Can't Get Enough

Last night I had good intentions of going to a party dressed something like this:

But a change of plans landed me here,


With...

(Gheorghe Muresan, former Bullets and Nets player)

And them...

(I {heart} secret service agents/snipers)

Because of Him!

(Obama, cheering on his Chicago Bulls)

The Bittersweet

I'm a pretty stubborn person, that's no shocker to anyone who really knows me. But am I really so stubborn that I've been blinded by the most shocking news ever?

Today while sitting in the doctor's office, I learned the most interesting thing about myself. After six plus years of being a workout addict (simply meaning I don't like missing a day, but not that I obsessed with being at the gym for hours on end, although, if I had hours on end (whatever that really means) I wouldn't complain) I've been working out wrong! Is that really possible? Of all people, I should not be the one that's told I've been working out wrong.

First of all, I studied health in school, and exercise/physical fitness/HEALTH knowledge was all involved!
Secondly, I'm a certified aerobics instructor, and clearly I had to learn the proper way to help others work out, meaning I should be following the same guidelines myself. On a side note, I got the highest score on the final examine in that class!
Third, I went to fat camp...enough said!
Fourth...well, there is no fourth, but come on, really? I've. Been. Working. Out. Wrong. For. Six. Years?!?!

I've tried to reason with myself how this is actually possible. Here are my conclusions:

1. Only recently the way I work out has changed. So really it hasn't been SIX years, just one or two that I've been doing everything "wrong".
2. This new doctor of mine is crazy and is just trying to make more money off of me by feeding me bogus lies.
3. Health and health theories are continually being challenged, so in actuality no one really knows the real truth about health/fitness/exercise. What's good for you today is bad tomorrow.
4. Since when did medical school have a course on personal training?
   

Although I'm questioning the doctor's diagnosis (what's new? I once told the doctor that, although my arm was fractured in three places, the need to put me in a cast that extended past my elbow was completely unnecessary), I actually think he may have some relevant truth to share with me. Stay tuned in to next weeks follow-up on what I've been doing wrong all these years. Four weeks before my half marathon, and I've been working out wrong! Lovely, just lovely! Let my errors be a lesson for us all.

Oh, and did I mention that what I thought was me running on a fractured foot (the actual reason for me going to the doctor in the first place), was just me running in the wrong shoes, wrong size, with the wrong support! Anything else I'm doing wrong any of you would like to inform me of?

It must be Monday

Everything screamed Monday today.
I slept horrible yet couldn't wake up. I didn't shower. I ran around like a crazy women trying to leave the house. Work was work. Had good intentions of going on a nice but freezing run through the city as soon as 5 o' clock rolled around. And then it hit me...2 P.M., body started aching, head started pounding, stomach started gurgling, restroom breaks became more frequent, and I couldn't help but think "I just want to be ok today!"

I was slightly worried about the metro/bus ride home and contemplated taking a taxi. But of course, my inner self had to remind me of my famous words that I repeated over and over again in my yucky feeling head, I don't get sick!!! So I toughened up and metroed away. I ran through different scenarios of what I would do if the nasty happened while trapped on the metro with hundreds of strangers.

• Would I just bend over and let it all come out, then quickly exit as soon as I got to the Pentagon? Leaving everyone behind in my lunch? Come on, this is DC, I'm more classy than that.
• Would I open up my bag of running clothes, and later thank the creator of the washing machine for such a wonderful and ever needed appliance?
• Or would I toughen up like I ought to and wait until I got home...only 20 more minutes, I was almost there! YES...toughen up future secret service agent/FBI investigator.

Timing for leaving work, to catching the metro, to switching lines, to getting on the bus, and arriving safely at home couldn't have been more impeccable. Whew, I made it...and I couldn't have been happier/miserable in all my life, can't you tell?

Sweatpants, two shirts and a sweatshirt, two blankets, slippers, my bed, a bottle of Gatorade, and a restroom just around the corner. I wouldn't say I'm "sick"...I'm just not feeling quite myself. Today was such a Monday. Please don't be on repeat tomorrow.

View of the Inauguration

I wish I could take credit for putting this together. But I know nothing about video editing, so I shouldn't, but, I will...at least partial! After all, I'm in numerous pictures, my shoulder served as makeshift tripod (keep in mind if/when the camera is shaking, it's not my doing), and I had to endure endless nights of hearing the same three minutes of Obama's speech and the lyrics to John Lennon's Imagine, over and over and over again. So, I deserve at least partial credit, right?

Courtesy of Andrea (and Amy) Candrian.

The Unflattering

There are a few questions in life I never like to be asked: Are you dating anyone? No, and you really don't have to ask me that every time I see you. The answer never changes. How is a girl like you still single? Easy, I don't date. So, who do you have your eye on these days? No one, which makes the whole not dating thing really easy. Does this make me look fat? Yes, but I know you want me to tell you no, so NO! Thanks for forcing me to lie. Is that your natural hair color? YES! You really think I would purposely dye my hair this color? Ok, you get the idea.

Yesterday I was asked a question that I've never been asked before, and I hope to never be asked again…at least not for a long long long, and appropriate time.

I was sitting on the bus on my way home from work when a peculiar looking woman got on. There was a vacant seat to my left, and although I would have preferred to leave it that way, she sat down next to me. There was a strange smell emanating from her, and it was all I could do to offer this homely looking woman a friendly smile. She leaned over to me and started talking. We talked weather, global warming, South Carolina, and the beach. When it was time for her to get off, she leaned over to say 'bye', but quickly noticed that I was exiting at the same stop, so we kept talking. Once we were both off the bus, she took one look at me, and while looking at my stomach asked, "Are you pregnant?" Shocked by the comment, and baffled by her sincerity, I laughed when I replied, while patting my stomach, "I'd be in big trouble if I was pregnant." She gave me a strange look, turned, and walked the other way.

Granted, I had a thick sweater and scarf on under my dress coat, but still, the audacity of someone to ask such a question was a bit shocking. As soon as I got home, I immediately headed straight for my mirror. My side-profile needed to be examined. I didn't think I looked pregnant...at all! But like I said, the woman was peculiar. Perhaps all those hours spent at the gym aren't doing much for me after all. And clearly a month of no sugar hasn't helped out my figure either. How encouraging.

(↑ Not how I look)