"If yo' problems ain't sovled after a trail run, they ain't gettin solved."

When do things generally come crashing down the hardest? When falling from a really, really high place.

Or in my case, 4 miles out on a snow packed out-and-back trail run.
Today was perfect. Rarely do I use cliche, overused words, but "perfect" is the best way to explain the 4 miles out on the Mesa Trail out of Chataqua. Thanks to cross-country skiers, a majority of the trails were fairly well-packed despite several inches of snow that fell a few days ago. Throwing on my Yaktrax, the mountainous powdered landscape was mine to explore for the afternoon.
Almost through "Born to Run," a book about ultra distance runners and the Tarahumara (a Mexican tribe known for their ability to run hundreds of miles at a time), 8 or 9 miles seemed hardly lifting a finger compared to the Leadville 100.

With this in mind, I threw my head back ... and ran. It felt perfect.
Generally when I run, I do have a goofy smile plastered on my face (especially when I'm in better shape!), but today my lungs felt great, the snow nicely cushioned the downward striking of my feet, the sun burned in a cloudless sky and the 27 degree temperature felt more like 50, leading me to greet every person I passed with a maybe-too-chipper "Hello!!"

When I reached one of my stopping points, I wasn't ready to turn around, so I just kept running. I set out for a favorite, lesser-known trail that, due to bear activity, can only be safely navigated during winter months. The trail cuts between what I assume to be the back of the flatirons and Eldorado Canyon. In short - it is in the midst of some of the most magnificent rock structures I can name and adding snow makes the grandeur even more of a present.

This particular trail was slightly harder to maneuver, but so worth it for the views. Following along the ridge with gigantic formations zig-zagging the skyline to my right, it was hard to stay on the narrow, snowy trail. A few times I gave up, stopped running, and just took it all in with a hint of a tear in my eye. It was truly that peaceful.

As the trail continued upward, the sun began to drop behind the ridge and although still feeling strong, lack of direct sunlight made the winter temperatures seem more real. Content (and then some) with the meditative experience, I flipped a U-turn to head home.

On the way down, feeling even better at the declining elevation, I began thinking what my next blog would entail. Perhaps discuss running injuries and how, according to "Born to Run," running barefoot and childlike embodies how we are supposed to run. Since moving back to Boulder, I've really started to embrace this mode of running. Screw fancy running shoes and people's idea of "perfect form." I run because it makes me happy! And I feel great! My knee (which has a dull ache due to a fairly regular 'giving out' due to too much tennis I think) hasn't even given out in over a year! Smiling HAS to be the best training method.

OW!

And that's when it hit me. The all-too-well-known misstep/wobble feeling that I've grown to fear like the second coming of Christ. My knee goes one direction, the rest of me goes the other, and a sound that only I can hear (maybe I've just made it up and think I hear), like a thick piece of rubber being stretched and then released, only to bobble back and forth until finally settling in equilibrium, makes my stomach churn.

SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT OW OW OW OW OW OW OW.

I grab my knee and limp off to the side of the trail (to get out of the way of what? The elk?)
Oh good Lord, I'm 4 miles out in the middle of nowhere, on a snowy trail, I haven't seen even a cross-country skier in 20 minutes and I can't walk. Awesome.

Traditionally when the knee goes out, I immediately hit the couch for a few days to let the swelling go down and then spend up to a month rehabbing and going to the chiropractor. That option was not readily available. In fact, the only option was to walk; mostly downhill on a snowy trail. For 4 miles. In 27 degree weather and setting sun. In only running tights, a drenched base-layer and a thin fleece jacket.

Um, Jess, you can do this. Stop whining. People are starving all over the world in places much colder than sunny Boulder, Colorado. Get over it.

The "people starving" has been my mantra the past month when training begins to hurt. The way I see it, I am lucky to have the time, energy and resources to go running instead of searching for a way to feed my family. I CAN'T complain. Plus, it was only 4 miles. Big deal. Remember the people running a hundred?

Luckily this attitude (and perhaps the perfect day) helped turn what could have been a fairly miserable walk out of the park into a delightfully brisk time of self-reflection and planning. With this injury in the past, it is customary to wallow, call mom and opine the good days when I was never injured, get depressed, and long for running more than I probably do when I am able to run.

Instead I walked. I paid attention to how each step affected each ligament and muscle, how to best walk uphill and avoid the twinge of pain and how to place my heal correctly to keep my knee aligned when going downhill. I thought about my rehab options: Bikrham style yoga, cycling and swimming. After all, I was just saying yesterday that I needed to get back in the pool!

So there you have it. I made it back to my car, home to a hot shower and a roommate asleep on the couch knowing nothing of my "epic" adventure, and with some fresh ginger tea I have a chance to reflect on one of the more beautiful days of running I've experienced in a long time. Had my knee not given out, I probably would have jotted down a few quick ideas about running barefoot and you, reader, wouldn't have been able to share in my delightful adventure.

I suppose everything really does happen for a reason, huh?

Paint the world yoga and glitter

Perhaps it was yesterday's snow hiding the sun that powers me, or maybe I had a case of the Mondays; whatever caused the mood in which I found myself by 2 p.m. was no good thing.
Every once in a great while when not peeing glitter, I find myself in an introspective mood, which generally results in secluding myself to the floor of the living room, surrounded with paints and a playlist labeled "Thinking Songs" blaring, leaving only to go to yoga class(es). Art has been the outlet lately, when I was younger I used to write in the same manner.
The thing about painting is that it never gets me out of my mood; rather, it enables the mood and allows introspective thoughts to get significantly more intense - almost trance-like. When someone eventually walks into my house I snap out of what feels like a crazy dream.
I had a few good, pure hours sans interruption to wander and several times met with anxiety over my world trip. I am being selfish in doing this trip, the only reason I am helping at the orphanages is to make myself feel better about this ridiculously amazing vacation, what is going to happen when I get back home and I have to re-start my life in the midst of everyone else whose life never stopped, I'm going to be a different person, can I handle myself on a world-scale, how am I going to make this work financially, I can't even be away from my family for the holidays - how will I manage for an entire year, there is no way I am going to find the right place to study yoga in India - have you SEEN the size of that country??!?!?! On the flip side ... what if I don't want to come home.
I have a feeling that i will look back on the questions in two years and laugh at myself. Luckily that is a skill I have already mastered.
The clock stopped the train this time; 6:15 yoga class proved itself a humble adversary to my distraught world. The class after that one was even more cleansing and I returned to the living room several hours later to art supplies everywhere with little desire and no clue as to where I was just a few hours earlier.
I put away the paint and glitter and went to bed content.

Meditative motion

I was reminded by a friend that some of you whom I do not see day in and day out may want an actual life update and not just religious musings. Hence, this extravagantly snowy day seems ample to type an update of sorts.

Still working for my father's asphalt company has finally reaped rewards as the snow falls. Seasonal work on a salary doesn't get much better in Colorado, where climbing, running, etc. can still be done in the winter. However, office work in general has me antsy ... which was more than to be expected when taking this position. Luckily two dear friends of mine, Chase and Johnny, and I are planning to travel the world come next August when our leases expire. We've been saving for 3 or 4 months and have 9 more to go. We are planning on buying tickets in a month or so. I have NOT spilled the beans to the parental units yet, (although the can of beans will be spilled this week) but I'm hoping dad lets me keep my job until I leave, under the threat of me moving back into the basement unemployed, indefinitely.

Our hopes are to take a year for the trip (or until funds expire), however the list of visits has not been finalized by any means at this point. All three of us are climbers so undoubtedly there will be some scaling of rocks. If anyone has contacts anywhere remotely interesting, please send them to me because we would love to save money anywhere we go by crashing on floors and helping out any way we can in return.

I plan on taking a yoga teacher training course in February and toting my yoga mat with me around the world, learning and teaching yoga wherever possible. The inspiration for this element of the trip came from the complete and euphoric end that comes from yoga, tied with the realization that Corepower yoga in Boulder is certainly not close to the deepest spirituality one can experience in the practice. Additionally, I'm hoping that this is a way to meet people of similar interests in different cultures. Perhaps it will be a common ground on which to compare beliefs and practices all over the world, not to mention that in my experience, I generally learn more when teaching.

Prior to leaving I am also hoping to get involved with Kimmy's House, an orphanage in Hyderabad, India that my dad visited last year. The founders of the orphanage are friends of my parents and started the orphanage after visiting India and seeing a need for housing and care of disabled children. They are also starting a similar orphanage in Haiti, and I would love to help out in both place if at all possible. It is so easy for trips of this manner to be self-centered and all about my personal experience, but I am going to make an effort to give of myself as much as possible.

Realizing that I have huge hopes and quite a lot of plans for this trip, I am also going into the whole thing knowing I will have to be extremely flexible and patient and let things happen. Being 23 years old and not tied down, this is an opportune time for travel of this sort. I welcome any advice, encouragement, thoughts and prayers.

Other than this trip which has become the inspiration to go to work every day, the only other updates are: I'm not climbing as much as I used to, which is sad in more ways than one. I am working one night a week at the Spot (climbing gym), reading a ton, painting, running and doing yoga with Domonique about six days a week. Johnny is living in my basement with me (I have the bedroom and he has made what used to be my "study" into his room, which has worked out well) so all four of us in the house are only paying $300 a month for rent, which in Boulder, is ridiculously cheap. I'm happy, but ready to explore. Boulder is getting small and as much as I love it, I have begun to realize how much of a bubble it really is.

I think that should sum it all up. I would love to get updates from those of you I haven't spoken with in a while.

BSF Week 2: Greater, less and the lesson in selflessness

Week two of Bible study passed much more smoothly than week one, perhaps due to preparedness. One of the greater challenges has been to maintain an open mind in hopes of applying some of the great life-lessons present in the Bible and put aside disgust for organized religion.
Although not completely convinced of the spirituality of Jesus and God, Jesus' teachings, and the events surrounding his time here, are timeless and have thus far proved introspective. John the Baptist has become a favorite character of mine, as has "doubting Thomas." John the Baptist because of his unquestioning loyalty, devotion and selflessness, and Thomas because of his questions and need for concrete, physical evidence.
John knows his entire life that he is serving one purpose: to make a path for Jesus' arrival. His comment, "He must become greater, I must become less" (John 3:30) speaks of his devotion to Jesus, but also inspires placing others before ourselves. If this Christian belief were more wide-spread, perhaps there would be less need for government intervention because the world would be filled with Mother Theresas.
On a personal scale, Dad brought my own selfishness to my attention and (unintentionally) made me realize that my perspective of "selfishness" was mainly in relation to tangible objects (the child's version of selfish ... not sharing toys). I always wonder how my family is always calling me selfish when I have minimal possessions, never ask for anything, etc. However, family demands time. Perhaps it is flattering that there exists a group of people happy simply with presence. Friends are the same way, and we Boulderites are potentially the worst group of people when it comes to spending time with friends. I've heard people admit (and others who just do this unintentionally) that they make multiple commitments to friends for the same time-slot and pick whatever is most interesting or sounds like the most fun at the time. I can't think of a more selfish mindset. What's worse, I'm guilty.
So, although that was quite a tangent, John the Baptist has led to reassessing priorities with friends and family in an effort to put others first, and at least be honest and realistic with time management.
More on Thomas later ...

Oh Lord Jesus, Jesus God, Savior Jesus, father God ...

"Disappointment is missed expectations": one of my father's favorite quotes that best explains an uncomfortable experience of late.
My parents, being very rooted in the Baptist religion, have for some time been concerned for my soul. Being raised in the Baptist church, their feelings are understandable and appreciated on my end. I have learned over the past four or five years that it is far easier to accept their concern, attend church on occasion with the family, keep my mouth shut about my doubts and ask "good" questions once in a while to maintain a healthy relationship with the 'rents.
In exchange, there are few judgmental, harsh arguments and the emotional conversations are kept to a minimum. If this happens on purpose, I'm not sure. But I like to think that we had reached an equilibrium.
Notice the use of the word "had."

Scene: I am now working for my father. He owns a business where every employee in the office is openly Christian. Being the wonderful human being that he is (honestly, the person I admire most), he allows the ladies in the office to attend Bible Study Fellowship during work hours.
*Definition: Bible Study Fellowship- A 50 year old organization started by a reputable missionary woman. The study takes one book of the Bible over 6 months and studies it in depth. There are groups all over the world: men's, women's, youth, young adult, etc. that all study the exact same thing. The group meets once a week in small groups to discuss a series of study questions, some directly relating to the Bible passage and some concerning life application. This is followed by a lecture.
My parents have both been doing BSF since I was a small child. In fact, my sisters and I went to BSF with my mom instead of attending preschool. My dad is a group leader and my mother is a children's leader. One lady told me, "you come from a BSF Nazi family!" like it was a good thing...
But of course I digress...
After several tearful discussions with my father about his supreme disappointment that when we both die he won't have one of his best friends (me) with him for eternity, he started bringing up me attending BSF. Not being one for organized religion at all, I told him no. He then went on to explain that BSF is non-denominational and that he has even had men of varying religions (Hindu, Muslim) that simply wanted to study the Bible. He promised that there is no praying except over group meals occasionally, I will never be asked to pray and people aren't allowed to discuss what religion they are or from which church they come.
Being out of school and not having directed learning has been getting to me lately, and I admit I had a weak moment when he brought up the word "study." I told him I would think about it.
We walk into the office and what does Daddy-o say to the very Christian ladies? "Guess what? Jess is going to do BSF with you guys on Wednesday!" Response: "YEY!!! Oh we are so happy!! We've all been praying for you!"
Me: "Dad. Your office. NOW."

Needless to say, I was douped into going to BSF. Dad and I came to an agreement that he would pay for half of my yoga teacher training in February if I go to BSF. So, I've been doubed and bribed. Regardless, I'm going.

I spent all of last weekend catching up since I started two weeks late. I went into last Wednesday feeling prepared and relaxed.
Until I walked into the Circle o' Feelings.
The Circle is homogeniously comprised of white, Christian, married women ages 26 to 40 who either have multiple children or are on the way to having multiple.
The answers that I labouriously prepared all weekend, quoting text from other books of the Bible even, were brushed off with polite smiles while answers relating to how Jesus changing water into wine made one mother feel she needed to change how she dealt with her oldest son who had organizational problems were greeted with applause. This went on the entire time. I did learn a few things from one person who actually worked with the text instead of her feelings. That was nice. One person out of 11. It's a start.
After we went over prayer requests and discussed the upcoming fellowship "where we can get to know each other by sharing how God has changed our lives," I made it back to the office in a dazed mood, got back into my car and started to cry.
I wasn't sad, that's for sure. Probably a little sorry for myself. I was part mad at my father for deceiving me and manipulating me into a situation where I'm completely out of place, awkward, and hardly learning. But most of all I think I was just mad at the women, which I know is not fair. There was one question that I knew upon answering it was a complete and total joke: "How do people show 'false faith' in the present day?" My answer was that the majority of Christians I see go to church on Sunday, decide they are going to heaven and can therefore judge those who, for some reason, they have deemed part of the group not getting in, and lead normal, largly secular lives (other than telling everyone they will pray for them) the rest of the week.
The funny thing is, most of the ladies had similar answers. And they allllll rolled their eyes and openly judged "those people who do that" and then ended with a prayer that started something like, "Oh precious, Lord Jesus God almighty ...." (Why can't you just speak to him normally? Why the show?). It was more than I could take. So, tears.

Anyway, more to come next week I'm sure. Jesus just changed water to wine (we are reading the book of John), so we have a few miracles left and then rising from the dead so it's bound to get better, right?

To religion or not to religion? That is one question. Another, what is religion: what it means to the individual, or the group, the society, the nation? Organization: necessary or not? A defined, factual god or a feeling of freedom, wind on a cheek, vastness, emptiness, smallness. Worship: drifting meditation, jubilant public singing, climbing.
The fear of religion makes sense. Religion as we know it has caused wars, death and argument on the very base level. If nothing else it challenges people, something most don't handle well. Most take it as an opportunity to judge instead of apply compassion.
But what of 'religion' that glorifies the self and self's place on earth: A self-defined spirituality that need not be explained, spread, proclaimed from mountaintop nor street corner. A study of oneself, with no end and no need for an end. Constant learning and exploration, seeking wisdom always, but also content with being present: in the body, and the surrounding world.
Breathing as the only connection, from heals to hair, belly button to spine, soul to mountain.
That is all.
If we all breathed a little deeper and looked inward for contentment, who would we be?

Men and ... bobby pins

So I haven't posted in awhile. Being grown-up turns out to be more time consuming than being a child. Sue me.
On my run this evening, I thought of the following "list" of comparisons. I will not say it is mature at all; perhaps I am reverting to my childish self. Only women will relate to this one most likely. Sorry boys...

Why men are like bobby-pins:

1. They are always around until you actually need them.
2. Occasionally you find one in your bed and you can't remember how it got there.
3. The older ones don't work like they're supposed to.
4. They come in all different hair colors: blonde, brown, black.
5. If you fall asleep with them, you wake up with a bad headache and regret.
6. It's okay to share them with your friends, but you want to ask first ... and you don't want to if your friend is dirty...
7. They are good for random household tasks, but again, only if you can find them.
8. They can be replaced but it's easier to just keep track of them.
9. They are really good for running, biking, etc. with.
10. You can find them in most public places like swimming pools, bathrooms, bars etc., but those aren't the ones you want to use.
11. If you dance too crazy you will probably lose them.


Oh the similarities! I think I had a few more on my run- I'll add if I remember. Again, men: sorry you are being compared to hair accessories. Purely comedic. Promise.

Which side of paradise?

Upon finishing "This Side of Paradise" by F. Scott Fitzgerald, there are certain themes that Fitzgerald throws at the reader that warrant further thought.
At the conclusion of the novel, Amory (protagonist) asserts that the intelligent women he meets through the course of his life are all hampered by gawking suitors and the need to 'come out' in society, and marriage.
Eleanor, one such woman with which Amory associates, at one point laments,

"Rotton, rotten old world ... oh, why am I a girl? Why am I not a stupid --? Look at you; you're stupider than I am ... you can play around with girls without being involved in meshes of sentiment, and you can do anything and be justified- and here am I with the brains to do everything, yet tied to the sinking ship of future matrimony. "

This first hint at the restrictions of marriage, which is somewhat dissolved in current society, melts into Amory's final conclusions about the good ol' "ball and chain," where his reasoning is thus:
Well-educated man marries. No matter his social philosophy, his job is to "provide and hold fast." He is resigned to life's windowless treadmill. He is no longer a help to society. This well-educated man becomes "spiritually married."
Sidenote: The "spiritually unmarried" are men whose wives have no social ambition, the ones who fell off the treadmill, the congressmen you can't bribe, the presidents who aren't politicians, etc.
So, the spiritually married man uses society as is, in all of its follies and weaknesses, to get ahead at any cost. The smarter married man can rise in the current system, and sees no reason to change it, because with its flaws he is getting ahead.
The unmarried man "seeks for new systems that will control or counteract human nature." His struggle is to guide and control life. Essentially, progress strives when men do not settle into the hamster-wheel of life's systems.
Now, Amory (Fitzgerald) takes this further into an argument for socialism, but stopping here and looking at the restrictions of the marital structure and what that yields, even today, is fascinating. For instance; how many college students take progressive statuses until settling down into conservative life, two children, white picket fence, puppy?
The phrase "getting comfy" was born from couples who disregard even physical upkeep due to the acceptance of their significant other.
Something about human nature leads to ceasing to produce anything except children and paychecks when we pair-off.
Perhaps there exists some grander feeling that can not be understood until coupled; and indeed, even early relationships have lead to a certain laziness and desire to spend every waking moment with one single person. Biology supports a natural urge to reproduce for the furthering of the race. So as animals, it makes sense. But this lull is still so hard to avoid as highly-educated (or simply educated) beings.
Personally, I fall victim to an occasional relationship desire, but at the conclusion of every single one, breathe a sigh of relief and delve into projects, both physical and mental, cast aside while under the veil of 'love' or whatever attack form it takes.
My Amory conclusion is less a conclusion than a form of questions: Solo is more productive, but how is one to avoid the relationship pull? Can sex be platonic to take care of urges while releasing one unscathed? Do we need partnership other than sex (since sex seems to be the biological necessity)? If one resolves to forever be a progressive thinker, must he/she also resolve to never be tied to another, at least in society's formal mode?
Honestly, the answer to the latter may be yes.

Change shmange

Change.
President Obama used it and used it well to get himself to the top, but now the word has almost morphed meanings.
Regardless, I find myself in a stage of change, but perhaps a better word is blindsighted. In the span of about a week I have lost a pet (RIP Patti) and gained a much larger one, I have successfully escorted my best friend out of my world until January '10 and finally, I have come across a very unintended career that leaves me with new transportation, presumably better health, a blackberry, too much money and less free time. Summer makes this explosion slightly more catastrophic, as does the jump into adulthood.
This job has been a long time coming, but in the way that the horizon over the ocean is a long time coming: I thought it would never come, and wasn't really expecting it to. I just knew it existed and admired it from afar. Now that it is upon me, I'm ready to take on its challanges, but not without a certain moral hesitation.
First, money has nothing to do with my taking this job. Note: this is actually a positive point that has enabled me to move forward with the decision. I want the challenge of the job. Plain and simple. The idea of being at the bottom of the todem pole because I deserve to be there motivates me. About this I am excited.
However, a childhood dream of becoming a journalist has been cut short when it was very close to being realized. Granted, the reason for taking an "adult" job had to do with constant frustration related to waiting around for 20-somethings to die before I could move up the journalistic ladder, meanwhile editing writing sans heart/skill. But, nonethless, I can't help but think how satisfying it would have been to move. Up.
Since the two-week notice has been placed, the decision is made and life goals will inevitably change and the sprint to the end, while done on different turf, will be just as satisfying.
After all, it's all in the challenge ... right?

A Whole Paycheck rant

Often I find myself wondering which came first, the Spot (bouldering gym) or the Whole Foods on Pearl St., conveniently located directly en route to my condo from the gym, and vise-versa.
Regardless... my name is Jessica and I am a Whole Foods addict.
I don't know when it started, but I can pin point the addiction to some time in the late summer months of 2008. Mostly this problem can be blamed, lovingly of course, on my bff who has dragged me down this slippery slope of healthy despair.
It's just SO easy. Here's how one gets stuck spending at least half of every paycheck at Whole Foods: After sitting in front of a computer all day, I practically strip clothes off as I run down the stairs to throw on running/climbing/hiking clothes to enjoy the last bit of sun. If the sun is already M.I.A., it's off to the climbing gym without fail. All of the socializing and the little bit of climbing for several hours really works up a hunger. But, looking at a large collection of extremely fit people doesn't bode well for burger joints. Therefore, making my own food is a much better choice ... or so it seems.
Whole Foods is literally a hop, skip and a jump away from the gym, and it has become a social hot spot for *ahem* Spot-goers when they can't possibly climb anymore but need yet more social interaction with the same group of people. Of course, I can't judge.
So, a simple, "Let's grab a Kombucha at Whole Foods" turns into, "The ten of us are going to Whole Foods and we're going to wander around for 30 minutes, sample everything we can find, not only buy dinner for tonight, but also pick up a few things. Maybe we can eat there too? Maybe think about the other things we forgot to get while we are eating so we can go in for round two?" You think I'm kidding, but this discussion has actually happened. Probably.
The real killer is that it is very possible to shop daily at Whole Foods and still starve to death. How is this possible, you ask? It's simple. Whole Foods is just SO big that it is easy to get overwhelmed and very excited about everything this wonderland has to offer the healthy-lifestyle-loving Boulderite. I often leave there, spending upwards of $40, with some protein powder mix (forgetting the milk to mix it in), organic hamster food, some eucalyptus face wash, a bar of XOXO chocolate with orange bits (delicious by the way) and a bag of celery. Now, as I'd love nothing more than to live on orange chocolate, one bar just won't cut it, and I hear celery actually has less calories than are necessary to eat it.
So there you have it. Because of Whole Foods, I am poor AND hungry. Neither trouble has anything to do with the economy, just the addicting natural food grocery store on my way home from the gym.

Capitalism and the art of humor

In a hilarious show of sportsmanship, The Outdoor Wire, which claims to be the largest online news source for the outdoor industry, has named President-Elect Barack Obama "Gun Salesman of the Year."
The reasoning: "It's credit where credit is due," according to Publisher Jim Shephard.
He said it is time the firearms industry recognizes the fact that without President-elect Obama’s frightening consumers into action, the firearms industry might be suffering the same sort of business slumps that have befallen the automotive and housing industries.
This is the kind of humor and good-naturedness that will get conservatives through the next four years, and I applaude their every action.
On the flip side, it must be noted that Obama, in this gun sales situation, has just been recognized for his (first?) inadvertent act of supply/demand economics. Perhaps his economic advisers should follow the scare tactic route and threaten to take away American-made cars or our homes -- through direct policy threats, not taxes this time. Perhaps pushing the American people into a 'last chance! buy now!' situation works.
Capitalism anyone?

Free Willy

In my last post, the idea of engaging in a 'no-carb' diet was a playful experiment meant to make my life a little bit more interesting. Two weeks wouldn't be that bad, correct?
Day two I went on a 5 mile run that I'd done multiple times before and found myself dogging it (if you will), and then went up the mountain to boulder around a little. After a few failed attempts at a project that I have been working on for quite some time, I just gave up and left. I called Mommy Dearest to complain about my poor performance and she asked me if I had been drinking a lot lately. I told her, "No, actually Jess and I are doing this no-carb diet." She told me I couldn't do that anymore and expect to have any sort of energy on runs/climbs.
That was all I needed to hear. Done. I went home and ate granola, happily.
However, doing further research, I found this article on low-carb dieting. The results of research on low-carb diets found that our brains do not function as well without a normal diet. So there you go ... cutting elements out of a well-rounded diet is not going to yeild any remarkable results. My findings: just eat less, play more.

The no booze cruise

The only diet I've ever been on is the "see food" diet (I see food, I eat it... ha ha, get it?). I remember eating an extraordinary amount of canned tuna during cross country in high school and calling it a high-protein diet, but in reality, I was just hungry so I ate tuna.
Today at work, I e-mailed my roommate Jess to see if she wanted to have a few martinis after work, as Tuesdays always require extra unwinding in the weekly newspaper business.
The speedy reply was... no. Jess is committing to a "carb flush" for two weeks, which includes all alcohols. Every single one of them. Even wine.
So I got to thinking about everything I'd had to eat today and realized that my daily intake is potentially only carbs (does coffee count as a protein since it comes from a bean?). This doesn't concern me in the least, but as my day-to-day life is a little boring lately, I told Jess I would join her in this self-inflicted brutality. After all, who wants to drink alone? Plus, roommates have to support each other.
Therefore, for the next two weeks I will be doing what I've never done before: restricting myself from eating an entire food group. Perhaps it will be good to test my will-power, especially when it comes to saying goodbye to granola. I may not get out of bed some mornings, as granola is my sole incentive to not hit snooze come 6 a.m., but maybe it will be easier to wake up, having not had several drinks before hitting the hay the previous night.
Will I loose weight? Probably not- I'm a health nut as is, so this might just make me miss mom's homemade bread. But it will certainly prove an interesting struggle.
As for the no drinking part... well, I will be blogging more frequently the next two Saturday nights.