It's Biggest Loser Tuesday. Bob got a haircut - he is hawt tonight. I love that the show has a true villain. Tracey. Everyone hates her, and I love it that they hate her so daggum much. One woman just passed out on a treadmill. I think she did it out of sheer hate. She wants to beat Tracey so bad that she has been starving herself. Hate - the ultimate diet. She's ok. When she came to, she had the stink eye. I think she was dreaming about how much she hates Tracey those few minutes she was blacked out. I fully expect Tracey to wake up with a horse's head under the sheets with her one of these days. I freakin' love this show. And as much as I hate Tracey and want her kicked off the show along with the rest of the Losers and America, I think it would be a shame to lose the show's best character this soon.
Tonight was my first weigh-in at Weight Watchers after rejoining last week. I lost six pounds. The meeting leader was a little surprised - when she was handing out the gold star, she said to me, "but it's only your second week." I didn't tell her that I caught a stomach virus and probably lost four of those pounds in a very uncomfortable 12 hour period. I don't feel that much thinner. I expect next week to lose a pound or less. Which is okay. It wasn't my intention to lose 15 pounds in less than a month.
My ass is still broke. It's been 8 weeks, 2 days and 9 hours, give or take a few minutes. It still hurts. The pain is constant but not always terrible. I think I can start running this week. At least I'm going to try. I have 3 months to the half-marathon. I fully expect to walk a big chunk of the race, so I'm not too concerned about finishing. And if all goes well, I'll improve my time substantially when I run the Austin half in February.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
WW Redux
It's Biggest Loser Tuesday, 7 weeks and 2 days since I broke my ass. I weighed-in at 185 pounds today. And I'm freakin' miserable. My brokeass hurts as bad today as it did the day I broke it. I don't know if I'm doing something to make it worse - sitting, driving, walking, moving? I went back to Weight Watchers this evening for the first time in about 4 years. I've been pigging out, and I need WW to help me put an end to it. I'm not a "fat" person, that is to say, I think I look pretty average-sized. But I feel miserable. I hate carrying this weight.
So, this is probably the lamest unread blog on the internets. I intended to share my training stories and my experiences as I compete in one event each month in 2010. Instead of training, I've been whining about my broken tailbone. I have nothing else to say tonight.
So, this is probably the lamest unread blog on the internets. I intended to share my training stories and my experiences as I compete in one event each month in 2010. Instead of training, I've been whining about my broken tailbone. I have nothing else to say tonight.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
It's Biggest Loser Tuesday. Bob's got some new bling on his left ring finger. It's so big Liberace would blush. Definitely not a wedding ring. The guy who looks like Julia Childe just said, "I want to take a cupcake and rub it all over my body." Not sure how I feel about that. I've never had a food/sex thing. I wonder if the bigger people on the show resent the less big people. I love when Bob and Jillian cuss out the contestants (which occurs at least 5 times each episode). I wish I could do that to my coworkers and the people in line in front of me at Kroger who don't tell the cashier that they want to buy cigarettes until the cashier has finished swiping all of their groceries. Jillian just screamed at a contestant "I think you're full of shit!" You know, the contestant is a wife and a mom and probably arranges flowers on the alter at her church every Sunday morning. I don't disagree with Jillian - I, too, think the woman is full of shit - but I'd probably deliver the message a little more delicately. One of the contestants has lost 54 pounds in the first 3 weeks.
It's been 6 weeks and 2 days since I broke my ass. That's 44 days for those of you keeping track at home. I've done nothing but watch TV and eat and drink and complain for 44 days. I stepped on the scale this morning and was a heavy 185. My clothes fit well when I'm at 172 (and I'm talking about the important clothes like my skinny jeans). Right now all of my clothes are tight. Let me rephrase that. The clothes I can actually get on are tight. The rest of them are just hanging out in the closet, mocking me. My tailbone still hurts. But it's not a constant pain - I just feel it when I sit on it wrong or move too quickly. I'm dying to get back on my bike, but it still feels like it's weeks away.
Do you ever worry when you see people bending over that they're going to rip one? I don't know why that makes me so nervous. There are a lot of people bending over on The Biggest Loser. I keep waiting for it. I had a professor in law school who dropped his chalk at least 5 times each class. He always bent over at the waist. It made me so nervous.
Well, this blog still isn't about my training. I feel compelled to write, but only because I like to write. I used to be a good writer. I don't think I'm a good writer anymore, but at least I'm writing even if no one is reading it.
It's been 6 weeks and 2 days since I broke my ass. That's 44 days for those of you keeping track at home. I've done nothing but watch TV and eat and drink and complain for 44 days. I stepped on the scale this morning and was a heavy 185. My clothes fit well when I'm at 172 (and I'm talking about the important clothes like my skinny jeans). Right now all of my clothes are tight. Let me rephrase that. The clothes I can actually get on are tight. The rest of them are just hanging out in the closet, mocking me. My tailbone still hurts. But it's not a constant pain - I just feel it when I sit on it wrong or move too quickly. I'm dying to get back on my bike, but it still feels like it's weeks away.
Do you ever worry when you see people bending over that they're going to rip one? I don't know why that makes me so nervous. There are a lot of people bending over on The Biggest Loser. I keep waiting for it. I had a professor in law school who dropped his chalk at least 5 times each class. He always bent over at the waist. It made me so nervous.
Well, this blog still isn't about my training. I feel compelled to write, but only because I like to write. I used to be a good writer. I don't think I'm a good writer anymore, but at least I'm writing even if no one is reading it.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Brokeass Houston
It's official. I broke my ass. It's been 5 weeks and 2 days since my bike accident, and I finally went to the doctor today. Your tailbone is supposed to point straight down. My tailbone now points forward. The doctor was as nice as can be. He told me to pull my pants down and lay facedown on a table. I said, "but we just met." He ignored me and got down to business. After feeling me up (it's the most action I've gotten in months), he told me he'd give me a shot that would ease the pain and help the healing. Ok. Then he left the room with me lying there, ass in the air, for what felt like an hour. Do you pull your pants up and get off the table? Or do you just wait, ass in the air with goosebumps on it because the room is so damned cold? I don't know! So I just waited. I tend to laugh in situations like this, and I couldn't stop laughing. When he did come back, the laughing stopped. He told me he'd be giving me a shot where the break is. I gripped the table and bit my tongue as he went at it. It hurt like a mofo. Like a MOFO I tell youI never want a shot there again. And I really don't want surgery, so I'm going to do as he said, take my meds and sit on my donut until it heals.
Anyway, I'm watching the Biggest Loser tonight. The 2nd challenge was a group challenge which the contestants won. The reward was that each contestant gets to call home. I ain't never seen so much blubbering in my life. If the fridge on the ranch were full of ice cream, it would have gotten ugly. A bunch of emotional wrecks, and all they have to eat are carrot sticks and celery. I'd be hunting for a snickers bar - you know someone smuggled in a snichers or at least some M&M. The show started off well. The contestants discussed what it was like to have voted a person off last week. They are still in the stage where they aren't thinking of the game as a game - it's still just about the weight loss to them. This week, though, the're digging up emotions. You eat because you're sad or hurt or angry or abandoned. The show asks why and how do you stop. We've been reminded several times that Week 2 is traditionally the week where the contestants lose the least amount of weight. You hit a big number during Week 1, and according to Bob and Jillian, it's physically impossible to duplicate those results. The first two contestants weighed in - 4 pounds and 6 pounds. Two weeks ago if they'd lost 4 or 6 pounds, they'd be celebrating. Now, it's a huge disappointment. The group has to lose 115 pounds between the 15 of them. If they succeed, no one goes home. If they fail, two people go home. It's 8:45 and there are several more people to weigh-in, so there's no way they're going to weigh everybody, go through the vote and kick 2 people off by 9:00. So I think they made it. They made it. They lost 155 pounds.
Back to me and my brokebutt. Training is still on hold for another few weeks at a minimum. But I'm trying to keep my chin up (or chins - I've gained about 8 pounds since the accident!). I still think I can make my goal of one event per month next year. If I'm running by mid-October, that'll give me 3 months to train for the half-marathon. It's doable (I think), but it's not going to be a pretty run. The scary/funny thing is that I can't wait to get back on my bike. I miss the hell out of riding, and the season is right. Sunny, warm days are on tap for the next few months in Houston. It's a great time to be in Houston, although I think the summers are just as great (I like the heat). That's about it. Eventually, I'll start posting about training and events and my fitness quest. Hope soon. I'm tired of this broke ass.
Anyway, I'm watching the Biggest Loser tonight. The 2nd challenge was a group challenge which the contestants won. The reward was that each contestant gets to call home. I ain't never seen so much blubbering in my life. If the fridge on the ranch were full of ice cream, it would have gotten ugly. A bunch of emotional wrecks, and all they have to eat are carrot sticks and celery. I'd be hunting for a snickers bar - you know someone smuggled in a snichers or at least some M&M. The show started off well. The contestants discussed what it was like to have voted a person off last week. They are still in the stage where they aren't thinking of the game as a game - it's still just about the weight loss to them. This week, though, the're digging up emotions. You eat because you're sad or hurt or angry or abandoned. The show asks why and how do you stop. We've been reminded several times that Week 2 is traditionally the week where the contestants lose the least amount of weight. You hit a big number during Week 1, and according to Bob and Jillian, it's physically impossible to duplicate those results. The first two contestants weighed in - 4 pounds and 6 pounds. Two weeks ago if they'd lost 4 or 6 pounds, they'd be celebrating. Now, it's a huge disappointment. The group has to lose 115 pounds between the 15 of them. If they succeed, no one goes home. If they fail, two people go home. It's 8:45 and there are several more people to weigh-in, so there's no way they're going to weigh everybody, go through the vote and kick 2 people off by 9:00. So I think they made it. They made it. They lost 155 pounds.
Back to me and my brokebutt. Training is still on hold for another few weeks at a minimum. But I'm trying to keep my chin up (or chins - I've gained about 8 pounds since the accident!). I still think I can make my goal of one event per month next year. If I'm running by mid-October, that'll give me 3 months to train for the half-marathon. It's doable (I think), but it's not going to be a pretty run. The scary/funny thing is that I can't wait to get back on my bike. I miss the hell out of riding, and the season is right. Sunny, warm days are on tap for the next few months in Houston. It's a great time to be in Houston, although I think the summers are just as great (I like the heat). That's about it. Eventually, I'll start posting about training and events and my fitness quest. Hope soon. I'm tired of this broke ass.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
The Wrestler
Have you seen 'The Wrestler?' Yowza. Although I think Sean Penn is terrific in 'Milk,' I don't think I've ever seen anything like Mickey Rourke in 'The Wrestler.' He's so ugly, you know? And by ugly, I mean that he is literally ugly from his long bleached hair, to his massively over-surgeried face, to his roided body, to his crackly deep voice to his dirty unmanicured fingernails. But his performance is unlike a performance - it's real. Like each day of shooting, Mickey Rourke came on set and was just himself. He's destroyed his face and body and voice over the years, and here he is putting it out there. The performance is self-conscious, but not in a bad way. I guess here is a situation where it works. It's almost like 'Whatever Happened to Baby Jane' in the sense that in that movie, there were two icons who had become old and ugly in real life, and they came together and documented their realness for all the world to see. I don't think 'The Wrestler' will have the same camp value in 30 or 40 years. But I do think it will be remembered.
Ass still hurts.
Ass still hurts.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Quick update.
It's been a while. Unfortunately, my ass is still broken. I'm still in pain four weeks and two days after my bike accident. I haven't gone to the doctor, figuring it would heal itself. I never expected it to be 30 days. I still can't bike or run. So I've been getting fat. I'm up about 7 pounds since the accident, and I feel ever ounce of it every time I put on my pants.
Anyway, my favorite show of all-time is back for a new season. I love "The Biggest Loser" like I love peanut butter and chocolate. The first challenge of the new season is to run/walk/crawl/limp a mile. One mile. Nothing, right? The winner, who finished in about 15 minutes, gets immunity and to pick who his partner will be for the remainder of the competition (and the partner gets immunity, too). There's already a Drama Queen. DQ goes balls-out at a blistering 4.5 mph pace, leaving the other contestants in her dust. About 100 feet from the finish line, she collapses and tries to crawl it in while the other contestants amble by (I think one of them actually kicked sand in her face, but I'm not sure). After all the contestants have finished, they go back to carry DQ across the finish line as while is going in and out of consciousness. After being dragged across the line by 6 or 7 contestants, she's given oxygen before being Life-Flighted off the beach. Although I sincerely hope she's not dead, it's great TV! There is a 476-pound person on the show this season. She is the largest contestant ever to appear on the show. And she is large. She finishes the mile and says it's one of the greatest accomplishments of her life. At the weigh-in, she has a complete meltdown (not like a Serena meltdown, more like a Kanye meltdown). It's humiliating and sad and difficult to watch. But you know what's amazing? If she's still around at the end of the season, she'll have lost about 200 pounds, and she'll be running 5 miles every day and lifting weights 8 hours a day, and she is going to be beautiful. That's what I love about this show. It starts off with compelling people who are killing themselves with food - how did they get themselves in the position they are in? What happened in their lives? One young woman tells us her husband and two children were killed in a car accident a little over two years ago. For the most part, all of the contestants each season have hearts as big as their bodies (there are some bitches and hos, of course). And then, about half-way through the season, it's on like donkey kong. The Lee Press-ons come off, the weaves are gone, the dancing ends, and it gets dirty like when you wake up on the floor of a city bus with a condom in year ear. It's a brilliant show. And Gay Bob the trainer? Woof! First workout and people are bawling their eyes out, throwing up, being screamed at (Jillian: "GET ON THE FU$KING TREADMILL NOW!!! I am not going to cosign your bullcrap! I will not tolerate you working below your potential because it PISSES ME OFF!"). You can't write lines like this.
So back to me. I think I have a broken tailbone. I've read there isn't anything that can be done for a broken tailbone, and it takes a long time to heal. I don't recall striking my tailbone against anything, but it had to have happened during the fall on my bike (one of the two falls!). I have four months to the Houston half-marathon, and I haven't been training. I think if I start by October 1, I'll be able to finish and stay on task for next year. Hope I'm healed by then.
Anyway, my favorite show of all-time is back for a new season. I love "The Biggest Loser" like I love peanut butter and chocolate. The first challenge of the new season is to run/walk/crawl/limp a mile. One mile. Nothing, right? The winner, who finished in about 15 minutes, gets immunity and to pick who his partner will be for the remainder of the competition (and the partner gets immunity, too). There's already a Drama Queen. DQ goes balls-out at a blistering 4.5 mph pace, leaving the other contestants in her dust. About 100 feet from the finish line, she collapses and tries to crawl it in while the other contestants amble by (I think one of them actually kicked sand in her face, but I'm not sure). After all the contestants have finished, they go back to carry DQ across the finish line as while is going in and out of consciousness. After being dragged across the line by 6 or 7 contestants, she's given oxygen before being Life-Flighted off the beach. Although I sincerely hope she's not dead, it's great TV! There is a 476-pound person on the show this season. She is the largest contestant ever to appear on the show. And she is large. She finishes the mile and says it's one of the greatest accomplishments of her life. At the weigh-in, she has a complete meltdown (not like a Serena meltdown, more like a Kanye meltdown). It's humiliating and sad and difficult to watch. But you know what's amazing? If she's still around at the end of the season, she'll have lost about 200 pounds, and she'll be running 5 miles every day and lifting weights 8 hours a day, and she is going to be beautiful. That's what I love about this show. It starts off with compelling people who are killing themselves with food - how did they get themselves in the position they are in? What happened in their lives? One young woman tells us her husband and two children were killed in a car accident a little over two years ago. For the most part, all of the contestants each season have hearts as big as their bodies (there are some bitches and hos, of course). And then, about half-way through the season, it's on like donkey kong. The Lee Press-ons come off, the weaves are gone, the dancing ends, and it gets dirty like when you wake up on the floor of a city bus with a condom in year ear. It's a brilliant show. And Gay Bob the trainer? Woof! First workout and people are bawling their eyes out, throwing up, being screamed at (Jillian: "GET ON THE FU$KING TREADMILL NOW!!! I am not going to cosign your bullcrap! I will not tolerate you working below your potential because it PISSES ME OFF!"). You can't write lines like this.
So back to me. I think I have a broken tailbone. I've read there isn't anything that can be done for a broken tailbone, and it takes a long time to heal. I don't recall striking my tailbone against anything, but it had to have happened during the fall on my bike (one of the two falls!). I have four months to the Houston half-marathon, and I haven't been training. I think if I start by October 1, I'll be able to finish and stay on task for next year. Hope I'm healed by then.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Sense of Place
I haven't been on the bike since the setback. My ass still hurts, especially when I change positions. Getting out of chairs is the worst. I think that because I sit on one side of my ass or the other to avoid putting direct pressure on my tailbone, I'm developing other problems. My lower back is sore, my shoulders have been sore, my neck is sore. Thank you for coming to my pity party.
Despite the pain, I've been moving this weekend. For the past two-and-a-half years, I've lived in a little garage apartment in the Sunset Heights area of Houston. I moved in after a breakup - I'd been living with someone for 18 months, it didn't work out, I moved out and ended up here. It was supposed to be a transitional home - a place to stay until I bought a home. I didn't expect to stay so long, and I didn't expect to fall in love with this little apartment and this neighborhood and my life since I've been living here. Other than my the home in which I grew up, I've lived here longer than anywhere else. I am so sad about leaving.
The past few weeks, I feel like I've been breaking up with my apartment. I'm spending less time here (much to the chagrin of my dogs who are feeling abandoned), I haven't been cleaning up, I'm overcome with tears frequently. It truly feels like a breakup. I've gone through breakups where I stayed friends with the guy, and I've gone through breakups where the guy disappears from my life. Leaving this little home feels like the latter - I don't think I'll ever see it again. I have been really happy here, and I equate that happiness with being here.
I'm the type of person who falls in love with a place. It could be a home or a town or a restaurant or even a hotel room. I don't know why I fall in love with places. One of my coworkers just moved out of her house where she raised her four children. The house screams out the memories she has, and yet she admitted not being sad about leaving. I don't get that. In 2001, I spent three weeks in Paris in a little dorm room while I was a student in an international law program. I was very happy there. A few weeks later, I returned to Paris, and the first thing I did was walk down Saint Germain and I stood in front of the dorm and just thought about the good times I had there and the people I met. Seven years later I returned to Paris, and I did the same thing. I imagine if I ever return to Paris, I'll take a walk down Saint Germain and relive those memories. The past two years I've spent a few days in Palm Springs. I stayed in the same hotel room both times!
Last night I brought home a good bottle of wine and a frozen pizza - I wanted to have a going-away party of sorts. It was a gift to this home. I got drunk and ate too much and watched 'Sordid Lives' - that's so gay, I know. Today, I moved out most of my stuff other than some furniture - the movers will take the furniture tomorrow. I'm here again tonight without my pictures and books and clothes and DVDs and everything else other than the large furniture and the dogs, and I'm just so damned sad. I dread leaving tomorrow for the last time.
My next home truly is a transitional home. It belongs to my ex. He's renting it to me until he sells it or until I buy a home. I hope it's not long.
That's it. I think I'll go to bed now.
Despite the pain, I've been moving this weekend. For the past two-and-a-half years, I've lived in a little garage apartment in the Sunset Heights area of Houston. I moved in after a breakup - I'd been living with someone for 18 months, it didn't work out, I moved out and ended up here. It was supposed to be a transitional home - a place to stay until I bought a home. I didn't expect to stay so long, and I didn't expect to fall in love with this little apartment and this neighborhood and my life since I've been living here. Other than my the home in which I grew up, I've lived here longer than anywhere else. I am so sad about leaving.
The past few weeks, I feel like I've been breaking up with my apartment. I'm spending less time here (much to the chagrin of my dogs who are feeling abandoned), I haven't been cleaning up, I'm overcome with tears frequently. It truly feels like a breakup. I've gone through breakups where I stayed friends with the guy, and I've gone through breakups where the guy disappears from my life. Leaving this little home feels like the latter - I don't think I'll ever see it again. I have been really happy here, and I equate that happiness with being here.
I'm the type of person who falls in love with a place. It could be a home or a town or a restaurant or even a hotel room. I don't know why I fall in love with places. One of my coworkers just moved out of her house where she raised her four children. The house screams out the memories she has, and yet she admitted not being sad about leaving. I don't get that. In 2001, I spent three weeks in Paris in a little dorm room while I was a student in an international law program. I was very happy there. A few weeks later, I returned to Paris, and the first thing I did was walk down Saint Germain and I stood in front of the dorm and just thought about the good times I had there and the people I met. Seven years later I returned to Paris, and I did the same thing. I imagine if I ever return to Paris, I'll take a walk down Saint Germain and relive those memories. The past two years I've spent a few days in Palm Springs. I stayed in the same hotel room both times!
Last night I brought home a good bottle of wine and a frozen pizza - I wanted to have a going-away party of sorts. It was a gift to this home. I got drunk and ate too much and watched 'Sordid Lives' - that's so gay, I know. Today, I moved out most of my stuff other than some furniture - the movers will take the furniture tomorrow. I'm here again tonight without my pictures and books and clothes and DVDs and everything else other than the large furniture and the dogs, and I'm just so damned sad. I dread leaving tomorrow for the last time.
My next home truly is a transitional home. It belongs to my ex. He's renting it to me until he sells it or until I buy a home. I hope it's not long.
That's it. I think I'll go to bed now.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Set Back
I'm having difficulty sustaining a training routine. I don't have any real excuses (until now - will get to that in a bit). I started running a few weeks ago, but stopped after a few runs. So I've been biking and going to spin class - it keeps me fit, but not the right kind of fit for running. I need to be running. Have I mentioned before how much I hate running? I just really hate it. I've never gotten that runner's high and pretty much think it's a myth. I have, however, gotten that runner's cramp. I've been biking well. I'm scouring ebay for a road bike.
I went biking yesterday at Double Lake in Coldspring, Texas. It's about an hour drive from Houston. Not too far. The trail is pretty easy - it's downhill for the better part of 8 miles. Lots of roots, some good quick turns, a little gravel, a little sand. Did I mention the roots? Less than a mile into it, I hit a root going fast down a slight decline and ended up crashing into the bushes. It was a pretty easy fall. Didn't feel any pain, slight scratch on my right arm. So I got up, got back on the bike and kept going. It was a really good ride. I needed a little more time on the bike after finishing up, so I rode the road throughout the park. And I crashed again. I was concentrating hard on working my backside muscles in a low gear instead of paying attention to the road, and I slid off the side of the road. Also not a bad crash - didn't feel any pain. So I got up and finished up the ride. The pain started when I got home and got worse by the minute. I worked half of the day today on my knees at my desk (no jokes, please). I can't sit. It hurts to walk. I want to slap old people it hurts so bad. I'm hoping it's just a bruise that'll heal quickly. I think it's just a bruise. I think I would have felt a break right away.
Anyway, that's what's been going on. I'm on my back for a few days (again, no jokes). I need to get serious about training. I don't know what's keeping me from doing it, ass pain notwithstanding. If I start running again by the beginning of September, I still feel like I will be in good shape for January. Will keep you posted.
I went biking yesterday at Double Lake in Coldspring, Texas. It's about an hour drive from Houston. Not too far. The trail is pretty easy - it's downhill for the better part of 8 miles. Lots of roots, some good quick turns, a little gravel, a little sand. Did I mention the roots? Less than a mile into it, I hit a root going fast down a slight decline and ended up crashing into the bushes. It was a pretty easy fall. Didn't feel any pain, slight scratch on my right arm. So I got up, got back on the bike and kept going. It was a really good ride. I needed a little more time on the bike after finishing up, so I rode the road throughout the park. And I crashed again. I was concentrating hard on working my backside muscles in a low gear instead of paying attention to the road, and I slid off the side of the road. Also not a bad crash - didn't feel any pain. So I got up and finished up the ride. The pain started when I got home and got worse by the minute. I worked half of the day today on my knees at my desk (no jokes, please). I can't sit. It hurts to walk. I want to slap old people it hurts so bad. I'm hoping it's just a bruise that'll heal quickly. I think it's just a bruise. I think I would have felt a break right away.
Anyway, that's what's been going on. I'm on my back for a few days (again, no jokes). I need to get serious about training. I don't know what's keeping me from doing it, ass pain notwithstanding. If I start running again by the beginning of September, I still feel like I will be in good shape for January. Will keep you posted.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
2010 Tentative Race Schedule
So, here's a tentative race schedule for 2010. There are some blanks that I'll fill in when I figure out what I'm going to do during those months.
2010 RACE SCHEDULE
1/17 Houston Half Marathon (Houston)
2/14 Austin Half Marathon (Austin)
3/? Prickly Pear 10-Mile Trail Run (San Antonio)
3/? Bayou City Classic 10K (Houston)
4/? MS 150 (Houston to Austin)
5/? Lone Star Stampede (Houston)
6/? TBD
7/? TBD
8/? TBD
9/6 The Austin Triathlon (Austin)
9/? Chicago Half Marathon (Chicago)
10/? TBD
11/? San Antonio Rock-n-Roll Marathon (San Antonio)
12/? TBD
2010 RACE SCHEDULE
1/17 Houston Half Marathon (Houston)
2/14 Austin Half Marathon (Austin)
3/? Prickly Pear 10-Mile Trail Run (San Antonio)
3/? Bayou City Classic 10K (Houston)
4/? MS 150 (Houston to Austin)
5/? Lone Star Stampede (Houston)
6/? TBD
7/? TBD
8/? TBD
9/6 The Austin Triathlon (Austin)
9/? Chicago Half Marathon (Chicago)
10/? TBD
11/? San Antonio Rock-n-Roll Marathon (San Antonio)
12/? TBD
New Direction
I've been trying to figure out what this blog is about for the past month. I'm still not sure, but I have decided the purpose of the blog is accountability (and a little bit of shame). If you've ever been to Weight Watchers, you'll know what I'm talking about.
About four years ago, I was pushing 200 pounds. I'm 5'11" and have a medium build. A good weight for me is 175. 200 was not a good weight. I tried dieting on my own and stalled out at 192, so I made the decision to go to Weight Watchers. The first thing that happens when you enter the meeting room is the weigh-in. Yikes. And although it was March and 50 degrees that Saturday morning (which is friggin' cold in Houston), all 40 people in the room (including me) were wearing shorts, tee-shirts and flip flops. I got into line and waited my turn for the weigh-in. The lady who took my weight wrote it on a piece of paper and slid it across the desk to me. She'd also written down my goal weight - 172 pounds, which would have been a 10% reduction. 172 seemed doable and a good weight.
After the weigh-in, I took a seat in the back of the room for the meeting. I remember three things about the meeting. First, I was the youngest person there by about 20 years, and I was the only man. The second thing was that the instructor walked in wearing a black, Hefty garbage bag. That was funny enough, but what made it really funny is that the woman looked and talked like Cheri Oteri playing the porn star Robin Byrd on SNL (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robin_Byrd). The instructor told us she was wearing the bag because you are what you eat. You eat trash, you are trash. Or something like that. The third thing I remember is that the instructor told us her niece was overweight and dieting, and the one thing her niece had learned during the dieting process is that she "likes cantaloupe because it makes her poop." Well, that was surprising and useful news. But four years later, I still think to myself, "Should I eat that piece of cantaloupe now? I'm about to enter a meeting and it may be two or three hours before I have access to a comfortable, private bathroom, and you know, cantaloupe makes you poop. Can I make it? Should I have the watermelon instead? Will watermelon make you poop, too?"
Accountability. I went back to WW the following Saturday morning and weighed-in, but I skipped the meeting (I have my limits). I was down to 189 and couldn't have been happier. Had I not had the weigh-in ahead of me, I'm not sure I would have lost those three pounds. The following week, I'd lost another 2-3 pounds, and every week thereafter I lost weight. What made the weight loss happen was the weigh-in. I was scared to death of not losing weight and although no one would know but me and the lady taking the weight, I just couldn't bear the shame I would feel if she knew that I hadn't lost weight. I got down to 175 and quit going to WW for the weigh-ins.
I'm not sure if I ever hit 172. In retrospect, I wish I'd continued going to the WW weigh-ins until I hit 172. I had a goal, and like many other times in my life, I didn't follow through until the end. I got close, and I thought close was good enough. But it's not, you know? So I've decided that the purpose of keeping this blog is accountability. I've set some goals for myself for 2010, and I figure that by putting my goals out there for anyone and everyone to see, I'll actually follow through with them.
I've signed up for the Houston Half-Marathon or Houston Marathon every year since moving here in 2004, and I still haven't run in either event. So I registered for the Half-Marathon once again for 2010, and this time I'm going to do it. One thing I've done differently this time, is that I'm running for a charity. I'm running for the AIDS Foundation - Houston. I figure that if I can't get my ass in gear to run for a good cause, then how will I ever follow through on one of my goals if I'm only accountable to myself?
But that's not it. My goal for 2010 is to compete in at least one race per month - running, bicycling, swimming, duathlon or triathlon. I'm still working out a schedule and will post it at a later date. So far, I've registered for the Half-Marathons in Houston (January) and Austin (February). In March, I hope to run in the Prickly Pear 10-mile Trail Race in San Antonio. I've run (run is such a strong word) that race before and look forward to doing it again. April is the MS-150 (bike ride from Houston to Austin). And November is the San Antonio Marathon. The rest of the months are up in the air. Ultimately, I want to finish an IronMan, but I think that's a goal for 2011.
So, that's it. That's why I'm keeping this blog. As you can see from my first post, I'm gay, so this blog may be about that, too. And about my dogs. And about my search for a house. And my niece who was born on July 22 and is the MOST beautiful baby EVER. And living in Houston. And whatever else. Also, if you're interested in donating to the AIDS Foundation - Houston, you can do so at the link below.
http://www.chevronhoustonmarathon.com/Donate/PersonalPage.cfm?MID=4508&CRID=27&CID=191
About four years ago, I was pushing 200 pounds. I'm 5'11" and have a medium build. A good weight for me is 175. 200 was not a good weight. I tried dieting on my own and stalled out at 192, so I made the decision to go to Weight Watchers. The first thing that happens when you enter the meeting room is the weigh-in. Yikes. And although it was March and 50 degrees that Saturday morning (which is friggin' cold in Houston), all 40 people in the room (including me) were wearing shorts, tee-shirts and flip flops. I got into line and waited my turn for the weigh-in. The lady who took my weight wrote it on a piece of paper and slid it across the desk to me. She'd also written down my goal weight - 172 pounds, which would have been a 10% reduction. 172 seemed doable and a good weight.
After the weigh-in, I took a seat in the back of the room for the meeting. I remember three things about the meeting. First, I was the youngest person there by about 20 years, and I was the only man. The second thing was that the instructor walked in wearing a black, Hefty garbage bag. That was funny enough, but what made it really funny is that the woman looked and talked like Cheri Oteri playing the porn star Robin Byrd on SNL (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robin_Byrd). The instructor told us she was wearing the bag because you are what you eat. You eat trash, you are trash. Or something like that. The third thing I remember is that the instructor told us her niece was overweight and dieting, and the one thing her niece had learned during the dieting process is that she "likes cantaloupe because it makes her poop." Well, that was surprising and useful news. But four years later, I still think to myself, "Should I eat that piece of cantaloupe now? I'm about to enter a meeting and it may be two or three hours before I have access to a comfortable, private bathroom, and you know, cantaloupe makes you poop. Can I make it? Should I have the watermelon instead? Will watermelon make you poop, too?"
Accountability. I went back to WW the following Saturday morning and weighed-in, but I skipped the meeting (I have my limits). I was down to 189 and couldn't have been happier. Had I not had the weigh-in ahead of me, I'm not sure I would have lost those three pounds. The following week, I'd lost another 2-3 pounds, and every week thereafter I lost weight. What made the weight loss happen was the weigh-in. I was scared to death of not losing weight and although no one would know but me and the lady taking the weight, I just couldn't bear the shame I would feel if she knew that I hadn't lost weight. I got down to 175 and quit going to WW for the weigh-ins.
I'm not sure if I ever hit 172. In retrospect, I wish I'd continued going to the WW weigh-ins until I hit 172. I had a goal, and like many other times in my life, I didn't follow through until the end. I got close, and I thought close was good enough. But it's not, you know? So I've decided that the purpose of keeping this blog is accountability. I've set some goals for myself for 2010, and I figure that by putting my goals out there for anyone and everyone to see, I'll actually follow through with them.
I've signed up for the Houston Half-Marathon or Houston Marathon every year since moving here in 2004, and I still haven't run in either event. So I registered for the Half-Marathon once again for 2010, and this time I'm going to do it. One thing I've done differently this time, is that I'm running for a charity. I'm running for the AIDS Foundation - Houston. I figure that if I can't get my ass in gear to run for a good cause, then how will I ever follow through on one of my goals if I'm only accountable to myself?
But that's not it. My goal for 2010 is to compete in at least one race per month - running, bicycling, swimming, duathlon or triathlon. I'm still working out a schedule and will post it at a later date. So far, I've registered for the Half-Marathons in Houston (January) and Austin (February). In March, I hope to run in the Prickly Pear 10-mile Trail Race in San Antonio. I've run (run is such a strong word) that race before and look forward to doing it again. April is the MS-150 (bike ride from Houston to Austin). And November is the San Antonio Marathon. The rest of the months are up in the air. Ultimately, I want to finish an IronMan, but I think that's a goal for 2011.
So, that's it. That's why I'm keeping this blog. As you can see from my first post, I'm gay, so this blog may be about that, too. And about my dogs. And about my search for a house. And my niece who was born on July 22 and is the MOST beautiful baby EVER. And living in Houston. And whatever else. Also, if you're interested in donating to the AIDS Foundation - Houston, you can do so at the link below.
http://www.chevronhoustonmarathon.com/Donate/PersonalPage.cfm?MID=4508&CRID=27&CID=191
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Houston Pride
Last night was Houston Pride. I marched in the parade with my church: Covenant Church (an Ecumenical Liberal Baptist Congregation). See link at end of the post. I've been to the parade every year since moving to Houston in 2004, but last night was the first time I was a part of the parade. I was surprised by the crowd's enthusiastic reception as we marched along with our modest float. Maybe it's because we were throwing out coozies and beads. I made a point of handing a coozie to the people who were drinking beer with no coozie. Seemed like the practical thing to do, right? Next year, I'm going to hand out cards with my name, picture and phone number to some of the guys standing along the route. Before the parade, my ex and I were discussing my recent dissatisfaction with my love life, and he said I need to release it to the universe. I'm not really sure what the hell that means. The way I see it, if you ain't playing the lottery, you ain't gonna win the jackpot. Pardon the digression.
Covenant has given more to me than any other church has - it's the first church I've visited where doubt is discussed openly and without judgment. Didn't Jesus say something like if you have the faith the size of a mustard seed, you could move a mountain? My interpretation of that is that no-one has faith the size of a mustard seed because last I checked, the mountains are right where they've always been. The first time I went to Covenant, I was with the aforementioned ex. We'd been dating a little over a week (kind of did the lesbian thing and I moved in with him during that first week), and he took me to church with him on the condition that he would visit the Episcopal church with me. Covenant's building is small and there are no pews - just bulky brown wooden chairs that were arranged in neat rows facing the altar which was placed in a corner at the front of the church. We sat on the outside end of one of the rows. I don't remember the content of the proclamation that day, but I do remember the choir - only the men were singing, and when it was time for the choir to do their big number, the men lined up on the two sides of the church and sang a song a Capella (I'll find the song and post it one of these days). I started crying as the men started singing and didn't stop until the service ended some 30 minutes later. And I'm talking one of those wet, sniffly cries that comes on when there isn't a tissue within ten miles. Although I don't recall the details of the service that day (other than the crying fit), what I do remember about the proclamation and the music and the church and the people and the service was how I felt. It's one of the few times in my life where I felt like I was right where I was supposed to be. I felt that way again last night as I walked the parade route with the float and the other members of Covenant who ranged in age from 5 to 85, all of whom were happy and feeling that they were exactly where they were supposed to be, too.
I was surprised how quickly the parade ended. In retrospect, the route was too short. I don't recall the last time I was cheered at - maybe graduation from law school? I kind of liked it. I liked the hooting and the hollering and the clapping and the big smiles and laughing, no doubt from seeing the word "Baptist" plastered in purple on a float in the gay pride parade. Or maybe it was the beads and the coozies and the beer. But you know, if one person decides to visit Covenant after seeing us last night, then the reason for the cheering really doesn't matter.
Well, I didn't intend for this post to be about church - I'm most definitely not a bible thumper - but there you have it. A friend of mine recently played me a song that she wrote, and she said she'd started out writing a happy Christmas tune. But what she played was a very sad song about breaking up with her boyfriend. Go figure.
http://www.covenanthouston.org/
Covenant has given more to me than any other church has - it's the first church I've visited where doubt is discussed openly and without judgment. Didn't Jesus say something like if you have the faith the size of a mustard seed, you could move a mountain? My interpretation of that is that no-one has faith the size of a mustard seed because last I checked, the mountains are right where they've always been. The first time I went to Covenant, I was with the aforementioned ex. We'd been dating a little over a week (kind of did the lesbian thing and I moved in with him during that first week), and he took me to church with him on the condition that he would visit the Episcopal church with me. Covenant's building is small and there are no pews - just bulky brown wooden chairs that were arranged in neat rows facing the altar which was placed in a corner at the front of the church. We sat on the outside end of one of the rows. I don't remember the content of the proclamation that day, but I do remember the choir - only the men were singing, and when it was time for the choir to do their big number, the men lined up on the two sides of the church and sang a song a Capella (I'll find the song and post it one of these days). I started crying as the men started singing and didn't stop until the service ended some 30 minutes later. And I'm talking one of those wet, sniffly cries that comes on when there isn't a tissue within ten miles. Although I don't recall the details of the service that day (other than the crying fit), what I do remember about the proclamation and the music and the church and the people and the service was how I felt. It's one of the few times in my life where I felt like I was right where I was supposed to be. I felt that way again last night as I walked the parade route with the float and the other members of Covenant who ranged in age from 5 to 85, all of whom were happy and feeling that they were exactly where they were supposed to be, too.
I was surprised how quickly the parade ended. In retrospect, the route was too short. I don't recall the last time I was cheered at - maybe graduation from law school? I kind of liked it. I liked the hooting and the hollering and the clapping and the big smiles and laughing, no doubt from seeing the word "Baptist" plastered in purple on a float in the gay pride parade. Or maybe it was the beads and the coozies and the beer. But you know, if one person decides to visit Covenant after seeing us last night, then the reason for the cheering really doesn't matter.
Well, I didn't intend for this post to be about church - I'm most definitely not a bible thumper - but there you have it. A friend of mine recently played me a song that she wrote, and she said she'd started out writing a happy Christmas tune. But what she played was a very sad song about breaking up with her boyfriend. Go figure.
http://www.covenanthouston.org/
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