Posts filed under ‘Uncategorized’
And you thought Spanx were bad
Every once in a while at the gym, I’ll see people who wrap themselves with non-breathable pieces of plastic or rubber or foam, usually around their midsections, in an effort to lose water weight by making themselves sweat more while working out. Those people look silly. If you are one of those people, I still love you, but you look silly. Dudes also do this, but I’ve noticed that they usually opt for the entire body rubber warm-up suit or the sweatshirt-over-towel-around-the-neck-over-sweatshirt approach. Guys, did Martin Lawrence teach you nothing? (Perhaps the first time that sentence has ever been typed.)
I try to avert my eyes in these situations, but there’s only so much to look at while you’re on the treadmill, and I find those super-uncomfortable-looking swaths of man-made materials oddly hypnotic. It’s like a shrink-wrapped trainwreck. I always wonder if the Velcro will pop off and go boomeranging around the cardio room like a bat freed from the zoo.
Anyway, those people would probably dig these new “fat burning” undies, which seem like Spanx on steroids. Side note: These CAN’T breathe well. Why must the flattening of the female abdomen always require turning the lady garden into a hothouse?
Reese’s Bad Run and Sam’s Terrible Tumble
It’s a bad week for active, famous (and somewhat famous) folk.
Reese Witherspoon was hit by a car while out for a run, reports etonline.com. Though she went to the hospital, she’s fine.
And TMZ.com is reporting that The Biggest Loser‘s season 9 contestant Sam Poueu — who competed with his cousin, Koli Palu, and is engaged to fellow season 9-er Stephanie Anderson — took a fall from the third floor of a building on Sept. 3 and has been in critical condition at a San Francisco hospital ever since.
Send some healing vibes their way, haulers!
Sweaty head style, take two
Today’s gym-to-work hair is brought to you by the side-braid bun. (Thanks to Cupcakes and Cashmere, whose tutorial saved the day!)
Haulmont
I was in Vermont this weekend for the wedding of my amazing sister-in-law, Gabby, and her awesome dude, Doug. Though the wreckage from Hurricane Irene threatened to interfere with their big day, everything turned out great.
The happy couple!
I had planned at least two runs while I was there, but with all of the pre-event activities, I only managed to get in a very short outing on the morning of the wedding. Lucky for me, Vermont is so damn hilly that even a short run made me feel like a big effort. (Or maybe it was the beer I had the night before. You be the judge.)
And now, my run in photos.
Some of the beautiful nature right outside the B&B where I stayed. Because I noticed it as I was running downhill, it seemed especially pretty.
Another view on my way downhill. Right about this point, I realized that I'd have to climb back up all the terrain I'd just coasted down. FML.
On the way back up, which — as you may have guessed —took a bit longer than the way down. Don't think about it... think about something peaceful and serene...
Ah. Wildflowers.
Still there. Aw, crap.
Made it back!
Post-run self-portrait fail, crazy eyes and all. But hey, I'm done!
The Buns are back
February 24.
That was the last time I hauled my own buns to the computer to post something here. Six months of thinking about stuff to post, seeing cool stuff I wanted to link to, fretting about not getting a post up on a day I’d planned it, vowing to get off my virtual tush and publish something awesome the next day.
Six months of excuses and lameness. It ends today.
It’s not like I’ve been laying around re-watching all of the Harry Potter movies in order… well, actually, I have been doing that. but not just that. For instance, there was this (details to come later):
It—and the move from the dirty Jerz to Manhattan that accompanied it—took up a big chunk of my summer. And while I am extremely happy and adjusting to living with a boy in wedded bliss, it’s taken me quite some time to get myself in order.
I realized today that I was totally falling for the “If I can just ______ and _______, conditions will be perfect for me to do what I really want to do” fallacy. I think you know what I’m talking about. Your blanks may be “get the kids in bed before 9 and get myself in bed before midnight” or “find a new job and lose five pounds” or “organize my sock drawer and figure out how to turn dryer lint into currency.” But it’s all hooey, and we know it; we just forget it every once in a while.
So I’m back, haulers, just as I am: in need of a haircut, a little squidgy around the upper arms, still figuring out how to get my workout groove on, still fighting a daily battle with the Pepperidge Farm Sausalito cookies lurking in my coworker’s snack drawer. (BTW, an entire bag of those chocolate-and-macadamia-nut puppies will run you 40 PointsPlus values. Don’t ask me why I know that. YOU’RE WELCOME.)
But I’m here. And hopefully, you still are, too.
Poles, brooms, po-tay-to, po-tah-to
So while I was chillin’ in AC this weekend, one of the biggest events of the wizarding world was taking place in New York City: the Quidditch World Cup!
(If you’re not a Harry Potter fan, scroll down to the strippers. This won’t be long, I promise.)
The MetroMix photos make it look like a collegial good time. But a friend who was there as a spectator, and who is perhaps the most rabid Harry Potter fan I know, left after 20 minutes. “I was uncomfortable,” she said. “You know how some kids are accidental dorks, and others lord their dorkiness over others? These kids were the latter.” For the rest of the day, I found it really hard not to picture The Simpsons’ Comic Book Guy gallumping around with a broom wedged between his legs. I’m sorry. It’s haunted me all day, and now it will haunt you, too.
Worst. Snitch. Ever.
And then, because I am at heart an accidental dork who has moments of lording it over others, I got all excited for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part I, which comes out this week.
In other sports-that-rely-on-a-great-deal-of-thigh-strength news, apparently the American Pole Fitness Championships were also held in the Big Apple just weeks ago. (Totally not making this up.) There’s no nudity here, but please don’t watch this highlight video at work. Haul Buns should never be the cause of an HR inquiry. But when you’ve got a free moment, take a gander at the athleticism and strength necessary to perform some of these moves. Absolutely insane.
And that got me thinking about a pretty funny Conan O’Brien bit with a strip pole. Dare I hope I could find it on the Internets? Done.
His stripper name? Coco, of course.
Everybody’s haulin’ for the weekend
After kind of an insane week at work, this weekend cannot arrive quickly enough. Good thing I’ve got great stuff on the agenda. First, a Dave Matthews Band concert tonight. I don’t care if you hate DMB. I loooooooooooove them, and their “Two Step” has gotten me through many a long run.
Then tomorrow, a morning workout to remind my tush that it’s not SUPPOSED to be cemented to a chair all day long.
Artist's rendering
Followed by my first-ever visit to Atlantic City to celebrate the 40th birthday of Deanna, one of the cool chicks who reads this blog. I’m going to bring my sneakers, and by God, I will use them. Maybe.
C'mon slots. Mama needs a new pair of...
Some interesting bits to tide you over until I’m back:
You’ll remember that I spotted Chilean miner Edison Pena during his ING New York City Marathon run last weekend. But I had no idea who the guys running alongside him were. Thanks, The New York Times, for filling me in.(And thanks to Melissa for sending me the story!)
Whatever you’re up to this weekend, make sure that your fitness exploits can’t easily be mistaken for a suicide attempt. Please?
Happy weekend, everyone!
Soup S.O.S.
When the days get short and your hunger turns you into something out of a horror movie…
Weight Watchers‘ zero-Point soup is the way to go. I was super lazy and dumped a bunch of veggies in the slow cooker Monday night, then let it simmer while I slept. The morning brought yummy veggie goodness. I added tofu and had it for lunch.
Marty, a truly inspiring Weight Watchers leader in Massachusetts, once described the soup this way: “If you get off track, this stuff will pull you back on, fast.” And if you hate any part of it, substitute! Ditch the cabbage; try it with bean sprouts. Add proteins (which adds Points, but it’s good Points!). Make it without the tomatoes. Play around with it.
And if you try another awesome variation, let me know!
Garden Vegetable Soup
2/3 cup sliced carrot
1/2 cup diced onion
2 garlic cloves, minced
3 cups fat-free broth (beef, chicken or vegetable)
1-1/2 cups diced green cabbage
1/2 cup green beans
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
1/4 teaspoon dried oregano
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup diced zucchini
1. In large saucepan sprayed with nonstick cooking spray, saute the carrot, onion and garlic over low heat until softened, about 5 minutes.
2. Add broth, cabbage, beans, tomato paste, basil, oregano and salt; bring to a boil. Lower heat and simmer, covered, about 15 minutes or until beans are tender.
3. Stir in zucchini and heat 3-4 minutes. Serve hot. Makes four 1-cup servings.
Per Serving: 42 calories; 0 g fat; 2 g fiber. If you’re counting, it’s zero Points.
Marathon Monday
Running a marathon can be an awesome, life-affirming experience.
Watching one is nearly as good.
For the past few years, Melissa — one of the cool chicks who reads this blog — and I have cheered ING New York City Marathon runners at mile 21 in the Bronx. We usually stand at a spot right before the course rounds a corner and spits the runners out toward the Madison Avenue Bridge.
We usually arrive around 1:30 p.m., when those who’ll finish in 4:20 or longer are cruising by. Invariably, some runners are still going strong and smiling as they pass. Some are grimacing and limping. The longer we’re out there, the slower the pace. By the time we leave around 4 p.m., most marathoners are walking. Some of them are leaning on friends or volunteers or each other. They’ve got five miles and change to go, and it’s getting dark and cold.
But they keep on going. And that is a fantastic thing to see.
Now before I get all Chariots of Fire on you, let’s recap some other cool ING New York Marathon weekend stuff:
Friday fiver: I took part in the NYRR 5, a five-miler held in Central Park on Friday at 8 a.m. I was surprised at how many marathoners did the race, too; if I have to cover 26.2 miles on a Sunday, you’d better believe my feet will do as little as possible in the days before. At the finish line, I saw Jared Fogle, of Subway fame, who was there to promote his own run in the marathon. In my post-run euphoria, I yelled, “Jared, you’re awesome!” He responded in kind. Say what you will, but anyone who runs and loves Subway is fine by me.
Faces in the crowd: Meliss dubbed me a “celebrity runner spotter” because I picked out buzzed-about marathoners, such as the aforementioned Jared (who was an easy get, as he was running surrounded by four or five dudes with SUBWAY on their shirts), and Today hosts Meredith Viera (who looked genuinely excited when we cheered her name) and Al Roker (who was in pretty rough shape when he passed us). And let us not forget Chilean miner Edison Pena, who was going strong despite knee issues when he ran past. All of them wound up finishing the race.
Gazelles: Before I headed up to the Bronx, I watched the elite runners do their thing on NBC. Edna Kiplicat took first place for the women, and Gebre Gebremariam broke the tape for the men. I tried to explain to The Fiancé why watching them do their thing moves me in a way that watching other pro athletes does not. “I don’t know how tough it is to play baseball or football, not really. But I know how hard it is to run, no matter who you are, and they make it look effortless and beautiful.”
Double duty: This chick, a documentary filmmaker, strapped a camera to her hat and filmed the entire race. WARNING: If you get motion sick easily, you may not want to watch.
Next year, in Staten Island…: So all of this ING New York Marathon fever has gotten to me, because I’m making plans to do it myself in 2011. If I complete four more New York Road Runners races before the end of the year, I’m guaranteed entry through their 9+1 program. (Very cool; tri-state area runners, check it out.) And yes, I’m still likely going to have problems with my feet next year. And yes, the last time I did New York I walk-ran the last few miles because of a tight IT band. But if the insanely inspiring athletes I saw in wheelchairs, on prosthetics, without sight and/or hearing can make the commitment, so can I.
Doesn’t hurt, of course, that Tiffany is now offering a line of ING New York Marathon commemorative items. You hear that, TF?
It doesn’t have to suck, people
Yeah, not so much.
On Tuesday, I tried out a new-to-me yoga studio in the Flatiron Distrcit of Manhattan. The place I’d been practicing, Laughing Lotus, was great. But my month-long card expired there, and I got a deal on a month of unlimited classes at this new joint, so I switched.
The minute I walked in, I wasn’t sure I liked the vibe of the place. It felt kind of corporate. Everyone was speaking in hushed tones. And a quick glance at the ladies clustered in the corner and sipping tea as they waited for the 7:15 vinyasa class gave me pause; they were near-carbon copies of each other, right down to their lean torsos, bored expressions, white tank tops and black Lululemon pants. I seriously thought there might have been a dress-code notice I’d missed. I only relaxed a little bit when some equally toned and joyless-looking individuals showed up. At least their shirts were different colors.
I know you’re supposed to leave all of your preconceived notions outside the door, but dude, these chicks freaked me out a little. As the class progressed, it became clear that many of them had quite lovely yoga practices. They could bend themselves into pretty little pretzels, seemingly with ease. But no one seemed excited about it.
The teacher was very good. The poses were challenging. I don’t know what was up; I don’t pretend to know what everyone else in the class was thinking or feeling, but it just didn’t seem like my classmates were having any kind of fun whatsoever. The only moment of levity I witnessed took place when I completely fell out of a side plank after grabbing my right big toe with my right hand and trying to extend both toward the ceiling. I landed on my mat and lamely said, “Well, that went well.” The chick to my left smiled.
It was a lot like the gym I worked out at in graduate school, a gorgeous facility populated by incredibly thin, incredibly fit women (and men). The women especially worked out with an intensity that was a little scary. I took a class at that gym a few weeks ago; the women were still thin, their faces still dead-set on wringing every last calorie out of their movements.
I much prefer the feel of places like Laughing Lotus, Feminine Fitness, and the New York Sports Club I teach at in Butler. There, you find people of all different body types and sizes who are trying to make something positive happen in their lives. They have varying degrees of success, but they show up and they try, and they usually have a good time.
I witnessed the same thing yesterday, when I volunteered at the New York City Marathon expo. My job was to greet people at the entrance and point them in the right direction. I talked with new runners and old runners, thin runners and fat runners, tall runners and short runners and in-between runners. Without fail, they were excited to be there and to be part of something so huge. I wished them a good run on Sunday, and they thanked me with huge grins — even the people who said they were freaked beyond belief.
I’ll keep going back to the new yoga place, at least for the month. I’ll let you know how it goes.
I’m not asking for much, but don’t you think there’s something to be said for enthusiasm?
After all, is there anyone who WON’T be pulling for Chilean miner Edison Pena at this Sunday’s marathon?
Vaya!
