cindy's world

As a reminder for those of you who’d expressed interest in participating in the 2nd Disneyland Half Marathon/10K/5K, registration for next year’s event opens today. (California’s Disneyland, to be more clear.)

As for myself, I’m undecided as to whether I want to put myself through that again. The toenail is still missing. At least, I think it’s still missing. I seem to have developed a very thin but hard layer of something over the nail bed. I always thought nails grow from the bottom cuticle up. Do they really grow from the topmost surface of the skin out?

Huh. It seems that in finding you guys the link to register, I saw that they postponed registration to January, 2007. Consider yourselves just temporarily off the hook. *pointing at YOU*

2007 Disneyland Run registration info

I think I’m burned out on my rec classes. I started jujitsu in late June last year, and then belly dancing 2 semesters ago. This year, on a good week I’ve been attending about half the jujitsu I used to, and this last semester I’ve attended 5 out of 8 belly dancing classes. I don’t even feel bad about ditching, despite the fact that the belly dancing is a paid class. I really thought that after returning from Hawaii, I’d be much better about attending jujitsu, especially after noticing in the clinics how behind I am in skills and familiarity with some basic moves and arm bars. Jujitsu started back up this past Monday, and I haven’t been to one class. I also bought some belly dancing hip scarves (colorful gauze triangular scarves you tie around your hips decked out in bells and little coins that jingle when you move) in Hawaii, not realizing until last night that belly dancing ended last Wednesday, a day I’d ditched.

I also only went to the gym for the first time in almost 3 weeks yesterday at lunch, but only because all other lunch options fell through. The weights punished me for neglecting them for so long, and my triceps and quads are appropriately sore today. My abs aren’t, though.

Mr. W agreed with me that I appear to be burned out already and these classes have lost their value to me. “But you only took those classes to take up time anyway, and how you have me!” he said happily, curling his arms around me.

I can’t help thinking, tho, that I need to find something physical to do on a regular basis, even if it means switching genres (altho I’m not going back to the crazy yoga instructor Mr. W and I went to earlier in the year again, either). Besides, Mr. W needs his “alone” time to be a gamer. I don’t know what to do next. Maybe take up hip hop again? Or maybe I’ll try a different belly dancing instructor, one that some coworkers go to, since they’d been trying to talk me into that class for some time and now I have jingling hip scarves.

Or MAYBE I’ll take something easy, like ESL. I can pretend to be a total English dunce, fake an accent, and then be the most improved student at the end of the semester. That’ll be good for all the foreigners’ self-esteem. It’ll give them a raised bar to work toward. We’ll call it public service.

There’s something about schizophrenic Southern California weather that would wake me up with Christmas memories and, five hours later, have me running around the city in a 5K in 85 degree sun wishing for shade.

The run (with Mr. W, who’d called and invited me on his regular noontime run course) felt good, though. The breeze, at least, was cool. I hadn’t run outdoors since the Disneyland Half-Marathon in mid-September. In leaving work in my running clothes, my gym trainee (who’d laughed at me when I invited her to come jogging) drove by on her way to the gym, rolled down her window, and yelled out the car, “Call me if you need a ride! I’ll have my cell phone!”

Worked out at the gym, washed the car(s), had some rare Ahi tuna tataki salad at Cheesecake Factory, went to jujitsu, ran a mile.

Sounds simple, huh? It wasn’t. Instead of doing a nice-and-easy, go-at-your-own-pace couple of miles like the four of us did last week, Josh and Gerardo came up with the brilliant idea of running a mile as fast as we could and seeing what our times are. Since I was the only one with a watch, I did the countdown and we started at exactly 9:45p. At an outdoors track in 58-degree weather (I know the temperature because my car said so), the brisk air cut into all of our lungs. Josh was spitting bloody phlegm afterwards, my lungs still hurt upon expansion right now such that it forces a little feminine bong-smoker sounding cough out of me when I inhale sharply, Jackie was wheezing, and Gerardo…well, he was just fine. In fact, he came in first at about 7 1/2 minutes; I came in second at 8:05; Josh was 2 seconds behind me; and Jackie did pretty well at exactly 9 1/2 minutes. While the rest of us were walking off our misery, cramps and phlegm balls, Gerardo went and did some pull-ups as if gravity didn’t apply to him. “Gravity actually helps him,” Jackie remarked bitterly. “It somehow propels him upwards.” Gerardo is apparently superman who needs to push himself down to keep his feet on earth. And then we found out when he was a teenager, he used to do some gymnast stuff. =P I knew I couldn’t compete with him in grappling, boxing, jujitsu, or running, but apparently I can’t out-double-back-flip him off parallel bars, either. If he weren’t so nice, funny and supportive, I’d hate him. Or if he were female, I’d hate him.

I’m just kidding. Cuz he’d make too ugly of a female to incite hatred in me.

I’m just kidding. He has beautiful features. In fact, I’m gonna get him drunk in Hawaii, put makeup on him and take some photos.

I’m just kidding. Well, maybe.

I found 2 bruises on the elbow side of both my forearms last nite. I showed the 4 marks to Mr. W. At first he suggested they were bruises from my massage, and I said they can’t be, these are brown which means they’re at least a few days old. He said, “It looks like the marks you’d get from blocking techniques.” They are in the right positions for hard-blocks on kicks and maybe some hold breaks, but Thursday’s jujitsu class was a special clinic on boxing with a long-time pro boxer, and we did no blocks with our arms. Wednesday was belly dancing. I worked out all week long, but I couldn’t have banged the underside of my forearms weightlifting. “Maybe I have leukemia,” I murmured.

This morning, I realized what they are. They’re war wounds from my scaling the wall on Thursday night! Hwah!

…pronounced “hh-ugh-ah!” You know, that grunting sound you make in triumph after accomplishing some testosteroney task, especially one that involves physical agility. I don’t know how to spell that sound. “Hugh!” looks like Hugh Grant or Hugh Hefner. “Huh!” looks like, “Huh? Wha-?”

Anyway, after jujitsu tonight, four of us went to a nearby college track to go running. They only wanted to do 2 miles, which was great, because the short run almost killed me. I had to check between my ankles to make sure my uterus hadn’t fallen out. I cramped up so badly, I’m hoping that I’m gonna get my period early this month. Presently it appears to be “scheduled” to arrive mid-way through my Hawaii trip. Why does that always happen? No matter when we plan a vacation, we’re gonna be on our period during it.

And then after the run, the most physically fit of us, a green belt named Gerardo, waved us over to “the wall.” He ran lightly up to the cement brick wall, ran halfway up it, and pulled himself over, landing neatly on his feet on the other side. And then it dawned on me. “Is this a six-foot wall?” I guess Josh, who is in the running for the Orange County Sheriff’s Department, needs to be able to scale a 6-foot wall to pass the physical exam. Coincidentally, it was about a month ago that I mentioned to Mr. W, “Do you think I could climb over a 6-foot wall?” I don’t remember what he answered, but I don’t remember being mad at him either, so he probably responded affirmatively. Gerardo explained the mechanics, and Josh did it on his first try. Jackie was able to leap up and hang onto the top of the wall with her hands, but couldn’t bring herself up and over. On my first run, I realized as I approached the wall that I could not see it in the darkness. I had no idea how close I was to the wall, and I perhaps jumped wrong, smacking my wrists onto the upper edge of the wall. I wasn’t getting anywhere that way. I tried again, and realized I’d jumped too early when my feet didn’t make contact with the wall on my attempt to run up its side. Jackie was totally motivated, and managed at one point to jump straight up from a standstill, then get up enough to swing her right ankle up to the side and over, and pull herself up with her foot. “Women’s lower bodies are stronger than their upper bodies, so as long as you can get a leg up, you can pull yourself up,” Josh tipped. I finally walked up to the wall, took a vertical jump to get an elbow past the top, and pulled myself up with my upper body strength. Once high enough, I put a knee up and was over. I did it twice! “I’m so surprised, you made it look so easy!” Josh said, giving me a big hug. He said at the sheriff’s obstacle course over the weekend, when it was open to practice, the women who were trying to scale the wall spent an hour being counseled and directed by the sheriff trainers, and one of them even looked like a fitness instructor, they were ALL taller than me (I’m pretty dang short at 5’2″), and none of them managed to do it.

HWAH!

Don’t know what it is about my body lately. I’m absolutely uninspired at the gym. Yesterday I dragged myself around the small city gym at lunchtime with weights that are just too heavy for me to deal with (yes, I know that’s the point of weight-training), oozing from set to set of exercises, reducing the number of reps per set as the whining drones on in my head. Today, same thing. Gym trainee couldn’t get out of the courthouse until late, so we just did cardio for a little under 40 minutes on the elliptical trainer.

In the elevator on the way out to lunch earlier:

Random bailiff: Where’re you going?
Me: [dully] I’m going to the gym.
Random bailiff: [looking at me so not excited about that prospect]
Me: I’m so tired, I’m probably gonna drop a weight on my face.
Random bailiff: Well, that‘ll wake you up.

For the millionth time, I think about how I could push my body through a workout despite my mind’s uncooperation, and hope that the brain and body are disconnected enough such that I get the exact same benefit to a workout unenthused as I would enthused.

And yet, and yet, it occurred to me as I drove to the gym that tonight is belly dancing, and Vanessa has resolved to go to the private gym after every session of belly dancing until Hawaii, so that means she’d be there tonight after class. And I want to go along, too. I can call up some friends (like Vicky, who Vanessa saw there last week) to be at the gym, and that’ll be fun! So despite the fact that I feel so blah, I may have 3 workouts today.

(I sound British again.)

That’s what it is. The surgeon, after doing the scope on Sunday morning, came out and talked to us and showed us 4 color photos of the leaf-shaped indentation in my dad’s stomach. They didn’t have to do a biopsy, no further operation, this can be controlled by medication for a few months until it heals, he explained.

The surgeon was a character. First he looked at me and asked my mom, “This is your daughter? I can see why he has an ulcer, worrying about his pretty daughter all day long.” And then later he fished out a fresh plumeria flower from his pocket and handed it to me, and then fished another one out and gave it to my mom. My mom told me that the day before, when he told my parents he suspected an ulcer, he explained it’s commonly stress-related. My mom said that my dad hasn’t shown stress, so he must’ve been trying to hide it and pretend to be a man about it. The surgeon’d declared, “What do you mean, be a MAN? He IS a man. Are you saying he’s normally a woman?”, making my parents laugh.

Thanks to everyone’s karmic good vibes, my dad is okay and should be discharged sometime today.

Here’s my public service announcement. If your stomach isn’t feeling right, don’t wait. The doctor said that in a bad internal bleeding situation, a person could die within 2 hours. My dad had lost so much blood that his first day in the hospital, they had to tranfuse 2 pints of blood, but he was lucky. He said he hadn’t been feeling well for 2 weeks, the major problem came Thursday night when he felt weak (I questioned him about 2 scars on the insides of both elbows, and he finally admitted that it wasn’t just weakness, he’d fallen over), he was in the hospital Saturday.

I’m still up. I just booked two 90-minute massages for me and childhood friend Sandy. She’s online working and IMing about her stress level, so I suggested we should have a spa evening sometime to catch up and relax. I’ve been needing a massage anyhow. She agreed, and I booked her a Swedish + deep tissue back + scalp, and me a straight Swedish for next Sunday. It’s gonna be her first professional massage! I may get her hooked the way Vicky got me hooked. I’ve never been to the OC Spa & Wellness Center in Huntington Beach, but the prices look good. I don’t think it’s one of those places with a happy ending like Mr. W likes to go to. I’m kidding. Sorta.

Maybe it’s the late hour, but I’m now paranoid that the 22nd would come and go and I’d forget. And they’re already prepaid. I hope I’m not napping at Mr. W’s or something come 5pm that Sunday and then later go, “Hey, I missed 8 calls from Sandy. I wonder what’s going on with her.” I’d better tell her now that if for some reason I don’t make it, she should still go.

She just IMed me, “you’re not gunna forget to go DUDE”
HAHAHAHA! Okay, I need some sleep. I’m getting punchy.

Jordan cursed me yesterday. I called her on my drive home from work, and she asked about my plans for the evening. I told her I was picking up sushi because I want food early enough in me that I’d digest before bellydancing, and that I hadn’t heard from Dwaine regarding the purported wine-buying extravaganza so we’re probably not meeting up and I’m on my own for dinner. She started to say that she doesn’t know where all my energy comes from considering to her it feels late, before she remembered the time difference between California and Florida. It was 5-ish for me, 8-ish for her. So of course immediately following that conversation, my body switched to Florida time.

I only managed to shove a roll (raw salmon over a California roll) and a half (spicy tuna over CA roll) down my throat before I was full enough to throw up. The TV was on, I had a load of laundry in the dryer, and it was 7:15p. I decided it was safe to get a little shut-eye for half an hour. I woke up at 8:30p. ACK! Bellydancing was half-over, and by the time I rush upstairs, wash my face, change and drive over there, it’d be over. I’d flaked on Vanessa! I thought about calling her to let her know I wouldn’t make it, but she’d be in the middle of class and I didn’t want her cell phone to ring. Yes, it’s better to call her after class at 9p, or it would’ve been, except that I promptly fell asleep again until past 2a. I watched, with one eye (as my contacts had dried out in my eyes), some sappy “The Parent ‘Hood” episode about a school play and a giant and the importance of friendship, as my brain tried in vain to get me off the couch with logical reasoning. At 2:30a, I finally got up and pulled my clothes out of the dryer, brought them upstairs and put them away. So now it’s 3:30a and I decided to blog. I figured the only person who’d be up would be Jordan. I think she works today. At 6:30a her time, she’s probably already at work.

7 minutes after I logged on, childhood friend Sandy logged on. “Greetings, fellow insomniac,” I greeted her. Turned out she’s still up working. She’d set her alarm for a half-hour nap and was just starting to get back to work. She’s miserable and tired as hell, and asked why I’m up. “I’m on Florida time,” I explained. She wrote, “ahh…I see.” No further explanation needed. I do feel really rested after 7 hours of sleep, but if I stay up from here on out and head to work, I’d be exhausted. I’ve got a lunchtime workout and afterwork jujitsu session, too. But if I go to sleep now, it’d take forever to fall back asleep AND I’d be exhausted when I wake up again in a few hours. Oh, what to do?

Jordan!!!