A Change of Hobby...for the day

Over the summer I had the opportunity to work with the incredibly talented visionary, Jesse Rosten, and his incredibly talented crew, up in Redding, California. I became a boxer for the day-- it actually screwed up my shoulders...boxing gloves are heavy! So, I'm sticking with running, but it was so worth the soreness for the funniness that came out of it. I hope you follow the link below, enjoy what you see, and then share it around.

Click Here:Fotoshop (fake) Commercial by Jesse Rosten



Over a million hits!! Whoohoo!

"Life is an improvisation"

The title of this post is a quote said by Ralph in Lord of the Flies. He says this after he and some of his classmates end up plane-wrecked on an island that, after a few days, starts to become "uncivilized."

Every year I have my students write a paper about the improvisation of every day life: we never know what the next day will bring, and yet, how is it that time passes without us even realizing it sometimes? Most of the time we go through the actions of our life with few surprises. Things may happen to us in a given year or month that shake us and turn us upside down, but rarely do we step outside our comfortable routines and make a memorable change on purpose. Rarely do we try to reinvent ourselves: "tweaking" is the safe version of change we use. This is the only possible explanation for why entire months--and even years--of my life are blurred or simply missing from my memory. I mean, there are thousands of days and hundreds of weeks that I know I lived but clearly was not present because I can find nothing of them.

The last 18 weeks of my life will be difficult to forget--in a really good way. I decided my daily improvisations, be them in front of a class of teenagers or taking a new dance class or running a new race somewhere, were still just copies of former improvisations. Allow me to use this metaphor to explain what I mean by copies of improvisations: As a teacher I have handouts that I use every year but can no longer find the original master copies...and I do not have them typed out on the computer. So, when I want to use one, I have to take one of the copies I made from the previous year and make duplicates of that duplicate. You know how when you make a copy of a copy it's never as good? And if you make a copy of that copy, it's even worse? Well, if you keep making copies of those copies you will eventually end up with a paper containing shadows and half-words that don't do anything but make the paper look dirty. That is how life can be sometimes. Copies of copies of things we've been doing for years. (I'm getting deep today, yes I am).

I won't go into detail about all the (aforementioned) things I attempted to "copy" this year from a younger me, but my attempt to create a master copy in my life recently involved learning improv at National Comedy Theater. It was something entirely new and at times f&*$ing scary. And now that the classes are over, and I've had time to think back on the last 18 weeks, I'm sad I won't see my funny friends each week and sad that I won't have something to be nervous about every Saturday afternoon. But I'm also glad that I have something in my memory that will set the year 2011 apart from previous years.

I will probably do the class again, even though it might seem, or might feel, like a "copy." However, the great thing about performance improv is that there is no such thing as a copy. There is no way to anticipate the scene you're about to walk into... one just has to follow one's own feet. I think we runners get that concept more easily than some... we've all had that long run or that race where it came down to simply trusting that your feet know what to do. Like Ralph who "found himself understanding the wearisomeness of this life, where every path was an improvisation and a considerable part of one's waking life was spent watching one's feet."

Thanks to all the wonderful, funny people at NCT (instructors and classmates alike) who brought so much joy, excitement and especially laughter to the last 18 weeks of my life.

Merry/Happy Holidays & Happy New Year!

What can I say...

...I've been out of the blogosphere for way too long this time. The last time I wrote a post it was hot and still light outside at 9pm. Now it's getting dark around 7. I smell chimney smoke during my evening runs. It's almost Halloween for crying out loud. I've let a whole season of running posts slip by. Ah well. I'm still here. Sort of. Kind of in a fog this semester: I'm teaching high school part-time so that I can teach a college writing course. And, therefore, not running as much as I should considering........

On Monday when I walked into my high school classroom, the sheriff was there. Someone had broke into my classroom--sort of--over the weekend. It wasn't technically "breaking in" because no breaking was needed. My classroom door was not shut properly after the janitorial staff left on Friday afternoon, so while the classroom door was locked, it was not shut all the way. Therefore, it opened easily when tugged on by some punk-ass teenager at approximately 6pm Friday evening.

He (and I know if was a he from the grainy security cam video) did not destroy my classroom, as you may be expecting me to say. No. He tipped over a few desks. Put one of them on top of another. No big deal there since could have destroyed my posters, computer, CD player, and all the anthologies... But he didn't. Nope. He just urinated all over my desk. And my desk chair.

I don't really know what to say about the situation. There's just so much that can be said. And at the same time, nothing to say.

And so I run. I run. I run. I run.

Rock Your Body

So I don't usually go for this type of thing, but a friend of mine found this Ukrainian woman named Zuzana on youTube who does short killer workouts. From youTube my friend then discovered the Body Rocks website. So here's the deal: Zuzana (who is apparently a former porn star...I wouldn't know, but I do know that she is very, very toned) posts daily workouts on her website and they kickASS. And the beautiful thing about them is that they are comprised of only 4 moves that take about 12-15 minutes total to complete.

I've only done one of the workouts, and I was sore for 3 days afterward. They are not a joke, and they will rock your body. I sound like an infomercial right now, so I apologize for that, but I love that I was introduced to these workouts because it's a really quick thing to do after a maintenance run or just to build some lean muscle.

Every day she posts new workouts with a short demonstration video (shot by her husband who, as you will see, really likes focusing on her "upper" half, if you catch my drift) and then a workout breakdown with rep information. The one thing you'll want to get is an interval timer: it makes the workouts a lot easier not having to set and reset a stopwatch...and it keeps you more honest during rest times. This is what they look like--I'm sure you can find a cheapy at Sport Chalet or some other such sporty store, or you can click HERE and order one.

So that's all; I just wanted to share it with the three or four of you who read this blog. Use the site or don't.
Here's the Body Rocks website: enjoy being tortured!

30 Hills in 30 Days Update

Well...it's been a long time since my last post. School got the best of me there at the end of the year, but now I am free free freeeeeeeee for the summer. This was my first official week of summer vaycay and I am doing it right. After assessing the serious flub happening from my ass down, I've decided that my workout routine needs a bit more than mileage to get things sorted (though I'm upping mileage too). About a year ago my husband bought the P90X program off eBay for $40. If you don't know anything about the program and are interested in learning about it, click here, cuz I'm just going to talk like you know what it is.

So in addition to my runs happening about every other day (which is a whole lot more than what was happening from April till now) my husband and I are doing the P90X program according to the "Classic Schedule." It's brutal. I'm sore in places I didn't know existed. But it's a really good sore. My new song/mantra is Kanye's "that-that-that-that don' kill me/ Can only make me stronger... do it faster/ makes us stronger." I can't stand Kanye as a person, but as a mantra provider, he's legit. It suits the program and the way it makes us feel every day because I do wonder sometimes if it will in fact kill me.

(*Insert appropriate transition here*)

I vaguely remember making a goal for myself: 30 hills in 30 days. Well... I technically started my "30 days" on May 23rd, which means today is my last day. I didn't really think it through enough, so I slacked and didn't hit 30 hills, but here's what I did. I found some really good hills and revisited some of the classics. If you're in need for some hill repeats or just a long slow hill, here are the bitches I conquered in the last 30 days. (Pics not provided for all hills discussed. Whaaat sometimes I don't run with my camera.)

1. Lake Murray Drive: A long, steady hill totaling .6 mile. Start at the corner of Lake Murray and Wisconsin Ave and head north up Lake Murray Drive to Kiowa Drive. Turn left on Kiowa and take a lap around the lake (6-7 miles). Once at the lake, about 1/2 a mile from the access gate is another paved hill on your right: small, steep as hell and perfect for sprint repeats. (Hill count 2)




2. Hill Street: Long long long. Steep, levels out a bit, then steep again. But the view is totally worth it. A good hill for full or partial repeats because you can pick and choose what grade you prefer. A brutal 1/2 mile. (Hill count 1)




3. Young Hall Hill on PLNU's campus: Now I remember why I used to wait for the shuttle or hitch a ride with someone up this hill. It's steep. It's long, but not as long as Hill St. You can access this hill from the dirt trail at the end of Corning near Sunset Cliffs. (Hill count 1)




4. Random hills in OB and Pt Loma. Head east from anywhere along Sunset Cliffs and you'll get a nice hill in. I don't remember all the names of the good ones I found, but I do remember the name Monaco, because I had a friend in college with that last name, and here's a pretty picture of a purple flowered wall I ran by somewhere up there. (Hill count 3)



5. At the intersection of Rosecrans and Whittier is a really steep hill (less than a 1/4 mile) that leads to 4 sets of stairs. It can do amazing things for your ass if handled correctly... just beware of jr. highers who skateboard here...I came around the bend the other day and caught one of them peeing against the wall. Gross. (Hill count 1)



6. W Laurel St to 6th Ave/Laurel Street Bridge: The steepest part of this 1.5 mile hill is actually the easiest part I've found... now hear me out. The steepest part is so steep it's like going up stairs, whereas the more gradual part is the majority of the hill and just wears down the will. You have to be OK walking part of this hill or it will break you. It will break you so good. (Hill count 1 x the 3 times I did it= 3)


7. 6th to Laurel: (Disclaimer: Yes I am ashamed of the time that appears with this map--and the map is a picture of my RunKeeper app.--But let me just say that the time includes all the waits I had at stoplights because the timer doesn't automatically pause like some of those fancy-schmancy watches out there (Angie)--and I don't take the time to pause and unpause the time myself--and I had to stop at every.single.light on Ash street on route to 6th. And it was hoooot that day. So there.) Let me also just say, 6th Ave is a sneaky 1 mile a-hole, but it's a good one to practice mid to end run because it's part of the final miles of this August's AFC half marathon. (Hill count 1 a-hole)

So my total hill count for the last 30 days is approximately 12. Just gonna have to try for 30 in the next 30 days. Because that-that-that-that don' kill me, can only make me stronger...

Stewart's just sayin'

I really appreciate the way John Stewart talks about teachers, so I'm attaching a link below to an entire episode of The Daily Show on hulu (hopefully it works--if not, I included the episode info so you can google it or search in hulu for it). I'd really appreciate it if you took 20 minutes of your time to watch what he has to say. His guest is author of The Life and Death of the Great American School System, Diane Ravitch, who discusses the education system in America and other countries.

This episode in particular gives me hope that there are people in this country still willing to fight for true education. That there are people who see beyond the superficial statistics and get at the real root of the problem. I don't hear many people right now with good things to say about teachers-- I find myself wondering nearly every day When did we become the bad guys?. I've been feeling frustrated, broken hearted and just generally low because of the way I hear the public and public officials talk about teachers. It's hard enough to stay positive when things are going well with teaching, but when it feels like everyone thinks you're evil or that you're greedy or that what you do can be easily replaced -- it makes me want to crawl into a hole and never come out. Actually it makes me want to move to FInland (you'll see why on the episode).

I haven't been running much lately, which is probably why my resistance to it all is down a bit...and when my skin is thinner like now, it's hard to get out on the road which makes the skin even thinner...vicious cycle, but it's people like Stewart and Ravitch who renew my hope that one day teaching will be a respected profession once again. Please watch:

The Daily Show with John Stewart, Thursday March 3, Season 16, Episode 32

Snail's Pace

Saw this little dude on my long run this morning. I think he's onto something with that streamlined, aerodynamic shell-situation going on. I think we can learn a few running lessons from snails... which is what I thought about for the remaining mile of my run.

1. If you can't go fast, you may as well be "slick."
2. Stay off of busy paths whenever possible.
3. It doesn't matter how quickly you get to the finish line, as long as you don't dry out before you get there.
4. If the conditions outside aren't ideal, or seem a little scary, stay inside the house.

Thank You Thunder Thighs

So here's the skinny on Mt. Whitney: it's f'ing hard to summit in one day. No surprise there, right? And we even had perfect weather (aside from the freezing, gusty winds). A twenty two mile round trip hike with a 6,000' gain in altitude from the trail head, coupled with the fact that we started at sea level only the day before-- I'd say, making it to the summit and back again is a pretty big deal. A deal I didn't realize was that big until I was smack dab in the middle of it. Literally. At the summit, 14,500 feet up and only halfway finished--that's exactly how it felt. My body was halfway finished. Halfway between being and not being. I'm sure that's overly dramatic, but it feels dramatic when you need to breathe and every inhale is harder and smaller than the one before it.

So in case I haven't made myself clear, my friend and I got altitude sickness. But to get a sense of the whole adventure, let's start at the beginning...

Day before "The Hike": we visited the trailhead and wandered around at 8,360 feet for about an hour. Not nearly enough to do any sort of acclimating, but it gave us a good chance to study the map below and watch a number of people stumbling off the trail with severe nausea and headaches from altitude sickness and dehydration.



If you can see it above, Trail Camp is at 12,000'. This is where most people, the smart ones, camp overnight to give their bodies a chance to acclimate to the altitude. My friend Matt, an avid mountaineer, told me that anything above 12,000' is considered the "Death Zone" because the atmosphere is so thin "anything can happen." It was comforting to know that we'd be wandering around for a good 10 miles in said "Death Zone." (Not.)

We began our adventure at 2:30am on Sunday. Each of our 30lb day-packs were crammed tight with a gallon of water, first aid kit, water filtration supplies, extra warm clothing, emergency gear for an overnight stay (if necessary), and lots of food, namely: Corn Nuts, 2 bananas, 2 PB&Js, 5 Gu packets, ginger cookies, trail mix (only appropriate), and granola bars. (Sidebar: all of this food tasted like shit once we needed them. I mean serious s.h.i.t.) After talking to many experienced Whitney Day-Hikers, we learned that staying hydrated and eating--especially when that's the last thing you feel like doing--is the only way to keep altitude sickness at bay. I do believe following those orders kept us feeling better than many of the people we saw along the way attempting to do the same climb. (Though the argument could probably be made that we looked and felt exactly the same as the other "sickies" too...there's really no way of telling because the brain is a bit... floaty...for a few hours up there.)

So, back to 2:30am with our gear and headlamps. Pitch Black. Scared. That's about all I remember about hiking in the dark. Scared. Scared to look too far ahead on the trail, for fear of what might be looking back. Scared of looking off the sides of the trail, for fear of what might be looking back. And scared for what weather the rising sun would bring. Weather is a crazy thing on mountains.

We survived those 4 hours of darkness by saying loudly "Hey yoou guuuuuys" (from "Goonies") to warn bears and cougars of our approach and by playing "Would You Rather" between sharp intakes of breath. I knew, it would be a long day when we were struggling for breath before the sun even came up all the way. At 6:30 we were greeted with the red mountain peaks you see below and the marmots who began crawling out from the moonish rocks to yell at us for stomping around and gasping for air...they were probably like, "Every f'ing morning these pervs wake us up with their heavy breathing...can't a rock pig just sleep in already?"



So, we're going to skip ahead 3 hours to The Switchbacks. This is where the magic happens. The bad, dark, evil, cold, cold, cold magic. In a little over an hour, we crawled from 12,000 to 13,700 feet. We moved from feeling constantly winded to feeling constantly winded and barfy and headachy and like the mountain and gravity combined were pulling our day packs backward in an attempt to drag us back down to the bottom. The following video is us only halfway up the switchbacks.


Sorry if the video doesn't work...Never uploaded one before. It wasn't that great anyway.

For the next hour, walking became stumbling. Stumbling became shuffling. And sentences turned into, "Word (breath) Word (breath) Word (breath)," and there was still two more miles to the summit with 1,000 more feet to climb.

We did eventually make it and I can only say that water, food and years of long distance running is what made it possible. My thighs burned the way they burn at mile 20 of a marathon. My lungs ached like they do after 10 sets of strides. So, thankfully, I was used to these feelings. They were like old, comforting friends who were there to remind me that I'm still alive and doing my job: moving forward. And I pulled the old mantra out of the daypack as well, "I feel good, I am strong." And I was. We both were.

The Summit Shack

To conclude, I'd just like to say that I by no means now consider myself a "mountaineer" or claim to understand anything about the mysteries of the mountain. But I do know, that if-- when-- I climb Whitney again, (because I already miss it) these are the changes I will make:

1. I will carry less water and refill more from the lakes and streams.
2. I will camp overnight at Trail Camp to acclimate and enjoy the sunrise sans barfy-feeling.
3. I will sign the visitor's book at the summit shack myself, instead of making my friend do it for the both of us.
4. (In the words of Bryson), "I [will] shit in the woods."
5. I will make sure my pants are tight enough at the waste so that I don't have to hike them back up over my ass-crack every five minutes. Oh the chaffing.

That's that. Check.

The Summit:

This one probably didn't work either. But, it sucked too.

If the videos didn't work, and you want to see either of them, shoot me an email and...
Keep on truckin'

The Results...

I've now done the coffee ground "wrap" twice and actually think it's working... I'm going to do it a few more times before I make a firm decision about it one way or the other. But, I still feel like a tool doing it.

Tips to make it less messy and clean up easier:

1. Add olive oil to the grounds before applying
2. Lay down craptons of newspaper when applying grounds (or just do it outside)
3. Remove the saran wrap outside and use a garden hose to rinse off so you don't clog your shower drain (assuming you have an area your neighbors can't see...it will really freak them out seeing you partially wrapped in plastic).

I honestly think I can tell a difference around my knees: they seem firmer.
But again...we'll see.

An Act of Desperation

In an attempt to "downsize my ass" (mentioned the other day) to fit it into my cute, sea-blue, ruffly bikini bottoms, I did something today that is either genius or ridiculously moronic.

Maybe you saw that episode of Ellen in which a beautician came on and suggested rubbing warm coffee grounds on your buttocks to get rid of cellulite? If you missed it...well, I did too. You can read about it here. I, however, did not read the attached link until after applying the coffee grounds in the shower, sans olive oil and newspaper to protect the spillage. Genius me thought I came up with the saran wrap idea, too. But I didn't. I did, however, come up with the blow drier idea... read on....

So far, this has been the last 30 minutes of my life:

1. Remove coffee grounds from coffeemaker, place in a bowl. Spill half of them on the floor. Cuss more than the situation really calls for.
2. Put grounds in microwave for 30 seconds to "warm," step in spilled coffee grounds. Cuss. Wipe grounds up off the floor and foot. Cuss: dark spot on the linoleum. Cuss: we have linoleum.
3. Remove warm grounds from micro. Carry them, saran wrap and paper towels to the shower. Cuss: wearing good underwear.
4. Change into old underwear. Return to bathroom.

5. Get distracted by sonic care toothbrush that won't charge. Cuss: it's broken. 

6. Sigh.

7. Return to shower.
8. Rub warm coffee grounds on upper thighs and buttocks. Watch as most of the grounds end up on the floor of the shower.
9. Saran wrap leg from knee to buttocks. Cuss: saran wrap is sticky. Cuss: how the f do you get saran wrap around your butt without going all the way around and thus denying yourself a bathroom break should you need one in the next hour?
10. Cuss more quietly: husband trying to write a sentimental letter. Feel selfish and vain.
11. Wash feet. Put on sweat pants.
12. Wipe up grounds in shower. Cuss: stained. Stained bad.
13. Turn on blow drier and shoot hot air into sweatpants. Thinking I'm pretty smart. Cuss. It's hot. Feel like an asshole.
14. Turn off blow drier.
15. Walk down the hall as grounds fall out bottom of sweatpants. Cuss.
16. Write this post.
17. Thank husband for telling a friend what I'm doing.

This process is not only supposed to help reduce cellulite, but it's also supposed take off "inches." The information I've read about this process instructs women to do this 2-3 times per week. Who has time for that? I guess I do right now...since I'm on summer break. But, I also value my sanity and am trying to stop swearing which clearly gets worse when I implement these methods.

I'm hoping that when I take this saran wrap off (in the back yard this time) that:

A. No neighbors can see into our yard
B. The coffee grounds won't make our grass look any worse than it already does
C. The water from the hose is magically warm
and,
D. Find that it was worth it.

I guess I'll keep you posted.

In the meantime, my newest blog is up. (If you hadn't noticed yet in the sidebar announcement.) Check it out:

I Run Because I Eat

I Run Because I...

It's summer-- I'm sure you're aware. So, technically I don't "run because I teach" in the summertime (because I'm not teaching). There was, of course, summer school, but I've been officially studentless for almost 3 weeks now...so what's the excuse for my irritability? (And if my husband accuses me of PMSing one more time I'm going to go ape-shit.) But I'll get to that issue in a sec.

Well, for thing I run because I eat. A lot. So, I'm starting a new blog called "I Run Because I Eat" (go figure). It's not up yet, but I'm excited about it because I consider myself a person who is well-informed and "in" the San Diego "scene" as far as film and music are concerned...let's just say I know people and therefore I tend to end up eating and drinking at the newest places around town quite often. And the only reason I'm being even a little bit braggy about this fact is because I've had a glass and a half of wine (called "Cupcake" and it's delicious)! So, my plan for that blog is to eat, drink and merry my way around San Diego this summer (and beyond). (I guess I get parenthetical- as well as braggy- when I get tipsy. huh.)

Back to the point: my irritability.

Why do I need to run during the summer? In some ways, I almost prefer the high schoolers to these reasons...

1.) I have a friend whom I love (and will call Zooey), but can't stand going out with in public, and yet that's the only place we go together. She is high maintenance but thinks she's low maintenance. There is nothing that can't be changed with her from the weather to the seasoning on her food. In fact, those are the two things she is constantly commenting on. I kind of wonder if it's a form of OCD--in which case I feel like a total asshole. But seriously, if I hear one more time in that squeaky, nasally voice (that she gets when she wants something changed for her), "ooo it's kinda chilly, I wish I had a cardigan," or "ooo the sun is making me squint, I wish I had my rose-tinted sunglasses," or "ooo this sushi needs less seeeaweed," I'm going to bitch slap someone...and there's no guarantee it'll be her. (As you may know, my husband usually gets the worst of me in these cases.) People like this need to go live in a tent next to a dump in Calcutta for a month so they can be grateful for any food at all and be grateful for living where you don't have to worry about spiders who eat your face off while you sleep. *sigh* I've gone too far. So... I run because I (actually and truly do) like Zooey, and want to keep her as my friend forever.

2. My goal is to go the beach every day for the next month, and if I'm ever going to fit into the cute ruffly bottoms that go with the cute ruffly top I have to downsize my ass. It's one of those bottoms that only covers about a 1/3 of your butt...WHY do all the cute suits do this?? (And more importantly why do they also make these suits in a size large?) I would like to stop wearing the full bottomed light-purple paisley suit bottoms from three summers ago with my new, cute, sea-blue ruffly top. So... I run because I want my bikini to match.

3. The overcast weather is perfect for running between the hours of 6am and 12pm...and even when the sun comes out around 1pm, until it goes down again at 9pm, it's nothing to Zooey about. So...I run because the weather requires.

4. My husband raps and sings life out in falsetto jingles. He hides my lip balm under my pillow at night for no apparent reason and then laughs like a fucking hyena when I find it under there. Because he stinks up the whole house on a daily basis, waits until the trash is in three separate bags on the kitchen floor and smelling like an outhouse before taking them out (his one and ONLY chore), and because he sleeps until noon whenever possible (to his credit, he's a musician and works nonstop). But mostly... I run because he tells me my ass is "looking good these days."

5. I eat frozen yogurt everyday, buy craptons* of $1.00 candy at Target while I wait in line (and then eat all 3 boxes of it while watching re-runs of 'Arrested Development: Season 1' in one sitting), and because I've discovered a new love for vodka-based drinks while eating fried foods like calamari at happy hour. So....I run because I eat.

*craptons: (pronounced crap-tons) An unreasonably large and superfluous amount of a given item.

I'm so hot

It is not a lie. Hot yoga is f'ing hooooooot. And I have never been this sore after a yoga class in my life. But, I will say... it was worth the torture?

That ends with a question mark because I'm a little undecided. Yesterday I went with three girlfriends up to Solana Beach for a free Hot Yoga class.  I've never been in a real yoga studio before--the 24 Hour Fitness "yoga studio" means they turn the lights out after kick boxing class. The studio we stepped into yesterday was Zen-tastic. Shoeless, unitard-wearing, yogis floated around with long wavy hair and ridiculously hot bodies (no pun intended). My friends and I looked at each other with wide eyes that whispered, "Did you see that?--was it human?" 

When we stepped into the 99 degree room (which would soon heat to well over 100 degrees) our wide eyes turned into red, puffy, sleepy, droopy, salt encrusted...you get the idea...balls of goo.  The yoga instructor, Olivera, had a beautiful, calm Brazilian accent and, yep, a perfect, tan body that glistened and glowed as she wandered around the room adjusting our pathetic forms that did not glow but continuously dripped sweat and leaked stink into the suffocating air. 

My running mantra, "I feel good, I am strong," took a new meditative form... "Don't pass out. Don't throw up."  But, I will say this: after all the stretching and sweating and posing and tipping over and oming... I have never felt so relaxed and content to just sit and be quiet. The four of us went to breakfast down the street  at T's Cafe, and while the girls chatted and laughed, I smiled like a drunken idiot and felt like a melty ball of wax.

If this sounds like something you are interested in torturing yourself with (and I'm undecided as to whether or not I'm going to do it again in this life time), Haute Yoga on Highway 101 in Solana Beach is offering a free week of yoga to all Southern California residents (Click on the offer in the middle of their home page). Hot yoga is not your only choice. In fact, there are almost a dozen different classes to choose from. 

Namaste.

Today I Received...

the postcard to pick up my bib for the La Jolla Half Marathon...
yep.