The problem with having really hot friends of the opposite sex is that it can get really difficult to avoid objectifying them. I had a conversation with one of the hot men in my life last night during our Monday evening ride. This is racing season, so he’s really lean and cut. I had to keep reminding myself to look at his wheel and not his ass when I drafted behind him on our return trip. I wouldn’t say that this is necessarily a complaint. I’m just admitting that I am human and just as influenced by flesh as the next person. I didn’t really think much about whether or not he does the same thing in his head when our positions are reversed; I just brushed it off as part of the territory. It’s not quite like hanging with Killa B, who I occasionally remind that he’s got the nicest set of cheeks I’ve seen on a straight man in years. With OMB, I do my best to steer conversations out of that territory when they threaten to go gutter. He’s got a pretty serious GF. I had my chance to make something happen with him years ago, but decided that I’d rather be friends. I have never regretted that choice. He is a good friend. I can’t say that about any ex BF.
During our convo last night, he had what I like to call “race brain”. He has been consistently fatigued for so long that he’s starting to lose his mind. The condition is temporary and usually not dangerous. Outside of him needing to take a little bit more caution crossing the street, he should live to recover from it. He couldn’t hold much of a conversation. He couldn’t concentrate on any topic in particular. He took a while to figure out when I was poking fun at him. He almost got hit by a semi when he took his eyes off the road. Poor guy. At one point during the ride (right after the semi incident), I looked over at him and thought ‘you are so lucky that you’re hot.’ For the rest of our ride, I pretty much just looked after him as much as possible, nodded when he spoke and tried my best not to openly check him out.
We talked at length about training because we’re both on that page right now. I asked about how far we’d ridden, and he said that his odometer wasn’t working. “You suck.”
“Why don’t you get your own damn odometer?”
“I need an odometer like I need a scale.” One thing I have learned recently is that I should not measure things that are not important. I explained to him about how my OCD latches on to something and doesn’t let it go – like weight. Working at a fitness and health-oriented company, it is common for women to get obsessed with their weight. Also, I work with a whole mess of athletes. As someone who is not inclined toward athletic competition, it can be especially stressful. Many of the women here count every calorie they consume and track their workouts every day. I, on the other hand, lead a more intuitive lifestyle. I’m not a small woman, but my doctor isn’t concerned about my weight, my BMI is in a healthy range and I’m stronger and fitter than the average person walking on the street. I’m even stronger than some of the athletes I work with. Most importantly, I am happy with it. Well, I thought I was happy with it.
Once I started running again, it brought up feelings of inferiority. I want to have better stamina, go faster, play harder and have my skin pull taut over my muscles. The issue I am having is with the ridiculous amount of maintenance this requires. I like the idea of lazy Sundays, relaxing vacations and luxurious spa retreats. My idea of a fun time is not a 7 mile run uphill with sweat pouring down my face, my back and the crack of my ass. Well, that didn’t used to be my idea of a fun time. I am changing my perspective in this regard.
I still want to avoid becoming obsessed with my weight and focus intently on the training itself. OMB said that he could barely run two blocks without stopping. He is awesome on a bike though. Like anything else, it’s just conditioning. “The beginning is always hard.” I told him. “I’ve done it before, so I know I can do it. It’s all in my head. I just have to make up my mind to stick it out and it’ll get easier.”
This morning I got up at 6 to run the lake. This is a good time for me because the sky has some light in it but there aren’t very many people out there yet. When I went out at an earlier time last week, I felt afraid because I was alone and there were random men just wandering around in the dark. Every time my thoughts started going into self-defeat, I made a conscious decision to shut them up and just deal with it. Whining and complaining never helps anything. In my determination to just be in the moment instead of fighting myself, I actually had a breakthrough! It was my strongest run so far, and my upset stomach didn’t happen until I was already back home. Ideally I wouldn’t get an upset stomach at all, but that should get better as I get more conditioned to it. If I remember correctly, it takes a few weeks of relatively hard training to get past it. Then I rode my bike to work and I did about 2/3 of the workout in my Tuesday afternoon personal training hour. I mainly showed up to provide my counterparts with moral support. We did a bunch of push-ups, so it was beneficial. When I do hit the bed tonight (earlier than the usual 10PM), I will probably sleep solid for at least 8 hours. I’m going to try to give myself 9.5 hours of uninterrupted sleep. I’m aiming for falling asleep around 9ish. That probably means no TV.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
To eat meat or not to eat meat, that is not the question.
I am not a vegetarian; I just have vegetarian tendencies.
Since my three weeks of vegetarian living (and the 3.5 days of vegan living sandwiched in the middle), I’ve been more in tune with my body. It probably has just as much to do with my age as my diet. The older you get, the more evident the effects of restful sleep, nutritious food and vigorous exercise can be (or the absence of any of these very important elements of maintaining a healthy body).
I have been looking at a photo of myself from the trip to Las Vegas with Alex last spring. I am so thin in that photo! My hair is also super short, but that’s neither here nor there. I tried to tell myself that I was so thin because I’d just returned from my month trekking through Thailand with all of my belongings strapped to my back. However I believe that trip was Memorial Day weekend, a full six months after I returned from Thailand. The extra insulation I’m sporting now is just plain old gluttony and laziness. It’s coming off, but I determined yesterday that it isn’t happening fast enough to satisfy me. I am having a difficult time staying focused on the training. I keep veering off into vain pursuits. I even went as far as to take up corseting again. It didn’t last, but mostly because the corsets I have are too big to cause any physical changes. I should be happy about that, but naturally I am not. I ‘m quite obsessed. I would like to embrace this obsession with reshaping my body, but that will only cause it to become so intense that it burns itself out before I get any results. I need to calm down and be patient. If I can bring myself back to the training, I will be fine. The goal is to run the half marathon, not to lose weight. It is for that very reason that I do not weigh myself. I’m not going to start counting calories either. I know when I need food and when I don’t. I’m trying to teach myself how to distinguish what type of food I need as well.
I haven’t felt very motivated to run. In fact I missed my long run on Sunday. I should mention that I was incredibly exhausted that day and trying my best to function on just a few hours of sleep. Even so, I still should have at least attempted the damn run. Now I’m beating myself up about it and will probably be so wracked with guilt on my run this evening that I end up having a crazy negative self-talk in my head the entire time. Oh OCD, go away!
So anyway, back to being 85% vegetarian. When you don’t eat meat, you don’t have to push. You know what I’m talking about. I know it’s gross, but it’s totally true. Your intestines are clean and lubricated. I still eat meat every two or three days to keep my muscles happy and my mood relatively stable, but I love feeling clean. I have always loved clean (duh OCD), but I never really thought much about being clean from the inside because I took it for granted that my body can process whatever I put in it. It can of course, but at a cost. My skin is clearer, brighter and has better elasticity than it has had in the past several years. My training recovery time is rarely longer than one full night’s sleep, and my energy is consistent throughout the day and night. I’d be curious to find out if my vision and/or hearing have improved.
I researched the Raw diet and determined that I have no desire to go there. The body is initially shocked by the amount of work it has to do to extract nutrients from raw food. It’s supposed to depend on the individual, but you can spend up to three weeks feeling tired and weak. Certain foods are more easily digestible after being cooked. For example, root vegetables - they are so full of wonderful nutrients, but the body has to work really hard to access those nutrients when the root vegetables are raw. Were I to “go raw”, it would look more like a fruit and veggie cleanse than a raw diet. Since I am allergic to seafood… There’s no damn way that I am going to zombify myself for three weeks with the sole purpose of experimenting with a damn diet.
This morning’s commute was spent thinking more and more about Thailand and the things I learned there. I don’t meditate anymore. I also don’t do yoga every morning anymore. It’s time that I readopted those practices.
Since my three weeks of vegetarian living (and the 3.5 days of vegan living sandwiched in the middle), I’ve been more in tune with my body. It probably has just as much to do with my age as my diet. The older you get, the more evident the effects of restful sleep, nutritious food and vigorous exercise can be (or the absence of any of these very important elements of maintaining a healthy body).
I have been looking at a photo of myself from the trip to Las Vegas with Alex last spring. I am so thin in that photo! My hair is also super short, but that’s neither here nor there. I tried to tell myself that I was so thin because I’d just returned from my month trekking through Thailand with all of my belongings strapped to my back. However I believe that trip was Memorial Day weekend, a full six months after I returned from Thailand. The extra insulation I’m sporting now is just plain old gluttony and laziness. It’s coming off, but I determined yesterday that it isn’t happening fast enough to satisfy me. I am having a difficult time staying focused on the training. I keep veering off into vain pursuits. I even went as far as to take up corseting again. It didn’t last, but mostly because the corsets I have are too big to cause any physical changes. I should be happy about that, but naturally I am not. I ‘m quite obsessed. I would like to embrace this obsession with reshaping my body, but that will only cause it to become so intense that it burns itself out before I get any results. I need to calm down and be patient. If I can bring myself back to the training, I will be fine. The goal is to run the half marathon, not to lose weight. It is for that very reason that I do not weigh myself. I’m not going to start counting calories either. I know when I need food and when I don’t. I’m trying to teach myself how to distinguish what type of food I need as well.
I haven’t felt very motivated to run. In fact I missed my long run on Sunday. I should mention that I was incredibly exhausted that day and trying my best to function on just a few hours of sleep. Even so, I still should have at least attempted the damn run. Now I’m beating myself up about it and will probably be so wracked with guilt on my run this evening that I end up having a crazy negative self-talk in my head the entire time. Oh OCD, go away!
So anyway, back to being 85% vegetarian. When you don’t eat meat, you don’t have to push. You know what I’m talking about. I know it’s gross, but it’s totally true. Your intestines are clean and lubricated. I still eat meat every two or three days to keep my muscles happy and my mood relatively stable, but I love feeling clean. I have always loved clean (duh OCD), but I never really thought much about being clean from the inside because I took it for granted that my body can process whatever I put in it. It can of course, but at a cost. My skin is clearer, brighter and has better elasticity than it has had in the past several years. My training recovery time is rarely longer than one full night’s sleep, and my energy is consistent throughout the day and night. I’d be curious to find out if my vision and/or hearing have improved.
I researched the Raw diet and determined that I have no desire to go there. The body is initially shocked by the amount of work it has to do to extract nutrients from raw food. It’s supposed to depend on the individual, but you can spend up to three weeks feeling tired and weak. Certain foods are more easily digestible after being cooked. For example, root vegetables - they are so full of wonderful nutrients, but the body has to work really hard to access those nutrients when the root vegetables are raw. Were I to “go raw”, it would look more like a fruit and veggie cleanse than a raw diet. Since I am allergic to seafood… There’s no damn way that I am going to zombify myself for three weeks with the sole purpose of experimenting with a damn diet.
This morning’s commute was spent thinking more and more about Thailand and the things I learned there. I don’t meditate anymore. I also don’t do yoga every morning anymore. It’s time that I readopted those practices.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Open Mouth, Insert Foot
If it was something within my knowledge and power, I would create a pill you could swallow which would activate an auto-shut feature for your mouth after your blood alcohol level reaches a certain percentage. This pill would have to come in a few different formulations. There would be a 0.01 formula so you can’t ask for your keys back until you’re sober enough to drive again. There would be the 0.05 for those people who, like me, lose their appropriateness filter after three for four drinks. Then there would be some upper limit like 0.10, which would also include some sort of visible effect to let everyone else know that you’re wasted.
I took our visitor from Italy to the monthly 1st Saturday Underground House party. I knew I’d be tired, so I told him and Twin Peaks that we should get there early. It was the 3-Year Anniversary Celebration, and started a couple of hours earlier than usual, at midnight. We got there at 12:30. By 2:30 AM, the place was so packed that they started turning people away. I saw a couple of friends that I had hoped to introduce our visitor to, but they left to handle what I can only guess was some sort of shady transaction and were never allowed to reenter. Oh well.
My favorite local DJ, David Harness was in the building. I told him that my heart skipped a beat when I saw him on the line-up, which would have been perfect if I’d have stopped there. But no, the auto-shut feature would have come in handy right then. “I don’t normally feel that way for men I haven’t slept with”. WTF? Booze is the devil. That’s all I have to say about it.
In the middle of David’s set it got so hot in the joint that I had to take a break, a long one. I sat in the cocktail lounge and, even after I’d cooled down, I couldn’t stop sweating. Our visitor surfed through the crowd while I was there and told me, “There is a wrestler here. He is very famous. I want you to take a picture of me with him.” I waited for Twin Peaks to return from the bar and we headed over there. As soon as I passed through the hallway, I knew exactly who he was talking about. It was Batista (I looked up his name today with a coworker). He stood almost a full foot over every man near him and was at least twice the girth. Our visitor was barely larger than one of the guy’s arms. It turned out to be a great photo: Jack and the Giant LOL. I thanked him for taking a photo with my friend. I admit that it was a rather dry thanks, but this guy has to be sick and tired of being fawned over by everybody he meets. Seriously, he had come to the club to dance and have a good time, right? Let’s get the photo over with so everyone can go back to having fun. Besides, WWE wrestling is all fake soap opera fighting anyway. You wanna see me lose it? Introduce me to Jet Li. I’d probably forget my own name. I’d even stutter a bit if I met Rodney Yee.
We called it quits early that night – a little after 4AM. The crowd had thinned out by then. The dance floor looked a lot like it did at 1AM. I had run out of steam, intoxication and cash. I don’t think there is any better time to call it a night. I still had to take our visitor home to Berkeley as well.
I was gonna end it there with a little blurb about how my romantic life continues to be boring. However, that may not be entirely true. There was a tense moment around me on Friday, midway through the Red Bike and Green monthly ride.
Killa B and B-Ry have been having some sort of (not so) secret pissing contest where I’m concerned. I’m not sure what exactly has transpired between the two, but I often feel like I need to distance myself from both of them when we’re all in the same space. So my romantic life continues to be boring as far as I’m concerned, but there is some mysterious undercurrent at work, which I’m pretty sure has no effect on my future love life (or at least I hope not). Any interference on my part will probably just be interpreted as me showing preference, so I keep the status quo as much as possible and let these things work themselves out.
I took our visitor from Italy to the monthly 1st Saturday Underground House party. I knew I’d be tired, so I told him and Twin Peaks that we should get there early. It was the 3-Year Anniversary Celebration, and started a couple of hours earlier than usual, at midnight. We got there at 12:30. By 2:30 AM, the place was so packed that they started turning people away. I saw a couple of friends that I had hoped to introduce our visitor to, but they left to handle what I can only guess was some sort of shady transaction and were never allowed to reenter. Oh well.
My favorite local DJ, David Harness was in the building. I told him that my heart skipped a beat when I saw him on the line-up, which would have been perfect if I’d have stopped there. But no, the auto-shut feature would have come in handy right then. “I don’t normally feel that way for men I haven’t slept with”. WTF? Booze is the devil. That’s all I have to say about it.
In the middle of David’s set it got so hot in the joint that I had to take a break, a long one. I sat in the cocktail lounge and, even after I’d cooled down, I couldn’t stop sweating. Our visitor surfed through the crowd while I was there and told me, “There is a wrestler here. He is very famous. I want you to take a picture of me with him.” I waited for Twin Peaks to return from the bar and we headed over there. As soon as I passed through the hallway, I knew exactly who he was talking about. It was Batista (I looked up his name today with a coworker). He stood almost a full foot over every man near him and was at least twice the girth. Our visitor was barely larger than one of the guy’s arms. It turned out to be a great photo: Jack and the Giant LOL. I thanked him for taking a photo with my friend. I admit that it was a rather dry thanks, but this guy has to be sick and tired of being fawned over by everybody he meets. Seriously, he had come to the club to dance and have a good time, right? Let’s get the photo over with so everyone can go back to having fun. Besides, WWE wrestling is all fake soap opera fighting anyway. You wanna see me lose it? Introduce me to Jet Li. I’d probably forget my own name. I’d even stutter a bit if I met Rodney Yee.
We called it quits early that night – a little after 4AM. The crowd had thinned out by then. The dance floor looked a lot like it did at 1AM. I had run out of steam, intoxication and cash. I don’t think there is any better time to call it a night. I still had to take our visitor home to Berkeley as well.
I was gonna end it there with a little blurb about how my romantic life continues to be boring. However, that may not be entirely true. There was a tense moment around me on Friday, midway through the Red Bike and Green monthly ride.
Killa B and B-Ry have been having some sort of (not so) secret pissing contest where I’m concerned. I’m not sure what exactly has transpired between the two, but I often feel like I need to distance myself from both of them when we’re all in the same space. So my romantic life continues to be boring as far as I’m concerned, but there is some mysterious undercurrent at work, which I’m pretty sure has no effect on my future love life (or at least I hope not). Any interference on my part will probably just be interpreted as me showing preference, so I keep the status quo as much as possible and let these things work themselves out.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Controlling Myself
Pandora is screwing around with me today. Everything that plays is a poor excuse for music. Of course I could just be projecting. I’m filled with dissatisfaction. I thought that would change after my hour of personal training with “The Sage” and a half hour of massage late this afternoon. Perhaps tonight, after the Red Bike and Green Ride, Home Grown - Best of the East Bay Party and thePeople’s All Styles Afterparty I'll feel much better.
My dancing will be ambient. That’s how I’m feeling. I’ve been starving for sensual stimulation (all coming to a peak in the past couple of days it seems), and I’ll be telling that story with interpretive dance tonight. Needless to say, I’m rolling solo this evening. Yes, it’s that time. I’ve been running with a posse for several weeks now, and I need some freedom. In the safety of a group, one can only glimpse the mysterious underbelly of nightlife. Last weekend’s underground loft party left me itching to strike out on my own and delve into the depths. The room was filled with beautiful people, all tinted with the familiar tinge of mischief that I so enjoy. I felt confined. It’s not that my friends aren’t fun (and perhaps the best group of friends on this planet), but there are moments when I want to move among the shadows. That’s impossible when I’m “the driver”.
Yesterday, even after my dawn run, bike commute and full productive day at the office, I remained restless. I knew that I couldn’t go dancing because of my obligations at work today, but I needed something more than a cold bed and cartoons. My first thought was to cut to the chase, call someone over to warm the bed for a few hours and then put him back out afterwards. I thought in particular of Secret Squirrel and how he looked at me when we met the other day. Then I thought of Killa B and how candlelight turns his body into a work of art. I managed to shake that off almost as quickly as it came over me. However, to flirt with the possibility, I opted to shoot a few games of pool with him instead. He is the least threatening of the hot men I hang out with. My memories and imagination are stronger determining factors than his intentions. I had those pretty well in check, so I took the chance just for the sheer entertainment and anjoyment of his company. He said, “You like to be pursued”. He was absolutely right. A predator he is not - that is for certain. We ended our outing after four games, I won the first two and he evened up the score on games 3 and 4. I had a moment of waffling afterwards, but as I’ve stated before: Love, then Sex. My own words echoed in my head as I clicked the peg into the lock, closing the door between us and again confirming our platonic status. We'll ride together this evening.
The combination of meat for dinner and cocktails made me sluggish this morning. The fact that my urges remained unfulfilled just compounded the effect. I predict that I will train very hard this weekend to shed these last few pounds of winter insulation, incorporate the additional mileage training schedule for the Nike marathon and (most importantly) keep myself from finding trouble. I always know where to look and I never have to go very far.
I need to keep myself relatively spent. Too tired and I won’t make it out at all, not tired enough and I will either fall prey to the lures of shady characters or become a shady character myself, sniffing the air for the scent of the next unsuspecting victim. I’m getting too old for that life. It was fun in my twenties, but now I just want to have my fun while I’m out and go home to peace and quiet. I haven’t forgotten how to hunt. In fact, I may have already caught an interesting scent. We shall see. A patient hunter doesn’t need to work as hard, and I'm not doing it just to pass the time anymore.
My dancing will be ambient. That’s how I’m feeling. I’ve been starving for sensual stimulation (all coming to a peak in the past couple of days it seems), and I’ll be telling that story with interpretive dance tonight. Needless to say, I’m rolling solo this evening. Yes, it’s that time. I’ve been running with a posse for several weeks now, and I need some freedom. In the safety of a group, one can only glimpse the mysterious underbelly of nightlife. Last weekend’s underground loft party left me itching to strike out on my own and delve into the depths. The room was filled with beautiful people, all tinted with the familiar tinge of mischief that I so enjoy. I felt confined. It’s not that my friends aren’t fun (and perhaps the best group of friends on this planet), but there are moments when I want to move among the shadows. That’s impossible when I’m “the driver”.
Yesterday, even after my dawn run, bike commute and full productive day at the office, I remained restless. I knew that I couldn’t go dancing because of my obligations at work today, but I needed something more than a cold bed and cartoons. My first thought was to cut to the chase, call someone over to warm the bed for a few hours and then put him back out afterwards. I thought in particular of Secret Squirrel and how he looked at me when we met the other day. Then I thought of Killa B and how candlelight turns his body into a work of art. I managed to shake that off almost as quickly as it came over me. However, to flirt with the possibility, I opted to shoot a few games of pool with him instead. He is the least threatening of the hot men I hang out with. My memories and imagination are stronger determining factors than his intentions. I had those pretty well in check, so I took the chance just for the sheer entertainment and anjoyment of his company. He said, “You like to be pursued”. He was absolutely right. A predator he is not - that is for certain. We ended our outing after four games, I won the first two and he evened up the score on games 3 and 4. I had a moment of waffling afterwards, but as I’ve stated before: Love, then Sex. My own words echoed in my head as I clicked the peg into the lock, closing the door between us and again confirming our platonic status. We'll ride together this evening.
The combination of meat for dinner and cocktails made me sluggish this morning. The fact that my urges remained unfulfilled just compounded the effect. I predict that I will train very hard this weekend to shed these last few pounds of winter insulation, incorporate the additional mileage training schedule for the Nike marathon and (most importantly) keep myself from finding trouble. I always know where to look and I never have to go very far.
I need to keep myself relatively spent. Too tired and I won’t make it out at all, not tired enough and I will either fall prey to the lures of shady characters or become a shady character myself, sniffing the air for the scent of the next unsuspecting victim. I’m getting too old for that life. It was fun in my twenties, but now I just want to have my fun while I’m out and go home to peace and quiet. I haven’t forgotten how to hunt. In fact, I may have already caught an interesting scent. We shall see. A patient hunter doesn’t need to work as hard, and I'm not doing it just to pass the time anymore.
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