I woke up at 4:30 this morning...because that's how I roll. It is now 7:45 pm and I am more than ready to go to bed. But I can only imagine what going to bed that early would do to tomorrow morning. So I'll tell you about my day.
I'm not sure if any of you are aware of one of my many nicknames: Gargoyle. I won't get into a full explanation of it, but it came from my time on the Asheville Hotshots when I had to share a hotel room on a regular basis with my friend Crystal. I like to sit in bed and have my first two cups of coffee in the morning in the dark. Sometimes it's only one cup, but on weekends or tough mornings it tends to be two. Anyway, sitting up in bed in the dark at 3 am drinking coffee apparently freaked Crystal out a bit and thus named me Gargoyle.
So, I gargoyled up for a cup or two and then started getting dressed for the gym. I forced myself to eat a bowl of oatmeal as a protein shake hasn't been cutting it lately. And off I went.
I made it to the gym around 5:45 and got on one of those awesome stair climbers that are like escalators. Half an hour, varying the speed. Then I did leg weights and a good long stretch.
I went home, ate and had another cup of coffee, got changed into my suit, loaded up my surfboard and met my new friend Clair at her house to go surf. Clair drove, which is probably a good thing as I brought seaweed home in my sinuses.
We drove the coast a little to check out the breaks and then headed down the steps to Pleasure Point to see what we could catch. The water was cold but the sun was warm. I warmed up my legs and stretched a little bit ahead of time. The surf was small but I caught quite a few and it felt good to be out again.
After awhile the tide started to get pretty high and the waves messy, so we paddled over to the other side of the little lagoon and got in on a different break. By the time I caught a few more, my legs were cold and tired and not coming out from underneath me very quickly. We were in just under 3 hours before we floated ashore and loaded up our boards.
On the drive home I was stuffing food in my face while we talked about more food. As it turned out, I had "Healthy Sea Vegetable" in my wrap that I had made and was eating. That's all I know. The rest of the label is in Japanese. So anyway, this may have prompted the next thing that came out of my mouth. I think it was a mixture of being tired, hungry, and worked up from the cold water. The question I attempted to ask was "Do you like sushi?" That is literally what formed in my brain. And then this came out:
"Do you eat seaweed?"
Wow. That was weird.
And strangely, after I said it, my speed at which I caught it was hilarious. Like a turtle through thick mud.
"No, I don't eat seaweed." She replied, half laughing and half baffled. I explained I was eating healthy sea vegetable. Then we got back on track and talked about sushi.
She eats sushi. So do I. She asked if I liked Mizu.
"Kazoo".
"No, Mizu. On Winchester." She replied.
"No, it's Kazoo. The place with the boats."
"No...the place with the little blue sign out front."
"Oh wait. Is that the place with the Japanese pop music? I read about that on Kelp."
"Haha! What? You've got kelp on the brain. Keep eating."
"Kelp. No, Yelp. Geez."
I managed to get home, eat again and crash on the couch. I woke up 20 minutes later to my phone ringing. I let it ring. I had no clue where it was and could not be bothered to find it. Then I had to get up to eat again, so I figured I'd call my friend back.
Now I'm done for the day. Exhausted. No longer eating kelp or replacing words with it, so that's good. My sinuses are still occasionally draining salt water.
By the way, for those of you who have not heard, I got 2 A+'s and an A on my report card. Now sits an extremely large Calculus book on my table that I'm afraid to open...but class starts on Monday and is 4 weeks long, so I'll be visiting it shortly.
Friday, May 30, 2014
Monday, May 19, 2014
Summer! Or not....
A few days ago I lay on my living room floor with the thermostat reading 89 degrees. I had a fan set up in front of the security screen and had laid my pillow in front of it, content to sleep there until it cooled off enough to go to my room. Fortunately the next night I found out my fan indeed does fit in my bedroom window.
Yesterday I woke up and it was 67 degrees in my house. I put on sweats and fuzzy slippers and curled up under a blanket on the chaise with my coffee. I'm in college now, so I'll do the math for you. That is a 22 degree difference in indoor temperature. In just two days. I was happy when I could get my apartment down to 74 in the morning before it started going up again. Last night I closed most of the windows so I didn't freeze.
On Saturday I went for a bike ride with a couple girls from my cycling club. It wasn't a club ride, just a few girls getting together to ride our bikes up a mountain.
Clair lives exactly two miles from me-door to door. I ride down my street to the high school, take a short right and then left onto the busy street. I only ride that for a little while before I jump onto the bike path and ride over to where it dumps out a block from her house.
Dorothy showed up not much later and we loaded our bikes into the back of Clair's truck. Dorothy and Clair are both teachers. Clair teaches kindergarten, Dorothy teaches Calculus in high school...and I'm about to take Calculus in college, so I'm glad I'm meeting such awesome friends.
We chatted it up while driving to the little community at the start of the ride. The ride up Mt. Hamilton actually does not start at the base of the mountain, which would've been nice. It starts a couple ridges over. So we climbed up the side of one ridge and then coasted down into the valley...up the next ridge and down a short valley descent. Then we finally started up Mt. Hamilton. From where we parked it was a 19 mile ride to the top.
The weather was perfect and the company was awesome. There were some fast cyclists on that road that day. They flew past us...up hill! We just went our own speed, grinding up the hill.
At the top is Lick Observatory.
The bust of Mr. Hamilton himself...for whom the mountain is named.
The view to the south/southwest.
San Jose is nestled way back there somewhere in the valley.
Oh, there it is! You can see my apartment from here!
From whence we came....notice also the ridge lines. I know we started east of San Jose, so I'm not entirely sure which of those ridges we came over...except that we went through two valleys, so probably the ridges that you see, we came up and over.
Yours truly at the top. My apartment there in the background....way back there.
Dorothy, myself and Clair.
Proof that we made it to the observatory.
Heading back, after a terrifying descent (for me, the other girls loved it). Once we got about halfway back, we turned around and saw this. Mt. Hamilton and the tiny little observatory way in the distance...from whence we came.
I zoomed in and it looked like a fortress perched high up on the hill.
So along with the observatory at the top is a post office, a vending machine that only takes bills and coins, and a little courtyard with a fountain where we ate our bars and nuts. We all decided that the California flavored savory (not sweet) bar that I made them try, tasted just like California. Sticks and grass without the ocean.
We piled our bikes back into the truck and went to Clair's for some lemonade. After chatting until our muscles were stiff and sore, I had to pedal the two miles back to my place. It wasn't the miles that bugged me. It was the thought of getting back on that saddle. It was only a total of 42 miles for the day, but the uphill climbing put my body in a weird position and put way more pressure on the saddle. When I got home I couldn't even sit on the couch, so I laid on my stomach on the living room floor and checked my email.
Sunday was my off day, and I also didn't have a whole lot of homework to do since I was already 2 out of 3 finals down. So I finished my last final project and couldn't figure out what on earth to do with myself. No exercising, so that cut out most activities I knew how to do. I don't walk, so there's that. My friend and I were talking about that (like, who walks?) and she said "I know, it's like drinking decaf coffee!". I read up on computer science and did a little computer programming on Codecademy.
I've been having some pretty stubborn issues with my IT band (the big fibrous band that runs from your hip to your lower leg on the outside of your thigh) since Boston and it's pretty frustrating. I'm not able to run more than 2 to 2.5 miles at a time right now. I've tried a good mixture of everything. It seems to be slowly getting better from doing some strengthening exercises. Sitting does not help. But it's hard not to sit when you've just cycled for more than 40 miles, you can't run and you don't need to get back on the bike, and now it's too cold to swim (ok, that was a bit of an exaggeration...kinda. It's pretty chilly now).
One day at a time I suppose.
Yesterday I woke up and it was 67 degrees in my house. I put on sweats and fuzzy slippers and curled up under a blanket on the chaise with my coffee. I'm in college now, so I'll do the math for you. That is a 22 degree difference in indoor temperature. In just two days. I was happy when I could get my apartment down to 74 in the morning before it started going up again. Last night I closed most of the windows so I didn't freeze.
On Saturday I went for a bike ride with a couple girls from my cycling club. It wasn't a club ride, just a few girls getting together to ride our bikes up a mountain.
Clair lives exactly two miles from me-door to door. I ride down my street to the high school, take a short right and then left onto the busy street. I only ride that for a little while before I jump onto the bike path and ride over to where it dumps out a block from her house.
Dorothy showed up not much later and we loaded our bikes into the back of Clair's truck. Dorothy and Clair are both teachers. Clair teaches kindergarten, Dorothy teaches Calculus in high school...and I'm about to take Calculus in college, so I'm glad I'm meeting such awesome friends.
We chatted it up while driving to the little community at the start of the ride. The ride up Mt. Hamilton actually does not start at the base of the mountain, which would've been nice. It starts a couple ridges over. So we climbed up the side of one ridge and then coasted down into the valley...up the next ridge and down a short valley descent. Then we finally started up Mt. Hamilton. From where we parked it was a 19 mile ride to the top.
The weather was perfect and the company was awesome. There were some fast cyclists on that road that day. They flew past us...up hill! We just went our own speed, grinding up the hill.
At the top is Lick Observatory.
The bust of Mr. Hamilton himself...for whom the mountain is named.
The view to the south/southwest.
San Jose is nestled way back there somewhere in the valley.
Oh, there it is! You can see my apartment from here!
From whence we came....notice also the ridge lines. I know we started east of San Jose, so I'm not entirely sure which of those ridges we came over...except that we went through two valleys, so probably the ridges that you see, we came up and over.
Yours truly at the top. My apartment there in the background....way back there.
Dorothy, myself and Clair.
Proof that we made it to the observatory.
Heading back, after a terrifying descent (for me, the other girls loved it). Once we got about halfway back, we turned around and saw this. Mt. Hamilton and the tiny little observatory way in the distance...from whence we came.
I zoomed in and it looked like a fortress perched high up on the hill.
So along with the observatory at the top is a post office, a vending machine that only takes bills and coins, and a little courtyard with a fountain where we ate our bars and nuts. We all decided that the California flavored savory (not sweet) bar that I made them try, tasted just like California. Sticks and grass without the ocean.
We piled our bikes back into the truck and went to Clair's for some lemonade. After chatting until our muscles were stiff and sore, I had to pedal the two miles back to my place. It wasn't the miles that bugged me. It was the thought of getting back on that saddle. It was only a total of 42 miles for the day, but the uphill climbing put my body in a weird position and put way more pressure on the saddle. When I got home I couldn't even sit on the couch, so I laid on my stomach on the living room floor and checked my email.
Sunday was my off day, and I also didn't have a whole lot of homework to do since I was already 2 out of 3 finals down. So I finished my last final project and couldn't figure out what on earth to do with myself. No exercising, so that cut out most activities I knew how to do. I don't walk, so there's that. My friend and I were talking about that (like, who walks?) and she said "I know, it's like drinking decaf coffee!". I read up on computer science and did a little computer programming on Codecademy.
I've been having some pretty stubborn issues with my IT band (the big fibrous band that runs from your hip to your lower leg on the outside of your thigh) since Boston and it's pretty frustrating. I'm not able to run more than 2 to 2.5 miles at a time right now. I've tried a good mixture of everything. It seems to be slowly getting better from doing some strengthening exercises. Sitting does not help. But it's hard not to sit when you've just cycled for more than 40 miles, you can't run and you don't need to get back on the bike, and now it's too cold to swim (ok, that was a bit of an exaggeration...kinda. It's pretty chilly now).
One day at a time I suppose.
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
The art of survival
This is really fitting. Jen and I are doing a century ride on May 24th called The Art of Survival. We were talking about how we liked the name. It's a 100 mile ride and also an exhibition on the Japanese internment camps in Tule Lake. Jen mentioned that she's spent her whole life just trying to survive. I know the feeling.
But this post takes a lighter look at the art of survival. As an adult, and a single person, I am pretty much obligated to figure out my own way with everything. It's sink or swim for the most part. Of course I've got family and friends that in a real pinch, would be here as soon as they could get on a plane. But when day to day life becomes a desperate struggle for survival, I just don't feel it's appropriate to call someone and have them fly out and take care of you. Please correct me if I'm wrong here. But read on first before you decide.
I posted along this same topic a couple years ago when we had stayed late at night finishing a burn, I got home early in the morning, ate very little and woke up a few hours later, groggy, starving, and covered in poison oak. I had no food and no one to get it for me. I was weak and exhausted and desperate. But I made it through. It's funny now, but it wasn't at the time.
Sometimes life gets really rough, and you either pull yourself together or you lay down and die.
It's been quite hot here. I've been in hotter temps, but not without some sort of exposure to an air conditioner. Yesterday it got up to 96, and while today felt hotter, it only got to 93. Not incredibly bad in itself, except that I don't have a whole lot of AC in my life right now. And I've got some crazy allergies that make me feel like I've been kicked in the face.
Just as it got real hot, I had to drop the jeep off at the mechanic to get some work done (it's reaching the end of it's life unfortunately, but running strong for now). I drove to the mechanic with my bike on the rack and rode home. It was only about 4.5 miles, so not a big deal. And it was early in the morning. Then I rode my bike to school for a meeting and it was already getting pretty hot. I had a smoothie for lunch.
On the ride home I got quite warm, but it was also fairly warm in my apartment. During the early hours of the day, it's been getting up around 83 inside, which my body has adjusted to and tolerates well. Especially since it's been above 90 outside. Then it got around 86 inside and I jumped in a cold shower. That only helped for a few minutes.
Last night, the temp topped 89 degrees (inside my apartment) and I opened up all the windows and doors once the temperature outside dropped below the temperature inside. At 9:30 pm, it finally dropped down to 87. I went to bed and passed out cold (well, I mean...not really, but yeah). I felt pretty crappy. I hadn't been able to eat solid food and was surviving off smoothies, fruit and a small salad. I felt really sick and it occurred to me that this is how people who aren't in as good of shape as I am, die.
This morning my apartment was a comfortable 74 degrees. I put on next to nothing and went for a short run (at 6:30 am I was in short shorts and a short sleeve running shirt). When I got home, of course I was hot and sweaty, but cooled down ok. I had a smoothie and some cold oatmeal for breakfast. Then I rode my bike to school for my first final.
The final was held in a large auditorium that apparently didn't have AC. By 9:30 am, I was so incredibly uncomfortable, I nearly gave up on the last problem that I was struggling with. I finally finished and got out of there.
It wasn't any cooler outside. In fact, it may have been warmer. I gathered up my bike and helmet and rode home in the heat.
It was already 84 in my house so I tried to take a nap. No go. Too hot. I tried to read, but I couldn't focus on the words. I felt nauseous and weak. I got on the internet. I browsed a magazine. I tried reading again. I fell asleep on the couch.
I woke up and it was 86 in the apartment. Boy did I feel like crap. I ate an apple with almond butter. I could hardly think. I called the mechanic and my car was ready. I had to ride 4.5 miles on my bike to go get my jeep that didn't have AC and sit in traffic until I could get home. I decided that when I got home, I had to get my body temperature down. This was getting bad.
At the start of the ride, I got stuck at a light that seemed to take forever. I wondered if the mechanism running it had melted. The red light seemed to sway slightly in my vision and a hot breeze blew from my right side. I thought I might fall over and wondered if I should unclip my other foot from the pedals. I was thinking maybe going to get sushi in an air conditioned restaurant would be a good idea. Getting into any AC would be a good idea.
The light turned green and I was on my way. After about a mile I got on the bike path that's usually crowded with runners, cyclists, walkers, people on roller blades, etc. It was empty. I saw one jogger. A couple people walking, and a few poor souls on bicycles.
I was finally dumped out onto the road where the mechanic was and nearly made a few poor choices on a very busy street. I pulled probably the most illegal move I have ever done on a bicycle due to my desperation and impatience. Whatever, I survived.
Trying to hold a conversation with the mechanic was difficult. I didn't know how to answer any of his questions (like do you teach at SJSU?) and I couldn't figure out how to convert the time 1545 (on my watch) to regular civilian time, so I just wrote it like that. I loaded up my bike and drove off...and immediately got lost.
I was so hungry but nothing sounded good. I needed to get home to plunge in a cold bath. I realized at one point that I was hardly paying attention to the road and that I should probably stop at the upcoming red light.
I got home and it was 88 degrees in my house. I drew a cold bath, adding just enough warm water to not throw myself into shock, and lowered myself in. After getting my breathing under control, I relaxed in the cold water. Every time I lifted my legs out of the water, they instantly felt hot. My neck felt hot, my face felt hot. I splashed cold water on them and nearly hyperventilated again.
After soaking up to my neck for about 15 minutes, I got out, got dressed and headed out to sushi.
I've been looking for this place for some time. I've been to a few elsewhere so I knew they had to exist in San Jose. The place where you sit at an oval bar and boats loaded up with sushi float along in front of you and you just grab what looks good.
The place was air conditioned, the food was cold, the water was cold. I was hungry. I ate $50 worth of sushi. It was good. I feel a ton better now, even though my apartment now sits at 89 degrees. I've got all the windows and the front door open again, and the fan going. I'll take a cold shower here shortly. It's supposed to start cooling down starting tonight. Supposedly this weather is not really like San Jose, although it's our second heat wave in a month. But both times they only last a couple days and go right back down again.
I can't believe how sick the heat has been making me (allergies, allergy meds, and not being able to eat hasn't helped), but I pulled through today and we're looking at cooler days ahead (and a much cooler night tonight).
But this post takes a lighter look at the art of survival. As an adult, and a single person, I am pretty much obligated to figure out my own way with everything. It's sink or swim for the most part. Of course I've got family and friends that in a real pinch, would be here as soon as they could get on a plane. But when day to day life becomes a desperate struggle for survival, I just don't feel it's appropriate to call someone and have them fly out and take care of you. Please correct me if I'm wrong here. But read on first before you decide.
I posted along this same topic a couple years ago when we had stayed late at night finishing a burn, I got home early in the morning, ate very little and woke up a few hours later, groggy, starving, and covered in poison oak. I had no food and no one to get it for me. I was weak and exhausted and desperate. But I made it through. It's funny now, but it wasn't at the time.
Sometimes life gets really rough, and you either pull yourself together or you lay down and die.
It's been quite hot here. I've been in hotter temps, but not without some sort of exposure to an air conditioner. Yesterday it got up to 96, and while today felt hotter, it only got to 93. Not incredibly bad in itself, except that I don't have a whole lot of AC in my life right now. And I've got some crazy allergies that make me feel like I've been kicked in the face.
Just as it got real hot, I had to drop the jeep off at the mechanic to get some work done (it's reaching the end of it's life unfortunately, but running strong for now). I drove to the mechanic with my bike on the rack and rode home. It was only about 4.5 miles, so not a big deal. And it was early in the morning. Then I rode my bike to school for a meeting and it was already getting pretty hot. I had a smoothie for lunch.
On the ride home I got quite warm, but it was also fairly warm in my apartment. During the early hours of the day, it's been getting up around 83 inside, which my body has adjusted to and tolerates well. Especially since it's been above 90 outside. Then it got around 86 inside and I jumped in a cold shower. That only helped for a few minutes.
Last night, the temp topped 89 degrees (inside my apartment) and I opened up all the windows and doors once the temperature outside dropped below the temperature inside. At 9:30 pm, it finally dropped down to 87. I went to bed and passed out cold (well, I mean...not really, but yeah). I felt pretty crappy. I hadn't been able to eat solid food and was surviving off smoothies, fruit and a small salad. I felt really sick and it occurred to me that this is how people who aren't in as good of shape as I am, die.
This morning my apartment was a comfortable 74 degrees. I put on next to nothing and went for a short run (at 6:30 am I was in short shorts and a short sleeve running shirt). When I got home, of course I was hot and sweaty, but cooled down ok. I had a smoothie and some cold oatmeal for breakfast. Then I rode my bike to school for my first final.
The final was held in a large auditorium that apparently didn't have AC. By 9:30 am, I was so incredibly uncomfortable, I nearly gave up on the last problem that I was struggling with. I finally finished and got out of there.
It wasn't any cooler outside. In fact, it may have been warmer. I gathered up my bike and helmet and rode home in the heat.
It was already 84 in my house so I tried to take a nap. No go. Too hot. I tried to read, but I couldn't focus on the words. I felt nauseous and weak. I got on the internet. I browsed a magazine. I tried reading again. I fell asleep on the couch.
I woke up and it was 86 in the apartment. Boy did I feel like crap. I ate an apple with almond butter. I could hardly think. I called the mechanic and my car was ready. I had to ride 4.5 miles on my bike to go get my jeep that didn't have AC and sit in traffic until I could get home. I decided that when I got home, I had to get my body temperature down. This was getting bad.
At the start of the ride, I got stuck at a light that seemed to take forever. I wondered if the mechanism running it had melted. The red light seemed to sway slightly in my vision and a hot breeze blew from my right side. I thought I might fall over and wondered if I should unclip my other foot from the pedals. I was thinking maybe going to get sushi in an air conditioned restaurant would be a good idea. Getting into any AC would be a good idea.
The light turned green and I was on my way. After about a mile I got on the bike path that's usually crowded with runners, cyclists, walkers, people on roller blades, etc. It was empty. I saw one jogger. A couple people walking, and a few poor souls on bicycles.
I was finally dumped out onto the road where the mechanic was and nearly made a few poor choices on a very busy street. I pulled probably the most illegal move I have ever done on a bicycle due to my desperation and impatience. Whatever, I survived.
Trying to hold a conversation with the mechanic was difficult. I didn't know how to answer any of his questions (like do you teach at SJSU?) and I couldn't figure out how to convert the time 1545 (on my watch) to regular civilian time, so I just wrote it like that. I loaded up my bike and drove off...and immediately got lost.
I was so hungry but nothing sounded good. I needed to get home to plunge in a cold bath. I realized at one point that I was hardly paying attention to the road and that I should probably stop at the upcoming red light.
I got home and it was 88 degrees in my house. I drew a cold bath, adding just enough warm water to not throw myself into shock, and lowered myself in. After getting my breathing under control, I relaxed in the cold water. Every time I lifted my legs out of the water, they instantly felt hot. My neck felt hot, my face felt hot. I splashed cold water on them and nearly hyperventilated again.
After soaking up to my neck for about 15 minutes, I got out, got dressed and headed out to sushi.
I've been looking for this place for some time. I've been to a few elsewhere so I knew they had to exist in San Jose. The place where you sit at an oval bar and boats loaded up with sushi float along in front of you and you just grab what looks good.
The place was air conditioned, the food was cold, the water was cold. I was hungry. I ate $50 worth of sushi. It was good. I feel a ton better now, even though my apartment now sits at 89 degrees. I've got all the windows and the front door open again, and the fan going. I'll take a cold shower here shortly. It's supposed to start cooling down starting tonight. Supposedly this weather is not really like San Jose, although it's our second heat wave in a month. But both times they only last a couple days and go right back down again.
I can't believe how sick the heat has been making me (allergies, allergy meds, and not being able to eat hasn't helped), but I pulled through today and we're looking at cooler days ahead (and a much cooler night tonight).
Monday, May 12, 2014
Out of control
Finals are starting this week, so what better way to procrastinate studying than to write in the good ol' blog?
People are fascinating creatures. People watching when you're alert enough to care can be pretty entertaining. I had a lot of coffee (and sudafed and allergry meds) before class this morning and waited in the hall while watching people pass by. It reminded me of something I meant to blog about a few days ago, but I'm glad I waited. I've got more to add now.
The gym. The gym is a fantastic place. Somewhere I can get my swole on, do yoga, or run on the stupid treadmill when my IT band on the side of my knee will only allow me to run uphill. The gym is also home to some of the most fascinating people in the world. Let's start with Tights Guy. By the way, I go to Gold's Gym which is mostly a bunch of male and female meatheads.
Tights Guy. I walked into the gym the other day and spotted a fairly fit guy wearing tights. Like leggings. He also had a tight tank top on, both black. He was on a calf raise machine where you step up onto the step and get your shoulders under the pads that are shoulder height, then stand up straight and do calf raises. This guy was fairly fit and I was distracted by the whole tights thing, so naturally I had to check him out while making my way to the pull-up bar. Turns out the tights have been used quite frequently because they were actually a bit see-through. And he was wearing a thong. I had to hold in my laughter as I went past him. It caused me to ponder this whole situation for the next couple of hours.
First of all, there are plenty of people who lift just fine wearing regular gym clothes. And if you need to use the leg press machine, you can put a pair of spandex shorts on under your regular gym shorts so that nothing, well, falls out. So the option to wear tights to the gym was a bit of a puzzle. The other puzzle was the thong. My first thought was "Gross!". But then I realized what would be worse would be no underwear at all, and it's not like you can wear briefs under a pair of tights. And really, now that I think about it, if you wore regular "tighty-whities" (only in black I would hope) you would get that dimpling where the elastic sits. You know what I'm talking about. When your panty-line causes extra cleavage, for lack of a better word. So then all this thinking took me back to full circle- why wear tights? The next time I came in he was wearing the same thing. At least he's got a nice body, but still.
She-beasts. Also at Gold's can be found the massive she-beasts of the body-building community. Most of these women work out in their underwear or competition clothing. I mean the body-building competitions. Which is pretty much nothing. Although I must say, I have yet to see a girl working out in high heels at this gym (part of a competition outfit). However, they do work out in two piece bikini's. I've seen several now. And all of them can kick my ass. But I'm willing to bet I can run further than any of them... in case they were chasing me. I try not to stare at these women, but whoa.
I was coming down the stairs into the weight room and overheard a snippet of conversation between one particularly massive she-beast and a non-she-beast. Apparently the non-she-beast was nervous about her first competition (in what?) and the massive (and I mean MASSIVE) she-beast responded in the most manly voice I've ever heard come out of a female, that it's normal to be nervous at your first competition. I kept moving.
Out of control. My personal favorite. I know gyms can be a tough, intimidating environment. I basically majored in gym etiquette as an undergrad and even I don't get all the stuff that's in there. I just discovered a couple super cool machines that allow me to strengthen my weakened hamstring without re-tearing it. Score! Anyway, so back to my out of control girl.
So there I was. Doing my stretches in the multi-use room. There were a few other people in there, but it was mostly empty. Everyone had on their headphones and were doing their own thing. In came this girl with a tank top that said "Out of control". How true that would turn out to be.
Do you see this thing here?
People are fascinating creatures. People watching when you're alert enough to care can be pretty entertaining. I had a lot of coffee (and sudafed and allergry meds) before class this morning and waited in the hall while watching people pass by. It reminded me of something I meant to blog about a few days ago, but I'm glad I waited. I've got more to add now.
The gym. The gym is a fantastic place. Somewhere I can get my swole on, do yoga, or run on the stupid treadmill when my IT band on the side of my knee will only allow me to run uphill. The gym is also home to some of the most fascinating people in the world. Let's start with Tights Guy. By the way, I go to Gold's Gym which is mostly a bunch of male and female meatheads.
Tights Guy. I walked into the gym the other day and spotted a fairly fit guy wearing tights. Like leggings. He also had a tight tank top on, both black. He was on a calf raise machine where you step up onto the step and get your shoulders under the pads that are shoulder height, then stand up straight and do calf raises. This guy was fairly fit and I was distracted by the whole tights thing, so naturally I had to check him out while making my way to the pull-up bar. Turns out the tights have been used quite frequently because they were actually a bit see-through. And he was wearing a thong. I had to hold in my laughter as I went past him. It caused me to ponder this whole situation for the next couple of hours.
First of all, there are plenty of people who lift just fine wearing regular gym clothes. And if you need to use the leg press machine, you can put a pair of spandex shorts on under your regular gym shorts so that nothing, well, falls out. So the option to wear tights to the gym was a bit of a puzzle. The other puzzle was the thong. My first thought was "Gross!". But then I realized what would be worse would be no underwear at all, and it's not like you can wear briefs under a pair of tights. And really, now that I think about it, if you wore regular "tighty-whities" (only in black I would hope) you would get that dimpling where the elastic sits. You know what I'm talking about. When your panty-line causes extra cleavage, for lack of a better word. So then all this thinking took me back to full circle- why wear tights? The next time I came in he was wearing the same thing. At least he's got a nice body, but still.
She-beasts. Also at Gold's can be found the massive she-beasts of the body-building community. Most of these women work out in their underwear or competition clothing. I mean the body-building competitions. Which is pretty much nothing. Although I must say, I have yet to see a girl working out in high heels at this gym (part of a competition outfit). However, they do work out in two piece bikini's. I've seen several now. And all of them can kick my ass. But I'm willing to bet I can run further than any of them... in case they were chasing me. I try not to stare at these women, but whoa.
I was coming down the stairs into the weight room and overheard a snippet of conversation between one particularly massive she-beast and a non-she-beast. Apparently the non-she-beast was nervous about her first competition (in what?) and the massive (and I mean MASSIVE) she-beast responded in the most manly voice I've ever heard come out of a female, that it's normal to be nervous at your first competition. I kept moving.
Out of control. My personal favorite. I know gyms can be a tough, intimidating environment. I basically majored in gym etiquette as an undergrad and even I don't get all the stuff that's in there. I just discovered a couple super cool machines that allow me to strengthen my weakened hamstring without re-tearing it. Score! Anyway, so back to my out of control girl.
So there I was. Doing my stretches in the multi-use room. There were a few other people in there, but it was mostly empty. Everyone had on their headphones and were doing their own thing. In came this girl with a tank top that said "Out of control". How true that would turn out to be.
Do you see this thing here?
This is a platform generally used for aerobics classes, or really anything else you might need a raised platform for. The purple things are adjustable legs that are not really connected to the green thing, you just stack them on top of each other and because of their shape, they fit fairly securely. You can put as many of those things as you want under the green thing...probably to a point. I really don't know what the stability limits are on those things. Anyway, so that's what you do. For one platform, you grab a green thing and some purple things, and you stack them up.
In the back of the room was a ton of green things and two tons of purple things. Apparently this girl has never seen them used before. It didn't help that there were a few other people in the room and so she probably did not feel entirely comfortable roaming about the room trying to find a solution to her issue. It took me awhile to even figure out what her issue was. As I stretched, I watched her adjust and re-adjust 4 green platforms. Four of them. Two side by side and the other two stacked on top of those. You should not stack the green platforms on top of the green platforms. Maybe she did it because that's how they were organized in the back of the room, but they do not fit that way and they offer no stability while stacked that way.
I took one ear bud out of my ear to offer some advice. She appeared quite focused and had headphones in. She was also avoiding eye-contact with anyone in the room. I put my ear bud back in and stretched my hamstring. This was going to be bad.
She would stack them one way, attempt to stand on them, and they'd slide out or collapse. OMG. I started to feel a certain responsibility as one in the know to try to avert catastrophe. I took my ear bud out again. She saw me looking and squared her shoulders, going back to work on her stacking. Fine. Hurt yourself. I'll try not to laugh.
It was like a train wreck. You don't want to watch but you can't look away. Out-of control girl marched out of the room and came back in with what I would guess was a 15 pound dumbell. Oh no. I took out my ear bud again in case the opportunity arose to offer advice. It did not. I put it back in and went to work on my quads, watching her out of my peripheral vision. This was going to be good.
She stood with one leg on one stack and the other on the other stack and proceeded to do a cautious deep sumo squat. I left before she finished her routine but I could only imagine the chaos had one stack given out while she was deep in squat. Out of control for sure.
And then the other morning, there was this guy. For lack of anything fitting, I shall call him "That guy". I know, there's tons of those guys, but this one was special.
That guy. Different day, same gym. Weight room. I found a quiet spot among the bench presses to do my abs and stretching. Suddenly there was a loud shouting- like a cry of pain from a male of the species (or she-beast possibly). I like to not react in these situations. I found that reacting never displays confidence on your part and it's always best to pretend that whatever just happened had absolutely no effect on you. Most of the time this works out ok for me. You just turn on your "feelers" and continue to reach for your toes while keeping alert for oncoming danger.
There was no danger, as I originally suspected. I'm not entirely sure what happened other than a 'roided out, cracked out guy (who appeared to be a regular) was high on whatever he ate for breakfast and was tossing weights about. I wonder if this ever pains him the next day. Anyway, he was incredibly loud and possibly hard of hearing as he actually had to shout any of his interactions with the other meatheads in the room. And boy was he bouncing about. It's best to avoid eye-contact in these situations.
School. If you ever want to experience a large amount of culture crammed into a fairly small place, go to a university. I'm sure it helps if it's the cheapest university in the nation.
I often wonder about the clothes I wear to school. If I were to wear a skirt, would I be weird? Are my jeans and t-shirt saying something about my character? Am I bland? Am I weird?
No. No I am not.
So while waiting to get in to my first class of the day, I stood out in the hall and watched people go by. I wasn't feeling particularly well (allergies or a cold, who can tell?) and my coffee was too hot to drink, so I mostly leaned against the wall and stared at the ground. After a few sips, I noticed the girl sitting on the floor next to me had some really cute boots on. I started looking at people's feet as they poured into the hallway. Lots of sandals, flats, a couple of boots. I watched how some arches rolled in wondered if their feet hurt. I saw guys in super skinny jeans. A lot of girls in tights (and no other form of clothing across their bottom half). Tights. That's an interesting concept. When I was younger, tights were for wearing under skirts, or in the 80's- under a pair of jean shorts. Apparently I'm totally out of touch, because tights (and some of them incredibly obscene) are now the "in" thing. I'm not going to get too far in to what parts of the female anatomy like to display themselves in tights, but I for one would not go about displaying those sort of things. Even in the comfort of my own home...and I live alone.
The door to the class room opened and out poured stressed students who had apparently been taking a test. Still mostly looking at people's feet, a girl walked out in fuzzy "Ugg" type boots...and whoa- the girl next to her was wearing slippers...I glanced up...and pajama pants....and a sweatshirt, wrapped up in a blanket with her hair all in a mess. No, I'm pretty sure I could wear whatever I want to school and it wouldn't make much of a difference.
Saturday, May 10, 2014
Back in the saddle again...
After Boston the frustration of feeling broken and exhausted really took it's toll on my physical activity. In actuality, it's been since that fateful day on a surfboard back on February 18th that my life has seen any of it's normal aggressive physical activity. Everything has been toned down or modified to allow me to train and stay in shape.
For the marathon, I ran in a new, fairly untested pair of shoes. Not wise, but then again, running the thing in the first place was not particularly wise. So I developed a pain in my foot that I thought might be a stress fracture (podiatrist said stretched ligament) and my old IT band injury reared it's ugly head (starting at mile 18 of the marathon and still going strong). I bought a new pair of shoes when I got back from Boston, ran in them a few times and just traded them in for a new, promising pair. But I don't want to bore you with all the technicalities of shoes and foot mechanics...so...
I managed to convince my friend, Jen, to do a century ride with me. If anyone is unfamiliar with the term "century", it means, 100. Unless it's a metric century, but then it's a metric century. Like 100 kilometers, which is slightly different. Anyway, a century involves riding 100 miles on bicycle. They are usually supported, meaning rest stops with food and lawn chairs, as well as a support wagon (van) that rides around and helps cyclists with repairs or issues.
I've never done a century, neither has Jen. But what are friends for if not to talk us into doing ridiculous things? Debbie talks me into marathons, I talk Jen into centuries. It's like paying it forward.
My longest ride is 45 miles, Jen's is probably around the 30-something mark. Oh yeah, and this century is on May 24th. Two weeks from today. Can we say unprepared? But that's what makes it so fun.
I rode 30-something miles last Saturday and meant to ride a couple times during the week, but a lot of un-motivation happened. So this morning I set out with my club to do my favorite ride, the Giro di Bici. We meet at the local bike shop, south of town (I drive there) and head out into the mountains on a three option ride: 35-40-45 miles. The ride was a bit different today as the regular leader was unable to make it.
There was a new guy who didn't really know how the club or the ride worked, so I introduced myself to make him feel more comfortable.
**Let me interrupt this for a special announcement. In my haste to get ready today, I misplaced my phone and also failed to bring chapstick with me. The weather called for wind. If you've ever tried to cycle in wind, you'd know that it's probably one of the most miserable elements you can come across on a bike.**
Ok, so the new guy (we shall call him Keith, because that's his name) and I fell into conversation and hung out near the front of the pack. As soon as we hit our first incline, the group scattered even further. Keith and I kept up conversation until we hit our first climb. Well, Keith kept invoking conversation but I was unsure of how to kindly tell him I was going to be incapable of communicating with him until we reached our first descent. Thankfully he figured it out and we mashed our gears up the first hill of the day.
Up at the top, the group gathered to wait for stragglers. When everyone got back together, we forged on. We went up and over a few more climbs. At one point, I found myself riding with the fastest riders of the group-Keith and another guy whose name I failed to catch. This other guy was probably the oldest in the group and had quite the stamina. It wasn't long before I realized I was being dragged into some sort of testosterone battle.Since I didn't know where I was going and the rest of the group was now far behind, I had to keep up. I hadn't grabbed a route sheet because I knew I could keep up with the ride leader (I had only done this ride once before and had done a different option). I also did not have my cell phone.
I pedaled furiously to try to keep on Keith's back tire, who was also pedaling furiously to stay on the other guy's back tire. I started to fall back. I was exhausted and either because of a cold, allergies, the wind, or all of the above, I was basically choking on the snot running down the back of my throat. I watched as Keith pulled in front of the other guy and settled in to "pull" for awhile.
Wind resistance in cycling can be unbelievable. Think about when you stick your hand out a car window and feel the resistance. It's physics. The more you push against the wind, the more it pushes against you. When you fall in right behind another cyclist, the benefit of getting a block from the wind can mean a huge reduction in your workload. The person in front, however, has to take most of the wind for everyone behind them. I say most because there's also a physics property that pushes some wind forward off the cyclists behind and the lead person benefits a little as compared to cycling alone. The person in front is said to be "pulling" the rest of the group. It is customary to take turns pulling if you're in the sort of cycling environment that does such a thing. It depends on the skill level of the riders.
Anyway, I was in no position to benefit from such an advantage. I pedaled with all the might I could muster at that point, only to watch Keith pick up a gnarly amount of speed and pull the other guy away with him. I slowed down and watched them fade away.
At one point I could've sworn I saw them turn into a rest stop set up for one of the many organised rides going on that day. As I passed I looked for them but didn't see them. The rest of my group was too far back to be seen. I rode on.
I eventually came to an intersection and was unsure of which way to go. I decided to wait for the rest of my group to catch up. After awhile of waiting, I wondered if I had missed a turn. A group of ladies in another ride pulled over across the street to pull out a cue sheet. I rode up to them and asked if they had a map. They only had a cue sheet and were unfamiliar with the area, so they couldn't help.
Then behind me I heard "There she is!" I turned around to see my group riding up on me, including the two speedsters. They had pulled over.
We continued riding into town until we reached Starbucks and stopped for a drink and a snack. I should've eaten a lot more. I had only brought a Cliff Bar with me and had already eaten it. I got an iced coffee and a frosted lemon cake thing. We sat in the sun with our bikes sprawled around us and chatted. From there the group broke even further, with the speedsters heading back by road and the rest of us taking the bike trail back.
Unfortunately we were now in the valley where the winds were mean and erratic. Not fun on a bicycle. Especially a super light carbon frame bike with a super light rider. I shamelessly hid behind the bigger guys, trying to stay out of the wind. But it was coming at us from all sides. I tried to predict it by watching which way the bikes swerved in front of me, but it kicked me back and forth in the bike lane and pushed against my body.
Either the wind or the increasing length of the ride stole conversation from us as everyone tucked in and fought their own personal battles- with the wind, our sore butts, hunger (me- I was starving by this point) and burning quads. We rode along the trail in single file or sometimes doubles.
As the trail opened up into a large field of wild grasses and golden poppies, I was suddenly reminded of being on Redding Hotshots during our "spike week" and doing an all night hike trying to find camp. We had gotten up probably around 6 or 7 am, drove out to the middle of nowhere, did a map and compass exercise and were then given maps and told to meet the captains and superintendent back at camp. We literally hiked all night. We met with our supervisors halfway through the night and a few of the worse-off people were transported to camp while the rest of us hiked on.
As daybreak came upon us, we staggered out into an open field with grasses and hardened mud trails. I'm pretty sure most of us were on the verge of breaking. A couple couldn't go on without assistance. A few people took turns carrying gear for a back in spasms. By 7 am, our battered group made it into camp.
I watched the wind drive the grasses in waves and the poppies bob about as I rolled through on my bike. This will be my first season since the summer of 2005 that I will not be throwing a heavy pack onto my back and heavy boots onto my feet. You could say that this will be my first summer in 9 years that I will not be subjecting myself to torture and misery. But really, what are centuries and marathons for?
After we finally pulled into the parking lot and everyone said their goodbyes, I went in search of the first piece of food I could find. It happened to exist inside a bakery. As I walked in, I knew a simple cookie or muffin was not going to suffice. My Garmin said I burned 2500 calories but Garmin doesn't know anything about the wind. I scanned the morsels behind the glass for the largest and most dense looking pastry among them. There it was. A pale, thick pastry with loads of stuff on top. About the size of a mini pizza. I pointed to it, without a clue what it was, and ate it on the drive home. It had all sorts of stuff on it. Apples, some sort of cream, maybe some banana slices, lots of sugar, thick crust stuff on the bottom, nuts maybe?
It wasn't enough. When I got home I shoved two large boneless pork ribs into the microwave, added some extra barbecue sauce and it disappeared. I needed something salty. I didn't have salty. I settle for 3 chunks of cheese and a glass of water. I laid down on the couch for a nap.
When I came to, the wind was whipping through my apartment, I was groggy and disoriented, and I had to pee. I got up and peed and immediately ate an apple with almond butter and another glass of water. For an hour I walked around in a fog. I drank a cup of tea with honey in it to soothe my throat that was raw from the constant deluge of snot. Somewhere in my fog it dawned on me that I had just ridden 45 miles. Add another 55 and you've got a century. That is both comforting and terrifying at the same time.
And my butt is sore. And my lips are as chapped as those guys on the Everest excursions. No joke.
For the marathon, I ran in a new, fairly untested pair of shoes. Not wise, but then again, running the thing in the first place was not particularly wise. So I developed a pain in my foot that I thought might be a stress fracture (podiatrist said stretched ligament) and my old IT band injury reared it's ugly head (starting at mile 18 of the marathon and still going strong). I bought a new pair of shoes when I got back from Boston, ran in them a few times and just traded them in for a new, promising pair. But I don't want to bore you with all the technicalities of shoes and foot mechanics...so...
I managed to convince my friend, Jen, to do a century ride with me. If anyone is unfamiliar with the term "century", it means, 100. Unless it's a metric century, but then it's a metric century. Like 100 kilometers, which is slightly different. Anyway, a century involves riding 100 miles on bicycle. They are usually supported, meaning rest stops with food and lawn chairs, as well as a support wagon (van) that rides around and helps cyclists with repairs or issues.
I've never done a century, neither has Jen. But what are friends for if not to talk us into doing ridiculous things? Debbie talks me into marathons, I talk Jen into centuries. It's like paying it forward.
My longest ride is 45 miles, Jen's is probably around the 30-something mark. Oh yeah, and this century is on May 24th. Two weeks from today. Can we say unprepared? But that's what makes it so fun.
I rode 30-something miles last Saturday and meant to ride a couple times during the week, but a lot of un-motivation happened. So this morning I set out with my club to do my favorite ride, the Giro di Bici. We meet at the local bike shop, south of town (I drive there) and head out into the mountains on a three option ride: 35-40-45 miles. The ride was a bit different today as the regular leader was unable to make it.
There was a new guy who didn't really know how the club or the ride worked, so I introduced myself to make him feel more comfortable.
**Let me interrupt this for a special announcement. In my haste to get ready today, I misplaced my phone and also failed to bring chapstick with me. The weather called for wind. If you've ever tried to cycle in wind, you'd know that it's probably one of the most miserable elements you can come across on a bike.**
Ok, so the new guy (we shall call him Keith, because that's his name) and I fell into conversation and hung out near the front of the pack. As soon as we hit our first incline, the group scattered even further. Keith and I kept up conversation until we hit our first climb. Well, Keith kept invoking conversation but I was unsure of how to kindly tell him I was going to be incapable of communicating with him until we reached our first descent. Thankfully he figured it out and we mashed our gears up the first hill of the day.
Up at the top, the group gathered to wait for stragglers. When everyone got back together, we forged on. We went up and over a few more climbs. At one point, I found myself riding with the fastest riders of the group-Keith and another guy whose name I failed to catch. This other guy was probably the oldest in the group and had quite the stamina. It wasn't long before I realized I was being dragged into some sort of testosterone battle.Since I didn't know where I was going and the rest of the group was now far behind, I had to keep up. I hadn't grabbed a route sheet because I knew I could keep up with the ride leader (I had only done this ride once before and had done a different option). I also did not have my cell phone.
I pedaled furiously to try to keep on Keith's back tire, who was also pedaling furiously to stay on the other guy's back tire. I started to fall back. I was exhausted and either because of a cold, allergies, the wind, or all of the above, I was basically choking on the snot running down the back of my throat. I watched as Keith pulled in front of the other guy and settled in to "pull" for awhile.
Wind resistance in cycling can be unbelievable. Think about when you stick your hand out a car window and feel the resistance. It's physics. The more you push against the wind, the more it pushes against you. When you fall in right behind another cyclist, the benefit of getting a block from the wind can mean a huge reduction in your workload. The person in front, however, has to take most of the wind for everyone behind them. I say most because there's also a physics property that pushes some wind forward off the cyclists behind and the lead person benefits a little as compared to cycling alone. The person in front is said to be "pulling" the rest of the group. It is customary to take turns pulling if you're in the sort of cycling environment that does such a thing. It depends on the skill level of the riders.
Anyway, I was in no position to benefit from such an advantage. I pedaled with all the might I could muster at that point, only to watch Keith pick up a gnarly amount of speed and pull the other guy away with him. I slowed down and watched them fade away.
At one point I could've sworn I saw them turn into a rest stop set up for one of the many organised rides going on that day. As I passed I looked for them but didn't see them. The rest of my group was too far back to be seen. I rode on.
I eventually came to an intersection and was unsure of which way to go. I decided to wait for the rest of my group to catch up. After awhile of waiting, I wondered if I had missed a turn. A group of ladies in another ride pulled over across the street to pull out a cue sheet. I rode up to them and asked if they had a map. They only had a cue sheet and were unfamiliar with the area, so they couldn't help.
Then behind me I heard "There she is!" I turned around to see my group riding up on me, including the two speedsters. They had pulled over.
We continued riding into town until we reached Starbucks and stopped for a drink and a snack. I should've eaten a lot more. I had only brought a Cliff Bar with me and had already eaten it. I got an iced coffee and a frosted lemon cake thing. We sat in the sun with our bikes sprawled around us and chatted. From there the group broke even further, with the speedsters heading back by road and the rest of us taking the bike trail back.
Unfortunately we were now in the valley where the winds were mean and erratic. Not fun on a bicycle. Especially a super light carbon frame bike with a super light rider. I shamelessly hid behind the bigger guys, trying to stay out of the wind. But it was coming at us from all sides. I tried to predict it by watching which way the bikes swerved in front of me, but it kicked me back and forth in the bike lane and pushed against my body.
Either the wind or the increasing length of the ride stole conversation from us as everyone tucked in and fought their own personal battles- with the wind, our sore butts, hunger (me- I was starving by this point) and burning quads. We rode along the trail in single file or sometimes doubles.
As the trail opened up into a large field of wild grasses and golden poppies, I was suddenly reminded of being on Redding Hotshots during our "spike week" and doing an all night hike trying to find camp. We had gotten up probably around 6 or 7 am, drove out to the middle of nowhere, did a map and compass exercise and were then given maps and told to meet the captains and superintendent back at camp. We literally hiked all night. We met with our supervisors halfway through the night and a few of the worse-off people were transported to camp while the rest of us hiked on.
As daybreak came upon us, we staggered out into an open field with grasses and hardened mud trails. I'm pretty sure most of us were on the verge of breaking. A couple couldn't go on without assistance. A few people took turns carrying gear for a back in spasms. By 7 am, our battered group made it into camp.
I watched the wind drive the grasses in waves and the poppies bob about as I rolled through on my bike. This will be my first season since the summer of 2005 that I will not be throwing a heavy pack onto my back and heavy boots onto my feet. You could say that this will be my first summer in 9 years that I will not be subjecting myself to torture and misery. But really, what are centuries and marathons for?
After we finally pulled into the parking lot and everyone said their goodbyes, I went in search of the first piece of food I could find. It happened to exist inside a bakery. As I walked in, I knew a simple cookie or muffin was not going to suffice. My Garmin said I burned 2500 calories but Garmin doesn't know anything about the wind. I scanned the morsels behind the glass for the largest and most dense looking pastry among them. There it was. A pale, thick pastry with loads of stuff on top. About the size of a mini pizza. I pointed to it, without a clue what it was, and ate it on the drive home. It had all sorts of stuff on it. Apples, some sort of cream, maybe some banana slices, lots of sugar, thick crust stuff on the bottom, nuts maybe?
It wasn't enough. When I got home I shoved two large boneless pork ribs into the microwave, added some extra barbecue sauce and it disappeared. I needed something salty. I didn't have salty. I settle for 3 chunks of cheese and a glass of water. I laid down on the couch for a nap.
When I came to, the wind was whipping through my apartment, I was groggy and disoriented, and I had to pee. I got up and peed and immediately ate an apple with almond butter and another glass of water. For an hour I walked around in a fog. I drank a cup of tea with honey in it to soothe my throat that was raw from the constant deluge of snot. Somewhere in my fog it dawned on me that I had just ridden 45 miles. Add another 55 and you've got a century. That is both comforting and terrifying at the same time.
And my butt is sore. And my lips are as chapped as those guys on the Everest excursions. No joke.
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