‘F’ is for Flu.

‘F’ is also for Food Poisoning.

I had at least one of those things, maybe both. All I know is I was goin’ along all fine and well on Saturday and about midnight Saturday night, everything I’ve ever consumed in my entire life decided it was time to vacate the premises.

(I hope that was not too graphic or anything. Sorry if it was. Feel free to email me and explain to me why describing my sickness is bad. Just like you (and you know who you are) emailed me saying that I deserved all I get because I’m a Red Sox fan. ‘Cause that makes a lot of sense. Let me tell you a couple things about my Red Sox fandom: first, I was brainwashed long ago. It’s too late for change. Second, I like a challenge. Do you know how difficult it is to be educated yet able to embrace your hillbilly roots all the while being a Red Sox fan? So now you see, it is all in the challenge, my friend.)

Anyway, the flu or flu-like symptoms persisted well into the wee hours on Monday morning. I haven’t been sick in over four years. I haven’t had the flu since high school. This was a little traumatic for me. My mother, bless her, came over a couple times to take care of me. There was a time when something so little as an icecube was the enemy, so there wasn’t much she could do. Still, she was there and I’m so thankful she was. Somewhere in my fever and nausea induced haze, I had nightmares that I wasn’t in the same city as my mommy and that I had to be sick without her. That was a terrifying thought. Maybe one day I’ll be part of a couple or married and that will be nice to have someone there, but I don’t think anyone is going to replace mom. If I’m ever far away, I’m going to make sure I always have enough money to put my mother on the next red-eye flight to bring me 7-Up and Saltines.

Because I’m young and stupid, I went into work for a couple hours Monday morning. I had a meeting scheduled and at the very least, I had to go in and prep someone else to take it for me. Thankfully, they did and I came home and slept through the rest of the day. In between two hour naps, I noticed there is an unbelievably large amount of “Judge” shows on daytime television. Do we really need all these t.v. judges?

Also in my haze, I received a number of phone calls from friends offering to bring me things and help me. I have a list of ten or so people that I need to call back and thank for their concern. I’m fairly certain that the reminder that people care is the only good thing that came out of this. Good enough.

‘F’ is also for Family and Friends.

Right now, I think I’m going to go catch up on some blog reading and eat something other than chicken broth. And be thankful I can walk ten feet without taking the trash can with me.

It’s a rainy Saturday. We rarely get this kind of rain here. It’s flooding down the gutters, overflowing in spots.

It’s been raining since early this morning. It’s raining hard, like Northwest rain, coming down in buckets for hours. I love it.

We don’t get these days often so it makes it that much more incredible. It’s not cold, so the windows are open and the rain air is coming in and making everything smell new. It’s so comfortable that I had to make waffles and read the paper by the patio door (so I could hear the rain). It’s so lovely that I’ll wear my Saturday jeans and long sleeves. It’s so nice that I will have to don my old Red Sox cap and go to the coffee shop and sit. It’s so relaxing that I’ll have to read a good book but not really be able to get into it because of how into the rain I am. It’s so calming that I may have to just crawl back into bed for another hour. It’s so… it’s just so.

Okay, so y’all know that I’m not doing much running lately. Let’s not that beat that dead, dried up, almost ashes horse anymore.

Tonight? We ride!

My good buddy Jill and I met after work at a local trail. The trail itself is easy (read: no technicality) but it’s hilly. Just what a girl needs to remind her of just how much she’s not doing for her heart these days. What? I’m partial to my running. Duh.

Anyway, there are about ten million things I’d forgotten about biking since the poor, poor hardtail has only seen the light of day twice this year (I know, I know) and those were both quick trips around the neighborhood that involved one, no hills and two, no proper biking gear except for a helmet, of course. So, when I dragged little, oh let’s call her Silver, out of the dark, dank storage last night, I had some work to do. I dusted and cleaned and lubed for darn near fifteen minutes and man, that’s minimal compared to what I’d have to do to maintain Silver if I were actually USING her.

After the once-over, I proceeded to drag all the bike “gear” out. Some people get all excited about this sort of stuff. They get all in a tizzy if you get a new crank or a fork and you don’t have a Welcome Home party for it in which you break a bottle of Cristal over your handle bars to christen the newness of the “super special” part that cost $600 but! it will save you 6 ounces and that is worth SO MUCH on the trail. Whatever! is what I say to that. Why don’t you just lose five pounds and keep your $600, smarty?

So dragging all the “necessary” bike paraphernalia out was the last thing I wanted to do, but I did it because well, you have to. You can’t ride without your shoes. You can’t ride without your camelbak. You can’t ride without the water in your camelbak. You can’t ride without at least two spare tubes, extra lube, air and/or a pump, a chain tool, a tire tool and a patch kit. Well, you can but after you have THREE FLATS in TWO DAYS, you learn a type of preparedness that would make boy scouts seem like Paris Hilton stuck in the woods.*

Let me tell you, all the gear is great but I have never, and I mean never, had to prepare for a run with tools or lube. Ahhh, that running, so simple.

An hour later, I had all the gear ready. I packed it up, put it in the car where it all waited patiently until this afternoon. We rode about twenty-five miles, out and back. The first half is all uphill which is good. Unless, of course, you haven’t ridden in four months. Then, it’s just the same as having someone reach down your throat and remove your lungs, one at a time. In fact, that procedure would save time and you’d eat less bugs, too.

Nonetheless, the first five miles passed fairly quickly. There was good cloud cover and my camelbak hadn’t sprung a leak yet (oh yeah, all the gear? has complete potential for failure! great, right?) so life was good. I was getting my heart rate up and junkie that I am for the heart rate, I was a little high. Soon though, as we approached the biggest climb at mile eight, that high started to feel a little more like nausea. Don’t worry, this is NOT a negative thing. I’m not complaining, promise! Rather, it’s a good reminder that you can’t let your heart be happy at at a max of 100 for six weeks and then expect it to just effortlessly reach 140 without complaint. It’s good motivation. Very good.

Miles 9-12 were fairly uneventful. My hamstrings were quite upset as they have yet to recover from a lunge workout I did on Tuesday but other than that, things were good. We made the turn around and headed back in. This is where I get to remember what a complete and absolute chicken I am on the downhill. Wow, do I need to work on that. In my defense, I flipped over the handle bars twice as a kid and have the scars to prove it so barreling down a hill on a 25 lb. piece of metal and rubber is just a liiiiiittle intimidating. Still, I know I need to ride more because the slower I take it down the hills, the harder the inevitable uphill is going to be because I’ll just lose all that speed and momentum which stinks because then you’re having to quickly gear down and haul your rear up that hill and working a lot harder than you have to. More simply: get over it, wussy!

The last half of the ride was good. The camelbak sprung a leak and I was annoyed for a minute but then realized I was too tired to care. We saw bunnies and puppies on the trail and pointed out the plants and a few wild flowers that were pretty. This is what I love about riding with girls, we notice the pretty stuff and say “oh, look at this. What do you think this is? Could I grow it in my yard?” where as a lot of guys I’ve ridden with will look at the plant and then say something like “cool, you think if I tried to jump that I could clear it?” So very different.

So, the riding was good. Hopefully, I will get it a lot more while the season lasts. We are usually good till October around here, so that’s encouraging. Yes, you can ride in the Winter but, ummmm, buurrrr. Cold? None for me, thanks.

I feel good, too, which is nice because my body needs that- as does my mind. The miles were tough in spots but okay. The knee felt just fine. My heart rate was up and the lungs were working and I think if those two organs were entities separate from me, they’d be doing a little hey-look-at-us-we’re-not-dead dance right now. It’s a happy time. Is it running? No. Will it ever be? No. But was it good? Oh yes, yes it was.

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*In case you’re wondering what this would look like it’s like flat tires, no tools, no clue how to get out and, the worst part of all, no one to take your picture. The horror.

An Old Chevy Gathering

Admiring the Late Bloomers

(If this whole photo thing is boring to some, my apologies. Not to worry, the over-analyzed, self-deprecating attempts at humor will return shortly.)

The Old Park

[All quotes are exact.]

1. Contradictory Statements

Okay, I guess I’ll be somewhat specific. I’m looking for a cute woman to hang out with and celebrate 420. I have a lot a friends to celebrate with, but I’m also looking for that special someone. So I figure we hang out, burn a little, get the munchies, get some grub, have an intelligent conversation, maybe catch a flick, go mini-golfing, I don’t know, anything. I just wanna go out. Anyone interested. By the way I have top-o-the-line supplies, so no worries, but if you have your own that’s cool too. Peace

2. The ability to be revolting in fifty words or less

Real 27 y/o , professional, fun, muscular very sexy man has the house all to himself this week, wife is on a business trip. No Drama, prefer that you are older 35-45, attractive that is not only sensual and love me but who can carry a conversation.

3. Appearance is more important than grammar

Why hello their ladies, I am a 6 feet green eyed dark blondish brown hair very athletic, very handsome. I am looking to meet a beautiful women, please don’t even bother if you are not. If you are send me a message with a pic and i will return one. Hope to here from you soon.

4. Carelessness, in more ways than one

Well I am trying this since I do not have a lot of free time but want someone to enjoy that free time with. I don’t care if you have a photo as a mater of fact I do not want a photo till we meet. I do not care if you large or skinny. I do not care if you have children or not.

5. Rhyming

Lust is not love but love cannot exist without lust. But none of those can exist without a friendship built on trust.

6. The inability to distinguish between the pot and the kettle

Ahh yes, the body type…hmnmm…allow me to be diplomatic here. If you are fat, call it what you want, BBW/whatever, no offense intended, I’m not the guy for you. Some guys are into that, I’m not one of those guys. If you are overweight, fine. If you work out obsessively, we may have a problem - I don’t. Presuming you are about my age or within 10 years, I’m not expecting Angelina Jolie. I guarantee you, you are not getting Brad Pitt. I’m a FEW pounds overweight.

7. Closed-minded and Too Much Information, now all in one package!

What can I say? I’m all that and a laundry mat. As my friend Andria would say, I’ve got an ego and it’s not going anywhere. Nicknames include Hollywood, Tommy-boy, Mr. Accuracy, and Sexy. I was born with my 3rd and 4th fingers on my left hand webbed together. Hasn’t affected my obsession with weight lifting and working out in general. My favorite exercise is pullups; on a good day I can get 21.
I’m glad I was born and raised in California, it means I don’t have a ridiculous sounding accent from some weird corner of the USA. Had more near-death experiences than you’ve probably had birthdays. My job gives me an extra $1155 a month to pay for rent. It also gives me frequent heartburn, rectal irritation, and insomnia. Was in the boy scouts growing up, and yes, I earned a whopping 36 merit badges.

8. Those periods and commas sure take up a lot of space

ANY LADIES LIKE TO HAVE A FRIENDSHIP MY HOBBIES ARE POOL BOWLING CONCERTS HANGOUT TALK MUSIC CAMPING MOVIES I AM LOOKING FOR A FEMALE THAT WE CAN HANGOUT TALK KNOW EACH OTHER GO OUT HAVE FUN I AM HISPANIC I AM SEEKING A FEMALE TO BE GOOD FRIENDS ANYBODY INTERESTED I AM NOT INTO GAMES I HOPE I CAN MEET SOMEBODY AND START A GOOD FRIENDSHIP THANK YOU.

9. Sometimes, one ought mince words. You know?

No. 3 knows how to take care of me. Great cook, super masseuse, trust fund or great, well paying job…you know: the basics. “Hey, honey…it’s time to change the oil in the Beemer.” “No, problem,” she replies, “I’ll take care of it this afternoon, after I clean out the gutters.” My kind of gal.

10. Mental Health

But seriously. What’s the point? There’s no point. People just make up their own meanings and there’s no deeper truth, nothing to hope for. It’s all a mask or a lie to cover up the deep anxiety caused by the realization that our lives mean absolutely nothing. There’s nothing out there. There’s no one out there. A defeatist attitude is the only method of maintaining a healthy life, paradoxically leading to nothing but giving you everything. In order to be healthy, one must be unhealthy.