A Charmed Life

She Moves Her Body Like A Psycho

"Mad dogs and Englishmen", Dave remarked to me this afternoon, after I returned home from my midday, 9.3-mile walk in the 90-degree heat.  I like to take my long weekend walks while Seph is napping, but next time we're in the middle of a heat wave, I think I'll get my lazy behind up early, instead.  I didn't realize quite how exhausted I must have looked until I was walking under the freeway overpass (my "carrot-on-a-stick today was walking to the Coinstar to trade in a whole bunch of change for an iTunes gift card), and a young man honked his car horn at me and yelled, "You look hot!".  I didn't for one second believe that he was referring to how said lazy behind was looking in my black spandex running tights (hey, they wick sweat, that's all I care about).  Instead I felt my face, which had stopped sweating, and immediately drank some more water. 

What was I doing, walking such a distance in the heat?  Well, not like we were going to be headed to any San Diego beaches, that's for sure.  After the tragic fatal attack of a triathlete by a great white shark this week, I'm starting to think maybe being a couch potato is not as bad for your health as previously believed. 

The truth is, my left knee is still clunking ominously after a few miles of running, and I've been taking it easy on it for one extra day a week, substituting a very long walk for a short run to minimize the high-impact pounding.  I've also, for the first time, starting using the elliptical trainer- the one where your arms move, too.  Let's just say, I've discovered a way to make myself look even more ridiculous than simply sporting spandex. 

I know what you're going to say- elliptical machines are easy, right?  Sure they are, as long as you don't think too hard about what you're doing.  A long time ago I read a poem about a millipede who was tooling around just fine until someone asked her which foot went first when she started to walk.  Now put that poor millipede in Lycra and a sports bra and give her an iPod so she can garrote herself with the headphone cords and you have a basic idea of what my first ride on this beast looked like.   I flailed and flopped around madly like a reject from a Peter Sellers movie.  Then I got the rhythm, until a song I didn't like came on (how did that happen?  I picked out all the music on my iPod), and I reached over to hit the "fast forward" button and ended up RUNNING BACKWARD on the machine.  The good news is, I got my heart rate up, all right!  A friend remarked that this "sounds like a commercial!", and I agree...I just don't know for WHAT.  Coordination?  Ace bandages?  A remote for the iPod??

I am still tired and falling asleep at my keyboard...I'd get up and go to bed, but I can't remember which foot goes first...have a great Monday, everyone!

Run-On Sentences

I suppose I could have titled this post, "Faster Than A Speeding Chihuahua". I'm several weeks into my novice running program, and thought I should share my progress.  It's only slightly faster than my next-door neighbor's overbearing little ankle-biter, and at least as persistent. 

I still kind of hate getting up in the morning to run.  Nothing personal, oh healthy new habit 'o' mine.  It's just that anything less than a freshly-toasted bagel is meager motivation to move my sorry behind, never mind the prospect of encasing it in Lycra and venturing out in public. I have noticed that I am starting to look a little less like a fraud in my running tights.  To heck with good cardiovascular health and the prospect of raising money for charity, I'm in it to get a nice pair of getaway sticks.  And my rear view hasn't looked this good since college.

The view from my morning route is pretty, too.  I live across a field from a gorgeous Serbian Orthodox church. Flowers are blooming everywhere.  Most days, the sky has even stayed blue.  One thing I wish I didn't have to see is the tiny, faded shrine to Keithan Panyavong.  I always blow him a kiss when I run on that side of the street.

I really stink at running. No, really, I do.  I've done some soul-searching and discovered that I am naturally better at short, unsustained bursts of creativity and/or energy. I'm a great sprinter, physically and mentally.  Learning how to run long-distance is teaching me lessons in patience. I think waiting for each run to be over is harder than the actual physical exertion.

I'm very goal-oriented.  I am trying to think of the journey and not the destination, but that's not naturally my style. Whenever I want to stop, I think of my family's faces at that finish line, and how I want to cross it running, right into a bunch of great big hugs.

Tomorrow's my long run day.  Want to lend me some moral support?  Go to my LUNGevity.org page and visit the Debra Angelo Leave No Mom Behind Fund. 

Or, you know, just toast me up a bagel. 

Fund-Razzing

Thank you to everyone who commented or wrote to me privately about losing my sweet little Raffles.  We'd known for months that we'd be saying goodbye in the not-so-distant future, but it was still a shock, and your caring really helped me feel better.  Speaking of which, thanks for the good wishes in that department as well.  With the help of my trusty new bong inhaler and a stockpile of peaceful, narcotic-induced sleep, I should be kicking this bout of bronchitis faster than normal and be lacing up my running shoes again in the next couple of days. 

I have decided that it might be nice to have a running partner. So, if you're muscular, energetic, ready to obey every word I say and enthusiastic with kisses, read on!  I need somebody who can keep up with my high energy level in the morning and collapse with me on the couch at night.  Interested?  Well then, grab your nearest friend with opposable thumbs and tell them to comment on this post and let me know which shelter you're in!  Animal shelter, for those of you not accustomed to my oddball sense of humor.  Seriously, I'm thinking maybe a small Lab, Corgi or Aussie mix, up to 45 lbs., who loves other dogs, children, cats, and my cooking.  By "mix", I mean, smaller than a Lab, and dumber than a Corgi or Australian shepherd.  I don't need my wiring up to code, I just need a running buddy!

This, by the way, will be the new category for my weekly updates on my marathon training and my fundraising efforts for the Debra Angelo Leave No Mom Behind Fund in honor of my mother.  Please feel free to comment in this space if you have any questions for me, and don't forget to take a look at my fund page and sign the guestbook.

So I had a great idea to raise money and be true to my Sicilian heritage at the same time.  "Blackmail" is such an ugly word, though.  So I'll call it, "your choice".  Donate $25 to the LUNGevity Foundation, and I won't send you a high-quality, glossy 5 x 7 photo of me wearing nothing but my running shoes and a smile.  But wait, there's more!  Make that check out for $50, instead, and I'll forget to include the 8 x 10 of my husband wearing nothing but my orthopedic pink sports bra. 

Your choice.  I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille...