cindy's world

I reached a new low today.

Yesterday, a plastic bag containing a shirt, 2 pairs of microfiber chenille gloves and all my bills disappeared from my hands between the house and my car door. This is nothing new; I apparently cross some sort of time/space vortex and gym bags, socks, towels, water, stuff I want to bring to work, have all disappeared before between my leaving the house and getting into the car in the garage. I didn’t realize my bag of stuff was missing last nite until I was almost at my destination, so I traced my steps in my head. Let’s see, I had the bag when I walked out the house, and then I backed up and cleaned the cat litter, put that in a bag, and then I saw another bag of trash in the garage I’d meant to throw away. I also packed up a bag of trash from the track bucket next to my washing machine to throw that away, and I threw 3 bags into the dumpster down the driveway. *gasp* Did I throw the bag of bills and clothes away? Nah, I can’t be that absent-minded, it’s probably sitting on the dryer or next to the kitchen sink, like so many of my disappearing objects when I get back home.

Upon my arrival back home, I ran around checking all the usual spots. Atop the dryer, nope. Atop the kitchen counter, nope. On the dining room table, nope. Upstairs in my bedroom on the floor? Nope. A string of cuss words followed me in my head as I marched out the house again and toward the dumpster. Luckily, the trash hadn’t been collected yet. I actually don’t know which day of the week the garbage truck comes. I lifted the lid of the dumpster and tip-toed, peering inside. I had to hold my breath. There, right beneath some other people’s stinky black garbage bag, was the white bag I recognized, with the name of the clothing store I shopped at yesterday printed in big red letters. If I were tall, I could reach in and only touch that bag. But because I’m short, I had to hang my armpit over years’ worth of crusty gooey ant-gnawed grime on the perimeter of the dumpster and stretch way down to lift off a couple of bags before I could grab my bag. Sure enough, shirt, 2 pairs of really nice microfiber gloves, all my bills. There’s orange-brown goo on the outside of the bag, but thankfully I’d tied the bag closed. And yet, the sour acrid molecules of discards had crawled into the bag and settled into every item inside. The shirt and gloves are sitting out in the garage to air out; the bills are paid and thrown away. Blech!

Today:
fold and put away load of laundry from yesterday – check!
do remaining 2 loads of laundry – in progress, check!
pay bills – check!
dig inside neighborhood dumpster in broad daylight for goodies to take back inside the house – check!
mail out bills – to do
pack – to do
vacuum – to do
clean cat area – to do
60 mins of cardio – to do
belly dancing – to do
gym for weight-lifting – to do

Man, vacation is a lot of work. I may not even have time to clean out my closets.

Considering how exhausted I was yesterday, I was surprised that, as I yawned my way home late after work yesterday (I left an hour and a half later than I usually do, too), I managed to make it to jujitsu, and then when I was done there, I went to the gym. At the gym, I increased my treadmill running pace to 6mph, and did 30 minutes of hills on level 4. And then I hit the weights. It was not a good day to forget my gym towel. I was just wet during and afterwards. It was disgusting. I had to take a shower (I had my bath towel) afterwards even tho it was close to midnight when I got done, and the clothes I peeled off myself weighed probably a few pounds due to the sweat absorption. It was like, someone poured a gallon of salt on me, and I’m a snail. The small reward after the workout is that I caved and had an In-N-Out cheeseburger, animal-style. I’ve all but weeded fast food out of my life, and sodas as well, but I’ve always made an exception for In-N-Out in my head because their food is more natural and less processed than other fast food burger joints. However, the last time I had In-N-Out, it was stupidly 2 days before a gym weigh-in, and I bloated 6 lbs for the next 4-5 days and I refused to get weighed in for another week because of that.

Speaking of not drinking sodas, here’s an article about a study that links cola consumption to osteoperosis in women, courtesy James.

Today: gym at lunch and bellydancing. I’d made the commitment to my gym trainee about 45 minutes ago, and then the judge announces on the bench that if we’re not at a certain point in our trial, he’s going to keep going right into lunch to get it done. =P Oh well, we’ll both by gymming anyway, even if we’re not doing it at the same time. I’d called Dwaine yesterday to let him know about a Beverages and More sale, buy 1 bottle of wine, get the 2nd same bottle of wine for $0.05. He invited me to go wine-shopping with him today, and I’d agreed, not realizing it’s bellydancing Wednesday (the Monday holiday threw me off). Well, if we can make it back by 8 for my class, I won’t have to cancel on him.

By the way, did I mention it took me a full year to lose the stupid 10 lbs I gained last September/October? I still have to lose the 5 lbs I gained after February. Stupid metabolism. Stupid high school anorexia.

(as always, rest your mouse pointer over my photos for captions)

Shortly before 7:00 a.m. on Sunday, Mr. W was awakened when his cell phone received the livetracking automatically generated text message that indicated I had just passed the 5K point in the Disneyland Half-Marathon. He got up, jumped in the shower, checked the course map to see where the 5K marker was, then decided to drive out to Angel Stadium (which is Mile 10) to take photos of us. He didn’t expect to see me because he had no idea where I was by the time he got to the stadium, but figured he could take photos of the runners by the stadium and photoshop me in later. Turned out, he didn’t have to because I ran right up to him. He didn’t even know it was me until I waved in his face. I’d thought he had it so perfectly planned; turned out it was just chance.

At the completion of the 13.1 mile race, finishers were given this gawdy huge gold commemorative Inaugural Disneyland Half-Marathon medal, which on our tired bodies felt like 3 pounds. But it was really only 2 pounds. Haha.

An exhausted Vicky right after she finished:

Thanks to Mr. W for the photos, and for making me feel like walking the half-marathon is not an option. And for driving me around the next day and waiting on me hand and foot because I was in too much pain (whilst calling me an emperor penguin for my hobbling). “It’s my job,” he’d said when I thanked him on Sunday. “It’s not your job to chauffeur me around,” I’d said. “It’s my job to take care of you,” he told me with a kiss.

I was out of bed at 3:30 a.m., down in front of the hotel waiting for the shuttle at 4:15 a.m., at Disneyland at 4:35 a.m., in my corral waiting for the start of the race at 5:05 a.m., sniffling in the cold darkness. Yes, there were indeed people in trash bags, just like Greg said. There were also people in Tinkerbell and Peter Pan outfits, and those were just the men. A lot of women wore Minnie Mouse outfits, one in Pocahontas, another in Snow White, and lots and lots of them wore Mickey ear hats. When we were going down the Downtown Disney street being funneled from the corral to the start street, I looked up and saw that they had stopped the Disneyland Monorail directly above our path and a ton of Disney cast member characters in costume were hanging out of the Monorail cheering and waving at us. That and the pyrotechnics as we launched were pretty cool.

My goal: be done by 8:30 a.m., especially because it looked like it was going to be a clear and sunny day. At 4:30 a.m., the sky was dark but with visible moon and stars. Darn it!
What I did not expect: it took me 10 minutes to even get to the start line. Oh well, I guess I should change my aim to 2 hours and 30 minutes from the time I started, which would make it 8:40 a.m., which I acknowledge is optimistic considering I haven’t trained more than 3 or so miles before the race.

the liveresult emailed to me:
disney@alerts.activeresult.com to email-services
More options 8:34 am (6 hours ago)
CINDY [my last name], 02:22:47 @ Finish: Disneyland Half Marathon presented by Kaiser Permanente, Disney Destinations LLC

Woohoo!

Other stuff I did not expect:
* running through Disneyland and California Adventure took forever because people kept stopping in front of me to take pictures with the Disney characters that had come out to cheer us on (I hit 5K or a little over 3 miles in 45 minutes; 3 miles normally takes me less than 30)
* I felt so incredibly good through mile 8 that I thought I could run an entire marathon; I only stopped to a walk twice at that point, both times for 30 seconds to drink some water that was offered
* the first physical pain hit me at mile 10; the PowerAid I’d drunk the mile before was giving me pain on the right side of my waist, like it does when I eat too much and then play too hard, so I walked for about 30 more seconds
* after rounding the bases inside Angel Stadium, I ran out of the stadium to see Mr. W on the side of the track taking photos (photos to come as he shrinks them down enough to be uploaded)
* I ran near a banana almost the entire time (an Asian guy in black tights wearing a banana suit shaking maracas — I didn’t get it)
* the last 3 miles were so incredibly hard because the physical pain kicked in; my right 4th toe felt tingly and sloshy, like a huge blister enveloped the entire top half of the toe; the left foot’s 4th toe hurt, too, but not as badly; to compensate for the weight I’m trying to keep off the toe, the inside of my ankles started hurting. I was having trouble lifting my shoes entirely off the ground in the steps
* Since I started 10 mins late, and I started having some problems toward the end, I figured there was no way I would finish before 8:30; instead, I finished at 8:32a; the chip time (which takes into account the fact that I crossed the start line late) is 2:22
* Vicky, doing her run-2-minutes-walk-a-minute routine finished only 32 minutes behind me, and she was feeling good with no injuries (except a slightly swollen ankle)

The music I had on the MP3 player helped immensely. I know this because for a brief moment, the gap between 2 songs was unusually long and I was running in silence. Hearing my footsteps pound on the ground, I was immediately drained. But as soon as the music started back up, I was all good and could run uphill over the 5 Freeway without slowing down much. During the run, as I surprised myself with how well I was handling everything cardiovascularly, I thought about Greg (the commenter who suggested I wear a trash bag) and the time I ran with him in San Francisco from the clock tower through Embarcadero to some old battalion thing under the Bay Bridge during the Blue Angels Air Show. It wasn’t until after the 12-mile run that I found out the farthest he’d ever run up to that point was 3-4 miles. “Then why’d you run this with me? Why didn’t you tell me?” I’d asked him. “Because I told you I’d run with you, and I didn’t want you to be all, ‘Oh, we didn’t do 12 miles because Greg wimped out.’ ”

I was afraid to look into my shoe after the run because I didn’t want to remove the sock and see a toenail fall out, which I hear is a relatively common occurrence. But what it appears to be, is a blood blister around the toe and under that nail. Despite the fact that the toe is the color of a black grape, I was instructed not to drain the blood for fear of infection. Maybe when the blood clots, the nail will fall out anyway, I dunno. I ran into an old friend, who’s also a running trainer, at the end of the race. She lectured me, “Next time, Cindy, when you decide to do something like this…TRAIN!” Well, hindsight, 20/20, etc.

The mandatory Fitness Expo at Disneyland Hotel was pretty cool. They gave out a lot of free edible nutriments, and the free t-shirt that races give participants turned out to be a Champion brand long-sleeve double-dry commemorative tech shirt. That’s almost worth the $80 this race costs! Okay, not really. I’d also been looking for trendy sunglasses, and bought 2 pairs at the expo. They’re really different from what I usually wear, mostly because I normally resist trends. Oh well, I gave in to them because I like the way these glasses look on me. One is a rhinestoned light blue lens, and the other is squared larger black frames. I have two pairs of Brooks Bros sunglasses that the Cheating Ex had given me for my bday a couple of years ago, which I don’t wear anymore, and friends were telling me to put them up on Craig’s List or Ebay. However, because some of those same friends were complaining about another friend of theirs putting up their gifts to her on Craig’s List, I don’t think I should do that. I mean, it’s kinda rude, isn’t it?

I just finished compiling a bunch of running songs into my MP3 player. At least 3 hours’ worth. And if it takes me longer to finish the half-marathon, well, then, I would be disqualified and shipped back on the bus. I’ve also set up the runners’ tracker so that me, Mr. W, and Navy Girl Vanessa get an instant text message on our cells whenever Vicky or I cross certain checkpoints, i.e. 10K, halfway, and finish line.

On my way to Dwaine’s house party, then to Disneyland! I can’t believe I’m gonna be in bed by 8. I bet neither Vicky nor I would be.

…at least that’s what I’m SUPPOSED to be doing. I’m not geared up. My run yesterday evening made my feet hurt, so maybe my new Thurlos socks made my shoes too small. I got some blisters from that run, too. That is not good. I’m not gonna do any exercise until Sunday’s run.

Vicky called me this morning to finalize our plans before the Disneyland Half-Marathon. Talking to her about preparation just makes it feel all too real, and makes me feel ultra unprepared. When I trained 3 years ago for a half-marathon, I just got up and did my 12-mile practice runs, no special diet, no special anything. I didn’t need to stop and drink water, to use the restroom, eat runner’s packaged goo, overhydrate the day before. I just took my time jogging along at a 10-minute mile pace until I was done. No biggie. No sunglasses, no special caps, no fanny pack to hold my cell phone, keys, goo, water, spare hair ties, socks. I keep telling myself that this run is gonna be no big deal. I’ve done the distance before. I can take my time, it’s not like I have any hopes of WINNING the darn thing. It looks like it’s gonna be a nice misty foggy morning all through the run, so I don’t have to think about heat or sunburn or sun-protectant gear. But the reality is, I haven’t run more than 4 miles in preparation for this race, and most of the time I run 3 with Mr. W.

So the plan is, today after work I’m packing 2 or 3 potential outfits for the run. In case it’s cold and I want to run in pants. In case it’s fine and I want to run in shorts. Or maybe I want shorts within my pants. Or maybe I want a sort of runner’s fitted capris. Should I wear a tanktop? Or a t-shirt? Or a long-sleeved shirt? Vicky recommends buying a cheapie sweatshirt to start the run in, and as I warm up, to just discard it on the side of the road. My Asian genes aren’t happy with throwing a perfectly good sweatshirt away. Anyway, so I pack up clothes today, then go to Mr. W’s. Saturday morning, I’m gonna pick up my race packet from Disneyland, which they’re requiring all runners to do. Then I’m off to Dwaine and Andrae’s 30th bday party at Dwaine’s house in Chino. That’s gonna be a 2-hour drive. But he’s gonna have Jamaican food CATERED so how can I say no? Then I’m gonna come back and meet Vicky at the Disneyland hotel where we got a room. She wants to be in bed by 8. She has Xanax she could take to knock out. I’m an insomniac as it is.

Crap.

Yesterday was the first “Los Angeles” Angels vs. Chicago White Socks game in the series. Because the game was on Sept. 11, the stadium paused for a minute of silence for our people in memoriam, as the advertising banners turned off. The screens flashed the American flag with the words “We will never forget.” Orange County Sheriff’s Dept.’s bugle squad performed in the beginning, and some uniformed military men marched out on the pitcher’s mound and were honored. In front of me was a navy officer in uniform, complete with the little white cap. Mr. W’s brother said, “It’d just be perfect if he started eating a box of Cracker Jacks.” They were indeed selling Cracker Jacks. I was shaking my head at how disrespectful that comment was, until Mr. W said, “Yeah, and a little dog ran up to him,” and I had to burst out laughing. The guy got so much free stuff for being there in uniform. People came by to take photos of him with his little girl on his lap, to shake his hand, to give his little girl souvenir baseballs and other little doodads. “I never learned to milk the uniform like that,” Mr. W, who was a Marine, observed. I don’t think he was milking the uniform as much as honoring the country on Sept. 11 by going to the great American pastime in uniform. BTW, there were a couple of people there with a large handmade sign that read, “AUSTRALIA REMEMBERS AMERICA’S HEROES OF 9-11-01.” That’s really nice. I don’t know that the average American would go to Australia and hold a sign for them in the same respect.

I think it was really cool and fun and funny to hang out with the people we went to the game with. But as far as the game itself went, I still don’t think baseball is a great spectator sport for me, and that’s not just because we lost (unless you’re a Chicago fan, in which case you won), or because there were only 5 runs scored total in the game, or because the first run was scored in the 4th inning and before that (and after, actually), we couldn’t keep a man on base. I found myself people-watching more than ball-watching. The loud tattooed guys to my left kept whooping at some blond girls whenever the girls would stand up and cheer. The large young lady in front and to my right kept eating throughout the game and dropping food on her stomach, sandwiches, nachos, pretzels, cheese drowning everything. (I had to take a cameraphone pic of her and send it to college roommie Diana, who received it ironically while she was at the gym.) The uniformed officer in front of me with his little girl on his lap with the identical profiles, gray eyes and sandy brown haircolor, made me wonder whether his Asian wife had any genetic input at all. I guess I could’ve eaten junk food and drank beer, which was what everyone around me was doing, but my response whenever someone would ask if I wanted something was “Bikini…2 months…can’t.”

Driving home after the game, I touched base with James who said he was on his way to the gym in Brea. I seriously considered going to work out, too, but changed my mind because it was almost 10:30p, I already hit the gym at lunch yesterday, I have 3 hours of jujitsu after work today, and I can’t afford to be sore for my half marathon run on Sunday. *biting fingernails*

Last year at this time:

This photo is the large background wallpaper of my work computer, so I have to stare at it every day and kick myself for not looking that way now. I have to be in a bikini in Hawaii in 2 months, man.

Every morning when I walk from the parking structure toward the courthouse, the sun is behind me and I see my shadow in front of me. I always admire that shadow. I’m hot stretched out! So all I have to do now to look that good is to grow another 4 feet in height. *sigh*

For now, more workouts at the gym. Did 40 mins of elliptical hill at the gym today at lunch.

Yesterday evening, I went to A Snail’s Pace and returned my running shoes. No hassle, they made the return very easy. I’m undecided as to buying new running shoes before the Disneyland half-marathon next month, or to just suck it up and run in my old shoes. I’m not sure if I can break in new shoes (assuming I can find a good fit that doesn’t hurt me when I run) in 2 weeks, anyhow.

Speaking of the half-marathon, I went to the 24 Hour Fitness near A Snail’s Pace after I returned my shoes and did a 45 minute run (w/2 minute cool-down afterwards) on the treadmill. It was so incredibly painful. My stomach hurt, I got a pain in my right side mid-run, and my breathing wasn’t comfortable. True, the last run I did was last Saturday, but come on, it was only a 4.3 mile run. I am actually pretty worried about running 14 miles in a couple of weeks now. A treadmill, come on! It doesn’t get easier than that. Except on a treadmill with a built-in fan. That 24 Hour Fitness didn’t have those.

Speaking of that 24 Hour Fitness, James had wanted to meet my new car, and he works out at that 24 Hour Fitness, and since I was gonna be in the area, we compromised and I went to that gym to work out and he went there earlier than he normally works out to meet up with me. I walked in the door at 7p, and geez, there was not one treadmill open! And I believe all the elliptical trainers were taken up. I know he’d explained that he hits the gym at 11p to avoid the crowd, but I had no idea that by crowd, he meant the entire population of Brea, Fullerton and Yorba Linda panting and sweating together in 1500 square feet. James showed up at a little past 8p, after my run, and I apologized for making him come to the gym this early. I hadn’t seen him since ’99, and I’m glad he recognized me, cuz I wouldn’t have recognized him.

In typical Cindy fashion, I threw a bunch of ab and leg exercises at him to throw off his normal abs/leg day routine and to fine-tune his results, and he was game to trying out the new stuff. It was fun working out with James. My coworker gym trainee, altho she’s doing very well and she’s incredibly motivated, is a beginning gymmer so I’ve slacked off a lot on my own stuff when I train her. With James, we got to hit a bit more of the hard-core stuff and I worked up a really good sweat. We left the gym at almost 9:30p. Wow, at the gym from 7-9:30. It’s like the old me back.

After our workout, I gave him a ride in my new car back to his car, and he was jealous of my back-up camera. Heh, heh. It’s not like there’s a lot of stuff for him to be jealous of, considering I dropped him off by his silver Mercedes AMG roadster that was so shiny it blinded me in the dark night. “Zaino,” he explained. Yeah, I’m gonna need to get me some of that.

Oh yeah. After I left the gym I went home and decided to make some spaghetti with organic vodka sauce. I was feeling really good about the work-out and happy with the fact that I’d just run, AND I’d just recently dropped back down into the previous 10s in my weight. So my bad-ass self was gonna have some carbs to balance my long-ass workout. Except I could not get the sauce jar open. I turned turning the cap with one hand, then the other, then I sat on the ground, held the jar between my knees, struggled with the lid with both hands, then held the jar between my feet so I could apply pressure a different way as I tried to turn the lid. No luck. Don’t think the irony was lost on me that I am, in reality, still just a weak little girl. I had to pass on the vodka sauce and I had my spaghetti with a marinara instead. Next thing you know I’ll be looking for a man to trap a spider for me. =P

This morning at 5:30 a.m. I got up and dragged Mr. W on a run. 4 miles down, 10 more to go. *faint* True to tradition, every time I add a mile, I get a new blister. That’s only 1o more blisters by mid-September. *faint*