Do not go quietly into those Spanx

Quick Rant...

Was having a conversation with an otherwise reasonable seeming woman when we got on to the discussion of tattoos. She stated that she had been getting her tattoos strategically in places that won't stretch as she gets fatter. I was baffled, why was gaining weight even an option? Why accept weight gain as an inevitability. I understand that factors like childbirth and menopause will prevent me from remaining 118lbs for ever but I refuse to ever be of a weight that my skin is distorted. I guess this is the closest I'll ever come to understanding the mentality of obesity, that some people just accept there is nothing you can do. But you can! You can fight it just by adjusting your relationships with food and exercise. Don't focus on the things you don't like, find the things you do. I can guarantee there is a vegetable or cardio workout for everyone.

I refuse to accept frailty as an option as well. It never fails when I'm at the grocery store, I usually am just in to grab a few things so I won't get a cart (helps cut down on impulse buys). I'll hand carry my items to the counter, the cashier will scan it and the bagboy will sack it. One of them will ask if I need help out to my car. When I do have a lot of items or if it's a young kid that you know is just doing what they're told, it doesn't bother me. But every now and then I can tell they are asking because they think it's a ridiculous amount for one person to carry... despite the fact that I carried it there all by myself (which I am always quick to point out). I just got this the other day, I was buying cat litter and soda (not intending to use those products together), and the cashier was a woman of 60 or maybe 70, not much older than my own mother. She was thin, frail, and looked older than her years; she struggled to pull the litter across the scanner. I reached for the 25lb box with my left arm, already holding the soda in the right, and she remarks "Oh honey, you should get a cart. You'll give yourself a hernia." I thoughtlessly remarked, "Oh it's only 25lbs," and picked it up from the counter one handed. As I walked away I realized the gravity of that exchange. I certainly take my youth for granted, I possess strength, stamina, and flexibility that I expect as standard for everyone. If I can do it, anyone can. And at some point my body will start to rob the calcium from my bones and the protein from my muscles, but this woman was, as I said, not much older than my own mother who is a triathlete, runs a 3 hour half marathon, avid kayaker and also scoffs at the idea of a 25lb box being something to fear. She is proof that it's never too late to get your fitness where you want it.

Never accept something as inevitable, unavoidable, or beyond your grasp. If you can set your heart on it, you can do it.

Drugs and Guns

Well alright, woke up at 2 so today was completely useless. I putzed around and played with my new toy (Asus Transformer tablet with Android) and at one point stuffed a vespa style scooter and a very tall man into the back of my car. That seemed productive enough. Tomorrow shall be the long awaited return to reality. Waking up at a decent hour, getting back into a workout schedule and eating actual food instead of protein bars, coffee and alcohol. Fringe has been one long, wild ride and I'm sad that it's over but the robot camp is the week after next so I will soon be spending time again with my wonderful Dog Powered Robot Family. I hope to continue the friendships and connections that I have made over the past week, so many exciting and talented people.

Oh and here's my rant about the Miami Cannibal. It's just a stream of consciousness opinion, not an actual article.

The story of the Miami Cannibal has spread faster than the facts can keep up with it. The cliff notes are a man in a drug induced mania happened upon an unfortunate victim, and decided to remove his pants and eat his face. Video of the incident shows several motorists and cyclists passing by, not one stopping to intervene. The attack lasts for 18 minutes before the officer finally arrives and guns the man down. The whole thing is quite horrific and while I was first fascinated by this story I think it's reached a point of insensitivity. Everyone is making jokes and references to the Zombie Apocalypse and openly posting the graphic photo of the victim. All fun and games until you realize the family of the homeless man didn't even know he was alive until the story broke. I think there are several very important issues here that are being missed because of the sensationalism of this story.

Pappo was once a bright and promising youth. Then he just slipped, multiple arrests on petty charges and just sort of disappearing from the lives of his family. That alone should be sparking a conversation on the causes of homelessness and what can be done to prevent it. At no point did no one try to intervene in his life?  It can be near impossible to get someone to change if they don't want to, especially when substance abuse or mental illness is a factor. Who becomes responsible for a person when released from an institution, such a prison. At what point do the red flags go up, 3 arrests? 5? 20? Is it the responsibility of the system, of the family, of society in general? Homelessness needs to be looked at like a disease, something to be prevented not just cured. There are so many resources available but they are underfunded or unknown to many people who need them.

As for Eugene, I've read some articles saying he was on cocaine, some claiming bath salts (synthetic cocaine), but what matters is that he was on a drug in the first place. Say what you want about "nanny laws", drug laws are there for a reason. Yes, what you do to your body is your own business but when a substance makes a person a danger to society that is where the line must be drawn. Anything that has the power to substantially the behaviour of a person does need to be controlled and regulated but when someone can purchase something like bath salts at a gas station but be arrested for an ounce of pot, the laws need to be revised.

Lastly, I've read comments of people being shocked at how many witnesses there were to this broad daylight attack and that nobody intervened. I've driven through Miami there is so much happening on the road itself that sometimes it is difficult to pay attention to anything other than the cars around you. And if you do see something like that all you can do is call the police.

Or shoot the motherfucker yourself.

I am sure that every single person that had called in the incident, had they been properly trained and sufficiently armed would have stepped in. This wasn't a simple fight that could have been broken up by a can of mace. A crazed, nude man was eating another man's face! Even if I had come across the scene and I was armed with mace I would have been hesitant of using it. What if that wasn't enough to deter or stop him, what if by doing so he would become enraged and come after me? I can guarantee, unless you have extensive hand to hand combat training, nothing short of a gun or taser set to crispy was going to bring him. When the cop shot him the first time, the guy simply growled and continued the attack. How is a guy on a bike armed with an iPhone going to be able to stop that? So kudos to all the citizens that did the right thing by calling it in but this story proves how important it is for private citizens to obtain firearms. For personal protection as well as to aid in the safety of their fellow citizens.

Fresh

From December 30th till January 3rd, I was asked what my New Year’s Resolution was. I would reply that I had none because, to me, they are meaningless. My New Years Resolution for 2011 was to learn to drive stick. I had one lesson which ended after 20 terrifying minutes. A second try involved a solo attempt to move my boyfriend's manual car into our garage. I stalled every time I tried to drop into gear. It would lurch forward violently and I was able to get the car half way in using this method before it died entirely. Needless to say, I will be keeping my bike ready in the event of apocalypse and both my car and my boyfriend are immobilized. Despite such a crushing failure of determination, I’d say that 2011 was still pretty action packed.  I learned the basics of aerial gymnastics, performed as a fire eater, got two paid TV gigs, set a PR for 5k and ran my first half marathon, was crowned the first female Scareactor of the Year (voted by other actors) and also Performer of the Year (decided by management) for third time in a row for Halloween Horror Nights.

All in all, I’d say pretty damn accomplished.

So I’ve decided resolutions are not for me...

Can't keep a good dog down!

Here we go, 3 months to go till the Women's Running Half Marathon. Officially signed up, no turning back now. Still haven't hit the 13 mile mark but I know I can do it. My only worry is my knee. You see, a few months ago I fell about 10 feet, the outside of my right knee being what broke my fall. I was in a good deal of pain for a few days but after some RICE and two weeks off any strenuous running, I felt fine. I even ran in the Champion's ESPN 5K at Disney's Hollywood (with it wrapped) and did fine. The knee was behaving and gave me no sign of further problems until my runs started going past an hour long. At first it was just a minor twinge, just sort of reminding me that I might be mortal. But the hour and a half 11 mile adventure brought out a protest I could not ignore. It was no longer a whimper of ache that was gone as soon as I stopped moving but as I reached the hour mark of the run, it felt like an rather distinct, sharp tear feeling to the outside tendon. This is alarming. At the insisting of my boyfriend (who is often more concerned for my health than I am), I took some time to give my knee a chance to get over itself. A few days turned to two weeks far too easily but I'm back on the horse with a bit more caution. Since I was off my feet so long I've started over in my training and switched over from Polar to the Active.com training plan, a free offer for signing up for the race through them. Pretty straight forward plan, effort based rather that pace or heart rate with mileage goals at the end of the week that gradually increase and cross training days on the schedule. The 14 week plan does cut it close to race day, my first 13 mile goal the week before the half marathon but I feel that will be plenty of prep. The main trouble I may run in to is keeping on schedule in October, my busiest month of the year. But more on that later, just know I'm still going and I'll see ya at the finish line in St. Pete!

At the foothills

Finally getting the hang of getting out the door before 8am. It’s amazing the temperature difference a half hour can make. I only had a 35 minute run today but it’s the looming 110 minute tomorrow that I was thinking about. 18km/11 miles. This whole “half-marathon” idea is getting more and more real. I’m excited and nervous and just hoping I can push through it. Going to try driving out to a nearby trail because there just isn’t enough uninterrupted space to run that far around here. Also feeling ambitious enough to get up at 6 to get out early enough. Wish me luck and see you on the other side of tomorrow!

Week....?

Somebody turn down this heat already. And don't know what got into me today but took off in a sprint for my warm up. Spent the rest of this interval run trying to recover my pace. At least I made my full mileage, all 10km today. Sorry I haven't been posting too often. I've been a little consumed with another project lately. But my runs are on track and I'm slowly building the endurance I'm going to need come November. A lot of big stuff is currently hanging in the air for me, so just gotta keep moving.

Week 1: aka week 11 from 10k training

The week began with a breezy 8km run. I kept my pace and met my mileage. Now I know "easy" and "8k" sound like the ramblings of a mental patient, but after completing Polar's 10k Training Program, it was a distance I had done before and knew I could cover at a comfortable pace. The phenomena of expectation is a funny thing. I used to look at the idea of anything beyond my comfort zone of 5k as a dream. Now I know what to expect and how it feels to go the distance and it's good to know I can do it. That certainly helped get the ball rolling on this journey to 13.1 miles. If I had woken up that day thinking of trying to run a half marathon, I have my doubts I would have gotten out of bed. Even thinking that by the end of the week I was going to put more miles on my feet than on my car would have been intimidating. I didn't even think "Okay, just 8 kilometers and then you can make a great big smoothie with all the peanut butter you want". Instead, I thought about the route. I thought about the path around the sleepy golf course and through the quiet park that my run would take me on. Places that I'd run through before. Yes I know how far those distances are but it's nice to not have a big number staring you down. So that's lesson one, if a distance seems intimidating, just think about lefts and rights; think about landmarks not mile markers. Figure out your route for the distance you need and then forget about the numbers. Just know "Okay this is my long day route, my short day route, my hill route..." and so on.

The most notable run of the short week was a 30 minute run that I had been putting off all day. For whatever reason, I never got around to running that morning, never made it to the gym, and before I knew it the time was 8pm and it was now or never. The sun had just settled below the horizon but the reflective blanket of clouds would keep the light for another hour or so. I took my time getting ready, hoping the heat of the day would have time to dissipate and not smother me on this quick jog. Laced and wired up, I finally step outside, trot down the three flights and step out from under the awning to be greeted by thick, black clouds that still glowed by the dying sunset. A heavy rumble, like that of some unfathomable beast asserting it's territory, called down and rattled the windows behind me. The trees danced and bowed and shook about as the wind swept up to deliver the smell of not so far off rain. The sky thundered again, daring me to a test of speed. Who will be faster, a mortal or the Lightning Gods? I smirked and took off into the misty dusk air.

The rain quickly turned from a fine spray to heavy drops so I began to follow the cover of the trees marking the boundary of the course. I darted beneath the canopies until a very near crack of thunder reminded me of my elementary days living in Texas and being lectured on the dangers of lightning and proximity to trees. I quickly began to reevaluate my cleverness and charted a new path, weaving in and out of the hallways of the apartment buildings that pressed up along the edges of the golf course. I ran out of apartment hallways at about 10 minutes into my run and the rain had retreated long enough for me to cross the street and reach the shelter of a series of businesses. The connected overhangs that I used as relief from the sun most days now protected me from the threat of Zeus's bolt. Still I knew my return route would be less sufficient and the skies did not look like they had any intention of giving me safe passage. The clouds were gathering together, growing darker and towering higher and higher. The sound of electricity ripping through the air grew more agitated and frequent; apparently the Lightning Gods are sore losers. As I reached the end of the strip mall and met my turn around point, the wind began to kick up again, bringing rain that cooled my brow and sent sweat dripping into my eyes. It wasn't strong enough yet to saturate my clothes or flood the sidewalk and thus was not strong enough to make me give up the contest. As I bounded up a hill there was a sudden flash of light behind me followed by the crash of thunder. I shuddered forward with the shock from the lightning and doubled my pace without a thought to logic or scientific understanding of the speed of sound and light.

With 10 minutes left, I came around the other side of an office building to 500 meters of side walk and empty lot. I paused briefly to scan the exposed horizon; the sidewalk connects two tall multi-use buildings, with nothing on but dirt and wild, patchy grass on either side. On sunny days, this stretch is like running under a giant magnifying glass in the hands of some sadistic, immature ent. That night, however, there was no sun, no killing heat, but also hardly any rain and an uninterrupted, panoramic view of an angry, ominous sky that threatened with voltage and vengeance. Impressive displays of static electricity danced from cloud to cloud and mocked the conductivity of my puny, 75% water muscles. I gathered my energy, thought rubber thoughts, and sprinted across the stretch of deserted land, thunder practically nipping at my heels. I made it to the other side and under the building's overhang and out the other side to cross the street for the home run. And of course in this last five minutes the rain began to come down with impatiences. It gathered on the ground and began to seep onto the sidewalk. Cars began to turn on their wipers. The sweat that was already pouring from me was washed away before even having a chance to cool. I could see the final turn I had to make up ahead and as I came around I came full on into the wind, pushing me at the shoulders and chest and face. I pressed on as the coach voice on my iPod counted down "5 minutes... 4 minutes... 3 minutes". Lightning flashed and thunder shook soon after, warning of the proximity of the storm. "2 minutes... 1 minute," as I came into the neighborhood and as I reached my building the Nike coach announced that I had completed my run. And not a second to spare, soon as I shut the door, the skies finally opened and poured down. I had done it I had raced against the Lightning Gods and I had won.