I don't remember those people...(pt 3)

I like to nap. A lot. And after a mildly stressful day, I felt it my civic duty as a resident of the state of MN to diplomatically bring the nap to the Southwest. (And really...it was an attractively large bed.) We had agreed to meet up and make a plan for dinner and after I had tucked myself in and checked my online business- I got busy burying myself in the sheets...

Until the phone rang at a decibel level reserved for 12 year olds on the roller coaster. It was the front desk. Making sure I was checked in and settled in all right. Yes, I said. I was just downstairs procuring my key not 20 minutes ago. Thank you.

And then my cell. My boss wanted to know if we'd settled on anything for dinner. (Again, with the settling.) After a flurry of texts, she bowed out and left it up to my co-worker and I to figure out. I pulled the sheets back up, started to fade again, when the screaming ringer went off on the phone. Again. This time it was the co-worker asking if I'd came up with any ideas for dinner. I said I'd meet her in the lobby in 15 minutes and after checking to see that I hadn't wet the bed due to being startled a second time, we headed out.

I decided that instead of picking something close to the hotel we'd drive toward the strip and see if anything floated our fancy. This parlayed into a trip down the strip and...wow. Every time I go to Vegas, it feels like the strip gets longer. (Mostly this can be attributed to traffic, but as it was a Monday night ,traffic was reasonably light) While snapping camera pics she asked me where "downtown" was. So I said "let's go". And go we did. (Sad note- "The Sahara" is now gone baby gone. No particular memory of that place, just kind of sad seeing a big, dark casino with the unused roller coaster in front.) We passed the glut of bail bonds offices, nasty hotels, and drive-through casinos before hitting downtown proper, circling the block, and finally parking at the 4 Queens.

And WTF...

Downtown is a great place to "come down" after an all day gamble/party binge. I stayed at the Nugget a few years back and while it wasn't the popular part of town, I liked the old-school chill feeling. And while it still retains some of that, it's going through some growing pains experienced by the Vegas Strip "proper". Namely...the characters. And not the tour-ons. I mean how I had to slam on the brakes in the rental to let Jack Sparrow cross "drunkedly". Earlier, my co-worker asked why I don't take a theater gig in Vegas. Reasons aside, I told her that the good Captain there was probably the best role someone like myself could hope to land.
Except it didn't really end with that...weird...anachronistic dude. We had, in addition to the showgirls who posed for pictures:

The Blues Brothers
The Mad Hatter (from the "Alice" remake)
Some guys that looked like the Rat Pack waaaaaay past their prime
Spider-Man...in one of those costumes in a bag from around 1998. (I later bumped into Spidey who had taken off most of his costume, where it was being worn almost like a scarf. I guess he was off-duty)

It just didn't make sense. After dinner, where we eavesdropped on an East Coast family yelling at each other ("If I had my way, I'd feed you to a wood-chipper and am it at the Hudson!") we meandered a bit before realizing that we hit a two-beer wall and needed to go home. (It was "only" 10:00 pm...but we were still rocking CST time) We were released from the parking ramp for free (I didn't know it needed validation, and the guy was offended we didn't do any gambling in the casino) And we slowly ambled our way back to the Marriott via the back roads to avoid the Strip...long and loud bolts of lightening mottling the sky.

Evolution means changes (pt 2)

(pictured: Post-trail crawl after an incredibly hot/humid July in Afton, MN. Those sweat drippings are about 75 Proof)

What to do, what to do? I was stuck in a workout rut. When Moda 1st declared she was going to start race training and I valiantly joined her, it was for very selfish and narcissistic reasons. After all? You start putting on the miles and doubling the cardio, the body will have to follow suit! To hell with PR's! Bring on the six-pack!

Except, and this was apparent looking over pictures afterwards, the pounds weren't slipping off. I didn't resemble a Kenyan. Or steel spring. I still had that look of Vince Vaughn after a 3 day bender. Worse still, I was having the shittiest reflux you could imagine. Exacerbated by these super long runs. It didn't get any easier as we put on the mileage. On the contrary, getting out of bed was a pain in the ass. And legs. And arches of my feet.

And then...I lost my job. (A-gain) Or rather, I quit a lousy temp job for a new job and quit that one when the promise of a better one was around the corner...and then that fell through. Boom. So naturally I started freaking out a bit. There I was. No income. Zilch. And the only thing I could afford to do to keep my sanity was karate/run/work out/hang out with my mother. (Wait. Not that last part. Sorry mom) Moda was in full half-mar training with her new Nike Free's for the last run of the season so I made one impulse purchase in down grading from my old heavily arched Nike's to a pair of minimalist Nike Lunar Fly's. (More on that in another blog) In turn- My running grew a little easier. And come October, riiiiight before Moda's race I made another executive decision in the interest of shaking things up:

I quit drinkin'.

Now, before this winds up like an after-school special- All I did was re-evaluate my regime and make good on something I'd wanted to do for the last 7-8 years. Not being a young buck anymore, I couldn't pound the V and T's or Captain like I used to. I was getting tired of feeling like tired-ass on a Sunday after my Bloody Mary with breakfast. More over- and this will come as no surprise I'm sure- I wasn't the kind of drinker who stayed thin. I couldn't even claim to be cool or hip. And people tend to ntoice these things (The day after one particular party night, I visited mom who told me that my face- wait for it-looked bloated. Moda could smell me one morning during a Lake run...hell, even a co-worker or three could tell when I had been to a happy hour the night before. And those were the one's who were telling me, versus the people who probably kept mum)

Moreover, when you're unemployed there wasn't much else to do but stay home with a cocktail on house arrest and re-watch "Big Trouble in Little China". At noon. On a Wednesday. Through Tuesday. Hell, I ain't proud. That's just what it was. And here I wondered why my stomach was allllways frassy.

And that's when a couple of nice things happened. Not life changing or enlightening.

1) I became more productive. This has nothing to do with fitness or running, but I was less inclined to skip the gym if I wasn't feeling run-down or boozed up. I also finally made that previously mentioned Halloween Diorama I had been planning for years.
2) My running got better. Like, night and day better. Hills weren't as big of a deal and I wasn't getting sick or winded on longer runs.
3) I got a job. As a reward, I invested in a pair of Vibrams which I'll frass about some other time because they are the coolest f#cking training shoes. Period.
4) Oh. Right. I started losing weight.

Nothing drastic, mind you. 5-10 lbs. But I could button pants again. Jeans required a belt. The hanging chin tapered a bit and I got my jawline back. In the pictures that were getting taken, I didn't have to look at piggy little eyes. And the crazy thing of it, was that I was still frassin' about how I could make other changes physically. See, I was cast in my first musical in ages, and if it was like any other productions I saw there was a chance I'd be prancing around onstage wearing naught but a loincloth.

It was a little intimidating. So, more changes were needed.