tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174952872011-04-21T14:32:45.289-06:00The adventures of Shortround as she throws stones at the triathlon. Okay, not stones. More like round bits of chocolate. Okay, she's throwing M&Ms, when she's not, ahem, eating them. She's runnin full.shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.comBlogger581100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1146584645721894992006-05-02T09:22:00.000-06:002006-05-02T10:13:56.616-06:00

...So, what did I miss?Fine, I know. I missed you too. And yeah, I am right there with you about the disappointment of the whole not-competing-in-the-sprint-this-month debacle that was the past four months.I could go through the arm chair prostrations of how I need the gym to be the best Shortround I can be, or make up some slanderous lie about Marathon Man no longer needing me, but, y'know, who

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1134411111290550032005-12-12T10:44:00.000-07:002005-12-12T11:11:51.306-07:00

(I'll get to the workout recount soon, promise)There's an older guy at the gym whom I have a nodding aquaintance. He looks like one of my co-workers in about twenty years and I think of him as The Portrait. He seemed like a nice old guy, even if he can never figure out how to work the bike.So, as I was working my way out of the gym parking lot this morning, I saw The Portrait climb into his car:

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1133978598277382482005-12-07T11:02:00.000-07:002005-12-07T11:03:18.286-07:00

Hey, Marathon Man?I need a gold star.

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1133726022666404682005-12-04T12:34:00.000-07:002005-12-04T12:53:42.676-07:00

Sunday. Run day. Twenty-four minutes, not too long, but it seemed like an age.The sky was watery blue and windswept when I went out. A later check on weather.com would tell me that it was 42 degrees but felt like 29. If I had known that going out, I probably would have stayed in, wrapped up in the duvet and had a cup of hot chocolate and said, "Triathlon? Yeah, I thought about it once, but really

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1133630496268496382005-12-03T10:14:00.000-07:002005-12-03T10:21:36.280-07:00

Yesterday was my longest bike ride and my longest swim ever. It was a combined 76 minutes of sweat, sweat, sweat and possibly a little grunting. I feel awesome.Of course, last night was a little different."My arms hurt," I whined to Marathon Man."Why would your arms hurt?" he asked, not unreasonably."Because I used these arms to pull my bloated, disgusting body through a half mile of water," I

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1133413713802778142005-11-30T21:57:00.000-07:002005-11-30T22:08:33.813-07:00

I had a head cold. It's become the standard answer."Hey! Shortround!" Dion says when I beep my card, and he sounds kind of happy to see me. "Where've you been?""I had a head cold."He nods and says it's been going around, but, "You shouldn't let that stop you." He looks stern here, like he caught me with both hands and a foot in the cookie jar. "You've got to keep working, even when you feel bad.

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1133070454423556462005-11-26T22:22:00.000-07:002005-11-26T22:47:34.436-07:00

The first day of my period's a roller coaster of crazy. Every 28 to 36 days, keep the arms inside the car and nobody under 60" is allowed.Usually, it falls on a work day and I have to keep the crazy bottled up. Constant applications of chocolate and and Advil usually work, but the crazy will leak out a little, in phone freakouts or e-mails to Marathon Man that swing wildly from cheerful to edge

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1132637197138954042005-11-21T21:58:00.000-07:002005-11-21T22:28:23.000-07:00

There it is, an e-mail from Flake, just taunting me. The subject is a simple FLAKE FLAKINGTON & THE FLAKETTES LITERARY AGENCY, not betraying the contents. This is one of Flake's flake-outs; if she just pastes the firm's masthead into the subject line, she doesn't have to be creative. Being creative is the writer's job.I swallow when I see it. Up to a year ago, getting a FLAKE FLAKINGTON e-mail

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1132601343058254802005-11-21T11:50:00.000-07:002005-11-21T12:29:03.076-07:00

Since I started training in October, I've been sleeping maybe seven hours, eight max. One memorable Saturday late last month, I slept for a whole nine hours and wandered around all day with a sleep hangover.I slept twelve hours last night.I'm so blaming the Alka Seltzer Plus. It's two fizzy tablets of coma every four hours. COMA! EVIL!Seriously. I went to be before 9 p.m., the first time I've

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1132536366332964852005-11-20T18:13:00.000-07:002005-11-20T18:26:06.343-07:00

Marathon Man started sneezing on Friday night. I babied him through yesterday and kind of smirked in a my immune systems so much stronger sort of way, which, obnoxious, I know.And then I woke up this morning, sluggish and sniffly and generally icked out.This is what I get for smirking and feeling generally superior. My immune system put me in my place and then stepped on me for good measure.Alka

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1132437522168548832005-11-19T14:51:00.000-07:002005-11-19T14:58:42.180-07:00

The lamest thing that's been uttered so far:SR: I hope the Kronk movie has shoulder angels.MM: (mouthing) Oh yeah.Followed by finger guns. Classy.Even classier? We're wrapped up in quilts, blankets and two lap-sized down comforters instead of actually cranking up the heat. Yeah. Gotta love it.

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1132289551927736762005-11-17T20:56:00.000-07:002005-11-17T21:52:31.946-07:00

My gym.I belong to a gym, I totally want to make that clear. It's not this "Just Us Girls" strip mall boutique crap, nor is it so pretentious I'm under contractual obligation to refer to it as "the club." It's a no-frills (but full-service!) workout emporium.In this town there are three chains really working for the Shortround's workout dollar: Gold's, which, just, no, because seriously? The

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1132162096635851832005-11-16T10:20:00.000-07:002005-11-16T10:30:16.256-07:00

The new undershirt's a long undershirt. Long enough that I pulled it all the way down, smoked they eyes and pulled on my earwarmers and went all hot, 60s-looking girl for Marathon Man last night."Oh," he said. He repeated it, constantly, too.I think I was hot. I'd have to say, all this gyming and running is paying off. But speaking of the gym...Stupidity of the day: I got to the gym and realized

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1132071351996446382005-11-15T08:51:00.000-07:002005-11-15T09:15:52.006-07:00

"GET IN THE CAR!"It was like something out of a Tom Clancy novel or Silence of the Lambs. "GET IN THE CAR!"Marathon Man was putting beside me in the Civic, window down, hollering at me. "Get! In! The! Car!"I got in the car.The reason for all the dramatics? The weather. During the night, a cold front pushed through the state, dropping the temperature by twenty degrees and adding wind into the mix.

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1132015166079596612005-11-14T16:52:00.000-07:002005-11-14T17:45:13.746-07:00

At the end of my run yesterday (yes, we ran and Marathon Man managed to hurt himself, but that's another post full of recriminations and guilt that I really don't feel like putting up right now, but if you forced me to summarize, it'd be this: I've really got to just take those stretch breaks. Bad, bad, bad Shortround) I decided that what I really needed on the murderous iPod was some old school

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1131999038567988812005-11-14T13:00:00.000-07:002005-11-14T13:10:38.580-07:00

Oh, hello Self-Fulfilling Prophecy, what are you doing here?I'm here to totally remind you that you're a total and complete failure! You've been up since seven, but can't even get your fat ass off the couch to get to the gym.But Self-Fulfilling Prophecy, I just got back from the gym.And boy did it suck! You sat there, feeling like crap, didn't you? And then in the pool, when all the old people

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1131852275667371272005-11-12T19:43:00.000-07:002005-11-12T20:28:24.206-07:00

A while back, I was perusing the triathlon books at Barnes and Noble, because I am a nerd first and foremost and I like to thouroughly research my interests. There were a smattering of books dedicated to the sport; they had titles like "FROM ATHLETE TO GOD: THE TRIATHLETE'S BIBLE" and "WOMAN WARRIOR: IRONMAN FOR FEMALES" and "TESTOSTERONE GOOD! ESTROGEN BAD!"Okay, I'm making it up. But the books

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1131811032465948972005-11-12T08:31:00.000-07:002005-11-12T08:57:14.443-07:00

Ah, Saturday morning, my off day and the Marathon Man's long run day."I'm going to run a full 5k! The whole way! Five clicks, Jackson!" he says.I'm going to do laundry and crash out in front of the British What Not to Wear. It's one of my favorite episodes, where the girl with the Shawn the Sheep bag gets attacked by Trinny and Susannah.I love clothes, which might come as a surprise to anyone who

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1131737100658265352005-11-11T12:22:00.000-07:002005-11-12T19:22:37.090-07:00

Posted by: MARATHON MAN!!!! (hear the little trumpets in the background?)Copied and pasted.-------------------It's about making up the difference. Overdraw checking with some excessive debit carding? Make a deposit. Not make it through a Mashmallow Man and a normal day's training? Make up the difference.I hit the bike hard, getting my RPMs above 110 and keeping them there for the bulk of the 48

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1131652425999820222005-11-10T12:26:00.000-07:002005-11-10T12:53:46.013-07:00

Hold off on those gold stars; the Marshmallow Man didn't happen. Eh, what can I say? Sometimes a girl just has to remember running+oatmeal immediately afterwards = quality pooping.That's right, I said it. I say it a lot, actually. The Anti-Shortround and I have discovered that a happy marriage includes at least one conversation about poop a day. You say it's TMI now, but five years into your

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1131635099868921262005-11-10T07:42:00.000-07:002005-11-10T08:04:59.880-07:00

I know, I know, the update's a day late. Have a good reason for blowing off the regimine for the week, though. I finished the fucking revisions.That's right. In the span of twenty-four hours, I flipped 400 pages from third person to first person and made a few editorial changes. I am just that awesome.Revising took up the bulk of Tuesday. When I finally quit at the twelve-hour mark, I had less

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1131469185758452732005-11-08T09:41:00.000-07:002005-11-08T09:59:45.770-07:00

Foot twinged like twice and the shoes were otherwise just awesome. Took it real slow and let the murderous iPod just transport me for the requisite 14 minutes.The murderous iPod. It's good for something.During the run, I thought about Tyra Banks in the fat suit.I mean, seriously. I expected better from Miss Tyra. It's bad enough that she's simulating 350 pounds (shocking!) and going on blind

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1131410438277052242005-11-07T17:32:00.000-07:002005-11-07T17:40:38.286-07:00

Fuck you, foot.Mostly, I say that out of love, but I also say it out of an exceedingly low bank balance, a bit out of pain and a bit out of this mentality of fuck you, foot.It's my light week. 29 minutes on the bike, 14 in the pool. 14 on the trail tomorrow. Why the hell should I give up now, just because my foot refuses to pop? Or that, because of my wild spending habits, I don't quite have

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1131341501635095002005-11-06T22:08:00.000-07:002005-11-06T22:59:37.403-07:00

On Saturday, the Anti-Shortround and I went shopping for new running shoes. The Anti found his dream pair right away, a pair of Nike Air Run Dual-Ds in black and the most obnoxious shade of neon green.My pair took a little longer, but I found a pair of Adidas Supernovas that had cushioning front and back, arch support, booster rockets, breathable fabric and reflective properties. Good. Better?

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1131128074392366042005-11-04T11:14:00.000-07:002005-11-04T11:14:34.416-07:00

Minute 33 of 48: Shortround is on the bike, panting her way up another endless hill to nowhere. She's got "Battle Flag" by Low Fidelity All-Stars pumping through her earbuds, her boobs are bouncing everywhere, and she's got her 1000-yard stare set on...TV #9, broadcasting President Chimp Face in South America. He's making chimp faces, she's keeping her RPMs above 110, everyone's happy, when all

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1131038127437264952005-11-03T10:02:00.000-07:002005-11-03T10:17:34.843-07:00

Insult/InjuryI ran 19 minutes on Tuesday, instead of 14. You'd think I'd have noticed that an extra five minutes had been tacked on, but no. In the heat of training, time is irrelevant to the Shortround.If you listen closely, you can hear the Anti-Shortround cackling.So I ran 19 minutes again today, and it was the bad. I was tired by the first corner, and the rest of the run was equally agonizing

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1130994173508144222005-11-02T21:52:00.000-07:002005-11-02T22:02:53.516-07:00

What a crappy bike ride.What a crappy bike ride.I mean, I just can't stop saying it: what a crappy bike ride.(It really helps if you can hear Miranda from "Sex and the City" saying, "I am so fucked up" after she ODs on "Jules and Mimi," because that is totally the tone I'm going for here.)What a crappy bike ride.Within three minutes, I was tired, so tired. I couldn't pedal. It didn't matter that

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1130993232506854522005-11-02T21:46:00.000-07:002005-11-02T21:49:08.366-07:00

Knock yourself out with that "Go, Shortround, Go!" cheering. You know you wanna.

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1130887533702372652005-11-01T16:22:00.000-07:002005-11-01T16:25:33.716-07:00

It Was A Dark And Stormy Nightby SnoopyPart IIt was a dark and stormy night. Suddenly, a shot rang out! A door slammed. The maid screamed. Suddenly, a pirate ship appeared on the horizon! While millions of people were starving, the king lived in luxury. Meanwhile, on a small farm in Kansas, a boy was growing up.Part IIA light snow was falling, and the little girl with the tattered shawl had not

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1130866197743392422005-11-01T10:16:00.000-07:002005-11-01T10:29:57.753-07:00

Ooooooh, I'm a big 14-minute run. I'm so very scary. OoooooooOoOOooooh. You fear me.About a mile. I didn't say I'm getting any faster. Yesterday's bike ride rose up from the dead to kick my ass today, so it was slower and a little harder to fall into a routine.And I came home and started Month Two's thing: better nutrition. I whipped up the heart-healthy serving of oatmeal (with raisins!) for

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1130827762688298682005-10-31T23:41:00.000-07:002005-10-31T23:49:22.696-07:00

SR: ... And anyway, I like to think that my little arm moves count as extra.ASR: What do you mean, "little arm movements?"SR: You know, you're blasting the hip hop and suddenly, you're busting out all the old school MC hand movements.ASR (with his left eyebrow arching all over the place): I do not listen to the hippity-hoppity.SR: Oh, c'mon. You know what I mean.ASR: Show me.::Shortround gives a

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1130793713354824042005-10-31T14:06:00.000-07:002005-10-31T14:21:53.376-07:00

What was it I said at the begining of last post? Wow. Blink and the month just blows by like a 16-year-old in a boosted Saturn. Right.It has been a month since I first slinked into the gym with a crazy notion I'd head-butt the triathlon, and I thought I'd share some thoughts. See? I'm totally like Jerry with all the end-of-the show (or month, whatev') reflection. On the first day, I was convinced

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1130785359788731482005-10-31T11:53:00.000-07:002005-10-31T13:14:45.890-07:00

Wow. Blink and the month just blows by like a 16-year-old in a boosted Saturn.And today? Another gym first: flirtation.There was only one free-standing bike open when I got there. The other five were taken up by sweaty men of various age, creed and color. The only open bike was at the end, next to a wanna-be Lance Armstrong (yellow t-shirt, bike shorts, LIVESTRONG rubber bracelet, that please,

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1130690179071404782005-10-30T09:15:00.000-07:002005-10-30T09:36:19.090-07:00

Three kilometers. Three k."That's three clicks, Jackson!"The track around the pseudohood is three kilometers; the Anti-Shortround plotted it on Google Earth at the beginning of all this madness and he can run it at ease. As the 39 faithful readers of this blog know, I'm not quite with the endurance.The Anti-Shortround got up first this morning. "Oh, boy!" he said. "It's long run day! Are you

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1130520695061888632005-10-28T11:14:00.000-06:002005-10-28T11:52:42.856-06:00

So the rest of the Marshmallow Man passed as most days at the gym do: pedaling, swimming, Granny Biker Gang."You didn't say anything about the gym," the Anti-Shortround says when I call him from the office. "So I'm thinking you didn't go.""Oh," I say. "I went. It wasn't good.""Tell me."I am sitting in an open office, surrounded by people who'd dash to HR in a blind minute if they hear the next

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1130423545197137382005-10-27T08:27:00.000-06:002005-10-27T08:32:25.210-06:00

-In the middle of another Marshmallow Man-I thought I'd be all hipster smooth and liveblog a Marshmallow Man for y'all. And by "liveblog," I mean "take three minutes to catch my breath and not throw up before heading to the gym for the other two events."I've already knocked the run out of the park. It was an 18 minute extravaganza. I made it to my normal walk point, turned around and ran 3/4 of

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1130385805443875212005-10-26T21:16:00.000-06:002005-10-26T22:05:01.676-06:00

The Anti-Shortround calls me from work, and he sounds like he single-handedly defeated the Romans. "We just had our health fair," he says. "And guess what?""You sacked a city?""We had our health fair today," and even though he's on the other end of the city, I know that he's making the Proud of Anti-Shortround Anti-Shortround face. His face is lit up, his head's tipped back slightly, and he'd be

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1130353959835533132005-10-26T12:49:00.000-06:002005-10-26T22:05:48.920-06:00

Yesterday, the murderous pink iPod decided the surest way to kill me would be to kick over from Fountains of Wayne's "Denise" (whoa-o, do you you love me Denise?) to U2's "One" in the middle of an intersection in hopes the distraction would be enough to have me mowed over by a rampaging semi.Wonk-wonk!Didn't work, though the abrupt "chickita-chickita-chick" and melancholy guitar was enough to

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1130225408556123012005-10-25T01:00:00.000-06:002005-10-25T01:30:08.573-06:00

The night before last, we had one of those roaming, middle-of-the-night conversations that happen when both parties made the mistake of eating rather raw seafood this far inland and now can't risk sleep, least their intestines explode all over the new sheets.Quelle embarrassing.In between dashes to our separate bathrooms, we talk about The State of Things. I think it was a combination of the

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1130092366326236352005-10-23T12:23:00.000-06:002005-10-23T12:32:46.330-06:00

Ah, the first weird wound from all of this has finally popped up. Are you ready?When I run, I like to clip my iPod into the inside of my pants. It keeps it safe, it frees up my hands, and it hasn't been a problem. Until now.During today's run, the clip rubbed up against an old stretchmark and caused a little pressure wound. When I saw it, I wanted to freak the fuck out. I mean, I was so obviously

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1130089409079017252005-10-23T11:31:00.000-06:002005-10-23T11:43:29.086-06:00

"Oy," the husband says bright and early, or as bright and as early as I ever let it be on a Sunday. "Let's go run."I roll over, bury my head under my pillow and whine. "You're not serious are you?" I ask."Why not?" he asks, and this is where I recap: we haven't been exactly active this past week. I didn't see the inside of the gym, he didn't run and I'm a touch worried all the bennefits of the

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1129739087261054692005-10-19T10:12:00.000-06:002005-10-19T10:24:47.266-06:00

I am washing my swimsuit in anticipation of Friday. Sports bra? One Campaign t-shirt? Yoga pants? Tide-ed up, baby. Gym bag's airing out. Running shoes are lined up by the door, full of hope that later I might find fifteen minutes for a run.I hate to crush that kind of naive optimisim.The Anti-Shortround comes home tomorrow, and I'm picking up the house in anticipation. The Donna Reed-type who

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1129664865491415442005-10-18T13:21:00.000-06:002005-10-18T13:47:45.496-06:00

Before leaving to live it up in California, the Anti-Shortround charged me with the care and watering of the fuzzy hoarde that constitutes our four pets (three ferrets and one overly neurotic cat). Even though I've been dealing with the menagerie for six years, he still walked me through the process step-by-step, absolutely convinced I'd fuck it up somehow, and the little furry dears would up and

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1129598133092690672005-10-17T18:47:00.000-06:002005-10-17T19:15:33.100-06:00

I think my iPod is trying to kill me.Actually, I know my iPod is trying to kill me. Here's proof:First, it decided to canibalize the earbuds, forcing me to turn the volume waaaaaay up. Seems innocent enough at first. I mean, I usually have to crank the volume at the gym to drown out the Cardio-Fire-Kick-Boxing-Pilates class, but upon closer inspection, the plot became more sinsiter. The iPod

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1129481644801368512005-10-16T10:20:00.000-06:002005-10-16T10:59:28.736-06:00

The Anti-Shortround has gone off to Lake Tahoe for the next several days, leaving me to fend for myself."Look," I counselled a couple of days ago. "I don't have bail money, so you can't shoot a man in Reno just to watch him die.""I don't think you have to worry," he said. "We're only passing through the airport to get to the resort.""The resort," I teased. "Oh, chi-chi.""Oui, oui," he shot back.

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1129263748371933792005-10-13T22:11:00.000-06:002005-10-13T22:22:28.376-06:00

I present you with the first ever Marshmallow Man. The run: beside a bemused middle aged dude who was walking at the same pace. 2.5K. The bike: On my right, a woman born during the Taft administration. On my left, TRIATHLON GIRL (complete with broken foot, cast not included)! Bitching about not being in Kona this week. Sure, doll. Sure. 10K. The swim: In amogst the Old Person Stew and the

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1129133181644595692005-10-12T09:58:00.000-06:002005-10-12T10:13:07.513-06:00

I check my e-mail before I leave for the morning. And there it is, a one-liner from my agent. "Please call me."This is how she keeps costs down; have the client call her. So I take my cellphone outside, because it's the only phone that has long distance and it has extremely crappy reception, and dial. And I stand outside in the cold and listen as she puts me on hold, because she's talking to an

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1129042391150866322005-10-11T08:43:00.000-06:002005-10-11T08:53:11.153-06:00

Another day, another jog through the neighborhood.It got cold during the night, so when I postulated the jog to the Anti Shortround, he was at first skeptical. "Really?" he asked, pulling his eccentric billionaire bathrobe around him tighter. "You actually want to go out there?""It's just twelve minutes," I wheedled. "Don't you want to help me make it twelve minutes?"He looked outside again and

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1128988002856348292005-10-10T17:08:00.000-06:002005-10-10T17:46:42.860-06:00

Look, I've always enjoyed eating way more than exercising. Call it laziness, call it sloth, call me a citizen of a fast food nation, whatever. I like eating.I like messing around in the kitchen with a bunch of garlic, a hot pan, chicken, olive oil and a glass of wine. I like going out for just about anything: cheeseburgers and onion rings, foie gras and creme brulee, saldas, Pad Thai, Mexican,

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1128984728895034932005-10-10T16:32:00.000-06:002005-10-10T16:52:08.900-06:00

But first! Week One, Day Six!It was the first time the Anti Shortround went out on one of my training sessions, and boy are his jokes tired.We went around the track that circles our neighborhood yesterday afternoon, and at first, the Anti Shortround was bouncing beside me, offering encouragement. Or at least, I think he was. I had my iPod pretty loud so he could have been mouthing obscenities

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1128983302117650492005-10-10T16:10:00.000-06:002005-10-10T16:28:22.123-06:00

But first, week one, day six.Yesterday, we went running.It was the first time the Anti Shortround went out for one of my training sessions. Oh, poor Anti Shortround. He was so very bored.The first five minutes, he was very jovial, trudging behind me on the track around our neighborhood and urging me on every so often. At least, I think he was urging me on. I had the iPod up pretty loud, so he

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1128879741328007562005-10-09T11:24:00.000-06:002005-10-09T11:47:29.240-06:00

Okay, so this is a little late. Sorry, sorry, sorry all around.It wasn't the best day at the gym ever. Really. First, I got insulted by a high school sophomore, then I realized I was out of conditioner and finally, I fell in with the granny biker gang.First things first: the high school sophomore from hell.The night before, Anti Shortround suggested I get a baseline weight. "Just, so you know,"

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1128619153975866632005-10-06T11:17:00.000-06:002005-10-10T18:16:03.643-06:00

Kick that sign over to "Two Days, Inhalor Free!" because, baby, I didn't need it.Oh, I don't even know what to say about this morning. It was cold and wet and I didn't want to go, but I did. Yes, I think I deserve a cookie for this. And a parade.I got on the treadmill and did a brisk 4 minute walk before launching (and launch really is the operative word) into The Run. My short, stubby legs took

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1128615015970852212005-10-05T10:04:00.000-06:002005-10-06T10:20:53.273-06:00

It was another bike/swim day, and boy did I learn a lot.• The bike seats are a bitch to adjust. They require upper bodystrength beyond what I possess. At one point, I had the entire bike inthe air simply by trying to pull the damn adjust bolt.• Pedal straps are teh good. My feet stayed on the pedals this time.• I am very judgemental.To whit: there two kinds of bikes at the gym. The first is the

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1128614553135815232005-10-04T09:59:00.000-06:002005-10-06T10:02:33.140-06:00

I have never been a runnin' fool.Look, when I was six, my version of a sprint was every other kid's slow lope. "You know how I run faster?" one of my classmates counseled one time. "I get against the merry-go-round and push and push it until I'm faster, because the big kids are faster and if I'm not fast, I'll fall down and get trampled."I fell down and was trampled. I've still got the scar to

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1128613942417504842005-10-03T09:48:00.000-06:002005-10-06T09:56:07.853-06:00

So, I drove to the gym. And chickened out.Chickening out more had to do with flipping off the guy in the Mercedes SUV who decided to not cut me off at just the last minute. He was also headed to the gym. Not wanting to indulge in a scene, I went to the bank, cashed a check, and talked my self into going back to the gym.Yes, Christy Feig was in my head, calling me a fat ass.So I get to the gym and

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1128571635451978112005-10-02T22:02:00.000-06:002005-10-06T10:17:45.896-06:00

This is all Christy Feig's fault.Christy Feig is one of CNN's medical corespondants, a perky brunette of indeterminite middle years who appears on Headline News every morning to simplify the newest health study for dumb American viewers. Her specialty seems to be harping on obesity. She could take any health story — like organ donation — and turn it around to damn the American population for

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17495287.post-1128524078601718042005-10-01T08:53:00.000-06:002005-10-05T22:07:56.300-06:00

Testing, testing, 1-2, 1-2.Hey is this thing on?

shortroundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08091416810979045827noreply@blogger.com0