i paid $85 for sore muscles and rope burn

the 'enlarge your penis size' junk e-mailers might consider putting "military grade obstacle course with 15 different disciplines" in their subject line, because chances are i would actually open it up and maybe even whip out the credit card.

the shawnee peak challenge was indeed both the noun and verb it marketed itself to be. scenic vistas of foliage and lakes were enjoyed after a run, and by run, i mean shuffle, on all fours, up the ski slope, three times. i may have over-romanticized the concept of crawling under cargo nets up (and down) the mountain side, a little. but aforementioned scenery was enjoyed at the summit, although any of that crisp, autumnal, fresh mountain air i had hoped to partake of was eclipsed by the taste of my own lungs.

i was personally delighted to see the staff photographers of brightroom.com manning their positions by the cargo nets, ready to capture bottoms straddling the top beam from every angle.

well, at least it's a nice day to go for a hike.

several months ago it seemed like a not un-good idea to do two foot races back-to-back. it would have been the equivalent of saying no to chocolate mousse torte and cheesecake-- why can't you just have biscuits and mascarpone a la mousse? the beach to beacon road race on-line registration caps out by 6:08am. if you are one of the unfortunates with a dial up connection, then those 7 minutes and 59 seconds can be more grueling than the actual 10k itself. and so i was one of the lucky ones who got to wake up at the sparrow's fart on a saturday to eat porridge (when i wasn't hungry), throw coffee down my throat (when i wasn't actually ready to be conscious), and then sit on the toilet (when i wasn't even remotely dilated). all to show up at the start line, run way faster than felt enjoyable, in order to cross the finish dizzy and nauseous. but a minute and some change sooner than last year, damnit.



sunday: 9 miles of uphill trail running, err, hiking, but mostly running, on the flats. flat-ish flats, as flat as you can get on a mountain. first year doing this one, so i was just focused on keeping the expectations low, in order for an impressive PR next year.



way more fun because i got to say i raced the day before and was therefore "sore", "tired", and "not really racing, but just enjoying the journey".



and the best t-shirt i've ever put over a wet, salty sport's bra.

not your average tea party

jfk airport, downtown la jolla, the midway at the kentucky state fair, and any street corner in gatlinburg, tennessee are guaranteed to provide more people watching opportunities than a wal-mart in any one of 'the lower 48', at 9 o'clock on a saturday night.

the yankee dental conference in boston has now made it into the top ten, displacing the american art therapy association's annual artsy fartsy-fest of hand crafted ostrich egg earings, swoopy skirts, navajo scarves, open toed leather sandals and freud. my former, orally fixated, chalk pastel wielding colleagues cannot hold a burnt umber crayon to a convention centre packed with dental experts and their assorted paraprofessionals.

sir richard attenborough would have 6 weeks worth of BBC programming just focused on identifying the various species roaming the flourescent lit savannah. the "doctor" is quickly spotted in both manifestations; "designer-suit-and-tie" or "middle-aged-pot-belly-and-leather-jacket". the "hygienist" and "assistant" are unable to camouflage themselves due to a distinctive coach purse tail feather. administrative professionals, like the doctors, fall into two subtypes, one is actually not too dissimilar to the "hygienist" (subtract a decade and a high school diploma) versus the "middle aged matriarch in a muu-muu". thankfully, colour coded ID badges remove the guess work on anything too ambiguous. the remaining space is heavily populated with sales people sporting both "anne" and "calvin", hawking their blinged out forceps (extracting a wisdom tooth could never be so 'studio 51'), x-ray equipment and cabinetry systems more costly than bmw's latest leather lined offering. the sounds of the temperature controlled market are replete, not with "cheap rolex, best price, nice quality", but pleas to "never let a patient leave your chair without a hot towel" (note: they smell exactly like the ones handed out on planes right around the time airlines started to do away with peanuts).

the plaque and periodontally obsessed are also able to choose from purple impression trays versus a more whimsical lime green, dental chairs that can do reflexology during a root canal, and gloves that meet both the universal precaution standard and accessorize with this season's scrub colours. and should choices be so overwhelming as to send vendees into a weakened state, trolleys of free doughnuts are wheeled by every three minutes in order to facilitate the decision making process. in fact, conference attendees typically sport more freebie bags than the guy sleeping under the overpass near balboa park.

fortunately there are extracurricular distractions provided for those (spouses) not terribly interested in third molars and gingivitis; all day tours of neiman-marcus, tai chi, and booths brimming with jewelry, purses, pashminas and fur coats- presumably to co-ordinate with marital gold card.

staying classy in the 04240

small(er) town living means being on a first name basis with your mail carrier, facebook friending- and donating farm animals to- the postmaster at the down town building, and being given your very own nickname ("fred") by the postal workers in the back sorting office. it also means contributing to the max. capacity for fire safety statutes at 'maine's very first gay bar's last night in business'.



preconceived notions that a new england drag show is just an endless stream of leggy blonde lovelies twirling ski poles on their adam's apple, or at the very least a puffy jacket striptease down to the long, silk undies, are about as false as their fleece lined implants.



these are: thepeopleofwalmart.com(afterhours).

something old, something new, and a lot of things made in china

the next wave of weddings is beginning to ripple like fart water in a bath tub. now the 'second time arounds', and 'perpetually phobic of settling down' are finally compiling their own registries at target.

and so to detroit, for a formerly commitment averse's bridal baptism. or rather; a swedish-mexican-roman-catholic affair that was quite possibly longer than the first harry potter film. *

as with long haul flights, ceremonies that exceed the time it takes to read 'harry potter and the goblet of fire', should at least put the junior bridesmaids to work and have them pass out a few concessions. and considering you get two bags of pretzels flying from louisville to chicago, the volume and quantity of communion at these events needs to be reviewed.

in light of these supersized ceremonies, there is a largely untapped market to "rent a screaming infant". very few pew mates will ask to see evidence of a dirty nappy when your little poopsie is reaching the decibels only babies can achieve upon an aeroplane's initial descent from 30,000 feet. either that, or the muttering officiant in the pulpit needs to be replaced by the oxy-clean guy.

furthermore, guests have already spent more hours than airfare waiting for; a delayed 737/ $15 banana cucumber scone at the au bon pain in terminal 3/a cigarette scented pt cruiser at the alamo desk, and so killing time in a city that has embraced the dictum "bullets are the new body piercing", while the bride and groom drive to various scenic bridges/cupid fountains/weather patterns that have left a rainbow, to shoot several memory sticks of sepia toned olan mills moments is just churlish. meanwhile, your jetlagged friends have navigated the stinky pt cruiser through armageddon twice in order to find the type of chain restaurant that nails grandfather clocks, unicycles and football helmets to the wall, all to sit and nurse $15 drinks the colour of antifreeze, while dressed in freshly dry cleaned ann taylor loft for 5 hours.

finally, no one under the age of 68 enjoys sugared almonds in a net bag- even if they are colour matched to your bridesmaids' shoes. and no one 69-plus has enough natural tooth to aid in the mastication and digestion of pastel covered hardware. candles are always the more considerate option, because if they don't melt all over the interior surface of your suitcase while sitting on the luggage cart at gate D12, they are easily stored in kitchen cupboards behind the bread machine and smiley face waffle maker.



and for those who don't want to spend the ceremony-reception limbo sitting at the bar in TGI friday's, stalking a mariachi band warming up in the car park provides an alternative diversion.




* for nuptuals set in the motor city, there were disappointingly few crack pipe centre pieces.

nut jobs for dogs

with the burgeoning pressure to look good by any means possible, where the size of your crib, car, lingerie and lower lip are inflating faster than octo-mum's bin full of dirty nappies, "neuticles" (TM) are now widely available for those doggies that are tired of the constant ridicule and comparisons with lance armstrong.

for a rather large sum of money (prices range from $80 to $130, depending on size- the "pamela anderson" is popular with chihuahuas- and degree of firmness desired), you can ensure that your post-neutered dog has a set of nuts he can feel proud of airing out at the local park- or stand a chance of qualifying for a shiny rosette at the crufts' show.

unfortunately this could also pose a problem at airport security: "excuse me sir, could you remove your belt, watch and the contents of your dog's nut sack?"

for those owners that can't afford the designer package, the budget plan involves last year's ornaments from the christmas tree.

pret a porter

inches of glossy airbrushed magazine space are dedicated to the practice of minimizing and streamlining your purse, paunch, relationships, refrigerator and wardrobe. my own closet is not porcine with "two less cartons of edy's a month and i'll get into that" outfits. it certainly doesn't give that malnourished, nasal fashionista hosting 'what not to wear' anything more than a tinkerbell t-shirt from target to get her diamante calvin klein knickers in a twist over; there are plenty of outfits 'waiting to happen'. unfortunately, my assembly skills are also the same when i have a trolley load of shopping. fresh basil, sun dried tomato, garlic and olive oil should activate that meg ryan moment from "when harry met sally", however, in my mixing bowl, it all falls a bit bland, or just-- odd (this may also explain why i have a collection of recipe books that outnumber a family of mormons, and yet the weekly menu has only 7 of my own bastardized dishes on rotation). i need a clothing equivalent of the spinach, dried cranberry and aged gorgonzola "kit", or trader joe's needs to start making outfits.

generally a dinner that is prepared by someone who is being paid lots of money to artfullly drizzle things on my pan seared scallops and butternut squash risotto should warrant more than the default 'navy-old-navy-trousers-and-black-gap-sweater-my-mum-got-me-for-christmas' uniform. in an effort to make one, i browsed the graveyard section of the closet. i can match colours- except on rubik's cubes, there's always one little bugger that mucks up the gestalt.

right.....pink courdroy skirt and grey sweater. a skirt in winter needs tights- grey (for some reason i have a lot of these, probably because i never wear them, so i buy another pair, and continue to not wear them). scrap that, no shoes to go with pink and grey, definitely not wearing black ballet flats, too much like my old boarding school uniform.

right...pink skirt, brown tights and 'brown-boots-from-my-mum-from-four-christmases-ago-that-still-haven't-been-worn'. except these boots came too high for an a-line skirt. change skirt to 'a-line blue-grey-skirt-also-from-mum-at-xmas'. change tights (black tights are ok with blue/grey?). change top; 'another-black-sweater-from-gap-from-mum-at-xmas'. forgot about the brown boots. shit.

right...dark blue jeans, 'first-black-ballet-wrap-gap-sweater-from-mum', but RED (mini) HEELS to make it 'scallop worthy'. except this is maine, you cant go 'skin on shoe' in february. definitely not wearing tights under jeans. further rummaging in the hosiery drawer revealed only one pop sock (black), oh well, it would have looked too minnie mouse. i have yet to master; 'dressy-casual, the 22 degrees version'.

"our reservation is for 5, are you ready?" [sorry, surely you must be talking to one of the dogs, i am not familiar with that particular phrase].

that's it...blue jeans, 'gap-ballet-wrap-from-mum', wool bike socks, and the clumpy black shoes with 'snow tred' underneath. contact lenses, mascara and flat ironed hair is "effort", and 'scallop worthy'.

"good evening, welcome to fuel, where even our crisp, white table linen is infused with truffle oil. would you like to check your [puffy, hooded, baby blue north face] jacket?"

weddings and celebrity red carpet events, albeit infrequent, are obvious. it's the next rung down of apparel that is more complicated than packing a TSA approved carry-on.

sisterhood of the travelling, crotchless running shorts

my own personal narrative of pain includes; waking up when the presenters of morning television are arriving at their new york studios; flying-- it's just not good for my cuticles; physical discomfort; the phylum of trademarked miniature action figure kitsch that tends to accompany a McCoronary meal; spending money. so i'm not really sure why i was packing my dog eaten shorts to fly down for the 3:30am wake-up call at the disney marathon earlier this month. the trifecta of torture included spending money to sit in turbulence and wake up the following day to spend the registration fee by experiencing what it might feel like to have fire ants pelted at my legs (or a duck wearing half an outfit wielding a tennis racket) for several hours- to the tune of "it's a small world".



marathoners share a trauma bond that no amount of bodyglide can lubricate. wearing race t-shirts and medals are for the obvious. the physical manifestation is seen all over downtown disney, post-marathon, as our kindred do the heidi fleiss hobble towards planet hollywood for salt, garlic fried carbs, and tequila.



in addition to water, watery powerade, and vaseline on popsicle sticks, chocolate bars were being dispensed by race support at mile 12. pavlov's ovaries responded before the digestive and respiratory systems talked to the limbic which gave me a swift kick around the fallopian tubes. however, one of the most memorable signs from the supporters was: "don't poop!" your long distance brethren are part of a 'crapper's collective', and i have no doubt that water pressure throughout the resort took a dip around 2am, marathon morning.



runners everywhere know the important and delicate balance of liquids to avoid both dehydration and hypotranemia. thankfully, mimosa's offer a good source of vitamin C to help in the repair of muscle tears.



apparently, in florida, even jesus loves every single one of the sweaty, swearing and salt encrusted.



last year, RW ran an article on pace team leaders, featuring someone who i immediately wanted to pace with by the end of the article. well somewhere around mile marker 23, the fairy godmother granted my wish; star blackford of the clif pace team, was just that. had it not been for her constant; "one tenth of one percent of americans finish a marathon- you are so strong", and "the average finish time for this marathon is 5:16, you are going to beat that", this would have certainly been a lachrymose performance.



no one can run a marathon for you, but you never run one alone.

what can brown do for you, when there's anal bleaching available?

if you are trying to find that special something for the person in your life who owns 90% of skymall's merchandise, then a gift certificate to a salon offering anal bleaching, is the perfect way to express your love and unconditional commitment.

for those cave dwelling troglodytes that are a little self conscious because their sphincter falls on the higher cocoa content shade of brown, relief is available for a mere $75, and just 10 minutes out of a hectic schedule. busy jet setters, can even take care of bothersome brown bum holes while transiting the duty-free at schipol airport.

however, maintaining a whiter than white sphincter requires return trips to the salon for touch ups- fortunately, unlike bleaching your hair, there are no tell-tale dark roots to out you as anything less than a "natural". of course, if your pay cheques are not issued by 'red light movies', and an albino anus isn't mandated in the contract, then less expensive solutions are within reach for anyone on a tight budget.

canine couture

i am an ardent supporter of having the freedom to make fun of that very special breed of pet owner who intentionally, repeatedly, and even worse, seasonally, dresses their animals in anything more than medically necessary paraphernalia.

karma has just given me a resounding slap around the chops.

this past week, i took reilly out for her bi-daily consitutional, and she spent much of it shivering (it gets cold in new england, you know). my immediate concern became the very real possibility of having to wipe and/or chip poosicles hanging out of her rectum.

while the prospect of putting a cork in for the winter, appeals to my own aversion of her (and therefore me, as the holder of the leash and plastic bag) toileting in several feet of snow, layering of both parties seems the most humane option- and "uncorking" her after 6 months just sounds downright dangerous.

fortunately, american pet retailers have a veritable baskin-robbins selection to cover every imagined weather condition and social obligation. owners can now express and project their own identities onto their four legged friends, whether it's an outdoorsy, x-treme "little fluffy" in snowshoes and north face vest, or "rover" in a polo shirt and arglye sweater (burberry dresses for the ladies), jauntily swinging a 9 iron on the green. obviously, the uber hipster pooches don't need anything more than to grow out their face fur, all the better from which to peer moodily, overcome with angst at the limited choices in organic doggie treats.

i realize that ugg's and giant sunglasses would complete her outfit, but she has already asked for her very own miniature dog, to tote around in a purse, for christmas.

semantics

october in new england; where there are still leaves on the trees (albeit a lovely shade of traffic cone), flip flops on my feet, and no snow on the ground. however, the remedial class on "winter" has already begun, for she who grew up in the land of "sand and camels". in addition to winter tyres, chains on tyres, and all wheel (or rear wheel?) drive (why don't you just suck it up and get a subaru like everyone else), residents of the northeast supplement their ice scrapers and shovels with snow blowers. this makes sense to me, an industrial sized leaf blower (i visualize princess vespa's hairdryer from 'spaceballs'), to melt ice and blow snow from your windscreen- genius!

apparently not.

[with much undisguised mirth]: "no, no, no. 'snow blower', like 'lawn mower', you push it".

i anticipate further ridicule when it is time to explore the profound and esoteric domain of thermal underwear.

hygiene for dummies

my inability to master the fundamentals of shower operation (holiday inn's, KOA's, ex-boyfriend's family members' at thanksgiving), has decreased the chasm between myself and that of a 10 year old boy's bathing rituals.

there are many advances in modern technology that i am grateful for; the internet allows me to occupy the block of time between 8:30 and 5, monday through friday, by keeping up with old friends, monitoring the 'puffy and married' stats on acquaintances, and stalking everyone else-- i am also deeply in love with my swiffer.

however, skymall's "dry clean your garden gnome collection while making a deep fried guava smoothie from the comfort of your own lazee boy" notwithstanding, there are some "just for your conveniance" improvements that serve to weaken the belief that i am even capable of telling the time on a digital watch. the designers responsible for streamlining the taps in showers to the point where bathers must adjust a compass to determine if the ablutions are going to take place in anchorage, alaska or the sudan, are not conserving much water when i am cowering from the frigid (then scalding) firing line, and simultaneously engaging in a complex choreography of supine backflip triple axles, to avoid touching anything 'cold and ceramic', or 'slimey and shower curtain'.

and much like maui brownie madness versus cookie dough, i am also unable to choose which of the 365 remote controls will let me view joan rivers modelling a limited edition, presidential 2008, 10 carat gold plated tennis bracelet, watch the shriner's at a neighborhood pancake eating contest, or simply adjust the setting on the lazee boy to better digest my fruit smoothie.

fishies for the little piggies

fish pedicures (not scaley creatures with feet, but creatures with scaley feet) appear to be doing the rounds on the breakfast tv circuit-- although they were only recently brought to my attention via the regis/kelly-lee/barbara-ann-free lunch table forum. having someone i do (or don't) know, grope my in-step for 45 minutes, followed by rigorous grating and harvesting of the parmesan maturing on my heels, is even less appealing than having daily pelvic exams performed by the teletubby-phobic evangelist, jerry falwell. now you can fork out $50 for a lukewarm tub filled with tiny carp, to nibble (and tickle) on the dead and crusty bits of your feet. i personally, can't imagine being denied the satisfaction of feeling like i had just won a prize for picking off the biggest chunk of gnarly skin- or at least something that resembled a map of italy.

this obviously begs the question; what next? perhaps there will eventually be a daily special, where your salon will throw in a few tablespoons of termites in order to rid you of those stubborn, ingrown toenails. leeches are obviously, already used for medical procedures, but boa contrictors could be applied to the abdomen to deal with bloating and constipation. perhaps an octopus to the thigh in order to banish persistent cellulite? or even, addressing the girl mustache/excessive nostril hair/overgrown bikini line/stubborn mole hair issue, through strategic placement of the household pet phylum (rabbit, guinea pig, hamster).

cornhole

i had such high hopes- all of my adolescent giggling and tittering at the noun (verb?). and yet, the all american game of 2007 (and 8) has become the non-fat venti-oversized-purse-and-sunglasses-wearing-wii-playing fad. i should be grateful that i was able to take the hour and a half sanctioned lunch break for a "cook out and cornhole tourney" function at work today. many are less fortunate, and have to endure sara lee frozen bagels and john conti coffee sponsored meetings.

it was a jackson 5 soundtrack special.

i still hate cornhole. i think it is dumb, and for grown-ups who are too inebriated to walk in a straight line, but secretly like appetizers that are "infused" with garlic pesto a la mode on a souffle of redneck tourrine.

(i would far rather play twister).

enquiring minds spend way too much time on the toilet

the 3 year old wants to know "why"- the sky is blue/ onions make you cry/ parents are so obsessed with them taking naps. the oxymoronic adult 3 year old (that would be me), wants to know why cant maybelline, cover girl, or clinique invent make-up with similar properties to 'cheese-in-a-can', which would therefore translate into an expiration date on target with the apocalypse, as opposed to needing to be replaced in the time it takes milk to go off. or why it is harder to park a car in between the lines, in a space that is wide open, when there are no other cars to avoid hitting (reversing in and out a minimum of 4 times), as opposed to gliding straight in, in between a minivan and an army tank?

its a jeep thing...

~ the apparent humour of "everybody loves raymond" and "king of queens"
~ resisting the impulse to pick a thick, bubbling scab
~ (to louisvillians) the magnetic pull to dine at ramsi's
~ (to joe public) applebees, olive garden, in fact any type of "chain", be it a hotel or coffee shop
~ flavoured coffee
~ norah jones (unless youre standing in line at mcstarbucks waiting for a venti-mocha-grande-latte-chino, or taking an aromatherapy bubble bath, burning scented candles while your ovaries are throbbing at the state of your personal life
~ purses with more belts than a strait jacket
~ people who name their plants/cars/children; "magenta sky", "pineapple", "rocket ship" and call their dog/pot bellied pig; "jack" or "simon"
~ obese vegetarians
~ dog owners at the park, who allow their beloveds to jump (unleashed) out of the car and then become upset (at motorists/pedestrians/cyclists) when poochie runs excitedly into a baby jogger/under a truck/into the spokes of a bike
~ the appreciation for dave eggers
~ the ubiquity of crocs
~ sunglasses the size of woks
~ blue nail polish
~ tattoos
~ "christians" who have sex (repeatedly) before marriage
~ people who get obsessive about the flu shot every year, but refuse to medicate a throbbing headache because they want to 'wait it out'

...i dont understand.

sometimes it is just black and white

there are the people who have offices or homes with windows and artificial light. they choose to keep their blinds on one setting; "cave", and strip lights set to; full, but dingey, beam. these are commonly, also the owners of convertibles who keep their tops on, windows up, and AC at full blast, on a perfect summer day.

i will not pretend to understand these people. neither will i pretend to be upset if they get roughed up in an alley, their house (and blinds) burns down, or their lexus is keyed.

Attention Deficit Television Disorder

have you ever thought how boring those 3-5 minutes that you spend pumping petrol into your car can be? i personally watch the numbers rack up in abject horror that filling my car is now comparable to buying a pair of shoes, albeit cheap ones. this is also usually done while i'm trying to stand frozen at an angle that will maintain optimum flow, a slight shift down and the machine assumes my transaction is complete and begins offering me receipt choices. thanks to a 20 inch tv screen built into pump # 3, i can now catch up on 20 seconds of local news before i learn who is the "fastest" and "most experienced" lawyer that can get me out of those pesky DUI's. i sincerely hope these clever design people hurry up and install a tv into washing machine lids, god knows i could do with the distraction while im pouring a cup of tide onto my dirty socks.