pour out of the car, very similar to taking a cake out of a hot oven. It burns your skin a little, but not enough to make you yell. You will need your voice when you actually get in the car if you haven't put up your sun shade. If you don't feel the seat cooking the flesh right off your ass, it is because that pain is muted by the third degree burns you have from touching the steering wheel or seatbelt without the spare pair of socks you keep beneath the seat just for this occasion. You dive for the AC button and wonder why the heat didn't melt the plastic knobs right off the dashboard. A blast of molten hot air burst out of the vents. Stsssssstsststss. That is the sound of your face sizzling and melting off like the nazi dudes in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Welcome to the desert baby. That's the "dry" heat you've been hearing all about. Consider that the next time you tell someone from the desert how hot it is.

That being said, summer sucks. Didn't like it in the desert. Don't like it here. One is not better than the other, or really worse for that matter. It all sucks. I just went for a little two mile run as the sun started to go down. Even though the day is getting cooler, I could only sigh and count the days until fall.

It Cakes Two Baby

Anyone who knows me knows I have little self control when it comes to food. My latest weakness comes in the form of a shop that specializes in cupcakes, aptly named "The Cupcake Shoppe." Not entirely inventive name, but it doesn't have to be, I love it just the way it is. They have created a cupcake so entirely perfect, it brings a tear to my eye. We'll get to that in a minute.

I have had a pretty rotten couple of weeks as my husband and I are trying to buy our first house. After three weeks of brutal negotiation, a bad appraisal and then a home inspection, we are walking away from the house. My nerves are raw. My husband and I have been sniping at each other. We are both exhausted. As soon as we decided to walk away, a cloud lifted and everything seemed brighter. So to celebrate, I stopped to get two perfect cupcakes for dessert tonight.

Now I must tell you my husband rarely eats sweets. I thought he would make an exception after I told him the wonders of fluffy cake with baked in strawberries topped with fresh whipped cream and a strawberry. I was wrong. The giddy, sarcastic, playful man I love is back. He didn't want to eat it. At the same time, he didn't want me to have it. Yes, he makes childish decisions, but look who he married. I can't fault him.

The conversation went like this:
Hubby: You gave it to me. It's mine. You can't have it.
Polipino: I bought it.
Hubby: I bought your wedding ring.
Polipino: We've been married almost two years. How long are you gonna use that?
Hubby: Until you stop being wife and become 'the plaintiff.'

I ate the cupcake. Both of them.

Half Marathon training starts tomorrow.

A Man Who Understands

Today is a rough day. Writer's block coupled with some severe cravings. When I get writer's block, I step away from the project and do a little light reading. My friend sent me an article on run/walking. It talked about the recovery needed while doing long distances. It says you need to give your body breaks so you don't hurt yourself. So if you happen to be in my neighborhood and you see me holding on to tree, panting and crying, just know I'm taking a little break. It's science. Don't mess with science.

The article also linked to a health blog. You can check it out here.

http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/

Check out the entry "My brief life as a woman." It is about a man who is going through hormone treatments during his recovery from prostate cancer. He talks about the hot flashes, the crying and of course, weight gain and cravings.

My first instinct was to seek out this man and hug him. We could cry together and then hit the cupcake shoppe. Which by the way, if you haven't been http://www.louisvillecupcakes.com . You can thank me later.

I think sometimes men believe we are crazy and then just BLAME hormones with no real backing. They will watch us eat two burgers, a hot dog, potato salad, macaroni and cheese, broccoli casserole, a slice of cake and two cupcakes in awe. They can't hear the voice screaming inside "give me MORE." It was so refreshing to hear a man talk about the struggle of telling your body "no" you don't need Doritos slathered with cream cheese.

I've had the same debate. Welcome to the club, brother.

It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday

Lately things have been a bit tense in Polipino land. We have been in brutal negotiations for our first house and it has taken its toll. The bright and sunny side is that we have a contract in the works and now are crossing our fingers that all else goes well. I've already started getting excited. My instincts tell me to pack up everything and get ready. My husband tells me to stop being crazy.

So I packed a box of books. Simple and easy to undo. It put the demons in my head to rest for the day. I also put a beloved Phantom of the Opera snow globe in the goodwill box. My aunt gave it to me when I was 15. I fell in love with it when I saw it at the San Francisco Music Box Company. It was full of beautiful glitter and played "Music of the Night." One year later, my aunt sent it to me for my birthday. Even though I've outgrown snow globes, it still makes me smile. I am hoping that it will soon make someone else smile.

The next piece I have decided to purge is my first piece of professionally frame art. I grew very fond of Michael Parkes' work in college. Some of my favorite prints were just a little too disturbing for me to keep in my bedroom. I opted for this one.


I put it up for sale on craig's list. The print alone is worth $40. I paid to have it professionally framed in college. That's right, in college. Those were the days that I sold blood to buy dinner, but I paid to have this bad boy professionally framed. It was a very big deal for me. That is why I'm selling it instead of just giving it away.

I won't lie. I've got a bit of a heavy heart about it. It has been hanging above my bed for more than 10 years. I'll miss it, but the husband wants to look at something new. I guess I can understand that. Ah marriage. The great compromise.

I know that I'm going to have to purge more as we get ready for the big move. I knew that those two things would probably be the hardest, so I just ripped it off like a band-aid. Here's to the future.

Here we go again

So we finally got that nonsense of running, scratch that, limping through the mini marathon. So what's next? Running for real a mini marathon. My gal pals are gearing up for some full on marathon action. I'm proud as can be of them, but my goals are set on keeping a pace for another mini. We start training at the end of June, but because I am so far behind them, I'm starting a bit early.

By the end of June the goal is to be able to run four miles comfortably. Right now, I can run about 2 miles uncomfortably. If the end of June comes and I'm running four miles uncomfortably, so be it as long as I can run it.

Over the past few days, I've been really stressed out, so I've been turning to an evening jog to work out my grief. It has been working pretty well as the world seems like a calmer place after a few miles. I have also found out that if I just tone down the jogging and don't try to win any speed races, I can actually do more than I thought I could. I have been pushing too hard and running out of steam too quickly. I will have to build that endurance, but Rome was not built in a day!

Mini marathon. Check!

When 2009 started, I put together a little list of things I wanted to accomplish this year. One of those was the Kentucky Derby Festival Mini Marathon. It is 13.1 miles and let me tell you, there is nothing mini about it. Before the race, Kerri suggested that I document the race with a little video diary. I'll never be a film maker like Heidi the crafty yodeler, but if you are wondering how I held up, take a look.

Ah crap! I'm over 30

When I was in college, one of my favorite songs had the lyrics "I can still remember when 30 was old." In my mid-twenties, I embraced the thought of passing the big three-oh. I laughed at my petty peers who looked at aging like "the end."

Well, it came and went and I thought I was handling it pretty well. I didn't fear crow's feet or not being able to wear funky styles. I was happy to leave the luxury of youth and replace it with stability, security and a true sense of self.

I am taking care of myself more than ever and have even been sticking to this whole exercise thing. Then it happened. My body turned on me. Apparently, even if I ignore the sands of time, my body refuses to.

The first thing to go was my blood pressure. At a dentist's appointment, I discovered I have high blood pressure. At 29, I was fine. Today, not fine. What changed?

My hormones slowly found a way to drive me insane. Spots on my face. Mood swings. Body temperature problems. The list really goes on and on for this one.

Now that I have been exercising, I don't actually lose weight like I did when I was a teen. Nope. All the stuff just moves around and instead of my skin snapping back, it sags into little rolls making my naked body look more like a melted candle than human.

Despite my best efforts, my gums are receding. Oh yeah, long in the tooth, party of one.

I can't stay up past midnight if I try, but on "school nights" I can't sleep, so I toss and turn all night long.

I finally know why people don't want to age. It has less to do with vanity and more to do with facing the reality that I may be putting my bra on around my waist in 10 years.

I have found true sense of self. I am bitchy, saggy, hot, cold, spotted insomniac with hypertension. Pass me an effing cookie.

Never say Never

Back when I was a news producer, I remember covering the races. I would nestled down into my comfy control room chair and say "you will NEVER see me getting up early to run 10 miles!"

You get where I'm going with this? This weekend, I broke another "I'll never." It was the Papa John's 10-miler. I actually didn't pay and was a rogue walker. I'm such a rebel. Holla.

There was no running involved. Harris Bueller was my walking partner for 10 grueling miles. He is quite a bit taller with his legs beginning a good 14 inches before mine. He was sans toenail due to an unfortunate moving accident a week or two ago. Despite his injury, he kept a brisk pace and worked my little Polipino stems all I could to keep up.

Moral of this story: I'm a big ol liar face. I wonder what my next "I'll never" will be on the chopping block. I'm hoping Check us out at the finish line.

My Hero

Everyone needs someone to call hero. This dude is mine.

The Smell of Anticipation and Fear

Tonight, the smell of anticipation and fear fill the air. That and the lasagna I have cooking. The 10-miler is this weekend and I'm not ashamed to say that I am a bit scared. I've been training, but I've always ducked out of the runs that were longer than 10 miles for some reason or another.

I'm actually a rogue walker. That means I didn't pay an entry fee and don't intend to, so neener. I would actually duck out of this weekend, but as I have said before, my friends are relentless and won't let me rest. I've made all my excuses, and they are not having it. Bitches. Yeah, I said it. Relentless bitches.

I'll be accompanied by Harris Bueller who is recently recovering from slicing his toenail off with a piano. I told him you don't play it that way, but no one ever listens to the Polipino.

Tonight, the husband and I will be braving the 35 degree weather to get in three miles together. He hasn't really been training and I'm a little worried that he is going to have trouble with the Mini Marathon. He walks constantly for his job, which may be what ends of saving him.

No One Likes a Quitter

I'm a quitter. A totally quit-miester. A big ol' quitter face.

No worries though, as I am not sad. I am officially an EX-member of my gym. I have to say, I have done more exercising with my workout group since October than I have done in the 5+ years I belonged to a gym.

I was a bit nervous as gyms have a tendency to make you feel bad when quitting. They give you the disappointed eyes. The sighs that really say "so you want to be a big, dopey, unmotivated loser, eh?" At the end, you usually end the session with signing a new contract with a promise to yourself and them that you will come and work out more. We all know, this lasts for about a week.

This time I was prepared. I knew I was not giving up on my heath or exercise. I was giving up a $35 monthly charge for a place I visited on occasion. I used to hate exercising outside, and now the thought of being on a treadmill for 5 miles makes me ill. I am done.

I met with the manager and told him I was quitting for financial reasons. In this economy, it isn't far from the truth. Honestly, in any economy, wasting money on that every month is just silly.

Tah dah. Just check me out, all Quitty McQuitterton.

Put a sock in it

My husband once told me that walking is the one exercise that won't cost me a thing. Always doing my best to prove him wrong, I have bought an ipod, a nike+ kit and expensive running shoes. He seems to believe that I can't do anything without spending money. He's probably right. It's not the economy causing money trouble, it's walking. Make a note kids.

My newest obsession is Bolega socks. I can't do distances without them. I have tried to go back to my good old Hanes Dry socks, but I just can't. I did four miles yesterday with my old socks and voila, blister city. I sure as hell am not doing seven miles tonight without my Bolegas. Of all the things I never expected to get hooked on. Socks. Wow. Who knew.

Adding to my financial downfall, I have committed to a pricey trip to San Francisco with my girls to be in the Nike Women's Marathon. It is not until October, so I have plenty of time to save. Neener. So for those who want to judge me, read the headline of this post.

Cirque de Katrin-Nu

Tonight I went to go see Cirque Dreams with my buddy Laci at the Kentucky Center. I asked my husband if he was interested in going with me next week. I believe his response was "Cirque de Soliel is French and gay and wet and on fire all at the same time."

(I'll tell you, what I saw tonight was not French, wet or on fire.)

He continued "If I want to see a guy blow a sea lion while doing a handstand under water, they have videos of those sorts of things."

(I must have missed the sea lion bit but then again, I was trying to recover from seeing a woman shove her face between her own ass cheeks.)

"When drag queens are bored and horny, they think of Cirque de Soliel."

(I'm sure had I gone to the cast party, I would be able to tell you if indeed they do.)

The show was definitely amusing. I also learned that at the Kentucky Center, any show, no matter what, can get a standing O. You just have to hold the final bow long enough. That is when we realize that we'd better stand or you will never let us go home.

There was a great deal of talent. The cast obviously had to train for many years to be able to perform blah, blah, blah. Yeah, I even stopped listening to myself while spouting that.

I'm starting my own show called Cirque de Katri-Nu. It will be me and my cat Gaia Nu Nu dressed up and posing. She can stick her face between her butt cheeks too. I've seen her do it. Maybe if I dressed her in bright spandex people would pay to see it.

Update on Boot Napper

So I've learned that the boot napper don't play. I knew the Swede was doing something vicious, but I had no idea the heart breaking and terrifying circumstances my little boots would be in. I had visions of them frolicking with other kidnapped boots, eating ice cream and getting a nice shine. Nope. The boot napper is heartless. Heartless I tell you!!!! I received this today.

Kat N Boots

My boots have been boot napped!!!


I went to a slumber party on Friday(Yes, I know how old I am. No, we did not pillow fight in our underwear.)I forgot to take my boots and today I received the picture above with THIS!

"Juzt do az you're told and nobody getz hurt.

This lovely pair of zazzy bootz were "left" at my place. If you ever want to zee them again, Mizz Zize 7 1/2, then lizten up! Leave an unmarked envelope in my mailbox with 3 crizp 20 dollar billz.

If the money arrivez by noon on Zaturday, then I will arrange a pick up. If not, then............well, you juzt don't want to know........

Boot-napper"

Do you fear for my lovely brown bootz too?

Sibling Rilvary

Greetings from The Mitt. I'm hanging out in Michigan with my family, namely my mom and my brother. He's living in Michigan which is a bit odd because he hates cold and well, Michigan is cold.

I went to my aunt's today and did three miles on her treadmill. It was nice looking out the window and seeing woods and flurries while I worked out. There is something poetic about sweating out your body weight in water while seeing snow. I was sporting my new hot pink wicking shirt and awesome new running shoes. I was styling, with the exception of my lavander pants, but really, I'm with family, who is actually looking?

I'm feeling a little too relaxed for the days I've been away from Kentucky. I think being off work and away from it all is doing me good. My brother, although he has his problems like everyone else, always teaches me that all you can do with the world is look at it and laugh. He is quick with a smile and is always cracking jokes, no matter the situation. He can be severely inappropriate, so it is nice to not be the only one.

Leave it to a sibling to suck all the originality out of your personlity. I think I'm gonna short sheet his bed.

Training Schmaining

I've been trying to stick to the mini-marathon training schedule. I'm not trying to break any records. I just want to be able to finish without thinking I'm going to die. I've been pretty good for the past couple of days. I think it is amusing that I'll look at the schedule and if it calls for one mile instead of two or four or whatever, I think to myself "why even bother if you are only going to go ONE mile."

That moment reminded me of the time when one mile was a pretty big deal to me. I used to absolutely dread walking/running a mile and now I know that it is no big thing. It gave me hope that one day I will look at five miles like no big thing. It is what kept me going through some nasty shin and foot pain yesterday.

Halladay Celebration laid out the walking routes for me. She said the reason I'm all skeered is because I haven't done it and it is new/unknown. She assured me that I would not die during this and that if I do it once, it will be a lot less scary the next time.

I'm heading to Michigan tomorrow and I'm concerned that I will get off track because, well, it is 15 farking degrees. I've walked in some pretty chilly weather, but c'mon, that is just unnecessary. My mom said she'll take me to the mall and we'll do some laps. Isn't that just like a mom to make it all ok? I bet she'll make me some hot cocoa too.

Strange Forms of Punishment

The husband has been tormenting me endlessly about my little slip up with his credit card. I can't tell you how many forms of "Can you get me a beer from the fridge? Oh, just put it on my card" I've gotten in the past two days.

For Valentine's Day, I knew he was going to break our agreement, because not only did I break the agreement, ah fuck it, you know the story. I was so curious to see how this Valentine's Day would play out.

I woke up early and walked seven miles with my girls. That's right. Seven. It was worth it. We got to eat bacon and Harris Bueller was the community boyfriend and bought us all breakfast. He's so awesome. I'd like to take this moment to give him a solid shout out so he knows how much I appreciated that.


Afterwards, I headed over to my friends house for hours of girl gabbing. The husband said he needed the house for a few hours, so there you go. He showed up at her door with chocolates and ice cream to keep up occupied while we watched HGTV. I swear, I may have to get cable. Wow. That channel is craptastic and I want to watch it ALL THE TIME. The Deals on the Bus go round and round. I finally left when Toddlers and Tiaras came on. I feel after watching that show that even *I* could be a fit mother. I will not spray tan my four-year-old. I will not make her wear false teeth. I might even get mother of the year. Go me.

When I got home, Jeremy had made an awesome pasta dinner with cheesy bread. I finished off a bottle of pink champagne, that I surely paid for the next day.

Now on to my punishment. I broke the deal. I knew he was going to get me presents. He framed the last leaf he had picked and pressed the month we met. For those of you counting, he picked it more than six years ago and held on to it. It is just like the one he gave to me the night he proposed. This one holds a quote that says, "It's no good trying to fool yourself about love. You can't fall into it like a soft job, without dirtying your hands. It takes muscle and guts. And if you can't bear the thought of messing up your nice, clean soul, you'd better give up the whole idea of life and become a saint because you'll never make it as a human being in either this world or the next." I'm gonna guess he forgives me for the credit card thing, and the not doing laundry thing, and the never vacuuming thing, and the coming home late thing...

After dinner, just when I thought all the surprises were done, he gave me a necklace, with a delicate white gold chain and diamonds emedded in a perfect circle. He has a strange way of punishing me. I believe he is encouraging bad behavior.

He is so sweet, I think I'll get him something really nice. After all, I do still have his credit card number. *Insert evil laugh here*

Best.Wife.Ever

Every year my husband and I have a tradition on Valentine's Day. We make an agreement that we will not buy each other anything. He then ignores the agreement and buys me something amazing. I then feel like a schmuck.

This year I really wanted to get him. We made our traditional agreement. He even called me today to confirm that we are sticking to the agreement. I, however, knowing how he always breaks this agreement, ordered him something online. It is supposed to arrive Monday, which is NOT on Valentine's Day, so technically, I'm still sticking to the agreement.

I get a call from my beloved this afternoon to ask if I had bought something online. I think to myself "wow, that got here quick!" I stutter "y ye yeah, why?" He then lets me know that there is a charge on HIS card. Suddenly memory of the whole ordering process flashes before my eyes. I was in a hurry. I was just clicking buttons. I FRACKING USED HIS CARD TO BUY HIS SURPRISE VALENTINE'S DAY PRESENT! I explain what happened to my husband.

After he picks himself off the floor, gasping for air, he says "so let me get this right. You lied right to my face about our agreement when I called you today, you bought me a present from a discount store online AND you used my credit card to do it?"

Silence. Silence. Silence. I giggle. "Surprise?"

I'm totally the best.wife.ever.

Kaboom

That is the sound of my fat ass falling off the wagon.

Sure I have some awesome excuses like the terrible sickness I got right before I went to the inauguration, the massive ice/snow storm that brought the smack down to Mrs. Gallagher's neighborhood, TJ Brooker forcing me kicking and screaming to Red Lobster, you know, the usual. I need to focus.

I have invested in an ipod nano and a nifty little chip that tells me how far I have gone, how fast and the like. I haven't used it yet, because I'm a slacker. My husband always says that I don't feel like I have committed to something unless I spend money, and then I don't follow through. This is just another example of me proving him right. I'm pretty sure that is why he keeps me around.

I'm crossing my fingers that tonight will be the night I will kick myself in the ass and head to the gym. I'm hoping all the New Year's resolution bastards are gone. They make me want to kick puppies.

Inauguration 2009, Pt. 1

Fourscore and three donuts ago, a bunch o people schlepped themselves to our nation's capital to grab on to a little piece of American history. In case you live in a hole, we now have a black president. Other things to note, Chief Justice Roberts is not so good when put on the spot without note cards, and Rev. Rick Warren says Malia and Sasha like they are candy treats.

I too, was a schlepper. I joined a group of my girl buddies on a super dandy road trip to DC so that one day I would be able to tell my hypothetical children that I was there when a wall in the race barrier crumbled.

Sometimes I forget that it wasn't so long ago that my own parents faced ignorance and hatred for daring to get married and create little Polipinos. It wasn't one-sided. Polish and Filipino alike wanted them to "stick to their own kind." In the hatemongers' defense, they did not know how awesome I would be or that one day I would witness history among a crowd of multicultural friends.


Speaking of loving people for who they are, I have a confession. It's a big one. My friends will probably shun me, but in these days of hope and change and acceptance, I feel confident that one day I will be rewelcomed into the fold.

I didn't actually vote for Obama.


Yep, that's right. I'm not sorry. I refuse to apologize. I get to use my vote however I want. Those ARE the rules. The truth is that I liked both candidates. I was on the fence even when I walked into the booth. My gut told me to vote McCain. I am pleased with our new president and am looking forward to what he may accomplish, but I'm not going to pretend that I've been on board the whole time. I support my president now, and really that should be enough. Sing it Pepsi.

Polipinos in the Mist

A couple of months ago I decided to quit my whining and grab life by the balls. This Saturday was a testament to my efforts. It was the Snowman Shuffle. It sounds intimidating eh? Well, it is a four miler and like always, we had to walk half a mile just to get to the starting line. The forecast called for flurries and chilly weather, but when I hit my alarm clock and it said the temp outside was 45 degrees, I just laughed.



When I walked out my door, I was shocked by the torrential downpour. The rain was coming in sideways. I was ready to crawl back in bed when I remembered that my friends expected me to be there. I hit Walgreens on the way in and grabbed a rain poncho, which is actually a glorified tent with a hood.

You can see it here with me, Halladay Celebration and boot camp team captain Denise, who we ran into at the end of the race.

By the time I made it to Cherokee Park, it was basically mist. Although the weather had turned OK, the attendance at the race was pitiful. There were really only a handful of walkers. Most were hard core runners looking to make really good time due to the warm weather. I was told that this was the kind of weather(45 degrees and overcast) that records were broken in.

I knew I wasn't going to break any records, but I knew we showed up when most people rolled over and went back to sleep. It was just four of us in our little group. Harris Bueller, Halladay Celebration and Heidi, who has graduated from Norwegian Bikini Team Model to Life Coach. Bueller and Celebration pulled ahead since they are giants and couldn't help themselves. I told Life Coach it was OK to join them that I had music and I would be fine. She was having none of it. Secretly I was hoping I could just be alone so I could walk at a leisurely pace. Nope. Not gonna happen. Not on Life Coach's watch.

First she had me start with yoga breathing exercises to help keep my pace. She wouldn't let me talk while we were going up hills so I wouldn't die. Then she started calling out little jog spots. "We'll just jog between these two trees." The next thing you know we have jogged a good deal of the four mile journey. I couldn't believe it! She said "how do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time." Brilliant. We made it in about an hour. Not bad for a little Polipino.

This is us after we watched a strange video tape and then the phone rang and then-oh you get it. Anyone else creeped out suddenly?

So I took Sunday off and ate like a Hoss. I'll attack my eating another day, but for now, I need to keep on the training schedule. Tonight it called for three miles. I really wanted to blow it off. I convinced myself that I would do one lap around our neighborhood which is 1.7 miles. I grabbed my new shoes and started to head out the door when my hubby said he wanted to join me. I knew then I was in for the full three miles.

Usually I have to strain to keep up with him, but with Life Coach's word rattling in my head, I started jogging in between trees. I know many of my less vertically challenged friends will find it amusing that Jeremy just had to widen his stride to keep up. Ah well, one bite at a time. One bite at a time.

Pigeon Poster Child

Sometimes things make me laugh so hard that I need to call in back up. My friend Cari commented on yesterday's post that she got stuck in Pigeon Pose during yoga. Now if you are like me, you laughed out loud, fell on the floor and laughed some more. That was followed by a sharp inhale, followed by more laughter.

For those who don't know, here is a picture of King Pigeon Pose. It is a little more advanced. You can do regular pigeon pose sitting up straight and not bending the other leg.

But back to the task at hand. We are laughing at Cari. Just a little history for your pleasure. Cari and I were roommates in college. Some people golf. Some people collect stamps. My favorite hobby was to torment my dear roommate.

Once I drove home early from vacation just to hide in our apartment and scare the crap out of her. I came home and heard her taking a shower. I tip toed to the bathroom, and scratched at the door. She yells out "Helloooo? Is someone there?" Silence. I did it again. "HELLO?!" I could hear the terror in her voice rising. She opened the door and stuck her head into the hallway with another whispered "hello?" I dove behind a wall and waited. When enough time had passed, I ran to the door and banged on it. She screamed so hard I think the neighbors heard. The quick pounding of her feet told me she was doing the girly scream dance on the other side of the door in the buff. That my friends, is what dreams are made of.

I'm Gaia Nu Nu and my mom is mean.

Gonna Dress Me Up in my Love

When the new year rolls around, a lot of people get really excited and take the "glass half full" outlook on life. Not me. I'm wading around in a nasty puddle of blah. My good ol' insomnia tendencies have returned and now my husband says he "caught" my insomnia, like it is the plague. Well, to be fair, it is really close to the plague without all the fun bonfires and such.

I'm trying to attack it head on by looking at what I have coming up this year. First off, we are going to put a black man in the White House. I wonder if one day we'll put a Polipino in a tan house and raise little white children. See how it all comes full circle? Anyway, I'm going to the Bluegrass Ball which is supposed to be the shizzle. I, of course, needed a ball gown. Believe it or not, I didn't just have one handy, so I got one. Check it.

I also found this little number.


When I breath real hard, it looks like I'm smuggling midgets. What kind of crunches do you do to make your boobs smaller?

I have officially started to train for the mini marathon in April. I did two miles tonight before heading to my weight lifting class. This leads me to another thing I hate about the new year, people crowding the gym. I went right after work and I ended up with the treadmill in the cardio theater in the front row that wobbles back and forth. I couldn't tell if I was getting sick from the motion or the crappy Richard Gere flick they were torturing me with.

When I got to weight lifting class, I discovered that two holidays make the teacher store up torture. She was on fi-yah today. During the tricep workout, I actually thought I might drop the bar on my face. Oh well, it is all for the sake of looking pretty in my new dress, er, um, I mean health. Yes, for the sake of health.

I am a puh-pay and I approve of this message.