#167 - breast cancer

Most of last week was dedicated to preparing for the Susan G Komen "Race For A Cure" event. The company I work for said they would sponsor any employee (and guests) that would like to participate and run under their team. With the $20 donation enrollment fee covered, our team quickly grew to over 2,000 members. We wanted to stand out from the pink crowd of athletes so we ordered lime green breast cancer shirts. I signed my mother, friend, her sister and myself up for the 5K. Preparation for the race (assembling packets for runners) took about 3+ 14 hour days of work, which are, for the most part, a blur.

My mother flew out for the event, and dressed to stand out, we headed out on our bikes early Saturday morning. We both jogged the entire time and then sprinted the last leg. I'm not a runner, so there were definitely a few times when I would have been glad to walk, but with my co-workers all around me and my boss jogging right behind me, that wasn't an option. Who would listen to a personal trainer at the corporate gym who couldn't even run a 5K! I mean... come on. My favorite part was definitely the sprint at the end. There's no feeling. No thought. No pain. It's purely a mental game. You just go. I felt untouchable and full of energy and ran the fastest I possibly could (while weaving in and out of participants).

Not too long after the race, mom and I downed the carbs and headed over to a spa for a full body massage. Definitely the perfect way to end a race. Now she's off to Ogden to run a half marathon while I am just getting back from laying in the warm grass, taking a nap under the glorious sunshine. Go mama go!

#142 - workoholic

5:45 am - ...snooze...
the good: I get to sleep longer
the bad: I have to wake up soon

5:50 am - ...snooze...
the good: a few more minutes
the bad: quite, phone!

5:55 am - ...snooze...
the good: haha! I still get to sleep
the bad: dang, it's almost 6

6:00 am - alright alright
the good: alive, happy, healthy, employed
the bad: moving out of the cozy and into the less comfortable

6:45 am - drive to Meridian
the good: totally going to be to work on time!
the bad: I can't ride my bike to work

7:00 am - work work work
the good: happy people = job satisfaction, and good money
the bad: whiners, complainers, sobbers

3:30 pm - drive to Boise
the good: I work at the YMCA!
the bad: already worked 8 hours...

3:45 pm - work work work
the good: happy children, health conscience community, fabulous co-workers
the bad: still not sure what I want to do with my life

8:00 pm - drive home
the good: over!
the bad: exhausted, socially deprived, did I eat?

10:30 pm - nogggg shoooo nogggg shoooo
the good: happy bed, cozy dreams
the bad: my time is very scheduled and I've got too much workohol in my system

#107 - eminent death

I'm used to the normal warning symbols, found on every product and appliance ever made (we need a lot of help when it comes to safety evidently). Choke warnings, burn warnings, electrocution, etc. that usually come with the same generic symbol. I was doing laundry at work the other day and my eyes focused on the warning label on the washing machine. Freaked. Me. Out! These were the most horrifying warning symbols I've ever seen. I know now not to linger around the washing machine, and for sure, not to crawl in, which I have been tempted to do numerous times. Actually, exploding looks a lot more painful than simple death... and even twisty arm.

#82 - ditto kiddo

One meets so many people at school, it's often difficult to remember everyone's name. Enter - name associations. I've always associated people's names with things to help me place them (here's a few, for example).

"Beltbuckle" (can't actually remember his name, but he always wore ridiculously large belt buckles)

"The Chiseled"

"Tacoma John" (a guy I dated from Tacoma... too far away)

"Sledding Steve" (Steve took me sledding... self explanatory)

"Army" (a friend's boyfriend who was going through ROTC)

"Red" (A very tall very red redheaded man friend)

"Half-shell" (friend of mine who looks unmistakably like a turtle.. and always wears green)

The list could go on. I thought it was funny this semester though, how one of the faculty members who always comes into the gym refers to me. Since the end of last and the beginning of this semester, I have been known as "Tiny Tim" and "Miss America" by him. He is old and cute so I always go with it... those are just new ones for me. I've previously been called Roy, Nessers, Ness, Nestle, V (a favorite), Nessler ... etc, but those are all more logical.

#59 - seredipiosity... serendipatiousness...

During my shifts each week, I have some 'regulars'; people I have met in the gym or see that always exercise while I'm working. I don't know most of their names, and as far as guys are concerned, I have no desire to pursue anything with anyone I, "met at the gym". I've had some less-than-positive experiences in that department... the testosterone filling the weight room makes some of these guys feel on top of the world and the questions of 'what's your number?' or 'can I take you out sometime?' are quick to follow. Keeping in mind that I'm not looking to date these guys, there is one in particular that I always see. I call him "The Chiseled" - for he is thus. One of the best looking, best built guys I see. I talk to him sometimes, but it's mostly just smiles and "hi"s. I was telling my friend a story about him last night at music outlet. After the performances, we left to hang out at her place with a few friends. We all got talking and one of my friends mentioned that she got asked out at the gym by this guy that was "not her type at all" so we decided to look him up on 'facebook' - the easiest way to stalk people invented. I glanced at his profile picture - then ask to see another one, just to be sure... it's The Chiseled! What are the odds? I thought the night's events were very serendipitous.

#49 - the feat of deceit

At the fitness center, we ask that everyone check-in on the computers at the front desk. It's located right as you walk in and next to all the work-out equipment. All that is involved in checking in is typing your 8 digit i-number or your user name (vpark). It takes about 3 seconds, still people walk by and don't check in. Really, I don't care too much. If they see all the signs and they disregard it, they obviously have some deep rooted animosity towards checking-in or computers in general. I'm not going to push it. BUT there's this guy... he comes up to the front desk, types a few things in on the keyboard (presumably his user name) and leaves to go work out. I remember him because his user name was unusually short. He types it in so fast! While I was working I was sitting on the desk folding towels and from up there I have a view of the computer screen. He came up, typed in his "user name" and left. The screen stays up for a few seconds after someone checks in so I took a peek. He just hits any key on the keyboard and hits enter! It says "you have not successfully checked in" error. It's all just for show! Really?? You're trying to trick me? I know what's up.... my question is, why come all the way over, type something in on the keyboard, take the time and the energy just to go through the motions. It would take the exact same amount of time to actually check in! I think this man is very curious. Next time I see him fake-check-in, I'm going to confront him and make him really check-in; hopefully it will be awkward. Like I said, normally I don't care, but if he's going over the top to be tricky, I'm going to go over the top to show I'm not tricked. It is so on fake checker inner guy. It is so on.

#43 - sour lemons

I've consciously decided to look at the bright side - yes, I do have terrible weekend hours (Fridays and Saturdays 6-midnight), but I am going to squeeze every thing I can out of those terrible lemons. Around 11:15 everyone usually trickles away. Well, there's always that lonely runner that trucks on until I give them the subtle "get out" by turning off the TV's in the gym. If it's just me, the good tunes get cranked up and I sing and dance through the closing procedures. Also, I steal a wheeley chair from the office down the hall so I can scoot around during work and then glide at super speeds down the ramp when it's time to go home. Anticipation of that exhilarating trip alone makes the long hours whiz by. Now the rush: laundry. I carry the many, wash the many, dry the many, fold the many, then distribute the many many towels. The scary part comes in the middle of this routine after they are dry: I have this thing where I love clothes right when they come out of the dryer - all warm and cozy, so as soon as the buzzer buzzes, I'm in that thing, grabbing the still moving clothes. Now, imagine this dryer: it's huge... industrial strength; a giant spinning orb of terror. When I reach my hands in, my head comes too. So now I'm inside this spinning orb, trying to grab warm towels as fast as I can so as not to die. It's a little terrifying, but hugging those clean warm towels makes the adventure satisfying. Every time I am inside, I feel like I'm in one of those rides, like on Grease; trying to keep my cool and my balance, while holding in vomitous feelings, and the terror of being sucked in.