Day 23--My ex, my exbf, and I all walk into a bar...

...or a high school chemistry class.

It was 1989, and instead of our normal chem teacher, our beloved Doc, in walks my ExBf to teach us about elements and stuff.  Modern day though, not the high school version of him.  He was subbing for Doc because Doc was at the Olympics.  And I wasn't sitting down yet...I'd been up chatting with someone about something, and when he walked in, I froze where I was, not really processing what was happening.  I was also modern-day me but for some reason stuck in high school chemistry. Probably because I never really understood it the first go-round. 

The ExBf/chem teacher gave me a look.  Not the sweet kind I was used to getting, but a "get your butt in your seat before I act all teachery on you" kind.  So I sat down.  And leaned over to ask the guy sitting next to me why my ExBf was our sub.

But the guy sitting next to me was my Ex.  And he was making notes on a menu from Maggiano's and told me it was time to go to the football team's fundraiser dinner.  (????)  So we left class before it even started, and hopped on Vespas (????) to drive to the fieldhouse for the fundraiser.

The ExBf was also there...I guess the football team fundraiser ranked higher than teaching HS chemistry that day...and they got in line with the other football guys dressed in red and white uniforms to serve pasta.  I wandered around the lines, looking for a plate, and then I decided I couldn't eat the pasta anyway because I'm training and eating low carb.  (Go me!!  Sticking to my low carb eating plan even in my dream life!).  I found some lemons that I suppose were for the iced tea and started eating them, but then I remembered the story my 7th grade biology teacher told us about how she and her sisters always sucked on lemons to whiten their teeth...and ended up losing all their enamel.  So I spit out the lemons and went back to class. 

When I got there, I ran into my ExBf again.  I can tell you exactly what shirt he was wearing and the cologne he had on. And I told him about my dream that he was our chem teacher.  And we laughed, and then the bell rang.  And it rang again.  And again.  And again.  And again. 

And I woke up.  To my annoying alarm clock. 

Which, is why I didn't make it up for P90x this morning.  I was hanging out in a weird parallell dream world universe.  I've been a crazy, vivid dreamer all my life.  I swear sometimes I wake up so tired because I've lived a whole other life while I've been sleeping.

Speaking of weird parellell dream universes, today is 2 months and 1 week until Tough Mudder time.  I'm happy with where I am, all but running.  But I upped my cardio last week to 2 hours a day, and this past Saturday I did a 2.5 hour spin class.  I thought the instructors would go easy on us, a little bit at least, because they had us for 2.5 hours.  But nope, not at all.  They killed us.  But the cool thing was that I finished and even though my legs were a little tight, they weren't really sore.  I did come home and sleep for 2 hours after the ride, but I am encouraged that I made it through 2.5 hours of lower body torture this weekend with no real side effects. 

So because we're essentially two months out (don't want to train hard the week before the race), I'm going to up my training a little bit more.  P90x in the a.m., a spin class in the evening, and then after I get my kiddo to bed, an hour on the elliptical or treadmill (elliptical will probably always win my vote: I hate the treadmille).  So that's 3 hours of training just about every day.  I signed up for bootcamp at the gym, and I'll incorporate that in the last month before the race, and then, hopefully I won't die!!

Now, I'm off to find some theories about what my crazy dream means.  Other than the most obvious one: I'm crazy.  Show me a Tough Mudder who isn't though.  Signing up to voluntarily run through fire is probably the textbook definition of crazy.  And it's all relative.  I have nutty dreams and am excited about running through fire, and other people have to open and close the door 15 times to make sure it shuts.  It takes all kinds of crazy to make this world, or the parellell dream version of this world, go round.

Day 22--I'm changing my name to Janet. Or Jess. Or Joan.

I remember it like it was yesterday.  My regular 5:15 a.m. spin instructor was off, and she warned us we'd have a sub.  A boy.  I'd never taken a spin class taught like a boy.  I wasn't happy.  And then I saw him.  A happy bald guy who was playing pretty good warm up tunes.  Okay, maybe it would be okay.  Then class started.  And I almost didn't survive. 

If you haven't taken a spin class before, the bike has a little red knob that you turn to add tension.  The more tension, obviously, the harder it is to pedal.  In spin, though, you also have to stand up on the bike and pedal.  With a lot of tension, it feels like you're running through 8 feet of sand.

The instructor, who would forever after be called Jason.The.Spin.God, made us "bury" the tension (that means, add, and add, and add, and add....I think we turned the red knob 23 or 57 times) and stand up while he played that Kid Rock song, the one I can't pronounce, Bada-bing-bada-boom or something, and he turned it up LOUD.  So we were all up on our bikes, pushing through 8 feet of sand, with this crazy song on full blast.  The room was literally thumping with each beat. 

And then...

...the clock above our heads on the back row gave up and committed suicide.  It jumped right off the wall and smashed right in front of me. 

And Jason.The.Spin.God says, "It's not a party until we break something.  KEEP RIDING!!!!"

That's it, I was sold on this guy and on spin in general.  I figured out when he was teaching and came to every class I could, sometimes twice a day.  Until he left the gym.  :(

Never fear though, in comes Jeralan, a very happy, funny, silly, goofy, MMA-fighting, arms-as-big-as-trees spin.god.  I love his class.  It's always a blast, and being kind of a goofball myself, I have a great time spinning with him.

And then there's James.  James' spin class is like a dance party, and he's DJ Jazzy James.  His songs are these awesome mash-ups of a bunch of songs you already love to dance to, so the hour just flies by!

Finally, John, whose class I rode through twice in a row tonight.  He loves 80s rock like I do, and tonight he even played my favorite Glam rocker, Adam Lambert.  He also talks to us a lot, tells funny little ditties, and it's entertaining. 

All three of these guys' classes are hard; you definitely earn your keep in each one.  I love going to them all.  SpinGods, they all are.

So here you go...we had Jason, the original Spin God, and now Jeralan, James, and John. 

Hmmmm....it would appear that to become a SpinGoddess, like I hope to, I will need to first change my name to something that begins with the letter "J."

I like that show New Girl--Jess is kinda dorky like me.  That might work.  "Jess.The.Spin.Goddess."  Too Rhymey. 

Janet reminds me too much of Janet "Wardrobe Malfunction" Jackson or the dumpy roommate Janet from "Three's Company," so I think that one's out.

Jessica=Simpson.  No thanks.  Except she did date Tony Romo, and he was living with Jason Witten at the time, and I love Jason Witten, so maybe...but Jessica is the same as Jess, really, so no again.

Jenni is one of my BFF's names, so I can't be all SingleWhiteFemale Name-Stealer.

Well, I'll keep thinking of cool "J" names for my Spin.Goddess alter ego.  I have time. 

Now, I think I'll go sit in a tub of ice to recover from two hours on the bike seat in spin.  Ouch.  Plus, my legs currently don't work.  I might fall off this barstool I'm sitting on when I try to get down.

Wish me luck!!

Day 21--You spin me right round, baby, right round...

Wrapping up another weekend that was kind of a mixed bag.  I had a great Saturday hanging out with superfun friends at a beautiful wedding, reception, and afterparty that lasted a full 12 hours.  I volunteered to be the designated driver because I am on a low/healthy carb thing this week (and it's working--5 lbs gone since Tuesday) and because I knew I had a long run to do today.  I did bring some Crystal Light Appletini mix and made my own low-cal, low-carb appletinis at the after-party.  The bartenders thought I was odd when I placed this order:  Two shots of vodka, a glass of ice, and a bottle of water.  I got my mixology on and created my John Deere Tractor Green-colored concoction.  Quite sure the color of my faux-appletini is not the color of any apple I've ever seen.  They were tasty, but the wait staff did their job too well, because anytime I even shifted in my chair, they appeared and disappeared in the same millisecond, taking with them my self-made mixed drink.  I finally gave up.  But the night was awesome, and a lot of fun was had. 

Today, however, has been kinda tough.  Slept in.  Missed my sweet babygirl a lot.  Watched chick flicks.  Ignored my dirty kitchen and my unfolded laundry.  Didn't grocery shop.  Never left the house once.  Took a nap.  Total and complete bum stuck in a funk.

And what do I get for taking a nap, which I never do???  I slept through the only spin class at the gym today.  I was not happy.  And after battling with my stupid iTunes trying to recover my playlists and add new music so I can go running, it started thundering, so I decided to go to the gym, grab a spin bike, and go. 

With my new tunes, I hopped on the bike and worked my butt off.  I was out of water after 30 minutes and finished the refill at the hour mark.  I would have stayed longer but I saw Emily Maynard and Chris Harrison on the gym TVs....crap!  Forgot all about The Bachelorette Season Finale tonight!!  So I cooled off, stretched, cleaned off my sweaty bike, and ran home to make sure I'd get to watch the trainwreck as it unfolded.  And it turned out not to be a trainwreck at all.  Everyone seems happy. 

But I had such a great time, and it completely pulled me out of the funk I'd been in all day, that I decided I have to do something more with this spin business. 

So I started digging around on the internet.  I even found a yellow spin bike.  A happy, sunshiney spin bike. 

And I've decided I will get my spin instructor certification by my birthday on December 2nd.  I don't care if I'm old.  I don't care if I've never taught a single class.  I love spin.  I've always loved spin.  It doesn't require much coordination.  It's not like I'm delusional enough to think I could go teach just any class at the gym.  Like Zumba or Soul Grooves.  Ha, ha, no frickin way.  But spin, I can do.  It's hard, and it works, and I can do it.  So in this quest to reinvent myself, let's add Bad A$$ Spin Instructor to my resume, please.

Day 20--Tony is PSYCHO!! And we can be, too!

Today was a big day for me in the world of pushupability.  I did 5 one-armed push-ups, on my knees of course, but come on--those are HARD!!  And I even managed to do 3 of the clap-in-the-middle kind without face-planting into my yoga mat.  (PS, it's called a yoga mat, but it doesn't ever get used for yoga because, as you know, I hate yoga.)  Anyone who knows me knows that I can manage to faceplant without trying a complicated and challenging push-up move, so the fact that I managed to save face (ha!) while doing it is HUGE for me!! 

It was comical, for sure.  It did not look pretty, no doubt.  But the girl on P90X looked to be doing about what I was doing, just more of it.  Not much range-of-motion on the one-armed push-ups for us ladies.  But the dudes, holy crap!!  That was beautiful to watch, which I did once I did all I thought I could do for today.  Very nice, P90X Helper Dudes. 

Tony, though, is a total and complete maniac.  I actually paused the video and took a picture of him to show y'all how insanely strong this guy is.  On the clappy-in-the-middle pushups, he actually gets airborne.  And I'm not talking a few inches off the ground.  The guy is Super-pushup-man.  Wow, is all I can say.  As you can see, he has cleared the two P90X Helper Dudes behind him.  That grey thing 3 feet down is the floor mat.  Holy crap!!  Check him out!!

Shout-out to one of my very favorite people in the whole wide world who is taking on the Mudder the same day I am, but several states away.  He's lucky enough to live in the luckiest city in the world--Las Vegas--and I think a Post-Mudder Vegas Celebration will be in order when we both recover from the Mudder.  And my challenge to my querido amigo is that we both do flying Psycho Tony push-ups at the party and impress all the party-goers, especially the hot pilot that he and his lovely bride will ensure is at the party to be specifically impressed with my Bad A$$ness. ;)  You up for the challenge, Querido Amigo (hereinafter "QA" in all future shout-outs)?? 

I probably won't be able to lift my arms up to brush my teeth tomorrow, so don't get too close if you see me coming. 

So my new goal:  PSYCHO!!  And not in a bunny-boiling kinda way!!  I am gonna post of pic of me doing what Crazy Tony is doing at the end of this Mudder training.  Mark my words!!

Excuse the over-the-top optimism today.  I'm just proud.  And a little bit crazy.

Day 19--It's not a toomah.

My brain tumor is back.  Okay, it's not really a brain tumor.  Not that I know of anyway.  It's what I call the searing pain I get above my left eye when I'm stressed.  I have two very close friends who have had brain tumors, so I'm certainly not making light of those with actual, not imagined, brain tumors.  But mine is so bad it's making it hard to keep my left eye open.  After my surgery, I couldn't open my right eye, so maybe my left eye is protesting at having to do more than its fair share of the vision duty. 

It started out this morning when I had to try and do math.  Thankfully, my TMP is a math geek and was able to help me calculate the answers, but by then, the damage was done.  Brain tumor in full effect.  Four advil haven't made a dent.  Sticking my head in a bucket of ice sounds good, but not sure sporting the "wet hair" look is appropriate.  It's not Casual Friday, after all.  So suffer I must.

Maybe my tumor is caused by thinking too hard.  Not in an Albert Einstein kinda way.  Not in a finding-a-cure-for-cancer kinda way.  The things I'm thinking about aren't helpful to anyone but myself.  Maybe tumor headaches are caused by thinking too hard about things that don't help anyone.  Maybe they're designed to discourage such thoughts.

I was in spin class on Saturday.  There are usually cute boys in spin class, and Saturday was no exception.  But I didn't notice anyone except one riding on the front row, right in front of the instructor.  And it wasn't until the class ended that I realized why I couldn't keep my eyes off of his reflection in the big huge mirror for the whole hour.  I was looking at him, but the similarities were so striking that I was seeing someone else.  I walked by his bike on the way to get a towel and I couldn't help but smile.  He smiled back, and he had the same kind eyes I thought I'd be staring at forever.  I found myself hoping he'd be at my next spin class.  Not so I could talk to him, though.  As sure as he opened his mouth and his voice was his own, I wouldn't be able to imagine the one I'm missing is sitting just a few rows away from me in my spin class.  No, I'd like to continue fixating on the doppelganger during spin without any complications like knowing his name or anything about him, actually.  Wow, I think I might actually be nuts. 

Speaking of nuts, Mudder training is going pretty well.  I am loving that I'm back in spin class, and not just because of The Clone riding the bike in the front row.  It's such a great workout...awesome cardio for sure, but you can't beat it for building lower body strength.  I should be able to squat an adult human after a couple of months of this.  Not an actual human.  I think they'd be too wiggly to hold on to and I'd hate to drop one.  But weight equivalent to an adult human.  And I'm obsessed with my biceps and triceps lately.  It's actually fun to flex now because there's real live muscle there, and it makes me feel all strong and stuff.  Not quite Army Strong, but better than I was 6 weeks ago.

There were (hot) Army recruiters at the gym on Saturday, and they were giving tshirts away to guys who were dropping down and giving them 20.  My daughter told me to go get one.  "You can do push-ups now, Mom."  I was actually content to sit in the cafe and watch everyone else do the push-ups, but it was cool to know I could've done it if I'd wanted to.  Those pull-ups are still eluding me, but I'm still working out with the bands and strengthening the muscles that will eventually help me do the six I need to do to finish my Mudder.  And I was reminded recently the number of pull-ups an Army recruit has to do to get in:  1.  Maybe the next time the (hot) Army recruiters come back to the gym, I'll be able to knock out 6 pull-ups for them.  Wonder how many shirts I'd get for that. 

Spin tonight.  Hoping my headache has backed off by then.  If not, I at least hope the doppelganger is there to distract me.  Yes, I think I am nuts.  But maybe I can blame the tumor.

Day 18 - Sunny stole my American Gladiator name.

I realized that today is July 6th.  Friday.  One of my very favorite friend's birthdays.  The night of our Magic Mike and Dancing Girls Night Out.  And exactly 3 months until the Tough Mudder.
Please excuse me while I step outside and SCREAM.  [Screaming begins in 3, 2, 1...]

I don't know where the last month went.  True, I can now do 15 boy push-ups in a row, but I have not mastered a pull-up on the bar yet.  I'm supposed to be able to do 6 by October 6th. 

Deep breath.


And this last week has been a total wash.  I had some stress early in the week that completely distracted me, and then we had the holiday break, and there was definitely some unhealthy eating on the 4th (oreo balls, guacamole, cheeseburgers in paradise) and drinking (the name of what we were drinking is not appropriate for all audiences), which wouldn't have been so bad if I'd been P90Xing, which I wasn't.  I did one day.  And it intimidated the heck out of me.  I mostly sat there and watched as The Guy Who Can't Seem to Stop Talking do all these crazy types of push-ups, including the kind where you clap in the middle and jump off the ground, somehow, in the horizontal position.  I guess you push yourself up so high you leave the ground.  Not sure about the physics involved (TMP, some help here?)  Either way, I couldn't do it.  So I sat there, feeling more lost than I did on Day 1, during a lot of the crazy new brand of push-ups he expected me to do.  And then we've been out later than normal almost every day this week, so getting up in the morning has been a challenge.  I.E., I didn't get up early this week.


So it looks like I need to get some discipline back up in here.  I found all sorts of great quotes on Pinterest about discipline.  Too bad I wasn't persuaded by them to actually be motivated.  Knowing I've got only 3 months left to get my running where it needs to be (it's currently at 0 m.p.h. because I'm not doing it) and turn into one of the chicks from American Gladiator should be motivation enough.  I wonder if I need a special Tough Mudder name like the AG girls had.  The girl gladiators were named Diamond, Blaze, Ice, Sky, Lace, Siren, Jazz, Storm, Elecktra, Sunny, Flame, Sahara, Astra, Lightning, Jet, Vogue, Zodiac, Lynx, and Dallas.  They actually sound a whole lot more like strippers than gladiators.  The dudes have super tough names like Turbo, Nitro, and Diesel.  I think I earned the title of Serpent Slayer last month when I decapitated the scary brown (could have been a copperhead) snake in my closet, but it sounds like a name I'd have if I played Dungeons and Dragons.  I've never played, but the guys on Big Bang Theory were playing it the other day, and they all seemed to have funny names.  So Serpent Slayer won't really work.  Besides, I can't really accessorize that in any meaningful way on Tough Mudder day.  I actually like Sunny.  Because the sun's yellow, and yellow's my favorite color, and sunflowers are my favorite flowers, and Sunny sounds like a nice person.  But not real tough, I'll admit.  I'll keep thinking, and suggestions are surely welcome.

Okay, so 4 hours at the gym planned for tomorrow, a run on Sunday morning, and take 2 of week 6 of P90x starting Monday.  I'm saying it aloud so it will happen.  I'm writing it down so I can't not do it.  I'm putting it in cyberspace so I've essentially made a promise to all the folks who read my blog.  I don't know who you are, but it means a lot to me to not break my word to you.  Or whatever.  I'm just trying to make myself wake up and quit acting like I have all year to get ready for this crazy race from hell.  Three months.  90 days.  Lord help me.  I think I might die.

My tombstone would say, "Here lies Angie, a.k.a., the Serpent Slayer, a.k.a., Sunny the Gladiator.  She's here because she didn't get her butt outta bed in the morning to do P90x and out the door to run and to the gym to work out, so she died trying to do the Tough Mudder, just like she thought she might.  Dummy."

Maybe my gladiator name should be Dummy.

Day 17--The time isn't right. Does anyone have any AA batteries?

Literally.  I'm sitting in my living room, looking up at the mantle clock on the cabinet that houses my ancient TV, and it says it's 12:06.  The clocks on the microwave and the stove both say it's 2:15, and my alarm clock reads 2:44. 

The actual time is 2:01.

Explanation:  I haven't changed the battery in my mantle clock.  The kitchen clocks were set based on a guess at the real time, and the alarm clock in my bedroom is set 45 minutes fast so that when it starts going off at 4:45 a.m., I actually think it's 5:30, and I snooze for 45 minutes, and I still get up in time for a morning workout.  Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't. 

But why can't I set my clocks to the actual time?  Is it smart to think it's earlier or later than it actually is? 

Well, changing the batteries involves getting the stepladder out, and taking the clock down, and taking the back off, and actually having new batteries to replace the old ones.  The others are much less trouble.  But still, they stay, too fast or too slow.

Time is something we all have trouble with.  Maybe not as literally as not taking the time to change the time on the clocks.  We all tend to look back and miss things that happened in an earlier time.  We tend to worry and fear things that may or may not happen at a later time.  But do we actually sit here, in the moment we're in, and make the most of the time that's happening right now?  I know I don't.

I wish it was as easy as just deciding to quit missing the wonderful things you had in the past and quit worrying about the unknown that lies ahead in the future.  I would decide to do that if I could. 

Today a rainy day.  A quiet day.  My kid isn't here, but even though I'm alone, I'm not lonely. Maybe I'm still riding the wave of all the extra endorphins I got from the three classes I did yesterday at the gym.  Maybe I've realized that even though I don't have that one special relationship anymore, I have dozens of other special relationships, people that make my life a happy, fun place to be.  Maybe I'm finally figuring out that time is marching on and I'm losing it by not living in the day that I woke up to.   

As I told my good friend this past week, you never know what's waiting around the corner for you.  I wasn't looking for anyone when he found me.  It just happened on this marvelous day that I will never forget.  I had been at the gym that morning, in spin class, just like a regular day, and after a conversation that lasted for hours, I knew.  I didn't get up that morning and have any idea how vastly different my life would be that night when I fell asleep.  That was just one day.  A great day.

Had I been able to see into the future, to see the day when we'd say goodbye, I would've run, and I'd have missed out on an amazing love. 

So it doesn't make sense to lose today because you're worried about tomorrow or longing for yesterday.  You never know what kind of great day is on the horizon. 

I think I'll go set my clocks.  Hopefully, I can find some batteries.