Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Endurance aka Deal With It

     What happened to my last day off? I feel like it was only 2 hours long! I went to spin yesterday morning and assumed my usual spot in the room, mildly prepared for endurance day. I like to be in front, so I feel held accountable by the instructor, and near the mirror so I can make sure my posture doesn't get lazy when I'm exhausted. What I don't like? Oh yes, now I remember. . . . . It would be listening to the man behind me make moaning and groaning noises the entire class! What's up with that non-sense? It seems like it would be using up valuble energy, oh ya, and not to mention completely un-nerving me! I was starting to feel akward during "runs" when I had to stand up and stick my butt out over the edge of the seat while listening to another man grunt behind my backside. "Gag me with a spoon." GrossGrossidy gross gross gross.  Have any gross gym stories?!?

Trying to hang on
     We endured our first Ranger game since the fran-crap-u-lous record-breaking season of drought and extreme heat advisories came to town. It was considered a special occasion since the Rangers were up by 4 games and playing the Red Socks, so it was a must go by us and 34,000 other fans. I was suprised to make it out of the stadium alive, since I was convinced that a heat stroke would surely take my life before the game ended. I just hated for something like that to happen, stealing the thunder of the couple that got engaged during the kiss cam, so apparently my gaudarian angles agreed it wasn't time for my thunder either and blessed me with just enough energy to breathe. . . . . .although the real kind of thunder accompanied by rain would have been a God-send. My survival also could have been contributed to me drinking 3 glasses of tea, a glass of lemonade, and scarfing a lemon chill during the game which is extremely suprising since my hypothalamus usually takes as many naps as a 90 year old cat on a good day. After all that, I felt nasueated with liquid overload. I think the Red Socks pitcher was also struggling in his outdor environment. He held the ball for about 5 minutes between every pitch, long enough for the crowd to start chanting "Boo's", to which I gave him the benefit of the doubt and assumed he was trying to compose himself and not to give in to nature's cripling thermostat.

     After all that, Patrick and I both had to take our second showers for the day before turning in for the night, and then at midnight, P-daddy decided the only way he could sleep is if we changed the sheets. Random, but got him snoozing like a puppy in no time.

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