Our trip to Seattle was marvelous, just to see such huge trees and run in the misty mornings. In Los Angeles, the weather was all right but the smog was awful, and I didn't run there except for one day at the gym. It was very unpleasant, however: the treadmill arm supports were sticky and the treads themselves had some kind of spilled liquid on them which had dried, leaving streaks. I felt like going over the whole thing with a Lysol cleaning cloth, and it was so disgusting I didn't go back.
Here I have managed a run since our return on Saturday night, but I'm having the ever-famous fibromyalgia post-trip fall-out in which every spot on your body aches. The Austin 5K looms, and I see myself walking it now!
martes, 25 de octubre de 2011
lunes, 10 de octubre de 2011
Rain, and more rain...
It's either feast or famine. The rain began yesterday, and from the news we see it was so bad in some parts of town that at least three people were drowned when they were swept away by flash floods--in the streets and underpasses! Apparently the amount of rain that fell in a short time qualified as a cloud burst. I've lived in Mexico for 43 years, and this town has never failed to have natural disasters associated with water each year. The incredible part is how dangerous the streets get.
However, when I went out to run in the rain this morning--just a misty rain, no big deal--the park was almost empty. Thank God for small favors. I expected to see the hard-core runners, but no, it was just us old folks trying to lighten old age by keeping moving somehow. It is supposed to rain on and off until Thursday when we leave for Seattle, so maybe there won't be the usual park traffic jams.
And of course, it will rain in Seattle too! Well, I'm off to pack and to get my closet in some kind of order. That is an easy task--most of my clothes need to be thrown away. This tendency of mine to cling fiercely to a pair of silver hotpants left over from the 70s has just got to stop. Even if I could get into them, and even if summertime here is ideal for them, and even if my legs still look good, the rest of me has gone to pot with a vengeance.
So I'm going to Seattle with two pairs of jeans and tops, a sweatshirt, running gear, pajamas, and that's it. I have GOT to buy new clothes--this is what happens when you keep thinking, "I'll wait until I get back to my real weight...", as if I were EVER going to get back into the clothes I've saved. Merciless, that's what I'll be while I toss clothes...
However, when I went out to run in the rain this morning--just a misty rain, no big deal--the park was almost empty. Thank God for small favors. I expected to see the hard-core runners, but no, it was just us old folks trying to lighten old age by keeping moving somehow. It is supposed to rain on and off until Thursday when we leave for Seattle, so maybe there won't be the usual park traffic jams.
And of course, it will rain in Seattle too! Well, I'm off to pack and to get my closet in some kind of order. That is an easy task--most of my clothes need to be thrown away. This tendency of mine to cling fiercely to a pair of silver hotpants left over from the 70s has just got to stop. Even if I could get into them, and even if summertime here is ideal for them, and even if my legs still look good, the rest of me has gone to pot with a vengeance.
So I'm going to Seattle with two pairs of jeans and tops, a sweatshirt, running gear, pajamas, and that's it. I have GOT to buy new clothes--this is what happens when you keep thinking, "I'll wait until I get back to my real weight...", as if I were EVER going to get back into the clothes I've saved. Merciless, that's what I'll be while I toss clothes...
domingo, 9 de octubre de 2011
How Holmes Really Ended Up
"Quick, Watson, the game's afoot!" cried Holmes, bursting into Watson's sitting room one morning.
Watson, seated in an easy chair by the window, slowly lowered his newspaper. He took a swig of tea from a cup resting on the side table. He replaced the cup on its saucer; the chink of crockery could be heard.
"No, Holmes, the game is not afoot. They are having a 5K and 10K event along the road by the park today. Everyone and his uncle are participating, including ladies with racing strollers, old men with dogs, and experienced runners. Everthing except the game is afoot."
"Oh...well...nevertheless, remember the old gal wearing those rocking chair shoes that are supposed to lift your buttocks, tighten your abs, and make you look ten years younger? She was out again today, and alone this time, no one to hold her up! She was wearing gloves, too, Watson. Do you get the deeper meaning of that? What hideous crime is she up to?"
"Oh, good Lord, Holmes, she's wearing gloves to protect her hands when she falls down in those ungodly shoes. For years now, Holmes, I've played straight man to your narcissistic arrogance, affectation of eccentricity, and cold personality. Oh, I admit it, I'm a sentimental, warm-hearted man, with just enough interest in crime to put up with your foolishness. Maybe I'm masochistic, but I've coddled your need to have someone pretending to be dumber than shredded paper so you could bounce your ideas off me and look like a genious. Holmes, let's face it, I have a cactus in a pot with more deductive reasoning than you've got. Can I serve you a cup of tea, by the way?"
Holmes stood stunned.
"If that's the way you feel, Watson, then there is nothing more to say. I take my leave of you, and let me wish you a good day."
Holmes moved toward the door, head held high, with an expression of cold disapproval.
"By the way, take that assinine hat you wear, Holmes, with its silly ear flaps, and just toss it onto that cactus plant by the window there. Any criminal with two neurons still firing can spot you a mile off with that monstrosity on your head."
Holmes slammed the door, and Watson went back to his paper.
Three K today, as yesterday and the day before; my plan is that one of these days, it will suddenly be easy to pass the 3K mark and keep on going. It was even easier today, in fact, but it helps to have a lot to think about so you don't pay a lot of attention to distance. My shoes are beginning to need replacement, too, so in Seattle next week shopping is in order.
Running can be highly productive; I came up with a whole plan for our mayor in order to get the cops in our area in some kind of physical shape. I'm gonna write it up and take it to him. Keep your fingers crossed.
Watson, seated in an easy chair by the window, slowly lowered his newspaper. He took a swig of tea from a cup resting on the side table. He replaced the cup on its saucer; the chink of crockery could be heard.
"No, Holmes, the game is not afoot. They are having a 5K and 10K event along the road by the park today. Everyone and his uncle are participating, including ladies with racing strollers, old men with dogs, and experienced runners. Everthing except the game is afoot."
"Oh...well...nevertheless, remember the old gal wearing those rocking chair shoes that are supposed to lift your buttocks, tighten your abs, and make you look ten years younger? She was out again today, and alone this time, no one to hold her up! She was wearing gloves, too, Watson. Do you get the deeper meaning of that? What hideous crime is she up to?"
"Oh, good Lord, Holmes, she's wearing gloves to protect her hands when she falls down in those ungodly shoes. For years now, Holmes, I've played straight man to your narcissistic arrogance, affectation of eccentricity, and cold personality. Oh, I admit it, I'm a sentimental, warm-hearted man, with just enough interest in crime to put up with your foolishness. Maybe I'm masochistic, but I've coddled your need to have someone pretending to be dumber than shredded paper so you could bounce your ideas off me and look like a genious. Holmes, let's face it, I have a cactus in a pot with more deductive reasoning than you've got. Can I serve you a cup of tea, by the way?"
Holmes stood stunned.
"If that's the way you feel, Watson, then there is nothing more to say. I take my leave of you, and let me wish you a good day."
Holmes moved toward the door, head held high, with an expression of cold disapproval.
"By the way, take that assinine hat you wear, Holmes, with its silly ear flaps, and just toss it onto that cactus plant by the window there. Any criminal with two neurons still firing can spot you a mile off with that monstrosity on your head."
Holmes slammed the door, and Watson went back to his paper.
Three K today, as yesterday and the day before; my plan is that one of these days, it will suddenly be easy to pass the 3K mark and keep on going. It was even easier today, in fact, but it helps to have a lot to think about so you don't pay a lot of attention to distance. My shoes are beginning to need replacement, too, so in Seattle next week shopping is in order.
Running can be highly productive; I came up with a whole plan for our mayor in order to get the cops in our area in some kind of physical shape. I'm gonna write it up and take it to him. Keep your fingers crossed.
sábado, 8 de octubre de 2011
Instant Panic
No sooner did I sign up for the Austin 5K than I began to panic: I'm only doing a maple-syrup-in-wintertime 3K right now; I have barely begun to make up for everything I lost during the summer; what if I actually come in last behind the 100-year-olds who walk and the wheelchair competitors?
The actual possibility that anyone on the face of the earth will even see me are infinitesimal. Hundreds and hundreds of people enter the 5K, which is an event that supports the finances of the Paramount theater. People are still strolling through the finish line as the marathoners dash by, and all the excitement is with the marathon and half marathon. You are completely authorized to make as ass of yourself in the 5K, the crowd will roar its support of you no matter how slow you are or how foolishly dressed. People have been known to run in fancy dress costumes or running gear so old there are more holes than material. They run with dogs. They run in teams, they run in pairs. That's the thing about these events: you've got more support than you could ever imagine, and Austin being weird as it is, you too can be weird--you'll get applause.
The actual possibility that anyone on the face of the earth will even see me are infinitesimal. Hundreds and hundreds of people enter the 5K, which is an event that supports the finances of the Paramount theater. People are still strolling through the finish line as the marathoners dash by, and all the excitement is with the marathon and half marathon. You are completely authorized to make as ass of yourself in the 5K, the crowd will roar its support of you no matter how slow you are or how foolishly dressed. People have been known to run in fancy dress costumes or running gear so old there are more holes than material. They run with dogs. They run in teams, they run in pairs. That's the thing about these events: you've got more support than you could ever imagine, and Austin being weird as it is, you too can be weird--you'll get applause.
jueves, 6 de octubre de 2011
The Food Revolution
And speaking of food, check out Jamie Oliver's website and sign the petition to make school lunches something edible instead of the horror usually inflicted upon students. There is something wrong happening when first-grade kids in Southern Italy (the poorest area of the country) in a public school get organic products in school lunches, and they can identify red peppers, eggplant, asparagus, and other good stuff--when in the U.S. you could be talking about nuclear physics if you mention an eggplant to kids that age. Join the campaign.
Three K today at a continuous trot; it is the weather--so much cooler. Hope springs eternal. Two of my kids are going to the Austin events in February, so I guess I'll sign up for the 5K. Heck, even if it's at a crawl...
Three K today at a continuous trot; it is the weather--so much cooler. Hope springs eternal. Two of my kids are going to the Austin events in February, so I guess I'll sign up for the 5K. Heck, even if it's at a crawl...
lunes, 3 de octubre de 2011
A Hectic Two Weeks
Had a wonderful trip to Querétaro to meet with my two closest friends, and the results were marvelous. One lives in Querétaro, one in Mexico City, and of course moi, in Monterrey. One is Spanish, one is Mexican, one is, of course moi, gringa. We've been friends for over 30 years and in spite of our cultural differences, we've always been on the same page.
However, because of the altitude difference, I didn't go out to run. We have had rain, and our weather continues to be cooler, so slowly, slowly, I'm working my way back into shape after a summer that has convinced me and my husband that next year we are going to spend it somewhere else. Mexico City or Querétaro, for example.
While wandering around in the supermarket, still in my running gear, a woman (also in running gear) came up to say how much she admired me. I was taken aback since I didn't know her, but she is out in the park when I am and watches me struggle past her at my geriatric jog. This gal has just begun to go out and walk, having become terminally bored on her treadmill, so I told her to stick with it no matter what. Now she waves each time she sees me.
It also appears that our team is about to get team tees, which according to Adrián, will be phosphorescent green. Or, as I imagine he really means, radioactive green...Maybe he should put a disclaimer on the back of mine in order not to discourage potential trainees: "This old gal has a training tee only because she bought it, folks." Either that, or maybe he should mention my age: "Sixty-seven and still hot-footing it! Join us and wind up like this old lady--except for the wrinkles, we can prevent that too!" You never know what will be a selling point.
And speaking of selling points, here in the land of the overweight and obese, a regular meal supplement war has broken out. There is the York system, and now the Cambridge system, both of which cost a king's ransom and promise to make you look like...hmmm...well, take your pick, your fantasy is as good as mine. Two friends of mine are selling the competing brands. I got one can as a protein supplement, but it tastes like medicine. My other friend gave me some samples of the next brand, so I will try one tonight. I am not optimistic, but this friend and his mom and dad have lost a lot of weight and claim the stuff is delicious. I suspect the parents have invested in the project and this has affected their perception of the taste. I happen to be of the Julia Child persuasion, with a marked dislike of the food police: nothing is good for you, except things you wouldn't feed a hog; you are encouraged to avoid gluten even if you are not intolerant, and yesterday on television a couple of the food police were preparing a pizza made of some kind of bird seed (I kid you not) mixed with herbs and Parmesan cheese, covered with roasted garlic and onions and more cheese, baked in the oven till the crust is "crunchy"--I don't buy that, it looked pretty darned floppy to me. There they sat, the two food coppers, as the credits rolled by, choking down the birdseed pizza in very small bites. Why can't we just have good, unprocessed fruits and vegetables and proteins in moderate amounts and enjoy our meals, for gosh sakes?
If any of you have ever watched "You Are What You Eat", you know what I mean. This Gillian character locates real fatties and subjects them to the same process each week--she scolds, she horrifies, she browbeats them into eating almost purely vegetarian meals, some of which look ghastly. Don't get me wrong, I love vegetarian, but I've tried one or two of her recipes, and no thanks. And this gal may be saving the lives of the people whose diets she revamps, since she also gets them off their butts and moving--but how tiresome the show is!! I don't like seeing fat people being used for entertainment purposes, but I guess if you volunteer for it, who am I to complain?
However, because of the altitude difference, I didn't go out to run. We have had rain, and our weather continues to be cooler, so slowly, slowly, I'm working my way back into shape after a summer that has convinced me and my husband that next year we are going to spend it somewhere else. Mexico City or Querétaro, for example.
While wandering around in the supermarket, still in my running gear, a woman (also in running gear) came up to say how much she admired me. I was taken aback since I didn't know her, but she is out in the park when I am and watches me struggle past her at my geriatric jog. This gal has just begun to go out and walk, having become terminally bored on her treadmill, so I told her to stick with it no matter what. Now she waves each time she sees me.
It also appears that our team is about to get team tees, which according to Adrián, will be phosphorescent green. Or, as I imagine he really means, radioactive green...Maybe he should put a disclaimer on the back of mine in order not to discourage potential trainees: "This old gal has a training tee only because she bought it, folks." Either that, or maybe he should mention my age: "Sixty-seven and still hot-footing it! Join us and wind up like this old lady--except for the wrinkles, we can prevent that too!" You never know what will be a selling point.
And speaking of selling points, here in the land of the overweight and obese, a regular meal supplement war has broken out. There is the York system, and now the Cambridge system, both of which cost a king's ransom and promise to make you look like...hmmm...well, take your pick, your fantasy is as good as mine. Two friends of mine are selling the competing brands. I got one can as a protein supplement, but it tastes like medicine. My other friend gave me some samples of the next brand, so I will try one tonight. I am not optimistic, but this friend and his mom and dad have lost a lot of weight and claim the stuff is delicious. I suspect the parents have invested in the project and this has affected their perception of the taste. I happen to be of the Julia Child persuasion, with a marked dislike of the food police: nothing is good for you, except things you wouldn't feed a hog; you are encouraged to avoid gluten even if you are not intolerant, and yesterday on television a couple of the food police were preparing a pizza made of some kind of bird seed (I kid you not) mixed with herbs and Parmesan cheese, covered with roasted garlic and onions and more cheese, baked in the oven till the crust is "crunchy"--I don't buy that, it looked pretty darned floppy to me. There they sat, the two food coppers, as the credits rolled by, choking down the birdseed pizza in very small bites. Why can't we just have good, unprocessed fruits and vegetables and proteins in moderate amounts and enjoy our meals, for gosh sakes?
If any of you have ever watched "You Are What You Eat", you know what I mean. This Gillian character locates real fatties and subjects them to the same process each week--she scolds, she horrifies, she browbeats them into eating almost purely vegetarian meals, some of which look ghastly. Don't get me wrong, I love vegetarian, but I've tried one or two of her recipes, and no thanks. And this gal may be saving the lives of the people whose diets she revamps, since she also gets them off their butts and moving--but how tiresome the show is!! I don't like seeing fat people being used for entertainment purposes, but I guess if you volunteer for it, who am I to complain?
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