Ouch...

On Wednesday I took advantage of the first of my two free visits with a personal trainer at the gym. As I've stated before I am a novice when it comes to all things involving lifting weight. Generally I try to push or kick objects out of my way; I had only minimal success employing these techniques on the bench press. Like most people into physical fitness, Doug, my trainer looked like he had seen a ghost when I told him that I would be cycling across America with no prior experience. After convincing him I was not a lost cause we took a walk around the gym and mapped out a routine to improve the strength of my legs and upper body. All of the machines he had me use I had used before with some degree of success, I thought, until on each one he'd say something like "Arch your back when you pull down," and suddenly the motion became difficult if not impossible to do once, never mind 2 sets of 10 reps (that's gym speak I learned) 2 times a week. Needless to say I am very sore today and even if I wanted to repeat the workout I can't, because Doug filed away my routine until my second appointment which I've now rescheduled for a third time because I never have my planner on me. I've now become the most identifiable member at the gym given the IcyHot patches all over and the day planner tucked in my spandex...

Training Day

Since I last blogged (is that a verb?) I joined the gym! Gyms, I am told, were created as a sociologist's laboratory sometime in the mid 80's. You could write a dissertation on gym etiquette and the social norms that exist there. Allow me to postulate. I have taken to using the cardio equipment on the second floor that overlooks the free weights so that I might observe the people who are using them correctly until I build the confidence to go down and try it myself, but consider this: What if the free weight crowd is really just using their vantage point to internalize and copy the motions of those using the cardio equipment? My hypothesis: Stay away from gyms with open floor plans.

I also enjoy watching the mother who works out right next to the child care center so when her toddler wanders away from Ms. Jane (who I assume works there) she can bellow through the glass and redirect his attention...

I attended my first spinning class this past week; it too would delight sociologists. Middle-aged women dominated the class demographic with men over 55 in a distant second. I accounted for a negligible portion being the only one under thirty. That is not to say I was the best cyclist in the class. The man next to me never lost a techno beat in stride as we cycled to the likes of Madonna, Justin Timberlake and Bruce Springsteen. I am anxiously awaiting spinning Karaoke where the instructor apparently passes around her headset for class members to sing along to their favorite remixes. I hope she has a version of Tiny Dancer!

Happy New Years!

Did you make a resolution this year? Last year I resolved to floss everyday and that worked out, so I'm hoping to keep up my streak. This year I'm giving up alcohol until August 15 (the end of the Journey of Hope). I think it will prove to be difficult, but I thought it a rational one based on these five pillars of truth.

1. Alcohol is expensive, and I am poor.
2. Alcohol is dehydrating, and that is counterproductive.
3. I often have to drive home after going out for a drink, because I'm a victim of the suburbs.
4. I'd rather have a Coke anyways.
5. Alcohol is expensive, and I am poor.

Why just until August 15th, you ask? Because of a place called Tortilla Coast. Let me paint a picture for you.

Last August fourteen brothers from our chapter of Pi Kappa Phi (with Mike A. and Jen F.) piled into four vehicles (that upon quick inspection did not look fit to travel 1,000 miles in a weekend, nor were they) and drove overnight from Amherst, MA to Quintico, VA for a fellow brother's graduation (yay Brian!) from the Marine Corps Office Candidate School at 9am the following morning. It was HOT, we had been in the cars for nine hours with little sleep, and were forced to make ourselves beautiful for the event in the bathrooms/parking lot of a Burger King. After the graduation we traveled to Ye Olde Country Buffet, courtesy of Brian's parents (thank you!) and had a nice meal on our second wind. We parted ways with Brian and his family for our hotel rooms in the Capitol where we passed out for a majority of the day.

Fast forward to Saturday morning (another HOT day): We woke up early to walk to the Capitol Building, desperately hoping to find a Dunkin' Donuts along the way, alas we sold a fraction of our souls and had Starbucks instead. Soon the three men from Theta Mu (our chapter of Pi Kappa Phi) who participated in the 2008 Journey of Hope would be arriving on the lawn of the Captiol Building, the annual finish line for the ride. Our glorious reunion is pictured below.


We were ravenous and overtired. Wandering around the streets of D.C. we began mumbling hateful things and shoving each other into oncoming traffic. I knew what I had to do and called my sister Kathleen, a native of these parts. She and her husband Mike are connoisseurs of dining out and upon pinpointing our location they suggested a nearby restaurant called Tortilla Coast that serves frozen margaritas by the pitcher. Above the squabble I declaimed that such a restaurant existed only a handful of blocks away and the angry mob fell silent. Like the Pied Piper I led them to this supposed metropolitan oasis. Tortilla Coast came into view as we reached the peak of Capitol Hill. As we got closer we realized two more important details. It was air-conditioned and Saturday was all you could eat fajita day (good news for everyone but T.J. who just picked out the chicken...)! It was like a triple play by the Red Sox in Yankee Stadium.

Anyways, the food and drink were delightful. I really just like the story leading up to it. So on August 15th, 2009, after pushing through the final miles to the Capitol you can find me and anyone who wants to join at Tortilla Coast, basking in the air conditioning and sipping frozen strawberry margaritas.