The Gym - Where No One Knows My Name

I always said I would never, ever join a gym.  There are too many steroid monkeys strutting around and it is a serious workout hazard trying to dodge all the big floaty egos.  I am also extremely self conscious about looking like a gumby when I work out and I have a tendency to put on my workout gear inside out.  Both of which are not really an issue when you run by yourself or with a very kind running partner.

Alas, I realized quite quickly into this working far, far away thing that with the long work day and the even longer commute, there are days I just cannot (or don't want) to run or work out by the time I get home.  This is a big problem during the sport seasons where I get home from work, cram a cracker in my gullet and get back in the damn car to some athletic endeavor that is not mine.  So I reluctantly joined the gym at work.  Super convenient.  I have an hour long lunch break that I was just using as a hour long nap time in my car so the gym, it turns out, is a way better use of my time.  I sorta thought the gym at work might be full of just regular old nice people who all work together.  I.  Was.  Wrong.  Holy crap.  This gym may not be full of roid monkeys like most gyms but in three entire months of attending not one single person has expressed any interest in being friendly (and yes, I do smile at them to see if they are friendly gym creatures) but nothing, not even a slight nod.  What is with these people?  Are they to important to be nice to others?  Are they so into focusing on their workout that they are incapable of friendly overtures?   (Side Bar:  I was a little worried that it might just be me and they could see right through my crazy but I noticed that none of them talk to each other either, even in the changing room.  Nothing.  Not a word!)  Despite the gym snobs I continue to go as often as I can talk myself into it (even though I hate every single minute and many of the minutes afterwards during the annoying "after sweat" when I am sitting at my desk trying to NOT pass out from over heating!).  I will also continue to smile at the Gym Snobs until I wear one of them down and they suddenly decide that they are either sick of me smiling like an idiot at them or they get a freaking personality. Whichever comes first!

GoatGate - The Next Crisis

Yup, you read that right.  GoatGate.  I am currently in the midst of a very large "disagreement" with Hawkgirl regarding the visiting of actual, live goats on my next visit to her home.   I started out being quite open to the idea of visiting the goats (coincidently, none of Hawkgirls family want to go with her to the "goat farm".  Should have been my first clue that something was amiss!) I really had this vision of being safely on the other side of a fence and admiring the goats from afar.  Alas, I was so wrong.  So, so wrong.  Apparently, Hawkgirl wants to "snuggle" with the goats!  What the hell?  Goats are:  smelly, bitey and grossly unpredictable creatures whom, I assume, eat anything!  They are land seagulls.  After explaining to Ms. Hawk that I had no interest in Googling goat bite medical procedures and post-goat visit hand hygiene protocol, she promptly informed me that she was re-evaluating our friendship (because clearly she loves all things animal and I love all things not smelly and bitey!)  I did, throughout the entire conversation have "I will not visit goats Sam I Am, not in a house, not with a mouse, not in a......" well you get it.  As soon as I was informed that I needed to pack old clothing on my vacation, I again protested.  What the hell?  No one wants to pack old clothing with the intention of getting dirty on their vacation (unless, of course, you dig that kinda thing, which is ridiculous!)

 IF Goatgate comes to a peaceful end I will report back.  IF I end up in the emergency room of the tiny hospital in Hawkgirls home town you can BET you will be hearing about it.  

This is NOT a PET!!!!

Advice From Hawkgirl

About two weeks into this whole working with real people thing, Hawkgirl decided to send me some advice about working in an office.  Rules to live by:

• Get flu shot (maybe a few other shots as well) (I figured she put this first because of my general dislike of germs and bodily fluids).
• Wear comfy shoes to and from work and leave a box under your desk with work shoes and comfy shoes so that you can change often.  (Side note: saves on storage space at home AND you are free to purchase new shoes and husbands will never know).
• Comfy clothes are a must.  Any kind of pants with stretch and a longer shirt in case of bloating throughout the day!  

The comfy shoes and clothing thing has definitely been an issue.  What fits in the morning does not necessarily fit in the afternoon after eating lunch and definitely becomes an issue if you are stuck sitting in traffic for an hour on your commute home!   I have two pairs of shoes that essentially go with every outfit stashed in my desk and a pair of runners so I don’t have to pack runners back and forth (for the gym, another story that is!).  When Hawkgirl sent this advice I assumed she meant shoe box with a couple of pairs of shoes.  She, however, was referring to a bankers box full of shoes for every season and every possible outfit.  She did send a picture that I was going to post with this but I don’t want to become the agent for potential marital therapy between the Hawk and her husband.   Not going to go there.

On another note, I met with some of my old co-workers from my last position and they were very curious as to my level of crazy about my new commute, working with people and germs.  I think I reassured them that I was still holding my own and had yet to run out of the building screaming.  So far.  First outbreak of some animal flu and I am ordering a hazmat suit on EBay.  

Goodbye My Mudder Friend

“Hey… how was Mudder this year?”  I am at a serious loss of words when it comes to this answer.  I have all kinds of swear words and exclamations of stupidity but honestly I cannot eloquently explain what an incredibly bad idea it is for old people (like me) to attempt Tough Mudder.  The course this year was muddier and definitely more challenging and, from what I could see, there were many more people walking around with injuries (except for one fella who broke his knee, all injured parties kept on plugging through the 20 km of pure hell).  It took about ten minutes after the start before I firmly decided that this would forever be my last Mudder.  I tried to embrace the experience and all that crap but after being in freezing cold water, knee high mud, blood sucking killer mosquitos and on and off rain for over five hours I lost my ability to be positive about enjoying anything.  Some idiot on the course started talking about a hot tub and that was all I could think of for at least two hours.   Why couldn’t they have an obstacle with a bloody hot tub?  Or warm, furry blankets?  Of course it did not help my situation at all that I fell off the back side of the Balls To The Wall obstacle and hurt myself (coincidentally this was the same place the fella broke his knee in within seconds of my fall so I do feel very grateful I just wounded my back and all my internal organs and did not break any bones.  Always something to be grateful for!)    Yes, I did finish (although I had to skip a few of the obstacles after my Humpty Dumpty off the wall) and that in itself is a huge accomplishment however my Muddering days are officially over.  Next year I am going to help coach.  That seems like a better idea for me.  Warm coat, dry clothing and beverages!  Sounds more like my activity level.

Run Like a Girl and Sotally Tober Fudder Muckers

The time has come to admit the next degree of insanity of which I begrudgingly am subjecting myself to.  The first is a 11 kilometer trail run up a crazy ass mountain, around what I assume is a lake, with Lady Gazelle.  I have never been to said Lake nor have I run the type of elevation that is said to be forthcoming.   Full disclosure here - I hate running hills.  Even the slightest bump in the road causes my body to drain of energy and I want to throw up/curl up in the fetal position on the side of the trail/road.  Of course, over the last few months whenever Lady Gazelle suggested we start hill training so we were prepared for the insane elevation we have to look forward to I, being a crafty mind twister, said something to the effect of "Oh, yes we should do that.  What a fantastic idea.  Great training plan." Etc. Etc.  all the while thinking "You must be effing nuts.  If you really want me to train on hills you are going to have to cave woman like drag me by my hair kicking and screaming because I will only participate in that activity while tipsy/drunken (hmmm, hill training plan is coming together in my head nicely now.  Run to pub on hill, drink, run down hill and back to pub.  It's like a running incentive plan.  I am writing the proposal to Lady G next!).  Regardless of what happens in this run next week I plan to fully enjoy the experience and have an awesome time with Lady G.  I am sure we will have many laughs, even if we end up eating a ton of disgusting mountain bugs along the way.

What you may ask is the Sotally Tober Fudder Muckers?  That is the sweet, inventive name the group of young people decided for the team this year for Tough Mudder.  Yes, I know you are already saying out loud "but you said you would never do that shit again?"  You are right.  I was coerced and badgered into joining again.  Why? I have no idea.  It's not like I was the life of the party last year running around after the race doing shots and dancing on the table.  In all reality after we all sat in the hot tub nursing our weary bodies I went back to my room, had poutine from Zogs and a few drinks and maybe cried a little.  (Not to mention both my legs cramping up to the point of thinking maybe I needed to call an ambulance.  Turns out running an obstacle course for hours and hours, sitting in a hot tub and then partaking in beverages is okay as long as you add some water in there somewhere.  Apparently being pelted with hail and rain does not qualify as hydration.  Who knew?)  I have already decided that this will be my last kick at the Mudder can because I am getting to freaking old for this nonsense and I have new adventures to see to.  I hope to accomplish and/or attempt some of the obstacles I could not do last year because of the rain/hail (Artic Enema - this means you!)  and maybe enjoy the whole experience more now that I know what to expect.

I will, as always, report back on the spectacular events of each day for no other reason than to let you know that if your running partner or kid ever come up with a hair brained idea to do something athletic way, way out of your comfort zone you can remember this and say "oh, hell no" with dignified confidence!

Co-worker Adjustment Period

A couple of weeks into the new job and I have adjusted to getting up way, way before the birds,  attempting to look like a normal human being and spending many hours locked up in an office.  I have managed to find things to amuse myself other than iv bagging coffee into my veins.  Who has NOT adjusted is my one ex-coworker who has now decided that if I am not going to be around all day long to meet his every need, he is going to show me and forgo the litter box and do his business in all other areas of the house.  Its kinda like coming home to your own special easter egg hunt but its not bloody easter and the eggs are cat business number two (on a side note the whole house smells as well!). I have threatened to leave him in a cat diaper all day long but he just gives me a look like "just try it lady".  I could just see the result of that.  There would be cat diaper and cat crap all over the house when I got home!  For now the score is Ex-CatCo-Worker - 1, Me - 0.