Day 30, Tuesday March 30. Did not run Still at 933.4 miles to go
Was a sick and recovering day. The cold won round two and despite the vicks on my chest and feet and lots of rest, I was still not up to par. It was a day full of meetings and I did my best to go through the motions but I kept hoping that 5 o'clock would shuffle in and I could leave a little early. It finally did and so did I, but not before 6 o'clock. I thought of going to the gym but decided one more day of rest was probably more important than a few miles. I can catch up when I am well again. Hopefully can run on Wednesday. Thursday Taka and Leigh will be coming and I am sure I will get some runs in with them. Easter will be a wonderful family gathering.
And speaking of Easter, my dear friend and second mom, Pat Savage, called me asking if I had gotten my "package?" The package was a box containing a cake, some cookies and some biscuit mix she had shipped UPS so I would have it for the Easter gathering of the clans. Every year for the past 10 years she has come and helped to cook (actually done everything) for family gatherings at my house, usually at Christmas and also at graduations which we have had every year for the past 5 years. She also cooked everything for my father's 80th birthday celebration. She is a wonderful cook but more important, a wonderful person. As my daughter Leigh said, "They do not make them like her anymore!" She is a strong Irish woman of 80 herself now and as feisty and full of life as a woman half her age. She still drives everywhere, often with a "roadie" and wants her cocktail when she arrives (a dirty vodka or a jack and water). She will not miss Mass on Sunday, ever! She is tall and dresses in bright impeccably matched outfits accessorized with big color coordinated glasses. She takes care of the lonely priests and is a tireless volunteer at her church.
Pat and I have a special bond. She is family in the truest sense of the word. She lost a son and I lost a mother when I was in High School, a sophomore. Her daughter, Chris, and I were friends and in her big heart Pat found room for a lost boy. We have stayed in touch all these years. She was a reader at son Eric's wedding. When she traveled with me to New York last year, I asked her about what Broadway Play she wanted to see. I mentioned that there were revivals of South Pacific and West Side Story. She retorted that she did not want to see that same old tired stuff and wanted something new. She ended up picking out an avant garde production, Burn, about ball room dancing, something she had done as a young woman.
She can't join us this Easter because she will be at a grandson's graduation, hence the insistence on helping out by sending a cake, etc. When she called, she apologized about not having enough time to include some rice and a recipe she wanted me to try for a rice salad.....one of God's angels in my life. I am sure there will be more about Easter in later posts. All three of my children (now grown) will be here along with daughter in law Karla and her parents and uncle, Taka, ex wife Kay and her parents, Big Momma and Big Daddy, best friend Nickie and partner Bob and others. I am sure I will miss Pat even more as I try to cope without her this time.
Had a funny conversation this morning with an Indian friend. He was explaining how Indian mangoes are just better than the Mexican ones we can get here. He said there is no comparison. I have never been a big fan of mangoes, other than in ice cream sometimes when I want something different. My friend was excited because he said that there was a new trade agreement between the US and India and for the fist time in many years, the US was going to allow Indian mangoes to be imported. The agreement was negotiated as a trade where US Harley Davidson motorcycles could be imported into India if Indian mangoes were allowed into the US. I listened but thought, "You've got to be kidding....mangoes for motorcycles?" Since I am always teasing Rahul, I thought he was pulling my leg. Curiosity got the best of me and googled Mangoes and Harleys...and guess what....he was right...google it! What a weird world. So I will be on the look out for Indian mangoes....if you see any, please let me know. Life is Good!
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Day 29 - Monday, Monday, Can't Trust That Day!
Monday, March 29, Day 29 of challenge. Ran 0 miles, total so far 66.4/ Miles to go 933.6
Monday was a rough day. The cold I have been fighting came back for round two in the ring and bested me. I had a series of meetings as school and just went through the motions and then taught my class. I was loosing my voice and wish I had given a better lecture....Just not my best. Came home and went to be early. Used an old cold remedy, vicks vaporub, on my chest and now that I am "new age" also on my feet, with socks, of course. Believe it or not, something about rubbing it on your feet really does make a different. I remember when I was sick as a child my mom would rub Vics on my chest and then put me in flannel pajamas and put a sock full of cornmeal that she had heated up in the stove on my chest. I can still smell the sweet fragrance of the corn competing with the menthol of the vaporub.
Needless to say, no run today. Hope tomorrow is a better day!
Monday was a rough day. The cold I have been fighting came back for round two in the ring and bested me. I had a series of meetings as school and just went through the motions and then taught my class. I was loosing my voice and wish I had given a better lecture....Just not my best. Came home and went to be early. Used an old cold remedy, vicks vaporub, on my chest and now that I am "new age" also on my feet, with socks, of course. Believe it or not, something about rubbing it on your feet really does make a different. I remember when I was sick as a child my mom would rub Vics on my chest and then put me in flannel pajamas and put a sock full of cornmeal that she had heated up in the stove on my chest. I can still smell the sweet fragrance of the corn competing with the menthol of the vaporub.
Needless to say, no run today. Hope tomorrow is a better day!
Day 28, Sunday back in the gym Pain is Weakness Leaving The Body- Whatever!
Day 28, Sunday March 28th, Ran 2 miles/ Total so far 66.4/ Miles to do 933.6
Forgot to post yesterday that I bought my Weekly Grand and Texas lotto ticket for Saturday - did not win.
Gambling investment so far 9 dollars....winnings 4 dollars...net minus 5...but there is always Wednesday!
Sunday was a better day. I had gone to bed early Saturday night and slept a long time Sunday. I know my body needed the rest. I felt like the cold was being held at bay and that I would be able to fight it off. I went into the gym in the late afternoon, hoping to be able to run and make up a little for taking yesterday off and for Friday's short 1.5 mile run. I decided to use the treadmill because it is easier on legs and feet than the concrete Katy Trail or the running track. The run started out ok but again, at about 3/4ths of a mile, my left shin started hurting and my left calf also. Not as bad as Friday, but definitely not good. I decided to take it slow and see if it abated or if a runner high of endorphins would mask the pain enough for me to continue. It didn't and I stopped at 2 miles, fearful I would hurt myself. But at least 2 miles was more than 1.5. And I did feel a little better for the run, although I also felt the beginnings of a headache and a little feverish and wondered if the cold that I thought I had beaten was returning for round two.
There are several signs around Dedman Center that boldly pronounce "Pain is weakness leaving the body!" I say Bull Sh__! Pain is pain. My motto is No Pain, No Problem. I am not in this to be hurt and I want to finish and feel good along the way. So I am glad I stopped and honored the pain and expect it to return the favor down the line and leave me the ____ alone lol.
Back at home I finished off the rest of the fried chicken I had bought the day before and mindlessly watched two episodes of Golden Girls and went to bed hoping Monday would find me better.
Life is Good!
Forgot to post yesterday that I bought my Weekly Grand and Texas lotto ticket for Saturday - did not win.
Gambling investment so far 9 dollars....winnings 4 dollars...net minus 5...but there is always Wednesday!
Sunday was a better day. I had gone to bed early Saturday night and slept a long time Sunday. I know my body needed the rest. I felt like the cold was being held at bay and that I would be able to fight it off. I went into the gym in the late afternoon, hoping to be able to run and make up a little for taking yesterday off and for Friday's short 1.5 mile run. I decided to use the treadmill because it is easier on legs and feet than the concrete Katy Trail or the running track. The run started out ok but again, at about 3/4ths of a mile, my left shin started hurting and my left calf also. Not as bad as Friday, but definitely not good. I decided to take it slow and see if it abated or if a runner high of endorphins would mask the pain enough for me to continue. It didn't and I stopped at 2 miles, fearful I would hurt myself. But at least 2 miles was more than 1.5. And I did feel a little better for the run, although I also felt the beginnings of a headache and a little feverish and wondered if the cold that I thought I had beaten was returning for round two.
There are several signs around Dedman Center that boldly pronounce "Pain is weakness leaving the body!" I say Bull Sh__! Pain is pain. My motto is No Pain, No Problem. I am not in this to be hurt and I want to finish and feel good along the way. So I am glad I stopped and honored the pain and expect it to return the favor down the line and leave me the ____ alone lol.
Back at home I finished off the rest of the fried chicken I had bought the day before and mindlessly watched two episodes of Golden Girls and went to bed hoping Monday would find me better.
Life is Good!
Monday, March 29, 2010
Day 27 Saturday slump....fighting a cold and memories of my sister's brick feet!
Saturday, March 27, Day 27 of challenge: Ran: O miles/ Ran so far: 65.4/ Miles to go 934.6
It was another beautiful, but windy day in Dallas but I couldn't really enjoy it. I woke up not feeling well. Not sure if it is allergies or fighting off a cold. Got to school for a 12:30 luncheon for the Sumners Scholarship Program discussed in yesterday's post. Then we had the Student Bar Association Crayfish Boil and Carnival. Enjoyed seeing everyone, even if I did not feel at my best. Then I went with Gym Rat to look at another condo community. Ok, all my friends in New York and California, I am sorry but Dallas is soooooooo affordable. I have watched a few HDTV shows where people are looking at 1000 square foot condos for hundreds of thousands of dollars or more. We looked at a two bedroom, two bath, nice area, 1000 plus square feed, newly renovated complex, The Piazza, with courtyards and all the updates (granite counter tops, stainless steel sinks and appliances, big closets, laundry room and hard wood floors, etc. And the price? $125,000. You can find a parking space to buy in Manhattan for that price.....Of course, Dallas is not Manhattan, but still.....
Afterwards we went to Pandera's for a sandwich and I watched a little tennis at my friends apartment then fell asleep on his couch. I woke up only to eat some cheap fried chicken from Albertsons that I had purchased on the way home from Gym Rat's apartment because, when we were looking at the condo,someone had been frying chicken and I could not get the smell out of my mind. I love fried chicken. And I ate three thighs and had a glass of my box Cabernet then went to bed early. I hope I will feel better Sunday for a run....Being sick and having bricks for feet is not fun....but speaking of bricks for feet, that reminded me of a cruel song my brother and I used to sing to our shy older sister, Joyce. It was based on the old tune Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue, etc. Only we changed the words to be:
Five foot Six,
Legs like sticks,
Feet like bricks,
and has some hicks!
Has anybody seen my sister?
Maybe my brick feet this week is just Karma for tormenting my poor sister....Joyce...I am sorry....I promise not to sing that song again! Life is Good! (even if I don't feel so good :) )
It was another beautiful, but windy day in Dallas but I couldn't really enjoy it. I woke up not feeling well. Not sure if it is allergies or fighting off a cold. Got to school for a 12:30 luncheon for the Sumners Scholarship Program discussed in yesterday's post. Then we had the Student Bar Association Crayfish Boil and Carnival. Enjoyed seeing everyone, even if I did not feel at my best. Then I went with Gym Rat to look at another condo community. Ok, all my friends in New York and California, I am sorry but Dallas is soooooooo affordable. I have watched a few HDTV shows where people are looking at 1000 square foot condos for hundreds of thousands of dollars or more. We looked at a two bedroom, two bath, nice area, 1000 plus square feed, newly renovated complex, The Piazza, with courtyards and all the updates (granite counter tops, stainless steel sinks and appliances, big closets, laundry room and hard wood floors, etc. And the price? $125,000. You can find a parking space to buy in Manhattan for that price.....Of course, Dallas is not Manhattan, but still.....
Afterwards we went to Pandera's for a sandwich and I watched a little tennis at my friends apartment then fell asleep on his couch. I woke up only to eat some cheap fried chicken from Albertsons that I had purchased on the way home from Gym Rat's apartment because, when we were looking at the condo,someone had been frying chicken and I could not get the smell out of my mind. I love fried chicken. And I ate three thighs and had a glass of my box Cabernet then went to bed early. I hope I will feel better Sunday for a run....Being sick and having bricks for feet is not fun....but speaking of bricks for feet, that reminded me of a cruel song my brother and I used to sing to our shy older sister, Joyce. It was based on the old tune Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue, etc. Only we changed the words to be:
Five foot Six,
Legs like sticks,
Feet like bricks,
and has some hicks!
Has anybody seen my sister?
Maybe my brick feet this week is just Karma for tormenting my poor sister....Joyce...I am sorry....I promise not to sing that song again! Life is Good! (even if I don't feel so good :) )
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Day 26th Ouch...my leg hurts. Good News, Bad News Who is to say?
Friday, day 26, ran 1.5 miles/ total so far: 65.4 / Miles to go: 934.6
It was a beautiful day and I left work in the sunshine intent on running 5 miles at the Katy Trail before going to a dinner at the Petroleum Club for the Scholarship Program that was responsible for my coming to SMU Law School. The Hatton Sumner's Scholarship is a full ride and this is the weekend the Trustees invite 30 some odd students to interview for 5 or 6 slots. I remember my interview weekend 34 years ago.
But first, the background. I had decided to go to Vanderbilt Law School. I had been invited to a weekend at Vanderbilt for a scholarship program they had called the Patrick Wilson Scholarship. It was a $5,000 a year scholarship which was a big deal back in 1976. The Sumners, all inclusive scholarship, was about 8,400 a year. The Patrick Wilson Foundation had a similar weekend interview event...only it lasted two days and they only invited 15 students. Five would get the scholarship. On Sunday afternoon you were told to go to your dorm room and wait for a phone call. If it did not come by 4 pm you did not get the scholarship and if you got the call you had to accept on the spot or they would go to another candidate. I waited knowing it was my manifest destiny to win the scholarship or else, how could this poor boy from Tyler, Texas who had gone to Tyler Junior College and then a small liberal arts college, Centenary College of Louisiana, have been selected to be one of the finalist for the Patrick Wilson Scholarship?
I did not get the call. I kept looking at the clock from 2:00 when we finished our interviews until 4 o'clock. But no call. Devastated I started packing my bags. Then at 4:30 the phone rang, but it was not the Foundation. It was from the Dean's Office. He wanted to see me. In his office he said he was sorry that I had not received the scholarship, but they really wanted me to come and they would give me the same amount of money: half in a scholarship and half in loans. I was pleased to be "wanted" even if I was disappointed not to be a Patrick Wilson Scholar.
Back at home I determined to go to Vanderbilt. A few days later there was a Pre-Law weekend event at Centenary College and Dean Charles Galvin from SMU was on campus talking about the law school. He told us about this Hatton Sumners Scholarship. One of my academic advisers, Dr. Walter Lowery, told me I should apply. So on the last day to apply, I sent in my application. Not long afterwards came the invitation for Hatton Sumners Weekend, I would only need one suit for this event so I packed my brown pin stripe and left the burgundy suit and burgundy patent leather shoes that I had taken to Nashville for the all weekend Patrick Wilson affair at home. Only later, in retrospect, did it occur to me that perhaps that burgundy suit had something to do with me not getting a phone call in my dorm room at Vanderbilt.... but what did I know?.. I thought I was styling in my JC Penny suits that fit in perfectly well at Commercial National Bank, Shreveport LA, where I was a teller. More about me as a law school fashionista in a later post!
At the Hatton Sumners weekend I remember being asked, since my LSAT score was good but not as good as some of the applicants, but my GPA was really high, if my grades were so good because I did not go to good schools? I was upset and said something like, "No, but I am sure If I decided to come to SMU I would do well as I had always done well." I left the weekend thinking even if I got this scholarship I am not sure I would come. But when a couple of weeks later a letter announcing that I had won the scholarship arrived, there was no doubt that I would go to SMU and I am forever grateful to the Foundation for allowing me to go to SMU and not to have to borrow. I am sure that the decision to go to SMU was one of the most monumental in affecting the course of my life. And not getting the Patrick Wilson meant that I applied for and received the better Sumners Scholarship and the rest is history.
Which brings me to the Good News, Bad News, Who is to Say part of this post. If you have been reading these entries you know that I often say the Good News is or the Bad News was, etc. It is a way of thinking about life that I have adopted from an old Chinese proverb. I have told this story at every orientation since I came to SMU and it has become a part of the culture of the place. Recently the students made a music video of me telling this story for a production called Follies. The story goes like this:
There was an old man in China whose wealth was his horse. He used it to work and to go to the village. One day the horse ran away to the mountains. All the villagers came to the old man and said, "Old man, such bad fortune, your horse has run away." The old man merely replied, "Good News, Bad News, Who is to say?"
A couple of weeks later, the horse returned with 5 wild horses. Suddenly the old man was rich. All the villagers came to the old man and said, "Old man, such good fortune, you now have 6 horses and you are a rich man." The old man merely said, "Good News, Bad News, Who is to say?"
Later the old man's only son broke his leg trying to train one of the wild horses. All the villagers came to the old man saying, "Old man, such bad fortune. Your only son has broken his leg." The old man merely said, "Good News, Bad News, Who is to say?"
While the son was recovering, the warlord in that region declared war against a neighboring region and conscripted all the able bodied young men who went to fight and many were killed. Of course, the old man's son was spared because of his broken leg. All the villagers came to the old man saying, "Old man, such good fortune, you one and honorable son has been spared." And of course, the old man merely said, "Good News, Bad News, Who is to say?"
At this point in the orientation address I turn to the students and say, "So here you are in you first day at SMU Dedman School of Law and here I am, you Dean of Students. Good News, Bad News, Who is to say?" Many times students will come to my office and start the conversation with the words, "Dean Camp, the Good News, Is.....but the Bad News Is....." It is helpful to realize that at the moment when anything happens to us we do not know where it will lead, or in the words of the famous radio commentator, Paul Harvey, we do not always know "The rest of the story."
So my Good News, Bad News about today is that once I got to the Katy trail, my shins started hurting and my calf cramped. My legs felt like two led pipes sunk in cement. My resolve to run 5 miles faded and I was only able to run 1.5 miles. I realize that I may have been pushing myself a little too hard too fast at the beginning of this one year, 1000 mile journey. I do not want to get hurt and I want to finish. I will wait and see how I feel tomorrow, Saturday before decided what the next step is. Maybe being a little hurt this early is a good think, a wake up call to take things easy and build up the miles....So I did not run my five miles today and my legs hurt...Good News, Bad News, Who is to say? But I do know that Life is Good!
It was a beautiful day and I left work in the sunshine intent on running 5 miles at the Katy Trail before going to a dinner at the Petroleum Club for the Scholarship Program that was responsible for my coming to SMU Law School. The Hatton Sumner's Scholarship is a full ride and this is the weekend the Trustees invite 30 some odd students to interview for 5 or 6 slots. I remember my interview weekend 34 years ago.
But first, the background. I had decided to go to Vanderbilt Law School. I had been invited to a weekend at Vanderbilt for a scholarship program they had called the Patrick Wilson Scholarship. It was a $5,000 a year scholarship which was a big deal back in 1976. The Sumners, all inclusive scholarship, was about 8,400 a year. The Patrick Wilson Foundation had a similar weekend interview event...only it lasted two days and they only invited 15 students. Five would get the scholarship. On Sunday afternoon you were told to go to your dorm room and wait for a phone call. If it did not come by 4 pm you did not get the scholarship and if you got the call you had to accept on the spot or they would go to another candidate. I waited knowing it was my manifest destiny to win the scholarship or else, how could this poor boy from Tyler, Texas who had gone to Tyler Junior College and then a small liberal arts college, Centenary College of Louisiana, have been selected to be one of the finalist for the Patrick Wilson Scholarship?
I did not get the call. I kept looking at the clock from 2:00 when we finished our interviews until 4 o'clock. But no call. Devastated I started packing my bags. Then at 4:30 the phone rang, but it was not the Foundation. It was from the Dean's Office. He wanted to see me. In his office he said he was sorry that I had not received the scholarship, but they really wanted me to come and they would give me the same amount of money: half in a scholarship and half in loans. I was pleased to be "wanted" even if I was disappointed not to be a Patrick Wilson Scholar.
Back at home I determined to go to Vanderbilt. A few days later there was a Pre-Law weekend event at Centenary College and Dean Charles Galvin from SMU was on campus talking about the law school. He told us about this Hatton Sumners Scholarship. One of my academic advisers, Dr. Walter Lowery, told me I should apply. So on the last day to apply, I sent in my application. Not long afterwards came the invitation for Hatton Sumners Weekend, I would only need one suit for this event so I packed my brown pin stripe and left the burgundy suit and burgundy patent leather shoes that I had taken to Nashville for the all weekend Patrick Wilson affair at home. Only later, in retrospect, did it occur to me that perhaps that burgundy suit had something to do with me not getting a phone call in my dorm room at Vanderbilt.... but what did I know?.. I thought I was styling in my JC Penny suits that fit in perfectly well at Commercial National Bank, Shreveport LA, where I was a teller. More about me as a law school fashionista in a later post!
At the Hatton Sumners weekend I remember being asked, since my LSAT score was good but not as good as some of the applicants, but my GPA was really high, if my grades were so good because I did not go to good schools? I was upset and said something like, "No, but I am sure If I decided to come to SMU I would do well as I had always done well." I left the weekend thinking even if I got this scholarship I am not sure I would come. But when a couple of weeks later a letter announcing that I had won the scholarship arrived, there was no doubt that I would go to SMU and I am forever grateful to the Foundation for allowing me to go to SMU and not to have to borrow. I am sure that the decision to go to SMU was one of the most monumental in affecting the course of my life. And not getting the Patrick Wilson meant that I applied for and received the better Sumners Scholarship and the rest is history.
Which brings me to the Good News, Bad News, Who is to Say part of this post. If you have been reading these entries you know that I often say the Good News is or the Bad News was, etc. It is a way of thinking about life that I have adopted from an old Chinese proverb. I have told this story at every orientation since I came to SMU and it has become a part of the culture of the place. Recently the students made a music video of me telling this story for a production called Follies. The story goes like this:
There was an old man in China whose wealth was his horse. He used it to work and to go to the village. One day the horse ran away to the mountains. All the villagers came to the old man and said, "Old man, such bad fortune, your horse has run away." The old man merely replied, "Good News, Bad News, Who is to say?"
A couple of weeks later, the horse returned with 5 wild horses. Suddenly the old man was rich. All the villagers came to the old man and said, "Old man, such good fortune, you now have 6 horses and you are a rich man." The old man merely said, "Good News, Bad News, Who is to say?"
Later the old man's only son broke his leg trying to train one of the wild horses. All the villagers came to the old man saying, "Old man, such bad fortune. Your only son has broken his leg." The old man merely said, "Good News, Bad News, Who is to say?"
While the son was recovering, the warlord in that region declared war against a neighboring region and conscripted all the able bodied young men who went to fight and many were killed. Of course, the old man's son was spared because of his broken leg. All the villagers came to the old man saying, "Old man, such good fortune, you one and honorable son has been spared." And of course, the old man merely said, "Good News, Bad News, Who is to say?"
At this point in the orientation address I turn to the students and say, "So here you are in you first day at SMU Dedman School of Law and here I am, you Dean of Students. Good News, Bad News, Who is to say?" Many times students will come to my office and start the conversation with the words, "Dean Camp, the Good News, Is.....but the Bad News Is....." It is helpful to realize that at the moment when anything happens to us we do not know where it will lead, or in the words of the famous radio commentator, Paul Harvey, we do not always know "The rest of the story."
So my Good News, Bad News about today is that once I got to the Katy trail, my shins started hurting and my calf cramped. My legs felt like two led pipes sunk in cement. My resolve to run 5 miles faded and I was only able to run 1.5 miles. I realize that I may have been pushing myself a little too hard too fast at the beginning of this one year, 1000 mile journey. I do not want to get hurt and I want to finish. I will wait and see how I feel tomorrow, Saturday before decided what the next step is. Maybe being a little hurt this early is a good think, a wake up call to take things easy and build up the miles....So I did not run my five miles today and my legs hurt...Good News, Bad News, Who is to say? But I do know that Life is Good!
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Day 25 - A hard 2.5 and a couple of Hot Chocolate Cookies!
Thursday March 25th, Day 25; Ran 2.5 miles/ Total so far: 62.9/ Miles to go 937.1
I did not sleep well last night. Knowing that I needed to get up at 4:30 I kept dozing off and waking up. When my phone alarm finally rang I was awake and just shuffled into the Kitchen to make some coffee. Actually, I have to make my coffee in my breakfast room because the wonderful high end red it will grind the coffee for you coffee pot is too tall for the kitchen counters of my 60's style house. I had bought the coffee maker along with other red Kitchen Aid appliances when I lived in a cool Loft at Mockingbird Station for three years when I first started working at SMU. Most people get an apartment for their kids when they go to college. I left my son in charge of the house (he was in law school) and got the aparment for myself. I lived there for three years until his moving out to get married and the bad housing market convinced me that I needed to trade my urban chic digs and become a suburban boy again. Mockingbird Station kitchen cabinets were high above the marble counter tops and the coffee maker fit just fine. Not so at Casa Summit, my current abode. So I have put the coffee maker on the breakfast room table.
Two cups of coffee later, dressed in sweats, off I went to meet my friend and former collegue from Jones Day and her running group. I got to the Dedman Gym parking lot about 5:15. Amazing how much quicker I can drive the 6 miles from Richardson to SMU that early in the morning when the traffic is light. I ditched the sweat pants (no I was not naked, I had on running shorts underneath) but kept the sweat shirt and a baseball cap. More heat escapes from the top of your head they say than any other part of your body (not sure I agree....I have seen some angry people blow a lot of smoke and hot air out of their mouths). It was chilly, but I knew I would warm up when I started running. Not wearing a watch, I did not know exactly what time it was when I reached La Madeline Restaurant next door to await my friend. We were supposed to meet at 5:30. Shortly a herd of runners came by and I made the mistake of thinking they were the group I was supposed to meet. One of them was a law student who shouted out the familiar "Hey Dean Camp" line. I followed them to the track and started running laps.
This group was doing interval training. Short fast runs followed by spells of walking. Another group also arrived and was doing intervals. I did not want to do intervals. At this point in my running, I am a LSD man (not a druggie...Long Slow Distance - although some might argue that my runner's high takes me on a trip, especially if they read some of these posts). I just kept running laps on the outside lane. I never saw my friend but found out later she was there and never saw me. Bizarre. I guess she was in the second group. It is dark at 5:30 in the morning, even with the lights around the track. It was a beautiful, crisp morning and the track setting is pretty. Stately buildings and the Gerald Ford (no not the President Ford, the other Gerald Ford) stadium surround the track, except for the Doak Walker Plaza with his Immortalizing Statute (see an earlier blog for the significance of statutes and immortality). The buildings and plaza are back lit and everything is so clean and pristine. The only problem was that I was hurting and it was hard to enjoy. I had not had enough sleep after my Lays potato chips and wine dinner and my body complained. I just kept running and decided I could do anything for 30 minutes so I was going to run 2.5 miles, which I did. I was very happy to stop and walk another half mile. For a fleeting moment I thought maybe I would run some more....very fleeting because of another problem that developed......
One of the problems that all runners have experienced, especially if doing morning runs is, dare I say it? morning runs....the other kind, the "coffee is kicking in and telling you that you have to go" runs. It was fortunate that the gym was right next to the track. I was saved from the embarrassment of an accident.
After the gym I went to the Starbucks for a smoothie and another cup of coffee. It is an interesting crowd who people that Mockingbird Starbucks at that time in the morning. Businessmen and students, newspapers and laptops. I do not know what one girl was reading on her lap top (or perhaps watching since she had on earphones) but her face kept going through a whole range of emotions. Even though I knew I should not be watching, I kept glancing at her. I felt like I was watching a silent movie actress who had to use an expressive face to portray the emotions that the dry subtitles could never express.
At the gym I had realized that I had forgotten my dress shoes. I decided it was not worth driving back to Richardson for them, especially considering what the traffic would now be like. I just thought people at school could see me in my running shoes and khaki pants and sweater. I had no important meetings where I needed a tie and to look Dean-like.
Even though I was tired, I have to admit I felt good and I was glad that I had run. I remembered how good it used to feel to run every morning. I will have to work more morning runs into my schedule. I will also have to increase my miles if I am going to burn off the sugar calories I keep consuming. Today at lunch I had two hot triple chocolate chip cookies from the University cafeteria washed down with whole milk....I paid the price later in the afternoon for that sugar high...but the view from the sugar high was nice for a while.
Going to be early tonight to catch up on my sleep. Life is Good.
I did not sleep well last night. Knowing that I needed to get up at 4:30 I kept dozing off and waking up. When my phone alarm finally rang I was awake and just shuffled into the Kitchen to make some coffee. Actually, I have to make my coffee in my breakfast room because the wonderful high end red it will grind the coffee for you coffee pot is too tall for the kitchen counters of my 60's style house. I had bought the coffee maker along with other red Kitchen Aid appliances when I lived in a cool Loft at Mockingbird Station for three years when I first started working at SMU. Most people get an apartment for their kids when they go to college. I left my son in charge of the house (he was in law school) and got the aparment for myself. I lived there for three years until his moving out to get married and the bad housing market convinced me that I needed to trade my urban chic digs and become a suburban boy again. Mockingbird Station kitchen cabinets were high above the marble counter tops and the coffee maker fit just fine. Not so at Casa Summit, my current abode. So I have put the coffee maker on the breakfast room table.
Two cups of coffee later, dressed in sweats, off I went to meet my friend and former collegue from Jones Day and her running group. I got to the Dedman Gym parking lot about 5:15. Amazing how much quicker I can drive the 6 miles from Richardson to SMU that early in the morning when the traffic is light. I ditched the sweat pants (no I was not naked, I had on running shorts underneath) but kept the sweat shirt and a baseball cap. More heat escapes from the top of your head they say than any other part of your body (not sure I agree....I have seen some angry people blow a lot of smoke and hot air out of their mouths). It was chilly, but I knew I would warm up when I started running. Not wearing a watch, I did not know exactly what time it was when I reached La Madeline Restaurant next door to await my friend. We were supposed to meet at 5:30. Shortly a herd of runners came by and I made the mistake of thinking they were the group I was supposed to meet. One of them was a law student who shouted out the familiar "Hey Dean Camp" line. I followed them to the track and started running laps.
This group was doing interval training. Short fast runs followed by spells of walking. Another group also arrived and was doing intervals. I did not want to do intervals. At this point in my running, I am a LSD man (not a druggie...Long Slow Distance - although some might argue that my runner's high takes me on a trip, especially if they read some of these posts). I just kept running laps on the outside lane. I never saw my friend but found out later she was there and never saw me. Bizarre. I guess she was in the second group. It is dark at 5:30 in the morning, even with the lights around the track. It was a beautiful, crisp morning and the track setting is pretty. Stately buildings and the Gerald Ford (no not the President Ford, the other Gerald Ford) stadium surround the track, except for the Doak Walker Plaza with his Immortalizing Statute (see an earlier blog for the significance of statutes and immortality). The buildings and plaza are back lit and everything is so clean and pristine. The only problem was that I was hurting and it was hard to enjoy. I had not had enough sleep after my Lays potato chips and wine dinner and my body complained. I just kept running and decided I could do anything for 30 minutes so I was going to run 2.5 miles, which I did. I was very happy to stop and walk another half mile. For a fleeting moment I thought maybe I would run some more....very fleeting because of another problem that developed......
One of the problems that all runners have experienced, especially if doing morning runs is, dare I say it? morning runs....the other kind, the "coffee is kicking in and telling you that you have to go" runs. It was fortunate that the gym was right next to the track. I was saved from the embarrassment of an accident.
After the gym I went to the Starbucks for a smoothie and another cup of coffee. It is an interesting crowd who people that Mockingbird Starbucks at that time in the morning. Businessmen and students, newspapers and laptops. I do not know what one girl was reading on her lap top (or perhaps watching since she had on earphones) but her face kept going through a whole range of emotions. Even though I knew I should not be watching, I kept glancing at her. I felt like I was watching a silent movie actress who had to use an expressive face to portray the emotions that the dry subtitles could never express.
At the gym I had realized that I had forgotten my dress shoes. I decided it was not worth driving back to Richardson for them, especially considering what the traffic would now be like. I just thought people at school could see me in my running shoes and khaki pants and sweater. I had no important meetings where I needed a tie and to look Dean-like.
Even though I was tired, I have to admit I felt good and I was glad that I had run. I remembered how good it used to feel to run every morning. I will have to work more morning runs into my schedule. I will also have to increase my miles if I am going to burn off the sugar calories I keep consuming. Today at lunch I had two hot triple chocolate chip cookies from the University cafeteria washed down with whole milk....I paid the price later in the afternoon for that sugar high...but the view from the sugar high was nice for a while.
Going to be early tonight to catch up on my sleep. Life is Good.
Day 24 - Day Off "Betcha can't eat just one!"
Wednesday, March 24, 24th day of Blog. Ran 0/ Total so far: 60.4/ Miles to go: 939.6
Gambling status: Bought Weekly Grand and Lotto ticket - no prize :( Total invested so far in this habit: $6/ Winnings: $4/ Net: Minus $2. But there is always Saturday!
Hump days are hard days. My legs were sore after Tuesday night's 5 plus mile run. Lawyers Inn lunch set me back, again. We had a "Faculty Forum," which we have at least three or more a month. These are luncheon presentations by either a member of our faculty or a visiting scholar. The presenter talks about a research project in progress. Normally the paper in its current draft form is circulated before the lunch. During the presentation the audience asks questions. The point is to get critical comments during this time to help the author as they complete the paper. Some presenters appear to appreciate critical comments more than others.
In addition to these general faculty forums, we have colloquiums in various areas of the law with similar formats. This year the speakers are all talking about issues in tax law. Before that it was on immigration law. And then, of course, in the Fall there are "job talks" where candidates who are seeking faculty appointments come and present papers about topics that they are working on and which they hope will be accepted by prestigious law reviews. But here the emphasis is a little different, as they are trying to convince the faculty that they have the intellectual firepower to receive an offer. Of course, if they have the intellectual firepower, they generally receive more than one offer and so the law schools compete against each other like football powers trying to recruit the hot shot High School stars. All this is complicated by two career families where spouses need to also find gainful employment to entice candidates to accept offers.
Add to all of these forums the many faculty and committee lunch meetings and meetings for student groups, etc., and you realize that the bottom line (and it does impact the size of many bottoms here) is that there are far too many opportunities to enjoy Lawyers Inn catering. And Wednesday I could not resist the lemon pie even though it could not approach the pecan pie from the Tuesday lunch.
Wednesday night I taught my Property class again but before class I had to stop by my bank and make a deposit. The problem with this bank is that it is next door to Jack's Burger House, a local hamburger joint that opened in the 1950's and still has one of the best traditional burgers around, even though it has changed owners. I still remember walking down to Jack's when I was in law school for one of his famous chili burgers and seasoned fries. We called it the "Greek Burger" back then, even though the sign said Burger House, because Jack was Greek and the fries had that seasoning. Old Jack would make his own chili in the winter and whenever you ordered a burger he would ask in his accented English "Ya wants chilllleeee ons zat burrrgerrr?" And if it was cold I usually succumbed to the temptation and got the chili, and grilled onions, of course.
So after making my deposit and because I was hungry, I could not resist the smell of Burger House. I went in and sat at one of the 5 counter stools and ordered a cheese burger with everything. Of course, it is a different place now. The three men working there spoke to each other in Spanish and there was no pot of chili on the stove. But Jack's picture and some old newspaper articles (including his obituary) are still on the walls. I like to think that he smiled as I sat down, from wherever old Greeks go to make heavenly chili.
I had told a former student who has been encouraging me in my running that I would meet her and a group of runners Thursday morning at 5:30. They meet several times a week and I believe are training for a race. After class I decided I needed to take the night off and rest. Actually, I mean, not run and as for the rest, days I teach are long ones and by the time I got home it was 9:30. I was not particularly hungry but I did want "a little something".
I am sure that all families have their particular words, code language if you will. Mine certainly did. When we wanted a snack we would ask for something to "narch" on. I do not know where that word came from. And I did not know that everyone didn't narch until asking for something to narch on at a friend's house one time and seeing the blank look on everyone in his family's face. Another family expression we had stemmed from the fact that when my older sister was a baby she was often constipated. She would stand in her diaper and apparently it was very hard for her "to do her business" (another expression - right). One time mom or dad commented that going to the bathroom was "a real job for Joyce" and from then on, if anyone needed to go to the bathroom they would say then needed to "do a job" and of course the product of doing a job was called "a job." So I can remember when a rock and roll song came out in the early 1960's when I was in elementary school and the chorus was "Get a Job" I found it so amusing. Imagine singing about such a thing.
Anyway, Wednesday at 10:00 pm with a glass of box Cabernet wine in one hand I went looking for something to narch on. There it was, the half full not half empty - half full) bag of Lays left over from my Kroger shopping binge of earlier in the week. The owners of the company are right with their ad campaign. There is no way you can eat just one Lays potato chip. And my problem is that after a glass of wine and it being more than 4 hours since the the Burger House cheese burger (sans fries...remember I am on a diet) once I started narching I could not stop. When the bag was empty, I rationalized my gluttony with the justification that I had gotten that potato chip temptation out of the house! (something I do too often where I eat the offending food instead of throwing it away). The whole process reminded me of the story about the woman who went to the self help seminar where the speaker said that to reduce stress you should take a day and finish as many unfinished things around the house as you could. She promptly went home and finished the oreo cookies, the potato chips, the last piece of chocolate cake and the the bottle of red wine and, at least for a moment, had to agree with the speaker that she felt a lot better.
As I went to bed I realized that it would not easy to rise at 4:30 for my 5:30 run the next day. I questioned my sanity and wondered if I would really do it. My friend had informed me that even if it was raining, they would still run, telling me, "after all, we are not made of sugar." After all my desserts this week, I was not sure that was a correct statement, at least for me.
Check out Thursday post to see if I made it. Life is Good.
Gambling status: Bought Weekly Grand and Lotto ticket - no prize :( Total invested so far in this habit: $6/ Winnings: $4/ Net: Minus $2. But there is always Saturday!
Hump days are hard days. My legs were sore after Tuesday night's 5 plus mile run. Lawyers Inn lunch set me back, again. We had a "Faculty Forum," which we have at least three or more a month. These are luncheon presentations by either a member of our faculty or a visiting scholar. The presenter talks about a research project in progress. Normally the paper in its current draft form is circulated before the lunch. During the presentation the audience asks questions. The point is to get critical comments during this time to help the author as they complete the paper. Some presenters appear to appreciate critical comments more than others.
In addition to these general faculty forums, we have colloquiums in various areas of the law with similar formats. This year the speakers are all talking about issues in tax law. Before that it was on immigration law. And then, of course, in the Fall there are "job talks" where candidates who are seeking faculty appointments come and present papers about topics that they are working on and which they hope will be accepted by prestigious law reviews. But here the emphasis is a little different, as they are trying to convince the faculty that they have the intellectual firepower to receive an offer. Of course, if they have the intellectual firepower, they generally receive more than one offer and so the law schools compete against each other like football powers trying to recruit the hot shot High School stars. All this is complicated by two career families where spouses need to also find gainful employment to entice candidates to accept offers.
Add to all of these forums the many faculty and committee lunch meetings and meetings for student groups, etc., and you realize that the bottom line (and it does impact the size of many bottoms here) is that there are far too many opportunities to enjoy Lawyers Inn catering. And Wednesday I could not resist the lemon pie even though it could not approach the pecan pie from the Tuesday lunch.
Wednesday night I taught my Property class again but before class I had to stop by my bank and make a deposit. The problem with this bank is that it is next door to Jack's Burger House, a local hamburger joint that opened in the 1950's and still has one of the best traditional burgers around, even though it has changed owners. I still remember walking down to Jack's when I was in law school for one of his famous chili burgers and seasoned fries. We called it the "Greek Burger" back then, even though the sign said Burger House, because Jack was Greek and the fries had that seasoning. Old Jack would make his own chili in the winter and whenever you ordered a burger he would ask in his accented English "Ya wants chilllleeee ons zat burrrgerrr?" And if it was cold I usually succumbed to the temptation and got the chili, and grilled onions, of course.
So after making my deposit and because I was hungry, I could not resist the smell of Burger House. I went in and sat at one of the 5 counter stools and ordered a cheese burger with everything. Of course, it is a different place now. The three men working there spoke to each other in Spanish and there was no pot of chili on the stove. But Jack's picture and some old newspaper articles (including his obituary) are still on the walls. I like to think that he smiled as I sat down, from wherever old Greeks go to make heavenly chili.
I had told a former student who has been encouraging me in my running that I would meet her and a group of runners Thursday morning at 5:30. They meet several times a week and I believe are training for a race. After class I decided I needed to take the night off and rest. Actually, I mean, not run and as for the rest, days I teach are long ones and by the time I got home it was 9:30. I was not particularly hungry but I did want "a little something".
I am sure that all families have their particular words, code language if you will. Mine certainly did. When we wanted a snack we would ask for something to "narch" on. I do not know where that word came from. And I did not know that everyone didn't narch until asking for something to narch on at a friend's house one time and seeing the blank look on everyone in his family's face. Another family expression we had stemmed from the fact that when my older sister was a baby she was often constipated. She would stand in her diaper and apparently it was very hard for her "to do her business" (another expression - right). One time mom or dad commented that going to the bathroom was "a real job for Joyce" and from then on, if anyone needed to go to the bathroom they would say then needed to "do a job" and of course the product of doing a job was called "a job." So I can remember when a rock and roll song came out in the early 1960's when I was in elementary school and the chorus was "Get a Job" I found it so amusing. Imagine singing about such a thing.
Anyway, Wednesday at 10:00 pm with a glass of box Cabernet wine in one hand I went looking for something to narch on. There it was, the half full not half empty - half full) bag of Lays left over from my Kroger shopping binge of earlier in the week. The owners of the company are right with their ad campaign. There is no way you can eat just one Lays potato chip. And my problem is that after a glass of wine and it being more than 4 hours since the the Burger House cheese burger (sans fries...remember I am on a diet) once I started narching I could not stop. When the bag was empty, I rationalized my gluttony with the justification that I had gotten that potato chip temptation out of the house! (something I do too often where I eat the offending food instead of throwing it away). The whole process reminded me of the story about the woman who went to the self help seminar where the speaker said that to reduce stress you should take a day and finish as many unfinished things around the house as you could. She promptly went home and finished the oreo cookies, the potato chips, the last piece of chocolate cake and the the bottle of red wine and, at least for a moment, had to agree with the speaker that she felt a lot better.
As I went to bed I realized that it would not easy to rise at 4:30 for my 5:30 run the next day. I questioned my sanity and wondered if I would really do it. My friend had informed me that even if it was raining, they would still run, telling me, "after all, we are not made of sugar." After all my desserts this week, I was not sure that was a correct statement, at least for me.
Check out Thursday post to see if I made it. Life is Good.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Day 23, 5.2 Miles Pecan Pie Picking on Me
Monday, March 23rd, Day 23, Ran 5.2 miles/ Total so far - 60.4 Miles/ Miles to go - 939.6
Busy day at work and devastating on the diet. After starting the day with a nice oatmeal with fruit breakfast, my first stumble was a faculty lunch meeting in Lawyers' Inn at the law school. The food is good, but the desserts are to die for. Fresh pecan pie with whip cream. I did not want to eat a piece. I knew it was a belly buster....but, it was pecan pie and I succumbed. I had another Lawyer's Inn meal that night for Admitted Students in the Evening Program. This time the dessert was strawberry shortcake with real shortcake...not that flying saucer looking sponge cake we all buy at Kroger when it is displayed right next to the strawberry boxes. Now you know why I ran a little over 5 miles after dinner. Makes for a late night though and a tired next day.
Sitting in Lawyer's Inn reminded me of my first year in law school. At that time Lawyer's Inn was a law school dormitory and I lived on the third floor. Years later it was converted into offices as the tastes and finances of law students changed and law students no longer wanted or were willing to share a room and shower at a communal bathroom down the hall. But in 1976, I enjoyed the convenience of living in the Law School Quad. That is, except for my roommate. He had this annoying girlfriend who lived in another state and would call very late at night to get the cheap rates. Her high pitched voice screeching "Is Karl there?" in the middle of the night I can hear to this day. For some reason, I was always the one answering the phone it seemed. I can't remember now if that was because there was only one phone and it was on my side of the room or if Karl was just a heavy sleeper. In any event, this went on for two semesters until I got married and moved across the street to Hillcrest Manor (described in an earlier blog).
The most bizarre inconsiderate act by Karl involved a week when this girlfriend just showed up, expecting to stay in the dorm room. The rooms were small with two twin beds. Neither she nor Karl had told me of her visit nor asked if she could stay. Unlike the old TV Show with John Ritter, Three's Company, I had no desire to share the room with them and fortunately a friend down the hall had an extra bed since his roommate had dropped out. My friend let me bunk in his room that week. Karl never said a word. No thank you or I am sorry or I appreciate your understanding....nada, zip. I lost track of Karl after that first year and have never seen him at any reunions. If he married that girl then perhaps he got his just rewards and that would be a sufficient punishment in my eyes to cover his transgressions against me!
Oh and the food back then in Lawyer's Inn could not compare to the fare today that keeps tempting me to indulge....
Life is good!
Busy day at work and devastating on the diet. After starting the day with a nice oatmeal with fruit breakfast, my first stumble was a faculty lunch meeting in Lawyers' Inn at the law school. The food is good, but the desserts are to die for. Fresh pecan pie with whip cream. I did not want to eat a piece. I knew it was a belly buster....but, it was pecan pie and I succumbed. I had another Lawyer's Inn meal that night for Admitted Students in the Evening Program. This time the dessert was strawberry shortcake with real shortcake...not that flying saucer looking sponge cake we all buy at Kroger when it is displayed right next to the strawberry boxes. Now you know why I ran a little over 5 miles after dinner. Makes for a late night though and a tired next day.
Sitting in Lawyer's Inn reminded me of my first year in law school. At that time Lawyer's Inn was a law school dormitory and I lived on the third floor. Years later it was converted into offices as the tastes and finances of law students changed and law students no longer wanted or were willing to share a room and shower at a communal bathroom down the hall. But in 1976, I enjoyed the convenience of living in the Law School Quad. That is, except for my roommate. He had this annoying girlfriend who lived in another state and would call very late at night to get the cheap rates. Her high pitched voice screeching "Is Karl there?" in the middle of the night I can hear to this day. For some reason, I was always the one answering the phone it seemed. I can't remember now if that was because there was only one phone and it was on my side of the room or if Karl was just a heavy sleeper. In any event, this went on for two semesters until I got married and moved across the street to Hillcrest Manor (described in an earlier blog).
The most bizarre inconsiderate act by Karl involved a week when this girlfriend just showed up, expecting to stay in the dorm room. The rooms were small with two twin beds. Neither she nor Karl had told me of her visit nor asked if she could stay. Unlike the old TV Show with John Ritter, Three's Company, I had no desire to share the room with them and fortunately a friend down the hall had an extra bed since his roommate had dropped out. My friend let me bunk in his room that week. Karl never said a word. No thank you or I am sorry or I appreciate your understanding....nada, zip. I lost track of Karl after that first year and have never seen him at any reunions. If he married that girl then perhaps he got his just rewards and that would be a sufficient punishment in my eyes to cover his transgressions against me!
Oh and the food back then in Lawyer's Inn could not compare to the fare today that keeps tempting me to indulge....
Life is good!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Day 22 Day Off and Crazy Eights!
Monday, March 22. No miles, Total so far: 55.2/ Miles to go - 944.8
Yesterday was a busy day and by the time I finished teaching my Property II class at 8:35 I decided my body needed a rest more than a run. On the way home I decided to stop by my local Kroger, just for a rotisserie chicken(did not feel like cooking, had no left overs to warm up and as you shall see from the rest of this post, I was trying to do the Atkins low carb diet), some Activia yogurt and some half and half for my morning coffee. BIG MISTAKE. They say you should never go to the store on an empty stomach and for once "They" are right. I know better. They also say to avoid the middle aisles where all the processed food is, and they are also right. I know all of this, but behavior is not easy to change.
It had been day one on my resolve to "Avoid the Whites" i.e. starches like bread, white rice, potatoes and the biggest evil of all, sugar. I am impatient. I want the belly gone yesterday. After all, if I can run 5 miles, I should look like an athlete, not a pear on a treadmill. All this time in gyms with all those mirrors around has shown me my physique from more angles than I studied in High School Geometry class. Unless I am looking in the mirror face forward from the neck up, I am aware that there is this rounding in the center of my body....like one of those tops I used to play with as a boy with points on both ends and this flying saucer like bulging middle. Like a potter with his clay, I want that middle molded, but it takes time and there seems to be a lot of clay to work with. Remember Santa and his belly like a bowl full of jelly?
I have used may diets, but the one that has worked best for me has been Dr.Atkin's high protein, low carbohydrate eat all the bacon and red meat you want diet. The problem now, however, is that the few times in the past couple of years I have tried it, I have not been able to stick to it. Not sure if it has been less will power or if I have changed or both. But to kick start this molding of my midsection process, Sunday night (after my brunch of pecan Belgian waffle, etc.) I decided to "do Atkins" for a couple of weeks. Monday morning began with a cheese omelet. At lunch, I ate some hot dog wieners and left over chili. The first sign of problems came at a faculty committee meeting at 3 where there was a fruit plate with cheeses, crackers, cookies and dark chocolate brownies. I wanted a brownie. I had a hard time thinking about the topics in the meeting because I was watching others putting pieces of brownie into their mouths without a care in the world. I could taste the brownie. I compensated by eating a lot of cheese (sans the crackers which also was a struggle) and then broke the Atkins regimen by eating some grapes, melon and strawberries (all things that are otherwise healthy, but full of carbs and therefore "Haram" (forbidden) on Atkins). Back in my office, still obsessing about the brownie, I later ate a handful of almonds (a daily cholesterol reducing routine) and then just before class, an apple.
By the time I got to Kroger, it was close to 10 pm and I was really craving more than chicken. Kroger knows how to get me....like the Sirens tempting Jason and the Argonauts. Kroger catches my eyes with big bargain towers of unneeded food. It started when I saw Skinner Pasta, spaghetti, etc. on sale for 50 cents a pack. You can always use pasta, so having some around is a good thing, or so my rationale goes. And look at that price (as if saving 50 or 75 cents on pasta was going to pull me back from the brink of starvation when I had spent many times that on the grande latte the day before at Starbucks). Of course, there was a catch. To get the 50 cent price you had to by eight of the Crazy Eights items around the store. Suddenly, it was like a scavenger hunt. Find the items marked for this sale and save, save, save.....!
I hate to admit it, but I am a succor for these types of savings. I count it to my childhood when we were poor and I remember collecting pop bottles and being proud to turn the money over to my parents to buy baloney. I also remember discovering that my coin collection was missing one day. Later I found out that Dad had taken it to the store...we needed food. If he had told me, we could have sold the coins back for a lot more than their face value, but pride or shame kept us from having that conversation until years later.
Fueled by hunger and the excitement of the hunt, I found myself going to the front of the store where I could get a grocery cart in lieu of the basket I had taken (since I had originally only intended to get the chicken, half and half and yogurt, remember?) On the way back to the pasta I saw bunches of blue berries. I thought, screw Atkins. I am going to continue with my healthy blue berry, banana and pecan oatmeal with fresh squeezed OJ breakfasts! I put a carton of blue berries in the cart along with a bunch of bananas. I then saw some of the Organic Milk that one of my roommates uses and remembered that I had used some of his, so I picked up a carton. Then, back at the pasta display I got two packages of the spaghetti and a couple of bottles of sauce (also on the Crazy Eights special). But now I needed four more items or I would not have eight and would not get the special price....see how the hook was set....I went down the aisles, looking for Crazy Eights items. Aha, found some at the cracker display....I love crackers and after not eating them in the afternoon, and feeling starving since it was now almost 10:15 pm and I still had not eaten, I picked up a couple of boxes. Then I realized I needed some cheese to go with the crackers. As luck would have it, cheese was also on sale with the Crazy Eights, but suddenly I had picked up more than 8 Crazy Eights items, so I had to find more to even out the number to sixteen.
Ironically, there were no more rotisserie chickens left so I had to make a decision about dinner. I love sausage and picked up a couple of packages of the Kroger smoked sausage links. I did get my yogurt but realized I was getting short on wine. Saw a box of Corbet Canyon Cab and decided one box (four bottles worth at less than 10 dollars) would do just fine. Easy to manage portion control...life to be enjoyed one large glass at a time. But to get to the cash register I had to pass down the chips aisle and saw the Lays on sale. In went a bag and then I remembered how much I love popcorn and now you can get it in convenient 100 calorie microwave packages. I put two boxes in the cart (they too were on sale, but not Crazy Eights). To be fair, I was also thinking that in a week my kids would be here for Easter for a few days and having cheese and crackers and chips and popcorn would be a good thing (although I knew that I would be consuming more than my share both before and after they left).
By the time I got to the register I had also picked up a head of cauliflower to make cauliflower cheese soup (a promise to my vegetarian roomer) and a few other odds and ends along with my half and half. That late at night only one register was open and the line was long. I choose to go to the self service and after what seemed like forever, I finished checking myself out, left (sixty dollars poorer though the ticket said I had saved 20 dollars) and drove the two blocks to my house. All this because I thought I was too tired to cook and wanted a chicken someone else had cooked....Should have stopped at KFC and avoided Kroger! And the falacy that you ever "save" money by spending money! I know that is a crock...You save money by not spending. You spend money by spending...sometimes more or sometimes less, but spending is spending and my wallet was 60 dollars lighter even if my stomach was no smaller!
Back at home, I unloaded the car, and then decided what the Hell. I was so hungry I made two sausage sandwiches with white bread and ate two 100 calorie packages of popcorn washed down with two glasses of box wine. Oh, and this morning...I had my oatmeal with fruit and a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice. Sorry Dr. Atkins, I let you down. Maybe my mid section of the toy top is just meant to keep spinning a little longer....I plan to run after work...Life is Good!
Yesterday was a busy day and by the time I finished teaching my Property II class at 8:35 I decided my body needed a rest more than a run. On the way home I decided to stop by my local Kroger, just for a rotisserie chicken(did not feel like cooking, had no left overs to warm up and as you shall see from the rest of this post, I was trying to do the Atkins low carb diet), some Activia yogurt and some half and half for my morning coffee. BIG MISTAKE. They say you should never go to the store on an empty stomach and for once "They" are right. I know better. They also say to avoid the middle aisles where all the processed food is, and they are also right. I know all of this, but behavior is not easy to change.
It had been day one on my resolve to "Avoid the Whites" i.e. starches like bread, white rice, potatoes and the biggest evil of all, sugar. I am impatient. I want the belly gone yesterday. After all, if I can run 5 miles, I should look like an athlete, not a pear on a treadmill. All this time in gyms with all those mirrors around has shown me my physique from more angles than I studied in High School Geometry class. Unless I am looking in the mirror face forward from the neck up, I am aware that there is this rounding in the center of my body....like one of those tops I used to play with as a boy with points on both ends and this flying saucer like bulging middle. Like a potter with his clay, I want that middle molded, but it takes time and there seems to be a lot of clay to work with. Remember Santa and his belly like a bowl full of jelly?
I have used may diets, but the one that has worked best for me has been Dr.Atkin's high protein, low carbohydrate eat all the bacon and red meat you want diet. The problem now, however, is that the few times in the past couple of years I have tried it, I have not been able to stick to it. Not sure if it has been less will power or if I have changed or both. But to kick start this molding of my midsection process, Sunday night (after my brunch of pecan Belgian waffle, etc.) I decided to "do Atkins" for a couple of weeks. Monday morning began with a cheese omelet. At lunch, I ate some hot dog wieners and left over chili. The first sign of problems came at a faculty committee meeting at 3 where there was a fruit plate with cheeses, crackers, cookies and dark chocolate brownies. I wanted a brownie. I had a hard time thinking about the topics in the meeting because I was watching others putting pieces of brownie into their mouths without a care in the world. I could taste the brownie. I compensated by eating a lot of cheese (sans the crackers which also was a struggle) and then broke the Atkins regimen by eating some grapes, melon and strawberries (all things that are otherwise healthy, but full of carbs and therefore "Haram" (forbidden) on Atkins). Back in my office, still obsessing about the brownie, I later ate a handful of almonds (a daily cholesterol reducing routine) and then just before class, an apple.
By the time I got to Kroger, it was close to 10 pm and I was really craving more than chicken. Kroger knows how to get me....like the Sirens tempting Jason and the Argonauts. Kroger catches my eyes with big bargain towers of unneeded food. It started when I saw Skinner Pasta, spaghetti, etc. on sale for 50 cents a pack. You can always use pasta, so having some around is a good thing, or so my rationale goes. And look at that price (as if saving 50 or 75 cents on pasta was going to pull me back from the brink of starvation when I had spent many times that on the grande latte the day before at Starbucks). Of course, there was a catch. To get the 50 cent price you had to by eight of the Crazy Eights items around the store. Suddenly, it was like a scavenger hunt. Find the items marked for this sale and save, save, save.....!
I hate to admit it, but I am a succor for these types of savings. I count it to my childhood when we were poor and I remember collecting pop bottles and being proud to turn the money over to my parents to buy baloney. I also remember discovering that my coin collection was missing one day. Later I found out that Dad had taken it to the store...we needed food. If he had told me, we could have sold the coins back for a lot more than their face value, but pride or shame kept us from having that conversation until years later.
Fueled by hunger and the excitement of the hunt, I found myself going to the front of the store where I could get a grocery cart in lieu of the basket I had taken (since I had originally only intended to get the chicken, half and half and yogurt, remember?) On the way back to the pasta I saw bunches of blue berries. I thought, screw Atkins. I am going to continue with my healthy blue berry, banana and pecan oatmeal with fresh squeezed OJ breakfasts! I put a carton of blue berries in the cart along with a bunch of bananas. I then saw some of the Organic Milk that one of my roommates uses and remembered that I had used some of his, so I picked up a carton. Then, back at the pasta display I got two packages of the spaghetti and a couple of bottles of sauce (also on the Crazy Eights special). But now I needed four more items or I would not have eight and would not get the special price....see how the hook was set....I went down the aisles, looking for Crazy Eights items. Aha, found some at the cracker display....I love crackers and after not eating them in the afternoon, and feeling starving since it was now almost 10:15 pm and I still had not eaten, I picked up a couple of boxes. Then I realized I needed some cheese to go with the crackers. As luck would have it, cheese was also on sale with the Crazy Eights, but suddenly I had picked up more than 8 Crazy Eights items, so I had to find more to even out the number to sixteen.
Ironically, there were no more rotisserie chickens left so I had to make a decision about dinner. I love sausage and picked up a couple of packages of the Kroger smoked sausage links. I did get my yogurt but realized I was getting short on wine. Saw a box of Corbet Canyon Cab and decided one box (four bottles worth at less than 10 dollars) would do just fine. Easy to manage portion control...life to be enjoyed one large glass at a time. But to get to the cash register I had to pass down the chips aisle and saw the Lays on sale. In went a bag and then I remembered how much I love popcorn and now you can get it in convenient 100 calorie microwave packages. I put two boxes in the cart (they too were on sale, but not Crazy Eights). To be fair, I was also thinking that in a week my kids would be here for Easter for a few days and having cheese and crackers and chips and popcorn would be a good thing (although I knew that I would be consuming more than my share both before and after they left).
By the time I got to the register I had also picked up a head of cauliflower to make cauliflower cheese soup (a promise to my vegetarian roomer) and a few other odds and ends along with my half and half. That late at night only one register was open and the line was long. I choose to go to the self service and after what seemed like forever, I finished checking myself out, left (sixty dollars poorer though the ticket said I had saved 20 dollars) and drove the two blocks to my house. All this because I thought I was too tired to cook and wanted a chicken someone else had cooked....Should have stopped at KFC and avoided Kroger! And the falacy that you ever "save" money by spending money! I know that is a crock...You save money by not spending. You spend money by spending...sometimes more or sometimes less, but spending is spending and my wallet was 60 dollars lighter even if my stomach was no smaller!
Back at home, I unloaded the car, and then decided what the Hell. I was so hungry I made two sausage sandwiches with white bread and ate two 100 calorie packages of popcorn washed down with two glasses of box wine. Oh, and this morning...I had my oatmeal with fruit and a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice. Sorry Dr. Atkins, I let you down. Maybe my mid section of the toy top is just meant to keep spinning a little longer....I plan to run after work...Life is Good!
Monday, March 22, 2010
Day 21 Ran 5.3 miles - "To err is Human"
Sunday, March 21st, 21st day of the challenge. Ran 5.3 miles: Total so far 55.2 miles: Miles to go 944.8
Sunday morning found me and Gym Rat at a favorite breakfast haunt, Lucky's. Lucky's is an eclectic old fashion diner. It has been bought by a restaurant chain and is not quite what it once was (frozen strawberries now instead of fresh on the pancakes). But it is still very popular, especially on Sundays for brunch when people line up out the door. It is a Cheer's type of place where everybody knows our names. We are greeted by the gentle giant bear of a host, David. We have our waiter and our table and usually have to stand and drink "serve yourself" coffee for the 10 to 15 minute wait for the table. There are a couple of televisions where you can sometimes follow a tennis game. I felt adventuresome and ate a pecan Belgian waffle with bananas on top (one fruit that the new owners can't skimp on by buying in frozen bulk).
Brunch was followed by a wonderful time at the matinee at Theatre Three with good friend, Tatiana. The play was a British farce and I was surprised and happy to see another friend, Ginger Goldman, in one of the lead roles. She and I had been through four levels of improv comedy classes together years ago. She is a fine actress and I just act up, but seeing her brought back good memories. The stage for this play, consisted of three bedrooms at differing levels where all the action takes place, mostly British banter, dry humor and sarcasm as only the British can create out of our common language.
After post play coffee at the Starbucks down the street from the theatre with Tatiana, I went to the SMU gym. I really did not want to go....once again knowing I would be called upon to account for my running on this blog spurred me on. Once there I ran on the treadmill. The prior night's cold front had ushered in snow for the first day of spring making running outside not an option. (I know, people run in the cold and I have, but I did not want to last night and I didn't have too!) When the adrenaline rush kicked in I knew I could run an hour and I did. Sunday was a good day.
Oh, and the title line about "to err is human"? As I was running my mind wondered to wonderful stories that my Dad used to tell. He was a meat salesmen for a company that sold expensive meat of not always the best quality, or so he would tell me. (Probably the source of his "Be thankful for your problesm, they create your job" advice he always gave). As a result, his customers were always mad at him when he would arrive on a sales calls. They loved him, but not his meat. He had to cultivate loyalty in the face of his product's quality. One time a new salesman who had been sent to travel with my Dad for a week to see how the business was done, quit after three days saying "I can't do this....everywhere you go people are mad at you!"
Anyway, one time when Dad's company had delivered some bad hamburger meat to a Whatabuger restaurant,the manager, who was in the attic of the old traditional A-frame building, was really telling Dad off about how bad the meat was and the delimma this was creating, etc. Dad stood at the bottom of the ladder that Bill, the manager was standing on as he looked for supplies. After the tirade, Dad looked up at Bill, seeing Bill's face stained with sweat from the 100 plus degree heat of the attic, Dad said "Bill, I only have one thing to say." "What's that, Cameron?" Bill replied. Dad retorted, "To err is human, but to forgive is divine." There was a critical moment of silence after Dad's volley. It was a calculated guess that humor was the solution. Bill wanted to remain angry, but looking at Dad's silly grin, after delivery of the ridiculous line, Bill could not stay angry at this crazy man he loved to see each week. "You are crazy, Cameron" was all he could say, but the mood had changed. Life was good again.
I have never had the guts to try Dad's line on someone who was mad at me....maybe I should. If you do, let me know how it works! Life is Good!
Sunday morning found me and Gym Rat at a favorite breakfast haunt, Lucky's. Lucky's is an eclectic old fashion diner. It has been bought by a restaurant chain and is not quite what it once was (frozen strawberries now instead of fresh on the pancakes). But it is still very popular, especially on Sundays for brunch when people line up out the door. It is a Cheer's type of place where everybody knows our names. We are greeted by the gentle giant bear of a host, David. We have our waiter and our table and usually have to stand and drink "serve yourself" coffee for the 10 to 15 minute wait for the table. There are a couple of televisions where you can sometimes follow a tennis game. I felt adventuresome and ate a pecan Belgian waffle with bananas on top (one fruit that the new owners can't skimp on by buying in frozen bulk).
Brunch was followed by a wonderful time at the matinee at Theatre Three with good friend, Tatiana. The play was a British farce and I was surprised and happy to see another friend, Ginger Goldman, in one of the lead roles. She and I had been through four levels of improv comedy classes together years ago. She is a fine actress and I just act up, but seeing her brought back good memories. The stage for this play, consisted of three bedrooms at differing levels where all the action takes place, mostly British banter, dry humor and sarcasm as only the British can create out of our common language.
After post play coffee at the Starbucks down the street from the theatre with Tatiana, I went to the SMU gym. I really did not want to go....once again knowing I would be called upon to account for my running on this blog spurred me on. Once there I ran on the treadmill. The prior night's cold front had ushered in snow for the first day of spring making running outside not an option. (I know, people run in the cold and I have, but I did not want to last night and I didn't have too!) When the adrenaline rush kicked in I knew I could run an hour and I did. Sunday was a good day.
Oh, and the title line about "to err is human"? As I was running my mind wondered to wonderful stories that my Dad used to tell. He was a meat salesmen for a company that sold expensive meat of not always the best quality, or so he would tell me. (Probably the source of his "Be thankful for your problesm, they create your job" advice he always gave). As a result, his customers were always mad at him when he would arrive on a sales calls. They loved him, but not his meat. He had to cultivate loyalty in the face of his product's quality. One time a new salesman who had been sent to travel with my Dad for a week to see how the business was done, quit after three days saying "I can't do this....everywhere you go people are mad at you!"
Anyway, one time when Dad's company had delivered some bad hamburger meat to a Whatabuger restaurant,the manager, who was in the attic of the old traditional A-frame building, was really telling Dad off about how bad the meat was and the delimma this was creating, etc. Dad stood at the bottom of the ladder that Bill, the manager was standing on as he looked for supplies. After the tirade, Dad looked up at Bill, seeing Bill's face stained with sweat from the 100 plus degree heat of the attic, Dad said "Bill, I only have one thing to say." "What's that, Cameron?" Bill replied. Dad retorted, "To err is human, but to forgive is divine." There was a critical moment of silence after Dad's volley. It was a calculated guess that humor was the solution. Bill wanted to remain angry, but looking at Dad's silly grin, after delivery of the ridiculous line, Bill could not stay angry at this crazy man he loved to see each week. "You are crazy, Cameron" was all he could say, but the mood had changed. Life was good again.
I have never had the guts to try Dad's line on someone who was mad at me....maybe I should. If you do, let me know how it works! Life is Good!
Saturday 1.5 miles Old Soap Opera and Weekly Grand Winner!
Saturday March 20th, Day 20 Ran 1.5 miles/ Total so far 49.9/ Miles to go 950.1 Almost 1/20th of the way!
Worked out with Gym Rat at his gym. I know, I said that I would not go back because I had already used up the guest pass he had gotten me for this Uptown Gold's Gym, but I was going to pay as a guest. As luck would have it, the girl at the front said no salesman was there at that time ("to try to pressure me" - the unsaid part of her statement) so she just let me fill out some forms and said they would call me. The gym closes at 8 Saturdays and it was after 6 so our run was really just a warm up for the weight training. I am actually considering joining his gym even though I have the school gym membership because the cost per month would be equal to less than half an hour of personal training and working out 3 or 4 times a week with Gym Rat would be like having my own personal trainer, only much more fun because he is such a good friend and motivator (plus Catholic Guilt would have me in the gym with him to justify the money being spent!).
The work out was good. He does four sets at a high weight. I do three at whatever weight I can, which, since I broke my shoulder a few years ago and have something called "Popeye Arm" (more about that later) means my weights vary a lot depending upon the exercise. This Gold's Gym is in the middle of trendy Uptown and is peopled by the young and the beautiful. I was probably the oldest person there with the least worked out body (sharp contrast from LA Fitness, Richardson where I neither the oldest nor the most out of shape....remember the Sumos?). Rather than being intimidated though, I don't mind and actually find it motivating. I know that if I spend time there I will look better....have done it before. And because of my "Year of the Rat's ass" philosophy I could care less that others are younger and toner than me. Life is good and I am above ground. I laughed as I looked out on the sea of youth and beauty at Gold's Gym and thought of my Dad's description of a soap opera he got into the habit of watching with my stepmother, Shirley, when he was too old to work. It was called The Young and the Restless. I would call Dad and ask what he was doing. He would reply, nothing much, just sitting here watching The Young and the Shitless! Makes me smile as I think of it now
Gym Rat is also one of the reasons I started buying lotto tickets. He asked me if I had mine for that day and, since neither of us had purchased on yet, he stopped at a local Exxon. I must admit I had my misgivings. I was breaking my routine (see the blog for Day 12 and read about my system and Twinkies! ) and buying from a different convenience store. I felt disloyal. But, I was afraid I would not have another chance so I purchased the Texas Lotto ticket (I did not win) and my Weekly Grand. A quick scratch of the Weekly Grand revealed that I had won $4.00. Two dollars from the "My number was higher than their number" game at the top of the card and $2 from the "match three numbers" game in the middle. So I ended up with a net gain of 1 dollar, meaning Wednesday's lotto ticket will be free!
So now I have decided to keep track of my gambling expenses to see how much this habit really costs me. Look at the top of the posts from now own for that survey too.
Lotto and Weekly Grand spending so far $3.00/ Winnings so far $4.00/ Net result $1.00 positive. Life is Good.
Worked out with Gym Rat at his gym. I know, I said that I would not go back because I had already used up the guest pass he had gotten me for this Uptown Gold's Gym, but I was going to pay as a guest. As luck would have it, the girl at the front said no salesman was there at that time ("to try to pressure me" - the unsaid part of her statement) so she just let me fill out some forms and said they would call me. The gym closes at 8 Saturdays and it was after 6 so our run was really just a warm up for the weight training. I am actually considering joining his gym even though I have the school gym membership because the cost per month would be equal to less than half an hour of personal training and working out 3 or 4 times a week with Gym Rat would be like having my own personal trainer, only much more fun because he is such a good friend and motivator (plus Catholic Guilt would have me in the gym with him to justify the money being spent!).
The work out was good. He does four sets at a high weight. I do three at whatever weight I can, which, since I broke my shoulder a few years ago and have something called "Popeye Arm" (more about that later) means my weights vary a lot depending upon the exercise. This Gold's Gym is in the middle of trendy Uptown and is peopled by the young and the beautiful. I was probably the oldest person there with the least worked out body (sharp contrast from LA Fitness, Richardson where I neither the oldest nor the most out of shape....remember the Sumos?). Rather than being intimidated though, I don't mind and actually find it motivating. I know that if I spend time there I will look better....have done it before. And because of my "Year of the Rat's ass" philosophy I could care less that others are younger and toner than me. Life is good and I am above ground. I laughed as I looked out on the sea of youth and beauty at Gold's Gym and thought of my Dad's description of a soap opera he got into the habit of watching with my stepmother, Shirley, when he was too old to work. It was called The Young and the Restless. I would call Dad and ask what he was doing. He would reply, nothing much, just sitting here watching The Young and the Shitless! Makes me smile as I think of it now
Gym Rat is also one of the reasons I started buying lotto tickets. He asked me if I had mine for that day and, since neither of us had purchased on yet, he stopped at a local Exxon. I must admit I had my misgivings. I was breaking my routine (see the blog for Day 12 and read about my system and Twinkies! ) and buying from a different convenience store. I felt disloyal. But, I was afraid I would not have another chance so I purchased the Texas Lotto ticket (I did not win) and my Weekly Grand. A quick scratch of the Weekly Grand revealed that I had won $4.00. Two dollars from the "My number was higher than their number" game at the top of the card and $2 from the "match three numbers" game in the middle. So I ended up with a net gain of 1 dollar, meaning Wednesday's lotto ticket will be free!
So now I have decided to keep track of my gambling expenses to see how much this habit really costs me. Look at the top of the posts from now own for that survey too.
Lotto and Weekly Grand spending so far $3.00/ Winnings so far $4.00/ Net result $1.00 positive. Life is Good.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Day 19 Memories of Lady Gaga and Preacher Man
Friday, March 19: Ran 5.4 miles/ Total so far - 48.4 / Miles to go - 951.6
Was feeling very strong after work and so I ran 5.4 miles in one hour. Went back to LA Fitness Richardson. Saturday my free pass will expire. I have to admit I will miss the place. I actually like working out both close to my house and away from school. It is nice to be anonymous. At the SMU gym, chances are I will run into students, former students or other faculty or staff. Most of the time that is great. Being the social animal that I am, I usually love to stop and talk. But sometimes, in the immortal words of actress Gretta Garbo, "I want to be left alone."
Thinking of solitude reminded me of a story about a time I wanted to be "left alone" to my thoughts. I had just returned to Dallas from Tyler where I had spent the weekend with my youngest son, Haydon, at the home of Mrs. Savage, Pat we call her, who is a wonderful Mom to me and my family. I am sure you will read more about her in later posts. The purpose of the weekend, three years ago, had been to discuss College options. I had fantasized about Haydon joining his sister Leigh at SMU as an undergrad. His brother, Eric, was already a student at SMU law school. It would be so nice for all of us to be together in Dallas.
But alas, it was not to be. Haydon had other ideas and a scholarship to support them. On Pat's patio he had informed me that he was going to the University of New Orleans and studying psychology. He is a really good blues guitar player/singer and the fit was natural. The scholarship overcame any financial objection I could make. The logic I could not assail. In the words my other son Eric once spoke to me when I had explained why we had to move to Kuwait right as he was starting junior high school which he had informed me would ruin his life (more on that story also later) "I can understand it, but that doesn't mean I have to like it." I was actually happy for Haydon and proud that he had the presence of self to know what he wanted and to go for it. But I was still sad for me and all my projecting about what the next year would have been. Of course, these musing did begin to be tempered somewhat by thoughts of trips to visit him in the Crescent City...trips which have subsequently been realized with a lot of joy, laughter and French Quater madness.
When I returned to Dallas I decided I needed a strong drink and, while I wanted to drink alone, I did not want to be alone. I wanted the noise of people but to not engage; to observe while I sipped a Grey Goose Martini, shaken, not stirred, and very, very cold with just a twist of lemon. If I could not make my fantasy of all three kids attending SMU at the same time a reality, I could at least achieve the perfect martini experience. And I knew where I wanted to drink. There was a Russian bar, aptly named Nikita's, in West Village which was only one DART light rail stop from where I was then living, Mockingbird Station (more on that Mockingbird Station Loft Life later). I decided to take the train to West Village to avoid driving and drinking, just in case the situation ended up calling for more than one perfect martini.
As soon as I boarded the train I could tell it was not going to be the quiet ride I had expected. There was a black lady in the back in a skin tight body suit which looked about two sizes too small. Her hair resembled Jason's coat of many colors. The fingernails matched the hair. It was certainly a "look." I wondered if people dress like that to get stares or if she just felt all "Wizard of Oz Rainbow like" that day. She was talking in a very loud voice and not making a lot of sense. A black gentleman, who looked to be about 60, dressed conservatively with nice grey slacks and a long sleeve white shirt, was also in the back of the train. The small black leather book he carried I suspected was his pocket Bible. He had that air of calm that sometimes emanates from men of the cloth.
Preacher Man approached the Lady Gaga (my new names for my train mates) and asked her in a smooth, melodious voice that I am sure he had perfected to consol sinners at the alter or greiving relatives after a funeral, "Why you has to be so loud?" I could tell from her body language that Ms. Gaga did not want to be approached and certainly not by this pious Preacher Man. I also wondered if his comment was meant to refer to her voice or her clothes or both?
Lady Gaga turned and rendered a soliloquy that is indelibly etched in my brain. She walked up to Preacher Man and got right in his face, within spittle distance. Then she began in a low tone that rose in both volume and pitch with each statement, ending in a crescendo uttered at the top of her lungs. "Listen. I'm black. And I'm loud. And I'm proud. And I'm ghetto and all that shit. That's right. I'm just a country Nig___ from New Orleans. I just got out of jail and you'd best not F___ with me."
The train car was silent. All eyes were on Preacher Man. How would he respond? Battle of the Titans, Good and Evil. Looking right into her eyes and without blinking at her tirade he retorted, "Jesus loves you and we do to!" To which she just laughed, more of a cackle, and said "Shit". The other passengers in the car did not know what to do either. Some giggled. Most just sat staring straight ahead, hoping the battle would subside and they could avoid being collateral damage.
And at just that moment we arrived at the City Place Station where I quickly exited, pondering that scene. I kept thinking to myself. Isn't it nice that Lady Gaga is from New Orleans where my son will soon be going. Part of me wanted to get back on the train. There was a story there. I wanted to play investigative journalist so I could write that Pulitzer prize winning series on the life and times of Lady Gaga. "Ms Gaga, of all the things you chronicled in that last exchange with Preacher Man, of which are you most proud?" I could win her confidence by explaining that my son was living in New Orleans.....But that interview was not to be. The train pulled out of the station and I took the two long escalators and one elevator to the street from the subterranean hole that is City Place Station.
Once in the sunlight again, I walked the three blocks to trendy West Village which is a mixed use development built in the style of 1800s Texas small town downtown with three and four story buildings clothed in artistic brickwork. The first floors are retail with boutique shops and restaurants. The top floors are rental flats for urban professionals willing to put up with the noise of the night life for bragging rights that they live in West Village. Just like Dallas to build something new to look old since there is so little that is old in Dallas.
As I approached Nikita I could tell something was not right. The windows were dark and no one was smoking outside, indoor smoking having been banned by the behavior police the year before. The door did not open. It was then that I saw the closed sign. it was not the typical "closed until we open again" sign. No, it was a "this place was closed by the landlord for failing to pay rent and Nikita's is not going to reopen and you are not going to get your Grey Goose Martini so live with it" sign. It took me a moment to register the reality of that sign. I was still reeling from the Lady Gaga tirade. I began to wonder if, like Alice, I had fallen down a rabbit hole into a parallel universe of clowns and closed Russian Bars.
After a moment or two, I decided to just go down the sidewalk and get a latte at Starbucks and process the day's events, my son's declaration, Lady Gaga and Preacher Man, and no more Nikita's. The Starbucks at West Village had got to be one of the largest in the chain with an even larger outdoor seating area. The spring weather made sitting outside a joy but seating scarce. As luck would have it, however, as I walked out I spied a table at the far corner that had just been vacated. I started to make my beeline towards it, determined to claim it before someone else. I had the zeal of gold prospector who had just arrived in a new territory to stake his claim or one of the boomer sooners who lined up to claim land in the new "vacant" Oklahoma Territory in the rush when the territory was opened to settlement (never mind that people, Indians already inconveniently lived there).
One table from my goal, a law student in shorts and tank top saw me and, with the deftness of a Dallas Cowboy line backer intent of preventing a touchdown run, he stood up, grabbed my arm and said the last two words I wanted to hear at that moment, "Dean Camp!" Don't get me wrong. I love my job and consider it an honor and a privilege to work with students. I know that as Dean of Students an important part of my job is to deal with questions and problems. My father gave wise advice to me when, after once complaining to him about some issue at work, he told me "Be thankful for your problems. They create your job. No problems to solve. What are you needed for?"
But at this moment, on a late Sunday afternoon, I did not want to be Dean Camp. A long conversation about career choices and his girlfriend, who was a dancer on a cruise ship, and what did I think about this and that, and I realized that the latte was gone and the moment of reflection had passed. The table in the corner had been absconded by another prospector/boomer sooner. I politely took my leave, went to another bar and drank a beer, actually probably more than one.
Wow, all this narrative to say that while the Cheers television bar experience, a place "where everyone knows your name" can be wonderful and comforting at times, at other times it is nice to be at LA Fitness Richardson where "no one knows your name." I will miss it. Maybe I need to go one more time Saturday, before the pass expires. Life is Good.
Was feeling very strong after work and so I ran 5.4 miles in one hour. Went back to LA Fitness Richardson. Saturday my free pass will expire. I have to admit I will miss the place. I actually like working out both close to my house and away from school. It is nice to be anonymous. At the SMU gym, chances are I will run into students, former students or other faculty or staff. Most of the time that is great. Being the social animal that I am, I usually love to stop and talk. But sometimes, in the immortal words of actress Gretta Garbo, "I want to be left alone."
Thinking of solitude reminded me of a story about a time I wanted to be "left alone" to my thoughts. I had just returned to Dallas from Tyler where I had spent the weekend with my youngest son, Haydon, at the home of Mrs. Savage, Pat we call her, who is a wonderful Mom to me and my family. I am sure you will read more about her in later posts. The purpose of the weekend, three years ago, had been to discuss College options. I had fantasized about Haydon joining his sister Leigh at SMU as an undergrad. His brother, Eric, was already a student at SMU law school. It would be so nice for all of us to be together in Dallas.
But alas, it was not to be. Haydon had other ideas and a scholarship to support them. On Pat's patio he had informed me that he was going to the University of New Orleans and studying psychology. He is a really good blues guitar player/singer and the fit was natural. The scholarship overcame any financial objection I could make. The logic I could not assail. In the words my other son Eric once spoke to me when I had explained why we had to move to Kuwait right as he was starting junior high school which he had informed me would ruin his life (more on that story also later) "I can understand it, but that doesn't mean I have to like it." I was actually happy for Haydon and proud that he had the presence of self to know what he wanted and to go for it. But I was still sad for me and all my projecting about what the next year would have been. Of course, these musing did begin to be tempered somewhat by thoughts of trips to visit him in the Crescent City...trips which have subsequently been realized with a lot of joy, laughter and French Quater madness.
When I returned to Dallas I decided I needed a strong drink and, while I wanted to drink alone, I did not want to be alone. I wanted the noise of people but to not engage; to observe while I sipped a Grey Goose Martini, shaken, not stirred, and very, very cold with just a twist of lemon. If I could not make my fantasy of all three kids attending SMU at the same time a reality, I could at least achieve the perfect martini experience. And I knew where I wanted to drink. There was a Russian bar, aptly named Nikita's, in West Village which was only one DART light rail stop from where I was then living, Mockingbird Station (more on that Mockingbird Station Loft Life later). I decided to take the train to West Village to avoid driving and drinking, just in case the situation ended up calling for more than one perfect martini.
As soon as I boarded the train I could tell it was not going to be the quiet ride I had expected. There was a black lady in the back in a skin tight body suit which looked about two sizes too small. Her hair resembled Jason's coat of many colors. The fingernails matched the hair. It was certainly a "look." I wondered if people dress like that to get stares or if she just felt all "Wizard of Oz Rainbow like" that day. She was talking in a very loud voice and not making a lot of sense. A black gentleman, who looked to be about 60, dressed conservatively with nice grey slacks and a long sleeve white shirt, was also in the back of the train. The small black leather book he carried I suspected was his pocket Bible. He had that air of calm that sometimes emanates from men of the cloth.
Preacher Man approached the Lady Gaga (my new names for my train mates) and asked her in a smooth, melodious voice that I am sure he had perfected to consol sinners at the alter or greiving relatives after a funeral, "Why you has to be so loud?" I could tell from her body language that Ms. Gaga did not want to be approached and certainly not by this pious Preacher Man. I also wondered if his comment was meant to refer to her voice or her clothes or both?
Lady Gaga turned and rendered a soliloquy that is indelibly etched in my brain. She walked up to Preacher Man and got right in his face, within spittle distance. Then she began in a low tone that rose in both volume and pitch with each statement, ending in a crescendo uttered at the top of her lungs. "Listen. I'm black. And I'm loud. And I'm proud. And I'm ghetto and all that shit. That's right. I'm just a country Nig___ from New Orleans. I just got out of jail and you'd best not F___ with me."
The train car was silent. All eyes were on Preacher Man. How would he respond? Battle of the Titans, Good and Evil. Looking right into her eyes and without blinking at her tirade he retorted, "Jesus loves you and we do to!" To which she just laughed, more of a cackle, and said "Shit". The other passengers in the car did not know what to do either. Some giggled. Most just sat staring straight ahead, hoping the battle would subside and they could avoid being collateral damage.
And at just that moment we arrived at the City Place Station where I quickly exited, pondering that scene. I kept thinking to myself. Isn't it nice that Lady Gaga is from New Orleans where my son will soon be going. Part of me wanted to get back on the train. There was a story there. I wanted to play investigative journalist so I could write that Pulitzer prize winning series on the life and times of Lady Gaga. "Ms Gaga, of all the things you chronicled in that last exchange with Preacher Man, of which are you most proud?" I could win her confidence by explaining that my son was living in New Orleans.....But that interview was not to be. The train pulled out of the station and I took the two long escalators and one elevator to the street from the subterranean hole that is City Place Station.
Once in the sunlight again, I walked the three blocks to trendy West Village which is a mixed use development built in the style of 1800s Texas small town downtown with three and four story buildings clothed in artistic brickwork. The first floors are retail with boutique shops and restaurants. The top floors are rental flats for urban professionals willing to put up with the noise of the night life for bragging rights that they live in West Village. Just like Dallas to build something new to look old since there is so little that is old in Dallas.
As I approached Nikita I could tell something was not right. The windows were dark and no one was smoking outside, indoor smoking having been banned by the behavior police the year before. The door did not open. It was then that I saw the closed sign. it was not the typical "closed until we open again" sign. No, it was a "this place was closed by the landlord for failing to pay rent and Nikita's is not going to reopen and you are not going to get your Grey Goose Martini so live with it" sign. It took me a moment to register the reality of that sign. I was still reeling from the Lady Gaga tirade. I began to wonder if, like Alice, I had fallen down a rabbit hole into a parallel universe of clowns and closed Russian Bars.
After a moment or two, I decided to just go down the sidewalk and get a latte at Starbucks and process the day's events, my son's declaration, Lady Gaga and Preacher Man, and no more Nikita's. The Starbucks at West Village had got to be one of the largest in the chain with an even larger outdoor seating area. The spring weather made sitting outside a joy but seating scarce. As luck would have it, however, as I walked out I spied a table at the far corner that had just been vacated. I started to make my beeline towards it, determined to claim it before someone else. I had the zeal of gold prospector who had just arrived in a new territory to stake his claim or one of the boomer sooners who lined up to claim land in the new "vacant" Oklahoma Territory in the rush when the territory was opened to settlement (never mind that people, Indians already inconveniently lived there).
One table from my goal, a law student in shorts and tank top saw me and, with the deftness of a Dallas Cowboy line backer intent of preventing a touchdown run, he stood up, grabbed my arm and said the last two words I wanted to hear at that moment, "Dean Camp!" Don't get me wrong. I love my job and consider it an honor and a privilege to work with students. I know that as Dean of Students an important part of my job is to deal with questions and problems. My father gave wise advice to me when, after once complaining to him about some issue at work, he told me "Be thankful for your problems. They create your job. No problems to solve. What are you needed for?"
But at this moment, on a late Sunday afternoon, I did not want to be Dean Camp. A long conversation about career choices and his girlfriend, who was a dancer on a cruise ship, and what did I think about this and that, and I realized that the latte was gone and the moment of reflection had passed. The table in the corner had been absconded by another prospector/boomer sooner. I politely took my leave, went to another bar and drank a beer, actually probably more than one.
Wow, all this narrative to say that while the Cheers television bar experience, a place "where everyone knows your name" can be wonderful and comforting at times, at other times it is nice to be at LA Fitness Richardson where "no one knows your name." I will miss it. Maybe I need to go one more time Saturday, before the pass expires. Life is Good.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Thursday, March 18, Day 18 2.25 miles... but Beware of Frogs belching hot water at the King Spa
Thursday, March 18th, Day 18: Ran - 2.75 miles/ Total so far 43miles/ Miles to go 957
Ran in the early morning at the treadmill at SMU. Honestly did not want to run. Was still tired from long Wednesday and from the run on Tuesday. Decided, mostly because of this blog and knowing I needed to write about it...thank you Catholic Guilt, that I would run two miles. Set the treadmill for 30 minutes, knowing I would be finished much sooner than that. Then it happened. Runner's high kicked in at about the one mile mark. I felt good. I kept increasing the speed. After two miles I still had a lot of time to go so I decided to see how much further and faster I could go in the remaining minutes. Each quarter of a mile I raised the speed. By the time I had finished I had run 2.75 miles. The rest of the day I felt much more energized. Although I wish I had not eaten the apricot almond cobbler with vanilla soft ice cream or the brownie at lunch at the SMU cafeteria. That is the problem with all you can eat cafeteria. You each too much and often the wrong things. My dad used to call people who ate at all you can eat restaurants "Trough Feeders". Usually the food is so bad that they should be called "All you don't want to eat" restaurants. But the food at SMU really is good, and way too tempting. Especially the desserts. Hot cookies seem to appear all the time begging to be washed down with cold milk. I avoided the cookies this time, but my lunch complanion/co-worker ate four hot chocolate chocalte chip cookies and complained all afternoon. I did drink the green organic apply and wheat grass juice they make fresh in front of your eyes. Muching on her cookies my friend rolled her eyes and said "That can't taste good." I would like to have been able to say it tasted good. But it didn't. it tasted like grass flavored with apple. But I felt better anyway after the sugar binge earlier.
The other reason I had to run in the morning was because I was meeting some friends for beer at an Irish Pub after work to discuss some committee work we were doing for the Dallas Bar Association (lawyers, not tavern owners...) As I was waiting for them, I ran into a guy in a Soccer Jersey - literally, by accident opening the men's room door. After the mutual "excuse me" moment , I commented to him that there must be a game on that night. I had been to this pub before when rabid fans were watching soccer on a big screen, Ihoped I was wrong because I knew it would not be possible to have a conversation over the sports crowd noise. Strangly, he said, "no game....I just have to support my team". I did not ask him why and moved on.
With my friends I had a couple of black and tans and some mussels with soda bread. I learned that true Irish don't eat corn beef and cabbage, at least not in Ireland. This habit and association developed in New York among the Irish immigrants who got the corn beef from their Jewish friends. Another piece of cocktail party trivia. We told some bawdy Irish jokes (or actually I told them and they laughed). It was a nice evening.
After the light supper and beer buzz, I decided to sweat it out at King Spa. King Spa is a Koren chain of mega spas. I had seen them advertised on TV in New York. I heard that they had recently opened one in Dallas and decided to try it out a few weeks ago. It has become a part of my routine every other week or so since.
King Spa is located in Korea Town...a part of Dallas at Royal Lane and Interstate 35 where there are lots of Korean stores, shopping centers and restaurants. Many of the store signs are in Korean. I understand that there are more the 80,000 people of Korean background in Dallas. Some of the Koren international students have taken me to Korean Town for wonderful Korean Barbecue on various occasions.
King Spa is located in a gigantic warehouse reached by driving under this large entry feature with 10 ft statues of giraffes standing on the top. I wish I knew where the giraffes came from or why they are there, but driving down Royal you cannot miss them. I guess that is good advertising for King Spa.
Entry to the spa costs $18 for a day pass. You must remove your shoes and are issued a key with a bar code key chain. You can use the key chain to charge other spa services and food. You lock your shoes in one locker and your clothes in another (why two lockers? I do not know, but when in Rome....) There are stacks of shorts and t-shirts of various sizes for customers to use when they exit the Men's area and use the common areas. There are also stacks of incredibly small towels for the wet area. Free tooth brushes, tooth paste and aftershave and razors are also provided.
The wet area in the Men's section contains four hot water Jacuzzi pools where the water flows in from pipes attached to frog statutes' mouths. There are large signs in English and Korean saying to stay away from the frogs....hot water. At least I assume they say the same thing in Korean, since I don't read or understand that language. It would actually be funny if all the Korean signs made fun of the funny americans, but I am sure the commercial motivation for opening the spa prevents such tomfollery. Still, for a moment I started wondering what clever warnings I could give in Korean instead of "Stay away from the Frogs". Problem was, I was not very clever that night and nothing came to mind.
There is an ice cold pool with wall of water and a ring you can pull to be drenched in 60 degree water. Other options include a steam sauna and dry sauna. The entire area is surrounded by walls with showers and a wet area where a Korean man for 20 or so dollars will give you an incredible salt body scrub. In one area there are low level showers and men can scrub each other while sitting on step stools. It is the polar opposite of the LA Fitness in Richardson where people in the suanas are often clothed. Must just be cultural but I will say that this spa is decadence incarnate, but a good decadence.
In the common areas there are 8 or so special spas including a gold pyramid room, a salt crystal room, an infrared room, an ice room, etc., where people can sit and receive all kinds of alternative medicine remedies. There is a large restaurant, (Korean, of course) and rooms for watching movies and singing karaoke. There is also an area set aside for acupressure massage, foot massage and chair massage.
Last night I wanted the acupressure massage. I was assigned to the only male massage therapist, Kevin. He is from South Korea but has lived here many years. In his 40s, he looks much younger and his massage is one of the best I have ever had. Energetic, he pushes and pulls you like taffy. He also uses smooth hot stones that really work tired muscles. At the end, feeling more like a limp noodle than a 55 year old man, I went back to the wet area for a little more time in the steam. Slept like a baby when I got home....
Today, if the weather holds, may need to try Katy Trail again. Life is Good.
Ran in the early morning at the treadmill at SMU. Honestly did not want to run. Was still tired from long Wednesday and from the run on Tuesday. Decided, mostly because of this blog and knowing I needed to write about it...thank you Catholic Guilt, that I would run two miles. Set the treadmill for 30 minutes, knowing I would be finished much sooner than that. Then it happened. Runner's high kicked in at about the one mile mark. I felt good. I kept increasing the speed. After two miles I still had a lot of time to go so I decided to see how much further and faster I could go in the remaining minutes. Each quarter of a mile I raised the speed. By the time I had finished I had run 2.75 miles. The rest of the day I felt much more energized. Although I wish I had not eaten the apricot almond cobbler with vanilla soft ice cream or the brownie at lunch at the SMU cafeteria. That is the problem with all you can eat cafeteria. You each too much and often the wrong things. My dad used to call people who ate at all you can eat restaurants "Trough Feeders". Usually the food is so bad that they should be called "All you don't want to eat" restaurants. But the food at SMU really is good, and way too tempting. Especially the desserts. Hot cookies seem to appear all the time begging to be washed down with cold milk. I avoided the cookies this time, but my lunch complanion/co-worker ate four hot chocolate chocalte chip cookies and complained all afternoon. I did drink the green organic apply and wheat grass juice they make fresh in front of your eyes. Muching on her cookies my friend rolled her eyes and said "That can't taste good." I would like to have been able to say it tasted good. But it didn't. it tasted like grass flavored with apple. But I felt better anyway after the sugar binge earlier.
The other reason I had to run in the morning was because I was meeting some friends for beer at an Irish Pub after work to discuss some committee work we were doing for the Dallas Bar Association (lawyers, not tavern owners...) As I was waiting for them, I ran into a guy in a Soccer Jersey - literally, by accident opening the men's room door. After the mutual "excuse me" moment , I commented to him that there must be a game on that night. I had been to this pub before when rabid fans were watching soccer on a big screen, Ihoped I was wrong because I knew it would not be possible to have a conversation over the sports crowd noise. Strangly, he said, "no game....I just have to support my team". I did not ask him why and moved on.
With my friends I had a couple of black and tans and some mussels with soda bread. I learned that true Irish don't eat corn beef and cabbage, at least not in Ireland. This habit and association developed in New York among the Irish immigrants who got the corn beef from their Jewish friends. Another piece of cocktail party trivia. We told some bawdy Irish jokes (or actually I told them and they laughed). It was a nice evening.
After the light supper and beer buzz, I decided to sweat it out at King Spa. King Spa is a Koren chain of mega spas. I had seen them advertised on TV in New York. I heard that they had recently opened one in Dallas and decided to try it out a few weeks ago. It has become a part of my routine every other week or so since.
King Spa is located in Korea Town...a part of Dallas at Royal Lane and Interstate 35 where there are lots of Korean stores, shopping centers and restaurants. Many of the store signs are in Korean. I understand that there are more the 80,000 people of Korean background in Dallas. Some of the Koren international students have taken me to Korean Town for wonderful Korean Barbecue on various occasions.
King Spa is located in a gigantic warehouse reached by driving under this large entry feature with 10 ft statues of giraffes standing on the top. I wish I knew where the giraffes came from or why they are there, but driving down Royal you cannot miss them. I guess that is good advertising for King Spa.
Entry to the spa costs $18 for a day pass. You must remove your shoes and are issued a key with a bar code key chain. You can use the key chain to charge other spa services and food. You lock your shoes in one locker and your clothes in another (why two lockers? I do not know, but when in Rome....) There are stacks of shorts and t-shirts of various sizes for customers to use when they exit the Men's area and use the common areas. There are also stacks of incredibly small towels for the wet area. Free tooth brushes, tooth paste and aftershave and razors are also provided.
The wet area in the Men's section contains four hot water Jacuzzi pools where the water flows in from pipes attached to frog statutes' mouths. There are large signs in English and Korean saying to stay away from the frogs....hot water. At least I assume they say the same thing in Korean, since I don't read or understand that language. It would actually be funny if all the Korean signs made fun of the funny americans, but I am sure the commercial motivation for opening the spa prevents such tomfollery. Still, for a moment I started wondering what clever warnings I could give in Korean instead of "Stay away from the Frogs". Problem was, I was not very clever that night and nothing came to mind.
There is an ice cold pool with wall of water and a ring you can pull to be drenched in 60 degree water. Other options include a steam sauna and dry sauna. The entire area is surrounded by walls with showers and a wet area where a Korean man for 20 or so dollars will give you an incredible salt body scrub. In one area there are low level showers and men can scrub each other while sitting on step stools. It is the polar opposite of the LA Fitness in Richardson where people in the suanas are often clothed. Must just be cultural but I will say that this spa is decadence incarnate, but a good decadence.
In the common areas there are 8 or so special spas including a gold pyramid room, a salt crystal room, an infrared room, an ice room, etc., where people can sit and receive all kinds of alternative medicine remedies. There is a large restaurant, (Korean, of course) and rooms for watching movies and singing karaoke. There is also an area set aside for acupressure massage, foot massage and chair massage.
Last night I wanted the acupressure massage. I was assigned to the only male massage therapist, Kevin. He is from South Korea but has lived here many years. In his 40s, he looks much younger and his massage is one of the best I have ever had. Energetic, he pushes and pulls you like taffy. He also uses smooth hot stones that really work tired muscles. At the end, feeling more like a limp noodle than a 55 year old man, I went back to the wet area for a little more time in the steam. Slept like a baby when I got home....
Today, if the weather holds, may need to try Katy Trail again. Life is Good.
Day 17, No run: Musings on Energy vs Time Management.
Day 17, no miles, total so far 40.75/ Miles to go 959.25
Woke up with very sore legs....I am noticing a pattern. After my 5 miles runs I need some recovery. I have to remember to take this slowly. After all a year is a long time and as my legs get stronger I am sure I will have even longer runs.
As I thought of the need to rest, the old adage that life is a marathon not a sprint come to mind. This is supposed to make us feel better when we have so much to do....make us think we have a long time to do it. But actually, having run 3 marathons, I never really have liked this because frankly, they are hard and not that much fun until you finish and it feels so good not to be running. Much like the shiatsu massage I wrote about in a previous post where after the pain you of course feel better.
At a recent seminar I heard a speaker debunk the life is a marathon metaphor. She was a "life coach" who had left the practice of law to help lawyers stay in the practice of law. She said that life is NOT a marathon. She said it is a series of SPRINTS followed by periods of recovery. I like that. Sprints are of short duration. Seeing the end in sight is a great motivator for me.
She also spoke about the need for better "energy management," rather than an emphasis on time management that so often is the focus of business and career writing. I like that concept too. She said we need to make time to restore physical, mental, emotional and spiritual energy. So today I did that, went home after class (which means I did not get home until 9:00pm) and crashed. Life is Good!
Woke up with very sore legs....I am noticing a pattern. After my 5 miles runs I need some recovery. I have to remember to take this slowly. After all a year is a long time and as my legs get stronger I am sure I will have even longer runs.
As I thought of the need to rest, the old adage that life is a marathon not a sprint come to mind. This is supposed to make us feel better when we have so much to do....make us think we have a long time to do it. But actually, having run 3 marathons, I never really have liked this because frankly, they are hard and not that much fun until you finish and it feels so good not to be running. Much like the shiatsu massage I wrote about in a previous post where after the pain you of course feel better.
At a recent seminar I heard a speaker debunk the life is a marathon metaphor. She was a "life coach" who had left the practice of law to help lawyers stay in the practice of law. She said that life is NOT a marathon. She said it is a series of SPRINTS followed by periods of recovery. I like that. Sprints are of short duration. Seeing the end in sight is a great motivator for me.
She also spoke about the need for better "energy management," rather than an emphasis on time management that so often is the focus of business and career writing. I like that concept too. She said we need to make time to restore physical, mental, emotional and spiritual energy. So today I did that, went home after class (which means I did not get home until 9:00pm) and crashed. Life is Good!
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Day 16, 5.25 Miles, another night at the United Nations of Richardson
Day 16, Ran 5.25 Miles/ Total so far - 40.75 Miles/ Miles to go - 959.25 Over 1/25th of the way to 1000 miles!
Went back to LA Fitness, Richardson last night. Got there earlier, around 7 p.m. There were even more people there at that hour. I was determined to run an hour so I found the treadmill on the farthest end, next to the railing that rings the second floor, which is really half a floor, where they have located all the cardio machines so you can run and watch either TV or the people working out below on the first floor weight room. I set the machine on one hour, manual run, and off I went. Most of the time I focused on the little red arrows that marked my progress around the electronic quarter mile track. I felt good, energized and the 5 miles were surprisingly easy. I started at a 12 minute per mile pace and increased it one increment per mile I ran (machine increments being about 14 seconds per mile) so that by the end I was running almost an 11 minute per mile pace. People came and went on the other machines but I tried to ignore them as best I could.
It was true, though, that it is harder to ignore people once you get off the treadmill and have to navigate through them to reach the stretching area (so necessary for me after a run) and then the locker room. I was struck by how many nationalities and languages I encountered. I felt like I was on the streets or subway in New York. No really! Richardson is a huge ethnic melting pot. There is a large mosque not far from my house where police monitor traffic for Friday noon prayers, just like they do for the Christian churches on Sundays in Highland Park. Texas Instruments I am sure has a large Indian and Pakistani Muslim employment base. UT Dallas has a large foreign student population. There are many Mediterranean restaurants with Lebanese and other Arabic food. You will even find Hookah bars on old Main Street in Richardson. There are shopping centers with all the signs in Chinese, full of all kinds of Asian restaurants and markets when you can eat Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Vietnamese etc., and buy all kinds of native foods, many of which you will no recognize and some you probably don't want to know about.
And it seemed that each group had their representatives at LA Fitness, Richardson last night. I am now understanding how this mixture might account for the locker room behavior I previously observed, people showering in clothes etc. I realize that some cultures are more modest about the human body. I got to the locker room and since I was running in utility type shorts that could also serve as a bathing suit, (the prior times I had been in sweats) I was looking forward to my first use of the coed Jacuzzi. I showered and walked down the long hallway to the wet area with its pool and whirlpool, but alas, I saw the sign, Out of Order, and remembered that in most clubs I have belonged to, the Jacuzzi is out more than in. Probably one of the reasons SMU does not have one...too much maintenance costs.
I went back to the showers, and then, wrapped in my towel, went to the sauna. Another UN experience. There was a Nigerian cab driver (how do I know...remember, saunas are like airplanes and people talk...too much) laughing with an Asian of indeterminate origin. Then an Arab guy fully clothed in gym clothes, including running shoes, with his bag, came in and stood. I know he was Arabic because he was singing along with the Arabic music that his ipod was blaring loud enough for us to hear over his earphones.
I had a flashback to my time in Kuwait when I had joined a neighborhood health club called Flex. We lived in a Kuwaiti neighborhood. The club was managed by a former Russian national team gymnast, Sergie, who had brought two other Russians with him to work in the club, one to teach aerobics and the other to be the massage therapist. The four of us "westerners" became fast friends and played tennis at an indoor facility that Sergie had access to since he also did personal training for some wealthy members of the Royal Family who owned the club. I have fond memories of the first half of a birthday party that Sergie and and his Russian friends organized for me the last summer I was in Kuwait, my family having already escaped the heat to return for the summer to Texas (wait...I thought I said escape the heat? Well there is a difference I guess between 100 degrees and 130 degrees...like 30 degrees deeper in hell).
I say I remember the first half of the birthday party because, after eating the wonderful food the guys Russian girlfriends had prepared, we pulled out the pepper flavored vodka that they had been able to buy from the British bootlegger who sold everything for 25 dollars a bottle out of his trunk in the parking lot of the McDonald's near my house. He sold what he had at the time, and for some reason this shipment of vodka was pepper flavored. Undaunted, we drank it in straight shots followed by a bite of orange. I am sure I had a good time, at least, they told me the next day that I did.
I flashed back to my days at the Kuwaiti Flex gym when I say the fully clothed Arab guy in the sauna, because I remember that first time I was in the gym in Kuwait I took off my clothes in the locker room after my work out and proceeded with towel in hand to go to the shower. It was a men only gym but an old Kuwait admonished me that this was not America and I must be covered up. I learned how to dress with the towel wrapped around me, etc. It had not been like this at the Hotel SAS club on the beach where he had stayed when we first arrived in Kuwait looking for a house, and where we still belong and went for family fun.
I have only a couple of days left on my Richardson LA Fitness pass. I won't buy a membership. I will leave my multicultural gym experience behind and return to SMU. I actually enjoy the LA Fitness Richardson very much and like the UN atmosphere. I like being reminded of good memories of my days oversears and of trips and friends from other backgrounds. But I pay $10 a month for my SMU membership and I cannot justify a second gym membership, unless I join one with Gym Rat some day and get free training from my friend.... Good news, bad news, who is to say? But I do know that Life is Good.
Went back to LA Fitness, Richardson last night. Got there earlier, around 7 p.m. There were even more people there at that hour. I was determined to run an hour so I found the treadmill on the farthest end, next to the railing that rings the second floor, which is really half a floor, where they have located all the cardio machines so you can run and watch either TV or the people working out below on the first floor weight room. I set the machine on one hour, manual run, and off I went. Most of the time I focused on the little red arrows that marked my progress around the electronic quarter mile track. I felt good, energized and the 5 miles were surprisingly easy. I started at a 12 minute per mile pace and increased it one increment per mile I ran (machine increments being about 14 seconds per mile) so that by the end I was running almost an 11 minute per mile pace. People came and went on the other machines but I tried to ignore them as best I could.
It was true, though, that it is harder to ignore people once you get off the treadmill and have to navigate through them to reach the stretching area (so necessary for me after a run) and then the locker room. I was struck by how many nationalities and languages I encountered. I felt like I was on the streets or subway in New York. No really! Richardson is a huge ethnic melting pot. There is a large mosque not far from my house where police monitor traffic for Friday noon prayers, just like they do for the Christian churches on Sundays in Highland Park. Texas Instruments I am sure has a large Indian and Pakistani Muslim employment base. UT Dallas has a large foreign student population. There are many Mediterranean restaurants with Lebanese and other Arabic food. You will even find Hookah bars on old Main Street in Richardson. There are shopping centers with all the signs in Chinese, full of all kinds of Asian restaurants and markets when you can eat Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Vietnamese etc., and buy all kinds of native foods, many of which you will no recognize and some you probably don't want to know about.
And it seemed that each group had their representatives at LA Fitness, Richardson last night. I am now understanding how this mixture might account for the locker room behavior I previously observed, people showering in clothes etc. I realize that some cultures are more modest about the human body. I got to the locker room and since I was running in utility type shorts that could also serve as a bathing suit, (the prior times I had been in sweats) I was looking forward to my first use of the coed Jacuzzi. I showered and walked down the long hallway to the wet area with its pool and whirlpool, but alas, I saw the sign, Out of Order, and remembered that in most clubs I have belonged to, the Jacuzzi is out more than in. Probably one of the reasons SMU does not have one...too much maintenance costs.
I went back to the showers, and then, wrapped in my towel, went to the sauna. Another UN experience. There was a Nigerian cab driver (how do I know...remember, saunas are like airplanes and people talk...too much) laughing with an Asian of indeterminate origin. Then an Arab guy fully clothed in gym clothes, including running shoes, with his bag, came in and stood. I know he was Arabic because he was singing along with the Arabic music that his ipod was blaring loud enough for us to hear over his earphones.
I had a flashback to my time in Kuwait when I had joined a neighborhood health club called Flex. We lived in a Kuwaiti neighborhood. The club was managed by a former Russian national team gymnast, Sergie, who had brought two other Russians with him to work in the club, one to teach aerobics and the other to be the massage therapist. The four of us "westerners" became fast friends and played tennis at an indoor facility that Sergie had access to since he also did personal training for some wealthy members of the Royal Family who owned the club. I have fond memories of the first half of a birthday party that Sergie and and his Russian friends organized for me the last summer I was in Kuwait, my family having already escaped the heat to return for the summer to Texas (wait...I thought I said escape the heat? Well there is a difference I guess between 100 degrees and 130 degrees...like 30 degrees deeper in hell).
I say I remember the first half of the birthday party because, after eating the wonderful food the guys Russian girlfriends had prepared, we pulled out the pepper flavored vodka that they had been able to buy from the British bootlegger who sold everything for 25 dollars a bottle out of his trunk in the parking lot of the McDonald's near my house. He sold what he had at the time, and for some reason this shipment of vodka was pepper flavored. Undaunted, we drank it in straight shots followed by a bite of orange. I am sure I had a good time, at least, they told me the next day that I did.
I flashed back to my days at the Kuwaiti Flex gym when I say the fully clothed Arab guy in the sauna, because I remember that first time I was in the gym in Kuwait I took off my clothes in the locker room after my work out and proceeded with towel in hand to go to the shower. It was a men only gym but an old Kuwait admonished me that this was not America and I must be covered up. I learned how to dress with the towel wrapped around me, etc. It had not been like this at the Hotel SAS club on the beach where he had stayed when we first arrived in Kuwait looking for a house, and where we still belong and went for family fun.
I have only a couple of days left on my Richardson LA Fitness pass. I won't buy a membership. I will leave my multicultural gym experience behind and return to SMU. I actually enjoy the LA Fitness Richardson very much and like the UN atmosphere. I like being reminded of good memories of my days oversears and of trips and friends from other backgrounds. But I pay $10 a month for my SMU membership and I cannot justify a second gym membership, unless I join one with Gym Rat some day and get free training from my friend.... Good news, bad news, who is to say? But I do know that Life is Good.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Day 15, Late night 2.5, Sumo Gym Mates and other characters and early morning ouch!
Day 15, Monday March 15th. Ran 2.5 miles/ Total so far - 35.5/ Miles to go - 964.5
Good News was that I ran yesterday. I had a busy day at work so I did not run in the morning. I teach this semester on Mondays and Wednesdays from 7:20 to 8:35. Second half of First Year Property to the Second Year evening law students in the Four Year evening program. I like teaching this class. The material is interesting and this semester it is more relevant to real life. We are talking about purchase contracts for property. Most people will deal with at least buying and selling a home over their lives. We just finished leases which is even more universally applicable, although in a first year course we do not go into much practical debt. Still, I enjoy the performance experience...I mean you are on stage and 100 or so people can't walk out even if the monologue goes flat.
The Bad News about teaching at night is that when the class is over I am usually drained, both physically and mentally. It takes a lot of energy to stay on for the hour and fifteen minutes and I feel that these students, many of whom have come to class after working in the day, deserve an energetic lecture, or at least something to keep them from falling asleep. Last night, after class, all I wanted to do was return home and sleep....but, there is this blog thing, and Catholic Guilt, etc., so I needed to run. I was supposed to exercise with Gym Rat, but he wanted to go back to his old familiar gym to which I do not belong. He is on his spring break from teaching and wants to totally enjoy it by only doing what he wants when he wants. Something I can admire, if I never seem to have in my life.
Since I had gone to his gym a couple of weeks ago and had gotten a week pass which had expired, I did not think they would want to give me another. He offered to try, but I did not want to hassle with it so I decided to go back to LA Fitness in Richardson and use another day on that pass, mostly because it is close to the house and I wanted to sit in the sauna. One draw back to an otherwise fabulous facility at school, the Dedman Center does not have whirlpool, steam or sauna.
When I got to LA Fitness it was more crowded than I expected for 9 pm. Don't get me wrong, the place is huge and could accommodate a lot more people than were there, but still, it was 9 pm and there were families there, kids and teens. Then I realized this is spring break for them too so perhaps that accounted for the Six Flags Amusement Park atmosphere.
I dressed quickly then found my treadmill. Without thinking I hit the yes button for 30 minutes and realized that I had set my goal for 2.5 miles. I started to reset then reconsidered. It was late, and I was tired. Tomorrow, Tuesday, I would not work as late and, if the weather was good, perhaps another Katy Trail run awaited. So off I began at a 12 mile pace.
The time went by very quickly. I like the treadmills at LA Fitness because they show a quarter mile track with arrows announcing your progress. Psychologically I like watching my computer self running symbolically around that track. This love of a sense of progress with constant movement made me think I might have been a galley slave in a Roman warship in a prior life...Row, Row, Row.....
I found many new species of gym denizens at this LA Fitness. There was the "I just came here because you pushed but I won't be back" middle aged Mexican lady who, after less than a minute on the treadmill a couple of machines down from me, told here friend "You can do this if you want but I am going to try out the other machines." I envisioned her looking for vending machines, preferably ones with real coke and Twinkies! There was the kamikaze Asian who was trying to assassinate the treadmill next to mine, running so fast I was afraid he was going to stomp right through the floor of the machine as he barked orders to his less athletic friend on the adjacent machine...."Raise your incline if you want a real work out" was his mantra. "Speed is not as important as incline...works your heart, man, really works your heart!" The words he spoke which I enjoyed the most came about halfway through my run when he turned to his friend and said "Man, I'm done....gotta go!" Such sweet music to my ears.
Later, after my run and a little stretching, I went to the sauna. The etiquette of this gym is a bit strange to me. I have been in a lot of gyms in my life, but I have to admit, this is the first Dallas Suburban experience and maybe that explains it, or perhaps it is just Richardson. People are supposed to bring their own locks for the lockers. But a lot of people either don't have locks or don't trust them, because about half the people seem to take their towels and gym bags along with them where ever they go, which includes the showers. They leave the bags just outside the shower stalls, which are individual cubicles with shower curtains. Sometimes they bring the bags into the sauna which I find really strange, and odorous.
I shared the sauna with a pair of Sumo wrestlers who looked like they were beefing up for a stint on America's Greatest Losers. Truly they were gargantuan. I started speculating about the root meaning of the word "sumo" and concluded that "su" in some remote language must mean "some" and "mo", well, that was not hard since a derivative of it has survived to this day in urban street language...and Dickens's movies "Please sir, I want some Mo" spoken by street waifs. "Sumo"..."Some More"...the most frequently spoken expression of my sauna mates at the all you can eat Chinese Buffet, one of which is conveniently located in the same shopping center as the gym.
I know, I am being cruel and unfair....but honesty is also a virtue and these are the random thoughts that popped into my head as I sweated and thought about the left over pot roast and last half bottle of Cabernet that awaited me in Casa Camp a mile or so away.
Sauna's are also like airplanes in that if you are not lucky, you share you seat with a talker. Sometimes that is OK, but most often it is not. When the last Sumo left, a baby Sumo who remained, I guess proud that he was not as large as the other two, turned to me and said in his Mexican accent "You believe that?" For a brief moment I was worried that he was psychic and could read my thoughts about the root meaning of Sumo or that, even worse, in the heat I had been "trippin" as my Dad would say, and speaking those thoughts out loud. He continued "At least I am not that big!" And I thought to myself, "Yet". He continued expounding on his personal situation, explaining that he "had burned 100 calories on the treadmill but Hell there were 140 in a coke." I wondered how anyone could only burn 100 calories on the treadmill but then remembered the "I don't want to run around" Sue from the treadmill earlier who had left shortly after starting to find the vending machines where I am sure there are 140 calorie cokes, and I thought...yes, very possible.
"My musings on calorie burn were interrupted again by the same voice pontificating that Beer was the greatest evil. "Hell, I love my beer!" he said. Thankfully my time in the sauna was over. I politely agreed that Beer was both good and bad and that yes, we were lucky not to be eligible for America's Greatest Looses, yet, and exited the sauna.
Back in the locker room, after my shower, one of the Big Sumos was laboriously dressing. I had my back to him. Out of the blue he spoke saying "I always go get something to eat after a work out. Anyone want to join me?" The idea of joining him for a meal, of watching him eat, pushed me into flashback mode and all the old medieval banquet scenes of raucous gluttony, large legs of lamb being gnawed on by babarians and buckets of mead flowing like water into open mouths and spilling on scraggy beirds right before a fight set in. I was silent in the face (or in this case back, my back) of his request. No one else said anything and his offer died on deaf ears.
At home I had my wine with my leftovers and went to bed...tired but happy that I had actually ran after work. Oh, and the hurting part? Woke up this morning and those muscles that Gym Rat had forced me to push a couple of days ago...especially chest, they decided to choose now to protest...ouch. It hurts to raise my arms. Hoping a lot of stretching will help. But all and all, Life is Good!
Good News was that I ran yesterday. I had a busy day at work so I did not run in the morning. I teach this semester on Mondays and Wednesdays from 7:20 to 8:35. Second half of First Year Property to the Second Year evening law students in the Four Year evening program. I like teaching this class. The material is interesting and this semester it is more relevant to real life. We are talking about purchase contracts for property. Most people will deal with at least buying and selling a home over their lives. We just finished leases which is even more universally applicable, although in a first year course we do not go into much practical debt. Still, I enjoy the performance experience...I mean you are on stage and 100 or so people can't walk out even if the monologue goes flat.
The Bad News about teaching at night is that when the class is over I am usually drained, both physically and mentally. It takes a lot of energy to stay on for the hour and fifteen minutes and I feel that these students, many of whom have come to class after working in the day, deserve an energetic lecture, or at least something to keep them from falling asleep. Last night, after class, all I wanted to do was return home and sleep....but, there is this blog thing, and Catholic Guilt, etc., so I needed to run. I was supposed to exercise with Gym Rat, but he wanted to go back to his old familiar gym to which I do not belong. He is on his spring break from teaching and wants to totally enjoy it by only doing what he wants when he wants. Something I can admire, if I never seem to have in my life.
Since I had gone to his gym a couple of weeks ago and had gotten a week pass which had expired, I did not think they would want to give me another. He offered to try, but I did not want to hassle with it so I decided to go back to LA Fitness in Richardson and use another day on that pass, mostly because it is close to the house and I wanted to sit in the sauna. One draw back to an otherwise fabulous facility at school, the Dedman Center does not have whirlpool, steam or sauna.
When I got to LA Fitness it was more crowded than I expected for 9 pm. Don't get me wrong, the place is huge and could accommodate a lot more people than were there, but still, it was 9 pm and there were families there, kids and teens. Then I realized this is spring break for them too so perhaps that accounted for the Six Flags Amusement Park atmosphere.
I dressed quickly then found my treadmill. Without thinking I hit the yes button for 30 minutes and realized that I had set my goal for 2.5 miles. I started to reset then reconsidered. It was late, and I was tired. Tomorrow, Tuesday, I would not work as late and, if the weather was good, perhaps another Katy Trail run awaited. So off I began at a 12 mile pace.
The time went by very quickly. I like the treadmills at LA Fitness because they show a quarter mile track with arrows announcing your progress. Psychologically I like watching my computer self running symbolically around that track. This love of a sense of progress with constant movement made me think I might have been a galley slave in a Roman warship in a prior life...Row, Row, Row.....
I found many new species of gym denizens at this LA Fitness. There was the "I just came here because you pushed but I won't be back" middle aged Mexican lady who, after less than a minute on the treadmill a couple of machines down from me, told here friend "You can do this if you want but I am going to try out the other machines." I envisioned her looking for vending machines, preferably ones with real coke and Twinkies! There was the kamikaze Asian who was trying to assassinate the treadmill next to mine, running so fast I was afraid he was going to stomp right through the floor of the machine as he barked orders to his less athletic friend on the adjacent machine...."Raise your incline if you want a real work out" was his mantra. "Speed is not as important as incline...works your heart, man, really works your heart!" The words he spoke which I enjoyed the most came about halfway through my run when he turned to his friend and said "Man, I'm done....gotta go!" Such sweet music to my ears.
Later, after my run and a little stretching, I went to the sauna. The etiquette of this gym is a bit strange to me. I have been in a lot of gyms in my life, but I have to admit, this is the first Dallas Suburban experience and maybe that explains it, or perhaps it is just Richardson. People are supposed to bring their own locks for the lockers. But a lot of people either don't have locks or don't trust them, because about half the people seem to take their towels and gym bags along with them where ever they go, which includes the showers. They leave the bags just outside the shower stalls, which are individual cubicles with shower curtains. Sometimes they bring the bags into the sauna which I find really strange, and odorous.
I shared the sauna with a pair of Sumo wrestlers who looked like they were beefing up for a stint on America's Greatest Losers. Truly they were gargantuan. I started speculating about the root meaning of the word "sumo" and concluded that "su" in some remote language must mean "some" and "mo", well, that was not hard since a derivative of it has survived to this day in urban street language...and Dickens's movies "Please sir, I want some Mo" spoken by street waifs. "Sumo"..."Some More"...the most frequently spoken expression of my sauna mates at the all you can eat Chinese Buffet, one of which is conveniently located in the same shopping center as the gym.
I know, I am being cruel and unfair....but honesty is also a virtue and these are the random thoughts that popped into my head as I sweated and thought about the left over pot roast and last half bottle of Cabernet that awaited me in Casa Camp a mile or so away.
Sauna's are also like airplanes in that if you are not lucky, you share you seat with a talker. Sometimes that is OK, but most often it is not. When the last Sumo left, a baby Sumo who remained, I guess proud that he was not as large as the other two, turned to me and said in his Mexican accent "You believe that?" For a brief moment I was worried that he was psychic and could read my thoughts about the root meaning of Sumo or that, even worse, in the heat I had been "trippin" as my Dad would say, and speaking those thoughts out loud. He continued "At least I am not that big!" And I thought to myself, "Yet". He continued expounding on his personal situation, explaining that he "had burned 100 calories on the treadmill but Hell there were 140 in a coke." I wondered how anyone could only burn 100 calories on the treadmill but then remembered the "I don't want to run around" Sue from the treadmill earlier who had left shortly after starting to find the vending machines where I am sure there are 140 calorie cokes, and I thought...yes, very possible.
"My musings on calorie burn were interrupted again by the same voice pontificating that Beer was the greatest evil. "Hell, I love my beer!" he said. Thankfully my time in the sauna was over. I politely agreed that Beer was both good and bad and that yes, we were lucky not to be eligible for America's Greatest Looses, yet, and exited the sauna.
Back in the locker room, after my shower, one of the Big Sumos was laboriously dressing. I had my back to him. Out of the blue he spoke saying "I always go get something to eat after a work out. Anyone want to join me?" The idea of joining him for a meal, of watching him eat, pushed me into flashback mode and all the old medieval banquet scenes of raucous gluttony, large legs of lamb being gnawed on by babarians and buckets of mead flowing like water into open mouths and spilling on scraggy beirds right before a fight set in. I was silent in the face (or in this case back, my back) of his request. No one else said anything and his offer died on deaf ears.
At home I had my wine with my leftovers and went to bed...tired but happy that I had actually ran after work. Oh, and the hurting part? Woke up this morning and those muscles that Gym Rat had forced me to push a couple of days ago...especially chest, they decided to choose now to protest...ouch. It hurts to raise my arms. Hoping a lot of stretching will help. But all and all, Life is Good!
Monday, March 15, 2010
Day 14, 2 1/4ths mile LA Richardson Style
Day 14, Ran 2.25 miles/ Total miles so far - 33/ Miles to go 967
I like massage. I have to admit it. I started getting massages when I first started training for my first marathon when I was 32 years old. I was running so many miles and my legs were so sore. A friend suggested a massage. I was reticent at first. Not sure I wanted anyone to touch me and wondering if it was like an X rated movie...massage parlor, etc. But my friend convinced me that true massage was on the up and up and I gave in. I found some special massage therapists in Austin in those days...the 1980s. One did what is known as Shiatsu. It is a deep pressure massage. It is not that enjoyable when the therapist is doing it. In fact, it can hurt. But after it is over you feel so good (maybe because the pain stopped). You are very relaxed and feel good even the next day.
Another therapist had a very unusual routine. He would wash my feet first in a bowl of warm water and massage them before the rest of the Swedish type massage. Swedish is the more usual massage you get at a resort hotel, long slow strokes that feel good and relax you but are not as therapeutic I have come to understand as more intense sports or shiatsu. The massage with this therapist always began with me sitting in a chair. He would bring out a metal basin covered with porcelain or ceramic and place my feet in it one at a time very reverently. He would then pour warm water from a pitcher into the basin, over my feet and then massage them. It was like a new age "foot washing Baptist" experience. For anyone who does not know what "Foot Washing Baptist" means, try google. Seriously, as funny as it sounds it was a wonderfully relaxing experience, even spiritual. The rest of the massage would leave me ready for a long nap.
Over the years I have come to appreciate pampering in all its glory. I have had a Thai massage on the beach in Pu Quet Thiland, Reiki energy massage, hot stone therapy care of a give from son Eric and daugher in law, Karla, and many more. I recently went to a conference and at one of the sessions for professionals like me, deans of students who deal with people with problems a lot. The speaker stressed the need to take care of ourselves if we wanted to be effective with others. She said too much time is spent of time management training when we need to focus on energy management i.e., the things we can do to restore, physical, mental, emotional and spiritual energy. I like that and have decided to incorporate some of that into my life.
So today, Sunday, I decided I needed to be pampered. I selfishly wanted someone to take care of me, with no reciprocity. I did something that I have thought about. I did a spa day. I went to this day spa and had, yes I did, a manicure, pedicure, massage and facial. There I said it. Why is it that men are so afraid to admit they like pampering too? How can you not enjoy someone massaging you, pampering you. At the end of the treatment I felt great. Went home, took a long nap and got up to go to the gym (the LA Fitness near my home in Richardson since I was by myself) and ran 2.75 miles on the treadmill before doing a lot of stretching and some sauna. Need to work another spa day into the routine...maybe as a reward. Life is good.
I like massage. I have to admit it. I started getting massages when I first started training for my first marathon when I was 32 years old. I was running so many miles and my legs were so sore. A friend suggested a massage. I was reticent at first. Not sure I wanted anyone to touch me and wondering if it was like an X rated movie...massage parlor, etc. But my friend convinced me that true massage was on the up and up and I gave in. I found some special massage therapists in Austin in those days...the 1980s. One did what is known as Shiatsu. It is a deep pressure massage. It is not that enjoyable when the therapist is doing it. In fact, it can hurt. But after it is over you feel so good (maybe because the pain stopped). You are very relaxed and feel good even the next day.
Another therapist had a very unusual routine. He would wash my feet first in a bowl of warm water and massage them before the rest of the Swedish type massage. Swedish is the more usual massage you get at a resort hotel, long slow strokes that feel good and relax you but are not as therapeutic I have come to understand as more intense sports or shiatsu. The massage with this therapist always began with me sitting in a chair. He would bring out a metal basin covered with porcelain or ceramic and place my feet in it one at a time very reverently. He would then pour warm water from a pitcher into the basin, over my feet and then massage them. It was like a new age "foot washing Baptist" experience. For anyone who does not know what "Foot Washing Baptist" means, try google. Seriously, as funny as it sounds it was a wonderfully relaxing experience, even spiritual. The rest of the massage would leave me ready for a long nap.
Over the years I have come to appreciate pampering in all its glory. I have had a Thai massage on the beach in Pu Quet Thiland, Reiki energy massage, hot stone therapy care of a give from son Eric and daugher in law, Karla, and many more. I recently went to a conference and at one of the sessions for professionals like me, deans of students who deal with people with problems a lot. The speaker stressed the need to take care of ourselves if we wanted to be effective with others. She said too much time is spent of time management training when we need to focus on energy management i.e., the things we can do to restore, physical, mental, emotional and spiritual energy. I like that and have decided to incorporate some of that into my life.
So today, Sunday, I decided I needed to be pampered. I selfishly wanted someone to take care of me, with no reciprocity. I did something that I have thought about. I did a spa day. I went to this day spa and had, yes I did, a manicure, pedicure, massage and facial. There I said it. Why is it that men are so afraid to admit they like pampering too? How can you not enjoy someone massaging you, pampering you. At the end of the treatment I felt great. Went home, took a long nap and got up to go to the gym (the LA Fitness near my home in Richardson since I was by myself) and ran 2.75 miles on the treadmill before doing a lot of stretching and some sauna. Need to work another spa day into the routine...maybe as a reward. Life is good.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
