BMI - Body Mass Index

Also known as "Bite My Idler"...

I woke up in a bad mood today. It's unexplainable given the great evening I had with my bookclub gal-pals last night! Those chicks rock!

As soon as my fill-in co-worker spoke the words yesterday, I knew I'd be posting about it. And now, as I sit here and share the story with you, because of said foul mood, it pisses me off even more!

I am all about taking care of ourselves. I think it's our responsibility, to ourselves and to those who love and care about us. I mean, afterall, they will be the ones who have to carry the burden of our healthcare when and if our bodies shut down. So while we can and while we have some control over our lives, let's be smart; eat right and MOVE!

But there's a balance. A happy medium. A meeting of the mind and body.

Yesterday, my fill-in co-worker and I were chatting about workouts we liked; biking, swimming, hiking, etc. and how important it is to find something that's fun to do or you won't stick with it. We also talked about how our thinking and our bodies change as we get older. But I fell off my stool when she told me how, during a recent physical, the doctor said, "Overall, everything is fine. However, your BMI is "x" percent, which is too high." She responded with, "Compared to what? An Ethiopian?!"

Really world? Really fashion magazines? Really mean girls? Really media? Really Hollywood?

Balance. Let's just find our balance. Our Upekkhā...shall we?

Namaste

A Tisket A Casket

Last Spring, I took you with me on one of my long runs here and shared with you some of the things I see along the way. We can all agree that road-side findings are not always pleasant.

This afternoon, I had the opportunity to chat with my mom while she and my dad were driving from their house on the shore to my daughter's in Virginia Beach to spend the weekend. She says to me, "Oh, Joyce! I have to tell you what we saw on the way to the dump yesterday! You won't believe it." She was right. It was a road-side finding that I could not compete with. Mom's road-shoulder findings have officially trumped mine.

As my dad drove along the two-lane road, mom was simply enjoying the ride - you know, glancing to the right, turning to admire my dad's profile, looking ahead again. But then she thinks she sees something odd just up ahead on the shoulder to the left. They whiz by it. "Huh," she says to herself. The thought is so unbelievable, that after a few seconds she simply has to ask my father, "Papa? Did you see that?" In perfect Papa fashion, he responds, "See what?". Mom hesitates a moment before elaborating for fear my father would feel the need to make an immediate U-turn and head to Salisbury to the hospital entrance marked "Psychiatry".

"Um, I'm pretty sure there was a coffin sitting along the side of the road."

My dad says, "A coffin?" My dad is a man of very few words.

"Yes, Speed, a coffin." My dad has been known as "Speed" his entire life. That's another story for later.

"Mema, we'll look again on our way back, ok?"...

Once they've unloaded the truck at the recycle center, my folks head back to The Big House...with eyes wide open and going well below the speed limit. And sure enough...

"See! A Coffin! Speed, what's a coffin doing sitting out there along the side of the road with no one there?!"

"Oh, someone's there. They're in the coffin."

You don't want to get into a conversation with my dad. You will consider driving YOURSELF to the nearest hospital entrance marked "Psychiatry".

This experience just confirms my growing interest in cremation because the last thing I want is my dead ass left waiting on the side of the road for the grave digger...or for my mom to have to run to the ATM to "get some cash to pay the man"!

Rest In Peace.

I Ran The Rest Of The Way With My Mouth Open

I was in the middle of my tempo run on the treadmill last night at the Y, ear buds in place listening to something catchy, minding my own workout business... While you get that vision in your head, I'll give you some background info that will help set the stage for this post.

I only utilize the treadmill for 3 events/reasons during my training programs: 1) for tempo runs, 2) for speed work and 3) during the winter months when it gets dark at 5:30 in the evening. Otherwise, I'll be outside if you need me.

The evenings I am at my local YMCA, there is van-load of high school-aged girls that come in around 6:00 and leave by 6:45. I don't know where they come from, if they're from a group home or just some after school program they participate in. And for the most part, they're pretty well behaved.

Last night, one of them used the treadmill next to me. When she finished her run, she hopped off, grabbed the cleaning towels and, abiding by the gym rules, came back and wiped down her machine. But then, in a flash, she reached over and thoughtfully (?) mopped up MY puddle of sweat! I thought, huh...did that just happen? Did she just do what I think she just did?

I mean, she may as well have reached over and blown my nose.

Maybe she could be the next Marvel super hero.

"Mop Girl...avenger of sweat puddles".

God people are weird.