sports n' fitness

Didn't watch that game yesterday, just tuned in in time for the ninth. In other words, just in time to see Mr Barma's boy Neftali strike out Cheater Cheater A-Rod. That was a thing of beauty. I'm happy for Texas. I'm also happy I could harass my one cyber friend who's a Yankees fan. (Yes, I know, I know, I shouldn't hang out with that type of crowd even electronically, but the guy seems otherwise harmless.) Still not sure who I'm rooting for Giants vs Phillies. You think I'd have picked a side by now. When we were watching the first game of that series I asked D who he wanted and he said he didn't know. Then he said, "I like when I'm not rooting for anyone. Then I can just relax and enjoy the game." There *is* something to be said for that.

Okay, now onto the personal athletic (ha) level. I haven't run all week since my iPod broke. I just cannot face it without tunes. I did, however, lift three times because now I can do pretty much everything I do with Liz myself, except squat. I did my whole body circuit yesterday by myself, and though the savants on certain weightlifting sites that have been previously referred to in The Adventures will claim if you have the ability to watch what anyone else is doing, you're not focused enough or not working hard enough, you know I watch everybody everywhere. I can't not people-watch. And what I observed was that these boys and men in the weight room (well, it's an area, not a room, but weight room has the proper ring to it) do not work as hard as I do or as Liz has us do.

They do a set. Then they sit around for a few minutes. Then they do another set. Then they walk around. Then maybe they do something else. Me, in an hour I do 3 sets of 8-10 reps of 12 different exercises. I take a minute or two break here and there to get a drink from the bubbler or sit on the bench contemplating whether I really can do those motherfucking inclined presses one more time. (Answer: yes, of course! suck it up, bitch!) Which is why at the end of my hour, my heart rate is up and I have a sweat oval on my belleh. But I also think if I were doing it the way most of those guys do, with four minutes in between sets and five minutes in between exercises, I could be lifting heavier weights. Also, some of them do really fast reps, which is cheating, 'cause you're getting the benefit of the momentum. All of which is my way of saying I refuse to be embarrassed (much) by my lil 12 and 15 and 20 pound dumbbells. Ahem. Some day I'll be doing pistol squats and you people won't be laughing then.

Also, in other news, I have read a bunch of stuff telling me that sprinting is my way to a better ass. I think it's true. Look at female track athletes and the ones who run short distance have bangin' bodies compared to, like, the marathoners.





See, I did the work for ya. And I know which one I'd rather look more like.

So I would like to incorporate sprinting into my fitness plan, but I think the chances of my doing it on a treadmill without causing myself grievous bodily harm are nil and I don't actually have access to a track. My message board advisors assure me I should just say "fuck the neighbors!" and do it back and forth on the sidewalk, and that, yes, they themselves might occasionally get funny looks, but they don't give a crap. I dunno. Am I not humiliated enough with my 15 lb dumbbells? There's only so much a woman is willing to put up with to get an Ines Sainz butt when time has passed her by. Thus I'm still deliberating.

Okay, I think I've wasted enough time at work! Hope your Caturday is turning out delightfully.

xoxo