Saturday, April 12, 2014
I've been walking a lot lately. Over 2013, I did very little, my weight sky rocketed, and my fitness plummeted. So, when the weather started to moderate, it was time to walk. You don't go from curled up in a little ball, hiding from the world for nearly a year to running a 5 K, 10 K, or a half marathon overnight. At least, not without injury.
After a few small expeditions, King and I took a 4 mile walk on a Sunday. I couldn't put my finger on it during the walk, but something seemed off. Monday morning, when I got out of bed and felt the beginnings of shin splints, it occurred to me my shoes were a tad on the worn out side. Crap! I had a 10 K scheduled for the next Saturday. I got some new shoes, rested as much as possible over the week, and woke up race day with the last remains of shin pain. No race for me.
I know scheduling a 10 K when you've been following the Jabba the Hut fitness plan for the better part of a year is...how can I put this delicately... moronic. My thought in doing so was that it would spur me to get off my butt and start training. It did. Just not soon enough. Still, I got out, got new shoes, and by the Monday after the aborted race Elvis and I were walking a mile at a time with no pain. The last week, when it has not been raining, we've walked 3 to 5 miles a day. We'll do a mile when I get home from work, 2.5 to 3 miles when we get up, and a mile before I go to work.
All this dog walking has led me to 2 discoveries. First, I'm faster alone than with Poopatroid. This was made clear at the Emerald Miles 5 K in late March. With the hound, I rarely break the 21 minute mile mark. At the Emerald Miles, I finished right around a 14 and a half minute per mile pace with a fastest mile of 13:50. Plus, I did negative splits in a race for the first time ever. My second discovery is that King has a serious case of the Ooooh, Stinkies.
The cat has A.D.D. BIG time. Her's take s the form of the Ooooh, Shinies. No matter what she is doing, if she sees something shiny, she's chasing it. I have seen her get distracted from chasing down a shiny that had distracted her from chasing another shiny which had distracted her from chasing down the shiny that just distracted her. It makes my head hurt.
King also has big time A.D.D. His, however, takes the form of the Ooooh, Stinkies! We'll be walking along and he smells something stinky and on his way to check that out he smells something even stinkier and heads to check that out and gets distracted by yet another stinky. Sheesh Louise, am I the only one in this house that doesn't get distracted by the least little thing? Man....
Another discovery I've made is that Elvis is a faker. Today, we're walking along on a three miler and the dog is walking kind of quick, bouncing, and showing signs of energy. At our turn around is a garbage can. I tossed the 2 very full poop bags in and turned for home. Suddenly, Mr. Energy was tired and could barely lift a paw. The poor puppy...then, he "did his business" for a third time. I filled up the third bag, and turned to go back to the garbage can. Guess who found his second wind? As soon as the bag was deposited and we turned back towards home, the poor tired mutt could barely move once again. About the time I was going to pick him up and carry his 80 lbs carcass home, a jogger with a pretty little white sled dog looking critter went running by. Once again, Elvis was full of energy and straining at the leash. I felt like a couple Iditarod teams were dragging me down the sidewalk. Faker.
Friday, March 14, 2014
I am now officially a homeowner, again. The last week in February, after months of dealing with mortgage companies and lawyers and tax consultants, I was able to close on my late father's house.
I've lived here since April. In that time the water heater let go, the sewer line clogged and had to be dug up, and my fuel oil furnace crapped out on a day of sub zero temps. My landlords paid for it. By landlords, I mean my sisters. I had hoped that would be the extent of maintenance issues for a while. The house had other ideas.
About a week after closing, the electrical system started acting like the house was on an ancient Indian burial ground. The lights would go out when I turned on the garbage disposal. The garage door opened and closed on it's own a couple times. The thermostat picked temps like they were numbered balls in a lotto machine...stuff like that.
The ancient Indian burial ground theory was not really that far out to lunch. The word I always heard when I was a kid was that the subdivision was built near or on the site of an old Native American village. We used to find arrowheads in the creek behind our house. This was a definite possibility.
While I was in the process of researching local exorcists, I also called an electrician. The electrician checked things out and discovered a broken electrical line coming into the house. The exorcist was not needed. The local power company sent a guy out and in 20 minutes things were back to normal.
Just in case, though, exorcists are still being researched and a large supply of Holy water is being sought. Can't be too careful, you know....
Friday, November 22, 2013
I'm doing a 30 day fitness challenge I came across on Facebook. 100 pushups a day for 30 days. At present, I'm doing 3 sets of 40 pushups per day. Except for this last Wednesday. On Tuesday, I did 4 sets of 40. Wednesday, I only did 1 set of 40. It averaged out.
I can sneak off to an isolated area at work for the occasional set of 40. At home, things get a little more difficult. I typically do my pushups in jammies that have a drawstring at the waist. The drawstring dangles down and entices my little furry bundle of evil. So...while I'm doing my pushups, the cat is underneath me swatting at the drawstrings. I know. I'm surprised that there is enough room betwixt my gelatinous gut and the ground for a sheet of paper to fit, let alone a cat. Sometimes, she "misses" the drawstring and her claws find my gut. I know she laughs then. She's a cat.
From time to time, the dog gets involved. He'll come over and start grabbing my hands and trying to start a wrasslin' match. Either that, or he's trying to get me to fall on the cat. Dog's, though, aren't that devious. I think he just wants to wrassle.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
I raced some cx today. Friday night, a couple buds harassed me into signing up for the 4/5 race at Cap City's Smith Farms race. God, it hurt.
My cardio conditioning since August has consisted of 1) 1 fifteen minute lap at Lionhearts CX in early September, and 2) the Little Miami Triathlon in early October. Strength training has consisted of 100 pushups per day since November 1. So, of course it made sense to go race some cross.
I had a 90 minute drive to the race. The whole way there, I was so nervous my stomach was in knots. I got there and got checked in and didn't see my buds. I started to think I had got punked. I kept wondering just exactly what the hell I was doing up there. It was chilly and windy. A half hour before the race, I got on the bike and started riding around the starting area. It was here that I met up with my buds. I still had no idea why I was there.
I warmed up and made my way to the starting grid. Still, no idea. After call ups and some last minute instructions from the official, I heard the magic words, "30 seconds" and then the whistle. We were off.
The start was along a paved stretch with a left hand turn onto the grass. We were well onto the grass before I was in last place. This pleased me. Not being in last, but making it onto the grass before so was a good sign. At one point on the first lap I was very close to two guys in front of me. If I wasn't dying, I probably could have caught them. Well into the second lap, I was close to catching one of those guys. Then, the leaders started lapping me.
When the lapping begins, I pull off to the side and let the groups go by. I have no desire to get in the way of the leaders. Today, it gave me an excuse to take a breather. The course was mostly flat. There were a couple of short, steep hills that I have ridden in the past. Not today. I didn't care. I was in a race. My heart rate was pegged. My lungs were on fire. It was great.
I got three laps in. The winner got 5. He lapped me for the second time just a few yards shy of the finish. Only one of my buds, (teammate) lapped me. My other bud was the only person who didn't lap me.
I had three goals for the race today. 1) Finish. 2) Don't get lapped by my bud. 3) Don't puke. The only one that was in doubt was the last. In fact, it wasn't until I got home and had a bowl of Grape Nuts and the post race nausea went away. Damn, that was fun. Can't wait to do it again.
Saturday, November 02, 2013
I've been having a hard time sleeping lately. Here's why:
Yes, I have a cat. King think's I'm a maroon. I didn't have much choice. A guy I know had 4 kittens that he needed to get rid of. His plan was to turn them loose in a farm field. That
wasn't going to happen. Punk and I met him and took 3 of the 4 kittens (8 weeks old) to the SPCA. The 4th came home with me. Her name is Miss Hinson. She is named for the mother of the King of the Country Western Troubadours--Unknown Hinson. Unknown was named for his father. His birth certificate reads "Mama: Miss Hinson. Daddy: Unknown".
After we dropped Hinson's siblings off at the SPCA, we took her straight to the vet. The verdict from the vet was other than fleas, she was in good health. Following the vet's instructions, we brought her home and bathed her in Dawn dish soap.
During the bath, she started calling out for her "Preciousssss". Again, following the vet's instructions, we dried her off and then applied flea spot and locked her in my half bath for the night. The next morning, she was pretty much flea free and feeling snuggly.
Most of the time, though, she snuggles with her teeth.
King keeps asking me if I've realized I've brought a "cat" into the house. When I say that, yes, I know I have brought a cat into the house, he gives me a disgusted look. Still, Hinson likes King.
So far, the only issue came when I had the laser pointer out. We learned that cat chases red dot and dog chases cat. Unlike the red dot, though, the cat can be caught. That took everybody by surprise. Hinson has also taken to pouncing on King when he is eating a Beggin' Strip. She's either fearless, or a complete idiot. The jury is still out.
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