Feast your eyes out on this *special treat*!!!

Feast your eyes out ladies and gentleman!!!

As you can see, even though it was 98 degrees outside, I was still able to test drive my brand new Fuel Belt yesterday! Va-va-va-voom!

Now, now ladies...don't get too upset when you discover that your husband has secretly tucked away a copy of this picture in the back of his wallet. He may even caress it each day. Because really- what man can resist the allure of a woman with bulging man-calves, thick, milky white thighs, silver and purple disco shoes and a 6-bottle water carrier strapped around her waist?

That's right. No one can. Not even yo' baby daddy.

I think this photo pretty much illustrates my need to lose another ten pounds, hence my renewed committment to hitting the road once or twice a week (until I start the formal training program in August).

Even though the run caused me great pain (the heat sucked all the energy out of me), the silver lining to yesterday's run was that I not only loved the Fuel Belt (there is absolutely NO bounce to it), but I was actually...looking forward to it!

I think it was a combination of the excitement of wanting to try out my new gear, guilt for not having run in over a week, and just wanting to escape the gym/track. Of course once I started running I immediately wanted to turn around and go home and eat li hing mui gummy bears (like I am now), but I still think it's a step in the right direction.

Aiiiii-yah! (explanation of shock in Hawaii)

A few weeks ago I subscribed to Runners World magazine. I was told it would take up to 8-10 weeks to get my first issue. But what I wasn't told was that it would only take about five seconds for them to sell my personal information to every running catalog company in the free world.

My mailbox has quickly started to fill up with a number of high-end runner's catalogs. I hate to break to it these companies, but they'd have better luck hawking their wares to a quadrapalegic. Because first of all, we all know that at best, I jog about once a week. Lately, even less. And secondly, I'm cheap.

Nonetheless, I still like perusing the mags so I can get an idea of what's out there and try and find them cheaper on line if I like the product. Case in point- tonight I flipped to the section on running socks and found that the average 3-pack goes for $34.99. NOT three-dozen. THREE PAIRS. The most expensive brand listed (by Asics) went for a cool $44.99. BUT they claim, if you join their VIP club for only $54.99 a year- you can enjoy 10% off your order and get free shipping!!! Wow. Sign. Me. Up.

My first thought upon seeing these prices was "What dumb yuppie nut job actually thinks spending $45 on three pairs of socks will help them run better?!" But my second thought was, "Hmm...I want some!" Because here's the thing, they really are superior socks. They have better moisture control (which reduces blisters), odor elimination technology, more cushion (helps reduce shock), have a much better fit and built in arch support.

My father has been a huge fan of $12/pair Thorlos for years. And a few months ago, my brother got his own $9/pair running socks from New Balance that he's been gloating about for weeks. So I suppose it was only a matter of time before I had to have my own pair too. Here's the thing though- I've gone to two or three athletic stores and have found a few pairs that I like that are 'reasonably priced' at around $8 a pair, but they're ABSOLUTELY hideous!!! Why is it that all the men's running socks are black, white and gray, but the women's are all neon yellow, magenta and turquoise?! WTF? Why aren't men subject to these heinous spring fashion trends? Maybe it's the tomboy in me, but I find this a teeny bit sexist and annoying (pink Razrs excluded of course...those are just hot).

But ahh...what the hell. I know I'll get a few good pairs eventually. And hopefully soon, because I'm going to start running more. Tomorrow, as a matter of fact, will be the official debut of my new Fuel Belt! I excitedly modeled it for my brother and his roommate the other day and was met with horrified looks and complete silence. Screw those hippies. I'll be sure to post pictures tomorrow! ;-)

Just a list

Things that make me delightfully happy:

• Emptying my desktop Recyle Bin (I love that sound!)
• Getting my teeth cleaned at the dentist (your teeth feel so smooth afterwards!)
• Holding my arm up to the TV after I turn it off so all the hair stands up (this one never gets old)
• Using a soap dispenser and unexpectedly finding that it has that neat, foamy soap in it!
• Driving up an elevated freeway overpass (I'm flying! I'm flying!)
• People who make fun of themselves
• Movie theatre popcorn (if this list were in order, this would be #1, right above #2- Marriage to Roy)
• Finding tops at the Nike outlet marked down from $58.00 to $14.99 (score!)
• Getting my Us Magazine each week
• Cottage cheese with pineapple in it
• Going to Costco (hey, Roy and I have a lot of mouths to feed...)
• Cracking every joint in my body each morning (creepy, but oh sooo relaxing)
• Freshly wiped kitchen counters with no clutter on them
• Biting into a fresh strawberry or grape and finding out they really are as delicious and sweet as they look
• Double coupons at Ralphs
• Even tan lines (last had them in 1977)
• Whenever Roy fills up my empty gas tank for me
• Warm, sticky, butter mochi...fresh out of the oven
• Finding a nice, clean magazine to read at the gym that isn't a Good Housekeeping from 1984
• Looking through my swimming goggles to see half water, half sky...very cool.
• Shooting the sh** with my coworkers (we're getting paid to laugh!!!)
• Standing at the top of a mountain after a good hike
• Li hing mui gummy bears (the wet or dry kind...either one rocks)
• The sense of calm you feel at the end of a long jog (and the euphoria that you're done)
• Wandering around in another country
• Listening to a friend's good news
• Getting supportive comments on the blog
• Going back home to Hawaii
• McDonalds chicken nuggets and fries with barbecue fries
• Wireless mouse(s)
• Swaying palm trees
• Fresh, thick, lumpy poi (the Hanalei kind)
• A good haircut
• Having a car that gets me from A to B each day with NO issues (so what if it's a van)?
• High speed internet access
• Toned muscles
• Getting a window seat with no one sitting next to you
• Thin, fine ballpoint pens (it's an anal person thing...just roll with it)
• A good massage
• Neatly organized kitchen cabinets (everything has to be facing forward, people!)
• Cheesecake. Any kind.

And the best part about? It only took me about 10 minutes to come up with this list, but I could have gone on forever.

What makes YOU happy?

Urban hiking

I'm not sure if 'urban hiking' is an actual sport, but if it isn't, it should be. Because I'm officially its first fan.

Let me start by saying that I am a huge lover of animals. That is...when they're either on the end of my fork covered in barbecue sauce or safely within the confines of a thick, steel cage at a zoo. Otherwise...NOT such a huge fan.

So today was pretty much my worst nightmare. Let's just say that over the span of a short, 90-min. hike I took this afternoon with my brother Joseph, we managed to encounter some: extremely pissed off/manic dogs, a dozen or so cute little bunnies, a deer (technically a buck), some angry red ants (I have the welts to prove it), and...a rattlesnake.

Yes...a real live rattle snake. In the middle of the path. Staring at us with its evil, beady little eyes! I nearly stepped on it before I screeched and performed what I now like to call the world's first 'reverse long jump' and jumped back about 17 feet.

It wasn't very big...maybe only about three-feet long, but it was enough to make my heart pound and my body go limp and clammy with fear (although admittedly, even a small chihuahua can do that). It was my *brilliant* idea to lodge rocks at the snake to get it out of the way, but Joseph recommended that we maybe NOT royally piss off the snake and walk around it instead.

So we did, and obviously we survived. But it has not left me unscarred. I'm writing off what was once my favorite backyard hike for awhile. This is the very same hike that Roy and I heard the loud growling on, and the same hike that Joseph, Lana & I spotted the large paw prints on. Clearly God is trying to send a message through to my thick cranium.

What's kind of funny is that I shouldn't have even been walking this weekend. After walking the marathon last Saturday, I walked 6 miles on Mon, 8 miles on Wed, and 6 miles on Fri. As a result of logging 40 miles over 5 days, there was some minor swelling in Granny's knees. So I decided to take off Saturday and just swim laps this morning (Sunday) to give my knees two full days of rest. Unfortunately, I had a baaaaad week last week in terms of eating (more on this some other time) and therefore couldn't pass up my brother's offer to go on a short, last minute hike as well.

Aside from the Wild Animal Encounter, however, I did enjoy a rare obligation-free weekend. Yesterday Roy hit a casino to play some blackjack (does anyone know how to nurse his shattered kneecaps?) while I did some power shopping. We now both have new Razr phones (I got him a pink one and me a dark gray one, but he insisted we swap). I also found three more pairs of running shorts from Nike, some Powerbar energy gel packets, three more sets of silicone bakeware (I'm obssessed), a new line of skincare products for my aging, petrifying face (15 years of golfing = premature wrinkles), a cookbook, work clothes, shoes, etc.

For the rest of the summer, though- I'm restricting my hikes to the much safer, crowded, polluted, gang-infested urban areas. I might still consider going on a hike in the wild, but only if I'm part of a group with at least 2-3 others who are plumper, more delicious and SLOWER than me. ;-)

Prepare for defeat, Kathy!!!

I love a good competition. I'm constantly thinking up new ones and regularly challenge my brother to at least one a week. A few recent ones include- the High Kick Contest (as my own parents can attest- this one can be quite dangerous), the Speed Walking Contest, the High Pitch Screaming Contest (I think it's very unnatural that Joseph can still win this one), the Favorite Child Contest (highly, highly debated), the Who has the Biggest Calves on Earth Contest, the Who Ate More Calories in One Sitting Contest, and the Death is Not an Option Contest (you do not want me to elaborate on this one).

Regardless of what competition we're engaged in, however, the following always takes place immediately afterwards- the winner usually gives a speech (in which the "Big J.C." is always thanked), and the loser alternates between loud booing and accusing the winner of cheating. Roy is often forced to be the referee. Possibly because of all this- the only willing participant in most of my stupid competitions has been my brother Joseph.

That is, until today.

Today a coworker and I went spinning. I did my usual selfish, semi-disgusting practice of trying to avoid wiping myself off so that I could see how big a puddle of sweat I could accumulate on the floor. And though I did create my most impressive puddle ever, my coworker had to spoil it all by pointing out that I wasn't listening during most of the the workout, and as a result, did not use as much resistance as the rest of the class. (Can you sense the bitterness and envy? I can.)

Being the calm, mature individual that I am (some would even say 'Ghandi-like') I immediately took great offense, accused her of not working out as hard as she could have- and proposed a face off next Thursday.

Here are the simple rules I've established for the "Who Can Sweat More" Competition:

1. I will make more of an effort to pump up my resistance if she agrees to not wipe so much as a single bead of sweat off her entire body (during the workout).

2. Neither of us is allowed to wear a cotton t-shirt that day (which would absorb the sweat and skew the results).

3. The only exception to Rule #2 would be to stop sweat from dripping into our eyes (which must be done with our hands and not our towels).

At the end of the workout, we will immediately hop off our bikes and while everyone else is quietly stretching and becoming one with the Earth, we will decide who has accumulated the bigger and more impressive sweat puddle of the two. If there is a tie, I will ask the instructor of the class (who may understandably become scared and refuse) to be the tie breaker.

Though my coworker initially seemed quite horrified by the proposal, she soon agreed. So mark your calendars boys and girls- the face off is next week Thursday! Be prepared for either more shameless gloating than ever before...or complete silence (in which case you can safely assume I lost).

Wish me luck. And please send me any hot tips you may know about. I will not cheat, but I am not above shameless tricks and techniques to utterly destroy the competition. I will make Ruben Studdard proud.

Life as a hippie

I've always loved fruit. This is in spite of the fact that my maiden name sounds a lot like the word 'fruit' (which meant I was relentlessly called 'fruit fly' by that little punk Christian Yamagata all through elementary school). One of these days I'm gonna write a vicious, revenge-filled rap about it just like Eminem did to his childhood bully. We'll see what Christian thinks about the "Fruit fly" when he sees me all grilled and pimped out on MTV! Bastard.

Anyway, one of the benefits to living in Hawaii (and why we're always ranked as one of the healthiest states in the union) is that we tend to have year round access to fresh, delicious fruit. And assuming you have friends there (which thankfully, my parents do since I most assuredly do not) someone is always dropping off a bag of mangoes, tangerines, avocados, apple-bananas, papaya, or Ka'u oranges from their backyard. (I'm pretty sure it's just like this in other friendly, farming states like Iowa, except they drop off stuff like corn, wheat and pork rinds).

In any case, getting all this fruit is a good thing, since its very expensive to have to buy it from the store. Plus it's always half-green since it was picked three weeks early too ship over by what one can only assume is a canoe, since by the time we get it it's limp and tasteless. There's nothing worse than having to eat a pint of half green, bland strawberries- and still have to pay $5.99 for the privilege.

Going to Costco is not much better. Sure, everything is cheaper- but who wants to eat a 2-foot long bag filled with broccoli? My god. Roy and I love broccoli, but not so such that we'd want to crap out green, half-chewed broccoli florets for a week (note: I would NOT have this hang up with Cheetos).

This is why after years of shopping for produce in Hawaii & Japan, I feel like G Money in California. I can generally afford to toss anything I want in the cart and not have to get a 15th credit card to do so. And now that I've become more health conscious, I tend to buy A LOT more fruit (I regularly consume 3-4 cups of fruit per day). Case in point- the other day I could barely close the fruit crisper. When I took everything out to rearrange it, here's what was crammed in there (mind you, there are two of us in our household...one of whom is thin and has NO eating issues): plums, avocados, bananas, apples, grapefuit, limes, peaches, tangerines, limes, oranges, strawberries and grapes. That's twelve different types of fruit! Sweet Jesus! I had to quickly sniff under my armpits to make sure I hadn't turned into a hippie.

Our vegetable crisper only had about five kinds of veggies, but our freezer was stocked for a war. I found two bags of frozen veggies from Costco (the Asian mix and Normandy one...we're not racist), and count 'em- SEVEN different varieties of veggie burgers! The rest of the shelves held lowfat yogurt and cottage cheese. That's about it.

So the question is- why then, am I still such a chub (body fat- 32.7 as of last night!!!!)? Well, it *could be* (and this is just a guess) because it's not quite 7:00am yet and I'm already digging into my 3rd or 4th cup of a sugar-free granola (690 calories per cup). I'm going crazy with it because I haven't had much fat in my diet recently and I'm planning on tossing the rest of this addictive crack-cocaine in the trash so I can avoid another relapse. I swear my coworker is trying to sabotage me (but knows I'm too gluttonous to call her on it). This is the third or fourth tub of granola mix she's bought me since she knows I'll bulldoze over anyone to get to it.

Oink.

The Race Recap

(Note: There are no pictures posted because I was pissed off that I looked bloated in most of them. My brother also warned me not to post any photo of him that might inadvertantly show any nipple action. I contemplated stretching out the picture to make us both look like supermodels but it still wouldn't have addressed the fact that the wind blew my bangs...YES bangs, some of us STILL have them...straight upward. I'm sure you all understand. At least the Asian geeks do.)

I did it. Twenty six miles. That's 104 laps around the track!

The good news first. I had a blast- the comaraderie, the live bands, the easy access to water and restrooms (trust me, it's a treat) and above all else- being around people whose lives have all been touched by cancer, but who are determined to help others avoid the same fate.

The bad parts? It was hot (100+), dusty (I haven't been that CAKED in dirt since my mud wrestling days!) and it took forever (it was crowded). Here's the official recap-

We were told to be there by 9 am for a 10-minute opening ceremony before the cancer survivors did their ceremonial first lap. The thing is, they slightly underestimated how long that would take- by oh...you know...SIXTY or SEVENTY minutes. Lord have mercy! It was getting hotter (and I was getting fussier) by the second.

I don't think we started until a little after 10:00. And once we did, we quickly realized that jogging was not really an option. We were on a track with hundreds of people, most ambling along at a leisurely pace and chatting with others. Trying to run would have meant dodging around everyone and getting in the way. Plus it was already blazing hot and I had genuine concerns about getting heatstroke.

We walked 7 miles before realizing that the crowd had gone down to about half its size, so we jogged mile 8 before taking a quick lunch break. After scarfing down 1/2 a Chipotle burrito and some Graziano's pasta, we walked miles 9 -12 to let our food settle. Once we finished mile 12, however, my brother and his friend Lana had to leave for other equally virtuous plans (they were going to get drunk with friends).

So from that moment on, I suddenly found myself alone with FIFTY SIX laps to go. Yeah... kinda lame, folks. Kinda lame...

I continued walking miles 13-15 before deciding it was okay to jog again. I jogged miles 16 & 17, but had to walk mile 18 after I started feeling a little spent. At that point, I briefly thought about quitting. My feet were starting to ache and I figured I'd already done a respectable 72 laps and couldn't imagine still having to do 32 more. I was hot. I was tired. And I wanted to go home and eat and take a bath. But the thing is, other than being a little tired but mostly bored, I really had no reason to quit. My legs were holding up. I had no blisters. I was well hydrated. I was FINE. So I kept going.

I did, however, choose to drink my first energy drink ever (Monster). I usually never drink carbonated beverages or caffeine, but my brother had left with the Gatorade and I was desperate for some sodium and electrolytes! So I tossed down that cold 20 oz. can in about 45 seconds! And it worked. I was jacked! Suddenly, I had the energy to run again- so I ran miles 19 & 20 like I was Carl Lewis on speed. In fact I felt so good I went back and tossed down a second can during mile 21. That sh** is gooood.

It helped me to jog mile 22 until I got a bad muscle cramp at the start of mile 23 (I tried to dart around someone but landed funny on my left foot which caused it to cramp up). After walking most of miles 23 & 24, I was able to half run, half walk the final two miles (25 & 26). I would like to say that I had a tearful, euphoric burst of emotion at the finish, but really, I didn't. In fact, more than anything else, I felt strangely calm and self confident.

I guess the last thing I expected to feel after mostly walking this race was to actually feel more self confident about the race in December. But I finally realized that even though I walked a lot, I still felt fantastic about what I'd just done. So why would December be any different? Why was I so scared of something I should actually be looking forward to and enjoying?!!!

So I think I've done a complete turn around. Though I entered the race quite fearful and paranoid about December, I finished it no longer really caring how I'll do. Because it really shouldn't be about how fast your time is, or whether or not you have to walk... It should be about the fact that you had the courage and self confidence to try.

'Twas the night before the walk...

Tomorrow is the charity walk where I'll be attempting to walk a marathon. I'm really excited! Here's how I prepared for it- ooooh dear...that's right...I didn't. Though I was quite eager to pack about 18 pounds of food for the walk, I probably should have thought about how to work my way up to walking 26.2 miles in 105 degree heat too. So wish me luck! (And don't be surprised if you see a bright red, crispy Asian female splayed out on a stretcher on tomorrow night's news.)

I had thought the one thing I could look forward to tomorrow was being able to eat some spam musubis that my brother volunteered to make. Unfortunately, he just called to inform me that it isn't going to happen. And before I get into why, I'd like to remind everyone that as a whole, Hawaiians are a very fun loving, collegial group. We're known for looking out for own (let's not forget how long Jasmine 'I wear knickers with high heels' Trias lasted on American Idol). So it's a rare occasion that I would dare suggest we turn our backs on a fellow local and ask that they renounce their Hawaiian heritage. Yet I'm recommending that we do just that. This is because my brother just called to tell me that he just realized he not only had no spam in the house, but no rice or spam musubi mold as well! *Gasp*

???????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I know! Very messed up. Totally unacceptable for a Hawaiian. Normally I wouldn't be so hard on him, but he's already on my sh*t list. This is because my right hand is now sporting third degree burns and a few blisters because of him (...and don't get SICK, people! He's MY BROTHER for chrissake!).

You see, I've had to drive his Lexus for the past couple of days. And for the most part, it's been fun. Especially when one normally tools around in a mini van. Nonetheless, all that fun has ended. This is because it hit 105 today, which heated up the black interior of his car to around 350 degrees. So when I innocently reached for the gear shift around 3:00pm to go to the gym, I shrieked and nearly lost half the flesh in the palm of my hand. You see, genius didn't like the 'look' of the original gear shift that came with the car, so he had Lexus install a custom metal one that 'looks better' instead.

So you have to agree- that boy is deeeeep in the dog house. I don't even know if I can look him in the eye tomorrow.

I'm cool!

A kind anonymous soul commented yesterday that I must be mistaken about my body fat stats. Sadly my friends, I am not. I've had my body fat tested 2-3 times over the last few months, each time on a different machine. And the results have been consistent- Jo Jo is still packing some fat! But it's okay! I'm cool with it. And here's why-

I hail from generations and generations of hardy farming stock. As such, I have a short, sturdy frame made that was built to plow the Earth. Throw 100-lb. sacks of rice around. Haul buckets of water on each shoulder for miles. And I accept this. I am at peace with it. Ooooom.

I don't really worry that my body fat is still so high since my BMI has been within the normal range (albeit the upper end) for a month now. And just to prove that I'm not exaggerating (which admittedly, I tend to do 99% of the time), here's a true, fun story of something that just happenned.

I was shopping for underwear at Victoria's Secret (don't get any ideas here...they have a really good sale right now) and a clerk asked me what size I was looking for. When I proudly announced "Medium!!!" to both her and all those around us, she quietly looked me up and down, smiled, and handed me a large instead. ????

But after I went home and washed them- guuuessssss what folks? They jusssssst fit! So I have a pretty good idea of where all that body fat is stored. I gots da junk in 'da trunk.

But thanks for the thought!!! ;-)

I hit it!

I did it. I officially hit the big 5-0 yesterday. Technically, I hit 5-1. It was a little anticlimactic though, since I've been rounding up for the past month anyway. Overall, it's still a nice feeling.

Roy also surprised me with a body fat analyzer yesterday. I've been wanting one for weeks. Even though I'm a complete moron when it comes to programming anything, I excitedly snatched it out of his hands and quickly input my stats into the machine. So I was a bit horrified/amused to see that I still have 32.6% body fat. This is well outside of the ideal range of 18-25%. I guess I find this amusing because well, you gotta admit, it's kinda funny to lose so much weight and still technically be a chub. And to add insult to injury, the machine flashed this heavy set woman's figure at me to make it crystal clear (just in case I didn't get it from the big flashing numbers) that I'm still a heifer in it's eyes. Whatever. What a piece of sh**. I threw it back at Roy and told him to return it.

Yesterday I went to the gym and stepped onto an elliptical for the first time in months. I managed 30 minutes on it before deciding to do another 30 minutes on the recumbent bike (another first in months). Normally time passes by fairly quickly on the bike when I've got a magazine in front of me, but this time not even Jennifer Aniston's love life could distract me. I was sweating and panting so hard I think people thought I was going to die. I mean, it's one thing to grunt audibly and squeeze your eyes shut when you're a serious (male) power lifter, but it's quite another when you're a short Asian female on a recumbent bike reading Good Housekeeping. It just doesn't jive, does it?

Speaking of things that don't jive, while I was on the elliptical I was watching the news on the Patrick Kennedy DUI sentencing. They flashed a picture of his dented car at the scene of the accident and would you believe- the brother drives an old turquoise Ford sedan?!!! Come on! He's a Kennedy! What the hell is he doing tooling around in that hunk of crap? I mean, I'm no one to talk, I drive a Dodge mini van for crying out loud- but I live in the 'hood (my office was just held up in an armed robbery!) and more importantly- I'm not a Kennedy!!! I think I'm going to start a fund for him. Poor guy. No wonder he's a lush.

Guess I have some work to do

Yesterday I was so anxious to try out my new space shoes that I ran for a second day in a row for the first time. I have to say, I definitely noticed some increased cushioning and 'bounce' from the shoes. So with all that buoyancy and enthusiasm, would you like to know how far I ran? Two miles. That's right! Two whole miles. All I can say is, those Kenyans better watch out. J-dawg's on the loose.

I had a series of problems on the run. First I had stomach cramps (different from side pain), then I had to use the restroom, and a few minutes later (and this was the absolute deal breaker)- my MP3 player died. Not to mention about a mile into the run my body and knees started to question me. (WTF? WTF? Didn't we already do this once this week? What's going on?!! WTF????!!!! STOP, damn you! STOP!!!!) So I ended up looping back home and did 375 crunches on the front lawn as penance for wimping out.

Roy's eyes have been getting bigger each time I triumphantly walk into the front door lugging in yet another bag of 'marathon purchases.' Yesterday's haul included ordering my Fuel Belt (I'm going with the 6-flask holder) and subscribing to Runners World magazine. I know it all seems a bit manic, but the more I read up and talk to others about distance running, the more I realize I need a certain amount of resources (which ends up being costly since as popular as running is, it's still not mainstream enough to have a variety of low-cost supplies readily available).

Game on!

Thus far my approach to the marathon has been very half-a**ed. However, now that the race is less than six months away, I've decided to get serious. So even though I've only run once in the last three weeks (five miles in Hawaii), this morning I went on a leisurely 7-mile run (and by 'leisurely' I don't mean that it was a joyful and relaxing therapeutic run. I mean that I ran very slowly).

FYI, I have two paces. The first more commonly-used one I've dubbed my 'p***y pace'. No futher explanation needed. If, however, I'm feeling particularly youthful, rambunctious and free (usually only brief spurts on downhill stretches) I'll quicken my pace just a little- which I call my 'panty pace' (a common Hawaiian insult I think you can all figure out). As of yet, I have no stride or race pace. I'm working on it though. Baby steps...baby steps.

Anyway, after a cool-down walk and a shower, I went shopping. First I went to the health food store and got a stash of protein bars and replenishment drinks for my long, hot runs (today was 'only' about 85 degrees...but it will soon be in the 100s). Then I went to Nike to get more running shorts (dorky, but much better breathability) and running shoes that will be better suited to the predominantly hard-surface running I'm doing. After looking at about 30 frightening pairs, I ended up with these.

Yeah, yeah...feel free to smirk. I'm well aware that they make me look like a human pogo stick on my way to a disco in outer space, but they're lightweight and have great shock absorption and ventilation (they're mostly mesh in the center).

A few nights ago I created a training binder with separate sections for my training calendar (so I can be sure to schedule my four runs a week around our busy schedule(s) at times when it's not scorching hot); other upcoming races (to keep me motivated); helpful tips from others; etc. I plan on using the binder with my three training books to track my progress and challenges each week.

I've also renewed my committment to doing each of the following before each run: getting more sleep (I average a paltry 6.5 hours per night), slathering sunscreen all over my body half an hour in advance, and taping up my shins (to help proactively prevent shin splits...please tell me if this is pointless).

I've even figured out how to do my four runs a week in a way that Roy can feel safe about- we're getting him a bike! This way he'll still be able to tote around my water, get a decent workout (if you consider one pedal rotation per minute a good workout) AND make sure I'm not abducted by anyone who happens to find slow joggers singing off key with taped up shins, caked-on sunscreen and purple disco shoes hot (I anticipate A LOT of pursuers).

The biggest realization I've had over the past few days is what a huge committment this all is. It seems like everything I do (aside from work) is geared toward this race. It has started to encompass my entire life in a way that would have freaked me out six months ago. But right now I like it. I'm psyched. It's given me a spring in my step and a sense of purpose that has only helped to further liberate me from my former eating issues. You haven't heard about them much lately because well, I've been doing pretty good for the most part. I know I am far from being 'cured,' but the more spiritual and committed I am to the race and my future, the less I think about old demons and the past.

So yeah, game on.

Marathoner in the hiz-ooouse!

I’ve been so excited and impatient about the marathon. I think Roy is ready to throttle me. Pretty much every conversation we’ve had this week has gone something like this:

Josie: Hey, did I tell you to ask for Dec. 3rd off? It’s the day of my marathon!

Roy: Yes…four times now.

Josie: Oh. Can you believe it, though?! I mean, how incredible is that? I’ll be running 26.2 miles!!!!

Roy: I am perfectly aware of that dear…and yes, it’s very impress-

Josie: And you’re gonna be at the finish line taking pictures, right?

Roy: Yes, I'll be there… By the way, have you made that bank deposit yet, we really need-

Josie: Do you think I should wear the red Nike top or the blue Avia one?

And so on.

Though for awhile I didn’t actually do anything to prepare for the race other than yap about it, I’m pleased to announce I’ve finally taken the next step. And no, no, noooo…I haven’t actually started running yet- I’ve bought a few more books! I’m now armed with two ‘Marathon Bibles,’ one by Hal Higdon and the other by David Whitsett.

I’ve also started plotting my training schedule and am shopping around for: a Fuel Belt (carries fluid, gels and incidentals); two more pairs of running shoes (ideally with orthopedic inserts that will help prevent shin splints); a good headset for my MP3 player (without it- there will be NO marathon). And that doesn’t include sports massages, possible injuries, race supplements, or race entry fees. All told, running isn’t quite the free activity it’s made out to be.

I have been delaying the actual running for as long as possible. This is because, well- running kinda sucks. I ran five miles one day in Hawaii last week and nearly collapsed from the humidity. I also suffered one hell of a headache later that night. So believe me, it DID NOT escape my notice that struggling on a 5-mile run was not a good sign.

It’s also 100 degrees outside right now. But I know that’s no excuse. Bob Greene (the trainer) says, “There are plenty of excuses, just not any good ones.” So I’m rolling forward, albeit very slowly. Right now I’m more focused on trying to shed about 5-6 more pounds to try and make the runs a little easier on my granny knees. So far, so good. I’ve been tossing down a lot of complex carbohydrates and protein and doing light strength training 2 days a week, and cross training another 2-3 days a week. On Friday I'm going to walk/jog 6 miles with a coworker and my brother and on Sunday I'm going on my first 'long distance' run in awhile. Will keep you all posted.

I'm all class, baby

Despite helping myself to pretty much whatever I wanted in Hawaii, I think I only gained about 2-3 pounds. This is truly amazing considering I am no lightweight when it comes to eating. Now I don't want to brag or anything, but I can pretty much out eat even a 200-lb. male three meals a day, seven days a week. Shockingly, most men do not find this to be an attractive trait in a woman. Here's how those conversations usually go:

Drunk frat boy #1: Dude! I drank like, ten beers last night and puked Dominoes pizza all over my mother!

Drunk frat boy #2: That's like, nothing man! I did twelve shots, slept with a midget and woke up with a tattoo on my a**!

Josie: I ate four slices of cake in mere seconds!

Drunk frat boy #1: Man, that's sick.

Drunk frat boy #2: You got issues.

Haters man. All haters. By the way, the dessert story is true. At my brother's graduation party I had a slice of blueberry cheesecake, pumpkin pie, chocolate lush cake and vanilla with cream cheese frosting, all within a span of about ten minutes. And they weren't delicate, mindful little 'bites'. Please. I'm from Hawaii, people. I pretty much inhaled everything in seconds and then licked the plate clean.

Stand in line, gentlemen...stand in line.

Aloha!

I am back! This is me with my youngest brother at his graduation ceremony. He is wearing about half the leis he received that day. Wearing anything less at a high school graduation in Hawaii means either you just moved there and didn't make enough friends yet, or you were one hell of a prick. I had two. Just kidding! (I had four).

The trip back home was ah...different. I had a great time, but it was absolutely brutal. My mother was sick from chemo, and my father was sick from the flu. This meant my brother Joseph and I really needed to pick up the slack. I was there for 7 full days and prepared 20 meals. You do the math. And if I wasn't in the kitchen, I was at Costco. Or Longs. Or KTA (the 'local' grocery store on the island...I feel like a traitor going to Safeway). Cleaning. Chasing after my two nephews. Trying to stop my mother from doing anything. Helping my father set up for the huge party we had at the house. It was without a doubt the most exhausting week of my life. Fulfilling (because I could help so much), but tiring.

The one relaxing moment I had was getting a surprise massage from two of my brothers. I have to say, I've become increasingly disenchanted with most of the massages I've had over the last six months- the one in Egypt (where I was basically drenched in Crisco and tickled by a veiled woman for an hour), the California woman at a posh spa who started my massage 5-6 minutes late and then ended 5-6 minutes early (nothing invokes more rage in a cheap person), the hippie woman in Hawaii who had a crock pot at her feet (I couldn't stop staring at it), and the young male masseuse who thought 'deep tissue' meant puncturing my organs with his fists.

So I was very, and I do mean VERY pleasantly surprised with the masseuse I had. He was the BEST masseuse I've ever had in my LIFE. BY FAR. This man has not only attended one of the best massage schools in the country, but continues to fly from country to country to get certified in different forms of massage. He was also extremely strong. By which I mean he has Vulcan death-grip hands.

His massage was a unique blend of a deep tissue sports massage, Thai, lomi lomi and what I like to call 'elbow accupuncture' (where he used all his weight to thrust his elbow into five or six different points of each of my butt cheeks). Though each jab was incredibly painful, was borderline S & M, and brought tears to my eyes (thank god the sheet was so absorbant), I basically fell in love. He also did another move that rocked my world- at the end of it, he pulled my hair. Hard. But as he did it, he explained that I should feel the hair pulling on my scalp, which would then pull on my neck, shoulders, lower back...pure bliss.

Will post a few more pictures tomorrow!

I feel the island love

Yes friends, I have done it again! Despite my repeated sad, sad attempts to eat 'within reason' back home, the diet is like, sooo off. I have gained three pounds so far! And for the life of me, I don't know how! I mean, all I've been eating for the last week has been, well, let's see now...coconut rice cakes, banana split chocolate cake, slice after slice of fresh mango bread, strawberry-banana pancakes, coconut ice cream cake w/ a graham cracker-macadamia nut crust drizzled in lilikoi, strawberry and chocolate, handful after handful of lime and chile cashews, freshly picked mangoes and apple bananas, etc. ???? Truly a mystery, isn't it?

The thing is, I'm okay about it. Because I've realized that I do so love my local food, and since I can only have it a few times a year, I may as well indulge and worry about losing the weight later. So once again, I've given myself carte blanche to eat whatever my heart desires! As such, it's safe to say that at any given point throughout the day- my mouth is moving, with my left hand clutching a handful of rice crackers, and my right hand greedily reaching for the last three pieces of sushi on the platter.

I have also come to the harsh realization that California has truly turned me into an a**hole on the road. Yesterday I caught myself urging my younger brother to "Gun it! Gun it! Pass all those friggen cars and just cut in up there!!!" He politely declined, pointing out to me that this death-defying move would have only have allowed us to 'gain' about 4 car lengths, and wouldn't have been "very nice." (Pu**y boy).

And my final self realization on this trip is that sometimes, it's okay (and any parents out there, you may want to stop reading here) to want to bag and gag your children (or in my case, my two and four year-old nephews). Though I love them both dearly, I have never heard the word "No!" shouted at me more than the time I went to my last all-you-can-eat buffet and the owner saw me approaching.