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Wednesday, July 8, 2009

what's new pussy cat














Who is this, you wonder. Above is a photo of my brother/about-to-be-ex-roommate dancing with his lady friend Katy. While the stories I have surrounding this duo are plentiful - the most recent event involved following the brother home in a car at a snails pace during one of his massive pout sessions on July 5th at approx 1 in the morning while he "walked home" in swim trunks and nothing more from our 4th of July pool party - I will save you the tic tocs with unnecessary details about the PDA-consumed couple. The reason this picture caught my eye and ended up on my blog today is because it was taken at a baseball game last Friday night that I attended AND in the far right corner of the photo you'll notice - it's me! I am in the candid shot along with the twin sister chattin' up a storm with an old high school friend. Correction: I chatted while the twin nervously stared into space signaling me to shut up so we could get the heck out of dodge. Curiousity wants to know: how many photographs exist that include me as the "strange bystander" in the background. My guess is millions. Yes millions.

Time to get physical. Lets?

I was once all about routine when it comes to exercise. I was victim to a standard set by yours truly, burning cals and pumping iron religously due to a wicked regimne that was borderline manic. Circumstances and priorities have changed and I no longer maintain the nazi mentality in which skipping a daily workout is equivalent to failure. Nowadays I am happy when I make it to the gym 3-4 times per week compared to my 2-a-days several years ago and favor the mental benefits reaped over the physical. Morning, noon or night I try to squeeze in 30 minutes of something every single day and if I succeed, fantastic! If not I do not ridicule myself like I once did. I commend myself for ignoring the growls of my belly like a fat wolf in heat in exchange for a 45 minute stint at the gym during my lunch hour. It's something I can say "hey, good for you" about. Lunch hour workouts don't happen every day - once a week is more practical. In fact, this afternoon at the gym I was greeted by a friendly gal behind the counter in the lobby, a gal I don't recall meeting ever in my life, who threw me a smirk while whispering "Now I haven't seen YOU in awhile!" Due to my natural yet strange desire to overload perfect strangers on the 411, I blurt in an untimely defense "WELLLLL that's because I usually come in the evening but sometimes I opt to run outsisde if the weather's behaving - oh and I've also been running Pinnacle so that could add to the absense" and somehow in my mind I felt satisfied having displayed such an outburst. Who are you my life coach? Is she keeping tabs back there behind the counter? This the gym so ill-equipped they maintain your membership details in a three ring notepad and renew monthly memberships by replacing the colored dot on the lamented membership card with a new dot different color. This is also the one and only gym within a 50 mile radius that doesn't accept debit but kindly accepts your check. Does anyone own a checkbook?


I am going somewhere with this.

I managed to make it to the gym today during lunch and I will aim for tomorrow but there are obstacles. Time constraints is always a big issue and I don't enjoy feeling rushed through my workout. My mentality - while no longer naxi yet still vigorous when it comes to workouts - requires a full hour of activity or I feel I have slacked. But the real problem is there's something about that sense of accomplishment mixed with disgust that gets to me on my way back to work post exercise. Accomplishment for the effort, disgust because I am left feeling like someone dipped me in toilet water and then draped me in clean clothes. Time doesn't allow for a shower so basically I bathe myself quickly by means of a towel and soap in front of the bathroom sink. Some lunch time workouts require a bit more TLC than others. Unfresh best describes the sentiment. My hair is reminiscent of a wet dog. Even though I've "washed" my body is still sweating profusely through my cotton dress leaving a distinct circle of sweat on my back for the world to see and, unbeknownst to me, possibly smell. On the way back to work the AC in my car is working so hard I am barely pushing 30 mph as I attempt to dry my hair in front of the vents. Folks that's what I call determination.

Let's talk about another word often associated with working out. It's a word called dedication. You either have it in your bones or you don't. For me dedication is consistency. It's putting your heart over the bar and taking a leap without room for discussion. I love mid day workouts because (a) the opportunity it allows for later in the day when I would normally workout and (b) there is no monkey on my back following me around from mahcine to machine suggesting we combine efforts and alternate sets. I do miss the people watching [judging] however. Today, 2 minutes into my extreme Gaunlet routine my eyes focused on what I had been staring at for a painful 120 seconds. What is this I see?

WHAT THE?




A better look, shall we?



EVEN THE SHOES?




















I love how he opted for the "special stationary" bicycle not just your average run of the mill stationary. Oh no sir - this man is in training! I know what you are thinking. Trust me I do. I thought the same thing upon my initial judgment: he rode up to the gym on his fancy bicycle and likely a helmet for safety percautions. He made a pit stop at the gym to cool down on the stationary, put in an extra 5 on the bike before pedalin' it back to the house on the real deal. I checked you suckers: there was NO bike outside. Maybe he hid it? Why would he do that? He was so dang intimidating my hand was shaking as I nonchalantly snapped a pic kudos to the iPhone. What a stud. You know, I bet he's training for a triathalon. This guy is Mr. Determination. It's good to have guys like him around to provide us with ambition. He is not much different from Superman in my book.

For legal purposes let it be known I intended to place one of those black boxes over the biker's face for his protection but then laughed to myself at the notion. Yeah right. Who wouldn't want to be this guy?

Later aligators!
~ J

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