Color My World

I just returned from a short (I hate that word) visit to Alabama to visit my parents. No, I am not from there, which you may have figured out from my accent.

The K-12 there have been on spring break this week, even though spring doesn't officially start until tomorrow. Then again, in Alabama it feels like spring. There are these funny things, ideas, that I think I remember are called "colors".

Allow me to give you a few examples:

Yellow: Daffodils!

• Not like the faded plum sized bruise on my arm which is kind of a gross pale yellow now, but a real bright happy sunny yellow that just makes you want to pick out of the neighbors yard.

Red: Tulips!

• Not the icky red of the burn on my left arm that I managed to create by burning myself taking crab cakes out of the oven. (The list of injuries may indicate an interest in red wine)

Green: Grass!

• Not the bright emerald green of a tacky plastic hat worn on St. Patrick's day.

Blue: Sky!

• Not pool water.

White: Pear blossoms!

• Brighter and whiter even than my winter legs, the cat hair on my black winter coat, or my gray hair (which I colored two weeks ago - did anyone notice???).

Back in Albany: at least the snow is retreating. But the world here is still brown and gray and windswept and smells like thawing dog shit as a winters worth of littering reveals itself. But I can tell it's spring because I work on a college campus. It think some of these kids ain't just been holdin' hands lately, but maybe I'm just jealous.

My spring was great. It was loverly to get a dose of warm weather and sunshine, to run outside, to sit on the porch and drink a cold glass of wine, to take in the sun and the flowers and the colors. It's coming folks: NY spring should be here anytime in the next few months, minus at least a bit more snow and sleet and hail.

I’m tired of pretending like I’m not special. I’m tired of pretending like I’m not bitchin’, a total freakin’ rock star from Mars.

Charlie Sheen is in the news. Who cares.

When I wake up I'm just another nameless middle class white woman pushing 50 complaining about hot flashes with wrinkled PJs and a bag of cat shit to put in the trash on my way out the door. But, and this is so cool - my key is in the ignition, I hit the road, it's 4:45, I'm off to the Y, and by the time I pull into the parking lot I'm younger, stronger, determined, proud, littler and bitchier. I turn into S.L.B. I'm rockin' and ready to save the world!

No one knows my Secret Identity. I push it, 2 or 3 hours working out. I feel great. I cool down and shower and dress and dry and style and I go to Do My Face and whoooooa! Who is that old lady looking back at me in the mirror??? She looks like a freakin' librarian! Good. I'll have them all fooled. This is really just a disguise. I quietly enter the workforce.

The Roadrunner and I finally exchanged first names this week. This is the first step to revealing our Secret Identities. Her comment was, that after a while, Y groupies become like family. I corrected her: we are more like fly by night lovers because we never know a last name. She laughed but I didn't get her phone number.

Foxy Roxy finally got her Pool Name. She kept trying to get me to giggle in Pilates while I was lying on my back, trying to balance a stability ball on the bottom of my feet. I made it look easy, but what she doesn't know is that I have a secret superpower: sweaty sticky socks.

Sadly, by 5:00 pm, M-F, all the magic has worn off. I am finally revealed. OH MY GOD, I AM A LIBRARIAN. I am shorter, fatter, wrinkled, irritable, wearing glasses with a string attached, and I need a drink. The only competition here is to be the quietest and the oldest.

But there is always tomorrow morning, when the transformation will again turn me into S.L.B., and at least for now I don't have a bag of shit in my hand.

No Resistance to Start

When you start your diet, again, in anticipation of Spring, and because your pants are too tight, there should be No Resistance to Start. You just have to start. It may take a few false starts, but finally you will get into the groove, trust me, and warm up. Think of it as the beginning of another spinning class. You will soon engage your quads, hammies, and butt, and eventually your brain, too, something I don't always know I have early in the morning.

Time to get into Zone 2: working at it but still comfortable. You must not let yourself get into that "Why Resist?" stage. Don't think of it as just another cookie. Face it: dieting is a drag. After several weeks of cheating, when the weight sneaks up two pounds instead of going down, you know you have to Turn Up the Resistance. Depending on how big or how long that hill is you know you have to pace yourself, but you have to tell yourself I CAN DO THIS. Even if it's 10 minutes into class and you are already cheating, remember at least you are finally on the right side of the road. While it is tempting to just get off the bike and walk up that hill you would look very silly doing so in a spinning class, but it has crossed my mind.

So look for the Path of Least Resistance:

• Avoid eating out
• Cut out the fat, the processed sugar, that second goblet of wine (and the third)
• Don't buy Doritos
• Don't finish the rest of the Valentine candy
• Or the cheese
• Don't buy Hot Cross buns in February
• Skip the spaghetti, bread, cookies, and anything with the name Doodles in the product name

Why are some things just irresistible? Like popping someone with a snotty comment when you could just play nice. Wonder Woman got zinged by some bitch in the locker room today. Sometimes you just want to Say it Like It Is. Of course, you MUST RESIST. No sense causing any friction.

NOT. We're gonna stalk the bitch, because, the more members we can make Go Away the more room there will be in the pool! UGH, what am I saying!? Forming a Resistance would be unfriendly! How will I ever NOT be S.L.B. and finally deserve the name Pickle instead, which others have tried to assign me (knowing of course only I can assign a Pool Name)?

Enter Zone 3. On a roll and losing yours. Eating habits all good, S.L.B.'s advice about cutting calories considered. Got to bed without eating cookies after dinner. The Resistance is Way Up. You are dripping with sweat, out of breath, almost at the top of the hill, into Zone 4, holding it, looking forward to Recovery. You finish your water and feel good about yourself, finally down several pounds. Way to go! Now, let it go, because you refuse to let yourself go you are a winner. Stop worrying about the weight. Now just focus on the fun ride down the other side of the hill. And try not to stop for a bagel on your way to work.

New Moves

There's nothing quite so special as learning a few New Moves. The next day something hurts and you're like Jesus that hurts! What did I do??? OH YEAH. I've got a NEW MOVE!!!

Now new moves are important for many reasons. Here are just a few:

1. They reinvigorate the workout because, by February, having been Inside working out for several months now, you are intensely bored and need to shakeup your routine or you will turn into one of those [men] who always do the Same Thing All The Time because they are really good at it (think "dips") and they think they look really hot doing it, it all the time.
2. There are muscles that have been part of your body all your life that you never knew existed that deserve to be found, including several that seem to be located in places that impact the way you walk, eat and breathe, which are essential, we know that, but you discover that you have probably been walking, eating and breathing with poor form all along because you haven't engaged All Necessary Parts in the process of living.
3. Your brain, if I understand correctly, is, in fact, part of your body (or is your body just an extension of your brain?), and also needs to be engaged, which is part of learning a New Move, for at least 10 minutes of every 120 minute workout just to be sure it is getting enough oxygen so you can engage in effective gossip sessions in the locker room before going to work and actually using it to do something called "work".

I hit the mats this morning and a small person, a child, maybe 10 years old or so, who, of course, probably thought I was 100, started copying my workout. So I gave her a few tips. She was very cute. I'm pretty sure she will Not Hurt Tomorrow, because she is Young, but then again, she could no way put her ass over her head, which I can (ha!) so she may in fact discover important anatomical features, like her butt, which may enlarge and become soft as the years progress unless she embraces exercise as part of a lifestyle that can include, among other things, Doritos, which I think are really very yummy.

Shovelling does not count as a New Move, FYI.

Hitting the Mats

Last Saturday the Y finally replaced the squishy mat with a nice firm one. No longer will we stalk the only good one there - there are now two to fight over. All was good until the clock fell off the wall.

On Monday the water in the pool had cooled down to a comfy 78 degrees or so - perfect for swimming laps. I did my first mile flat on that morning, no problemo - what a great way to start the day. All was good until some bobber complained; by Friday it was back up to 85.

I had a great workout this morning - an hour on the mats, an hour in spinning class with Dave the Power Monkey. All was good until I went to relax in the hot tub and it was filled with about 20 Japanese men, all yammering.

On Friday Peanut turned 23 again. There was a coffee party and a group card and everything. She was very happy. All was good until I realized I hadn't been included.

I lost a few pounds despite two stops this week for bagel fixes. All was good until I realized the scale was messed up again.

Time to hit the mats. All is good until it's Saturday morning and there's way too much traffic up and down the hall and that old guy on the mat next to me isn't doing anything except breathing heavily. I refuse to look. I wish I could hide.

I've been pretty wound up lately. My Mom's been sick, I'm not sleeping well, and this weekend hasn't turned out so hot here at home. Stefanaki asked me what I did today at the Y, and then he tells me that he does his ab workouts at home. Hmmmmm. Like I care. I prefer working out at the gym, but I had to think why that is.

There are days I'm really in a rut and it genuinely drives me nuts that everyone at the Y is so nice all the time. I will be doing crunches wishing someone will cross me just so I can dope slap them. I guess there are times when all is bad, until someone makes me laugh. That's why I'd rather hit the mats at the Y than at home: so I can giggle with Guitar Man, instead of thinking I should be empyting the dishwasher.

Feel the love. Happy Valentines Day, everyone! I hope they fix the clock soon.

Snow Daze

OMG I missed going to the Y again today! Stupid weather. I still woke up at 4:00 a.m. That always sucks.

Where is that stoned out snow plow guy when you need him? I took the day off from the gym AND from work. But, hey! I could get my exercise shovelling!!!

• Long johns, big socks, pants, turtleneck, sweater, underwear, bra, hat, scarf, gloves, boots.
• Versus: sweatpants, sweatshirt, slippers.

Needless to say I've decided instead to just watch my husband clear the driveway. I have the house to myself for an hour or so. I thought I'd spend this time on my blog complaining about the weather.

I have it on good authority that if you want to know when it's going to snow to synch your workouts to when Mr. Sunshine is on the front desk. Every day he has had that morning shift since the beginning of January it has snowed. Please remember to ask him on your way into the gym what his work schedule is this month. It should freak him out nicely to know we're blogging about him behind his back.

Did the Y open at all today? If not it would be nice to know, since I'm still considering going this afternoon if the weather improves. Why have I given them my email address about 3 times? Do they know what email is??? I could call but that would be terribly analog of me, wouldn't you agree?

Soon I'll have another decaf with "cream" in it. Pass the "sugar". I might just enjoy this snow daze!

What's Missing?

When my 30 pound gym bag feels light for some reason, I know there has to be a reason, even if at 5:00 a.m. my brain isn't registering jack. I've probably forgotten something, and it isn't a 1 oz bra.

Sharin' had that look on Thursday morning. Something's missing. Hmmmm. What could it be??? Damn damn damn - I could see it in her eyes. The towel! No towel?! Definitely one of the essentials, right up there with the swim suit (which actually shouldn't be a problem - I can swim without the suit, but the goggles and cap are essentails). So I gave her one of my towels (yes, I had two - doesn't everyone?). Having friends is cool.

Mona Lisa forgot a shirt so I offered her my extra (yes, I had an extra). She peered at me out of the corner of her eye, up and down, and said no way would MY shirt ever fit her. But I was there for her. I lent my flip flops to one of the life guards not that long ago. Her gym bag no doubt felt about 3 ounces too light when she took off for work that morning. She's shorter than I am, which is really really short, so they fit perfectly. She was very appreciative of the footwear, although we were sorry they didn't match her suit. Right now my suit, my goggles, the flip flops, and cap all match my Poland Spring water bottle. I'm a tough act to follow.

I found a cap in one of the shower stalls on Friday that some poor soul had left behind. I pity them finding themselves without a cap the next time they wanted to go for a swim. YES I returned it to the desk. I'm not sure if they put it in a Ziploc bag or not. I know how paranoid there are about cooties, until, of course, I see the dust and the schmutz in the corners everywhere. Puppy lost her Ipod under the elliptical machines a few weeks ago. The dirt underneath the machine was so thick we could probably make a new mat to stretch out on with it. Very gross. It never turned up so I'm assuming the aliens took it.

What's missing? About 30 pounds, that's what. The new hospital scale they bought for the Ladies Locker Room is already busted! It goes up to 350 pounds, so we're busy ticking off from our list who is that fat (plus) that they managed to break it. On Friday I got on, put the weight on 50 and started adding. I got to 80 pounds and it leveled off. I had a bagel to celebrate. I wonder if anyone would like to please steal THIS scale so they buy us another one.

What else is missing? Stitch. Grand Poobah has been in, doing his laps, but his wife wasn't around, so I asked if he made her wait in the car. He emphatically said NO, but I told him if he does to remember to crack the windows an inch. For an old dude he totally gets it. We had a nice case of giggles to start the day, which is always good.

I lost my gloves last week, found them again, lost one of them, found it in a parking lot. I hate missing stuff. We should all be more like Peanut. Whatever is going on in the world she has the peace of mind to float in the hot tub, all stretched out and relaxed without a care in the world. Gotta love it. Whatever is missing remember there is always the joy of solitude and a good float in a big warm tub of bubbling, cholinated water.