Pink, Pink, You Stink

Ohhhhh Soooo delighted was I when on Saturday I found my shiny new jacket amongst the clearance items in the back of Old Navy. $10 for a bright pink windbreaker that would just be the perfectest for advertising my mission whilst on training walks.

So pretty! So PINK! And so perfect for that in-between pseudo-Springy kind of air.

And I took pink jacket along on my New London walk with Nelly Nell down to the ocean, through some loverly neighborhoods and past some ginormous houses.

And it... took about 20 minutes for me to sweat myself right out of it. Because not only is it water-resistant on the outside... oh it's water-resistant on the inside too. And it has elasticized sleeves. And my god, I thought I was going to DROWN inside my pretty pink jacket!

So I took it off:

And I aired it out:

And I... don't know if I'll ever wear it out walking again.

But it certainly is PINK!

A Happy Monday Surprise

Thank you, thank you, thank you to Lynn for her super generous donation.

You continue to be my hero in everything I do.

Say It Once, Say It Loud, I'm PINK and I'm PROUD

This is the picture that Nell took during our 3.22 mile walk this morning.

Please note the shiney new pink jacket as there will be a story about it later.

THIS is the same picture after Eric got ahold of it.

Crafty monkey.

A Special Tassel for a Special Lady

Thank you to Hamburg Frankfurter for her generous and slightly threatening donation.

Tassel Up, Cowgirl

Thank you to Roger and Jaren--the first two donators I don't actually know.

Class of Cool

Many thanks to Michelle, Jeffrey, and a second time to Jen and Kristen for their generous donations.

You graduate to the List of Generous.

Just a Note to Let You Know...

Oohh, it's a good day when you remember you brought Fig Newtons to snack on. I love me some Newtons.

Well then. Since I've just referred a boat load of people to this blog via shameless self-promotional emails to everyone I've ever known, perhaps it's time for another significant post.

It's true, boys and girls; I did lose the mission. Temporarily, yes, but lost it was while I shuffled through a card catalog of Other Issues. It's been suggested to me that I've been spreading myself a little too thin.

Hrmmmm.... could be.

But here I am now, jogging slowly alongside, trying to get back on track.

Significant post to follow (but for now, it's back to work).

Surprise Donations are Always Welcome

Many Thanks to Stef and Bradcakes for their stealthy donation!



I haven't even gotten around to harassing you yet. You two are on the ball. I'm impressed.

Important Info with Sassy Title--Just The Way I Like It

Why It's Important to Squeeze So Hard
Posted by Lillie Shockney, R.N., M.A.S.
on Wed, Mar 08, 2006, 3:34 pm PST
on Yahoo Health

As she prepared for her mammogram at our breast center, I happened to hear a patient say, “I want a mammo tech who doesn’t squeeze too hard. Can you find a tech like that for me?” My response was, “I hope we don’t have any such techs working here.” Are you surprised by my response? So was she.

Breast compression is one of the keys to a good mammogram. The less tissue the radiologist needs to look through, the more accurate and better quality mammogram you are going to receive. This doesn’t mean that your breast needs to be compressed as thin as tissue paper. But the more compression you can tolerate for a few brief seconds the better off you will be in ensuring that the mammogram was done well and read accurately.

If you find the breast compression in mammography too unpleasant, ask the doctor whether you may take an over-the-counter pain reliever an hour before the X-ray is done. It’s to your benefit, and that of your breasts, to have a good quality mammogram. Next time you are due for a mammogram, go in and say, “I’d like the most experienced mammo tech here who does a really good job of imaging breast tissue.”

Oh the squeezing. It's not pleasant. Not at all. But if you're over 40, suck it up and do it anyway. If you're under 40, the mammogram is pretty much useless (the young boobies are far too dense for a mammogram) and you're better off with an ultrasound.

"Don't call it the ball thing. Call it pure being."

Less than 2 miles. I know. Bad monkey. But I had the kind of weekend that counts as a success if I emerge from it without any permanent injuries. Or felony charges.

I've let myself become bogged down by human drama.

Clearly, I need a big red ball and an environmentally significant rock. (I can't believe I couldn't find a picture of the "pure being" scene. Tragedy. Really. It would have been an excellent visual aid.)

Walking seemed to be less of a priority than figuring out what I was doing with my life. I didn't, by the way. I'm still more than clueless and as a bonus, less prepared for long walks. But that's where I was. And when motivating yourself to put on pants becomes difficult, walking 6 miles is a laughably ridiculous goal.

I have higher aspirations next weekend. I will make it beyond six miles. And then I will drink myself silly in Mohegan Martini heaven, up among the magic mountain folk of Leffingwells.

It's good to have goals.

Returning the Favor

From an email I received this afternoon:

The Breast Cancer site is having trouble getting enough people to click on their site daily to meet their quota of donating at least one free mammogram a day to an underprivileged woman. It takes less than a minute to go to their site and click on "donating a mammogram" for free (pink window in the middle). This doesn't cost you a thing. Their corporate sponsors/advertisers use the number of daily visits to donate mammogram in exchange for advertising.

Add the link to your favorites, children, and visit once a day.

Don't take but a click of the mouse to be somebody's hero.

Wendyloo Walks the Labyrinth and Emerges Unscathed

Count 'em up. 6 miles this weekend. 4 yesterday, 2 today and as yet no soreness. I'd like thank the makers of ibuprofen and electric blankets for my utter lack of pain. Without you, my friends... well I'd be too pooped to type.

As for yesterday, here's the story: *I* have no sense of direction. None. Noooone whatsoever. So when I say I'm afraid of getting lost, it's a justified fear. I am not one of those people who can just... follow their instincts and end up magically back at my cottage. Oh no. I'm Rabbit. I'm the one leading the Expotition around in circles before Pooh saves the day with his Taoist philosophy.
(Seriously, if you haven't read The Tao of Pooh, you need to.)

So I'm walking. Everything's groovin'. I'm wearing my new CoolMax socks for some comfy blister-free tootsies. And when I think I'm close to the goal of 2 miles, I start heading home. But then I look at my shiney new pedometer--there's a story for another time, grumble grumble--it says 1.52 miles. And it being NOT .48 miles back to my house at that point, I decided to just keep going. Sure, I had my first bo staff class in a few hours but I'd be fine for that. It's just walking, right?

Oh but then, I wandered into a labyrinth, children. An epic maze of suburban neighborhoods clearly charted by someone with severe ADD. The streets wound around in circles, doubling back on themselves several times over and spiraling, spiraling, spiraling down into my own private hell. I always thought it best to get lost on foot because it's so much easier to just stop or turn around. But no. No. Turning around was easy but getting where I was going took a lot more effort that deep breathing away a panic attack and pressing down a peddle with my right foot.

Finally, I saw multiple cars passing quickly in the distance and I thought, THIS IS IT! I've found my way back to South St! I'm almost home!

Not... so much.

I ended up on Main St. nowhere near my house and what's worse is that I was so disorientated that when I turned onto Main, I started walking... in the opposite direction of home. Mmhmm. Don't be jealous of my genius.

Once I figured out where I was (as I passed the post office with a grimace of recognition), I couldn't very well turn around. Golly gee, I might look stupid. So I... kept going. I walked up rte 20 to the Southwest Cutoff, cut through a neighborhood I often drive through on the way to Target and crossed town amid honking cars (what's that about? seriously? why honk at people walking who aren't even remotely in your way) and monstrous dust storms. Eventually, I made it back to South St. and headed up the giant hill home. I'll tell you what: my house has never looked so miraculous.

The best part of my adventure walk was my attitude throughout. I realized I was up a creek when I had to walk sideways across hills to keep from getting runover and boy howdy, ain't no paddle gonna help me then. But I did not despair. Nor did I rejoice. Mostly I just thought, Well, nothing to do now but keep going. And maybe that's not the most positive mantra but it certainly does work.

I didn't so much get to the laundry I had intended to do post-walk. In fact, I wrapped myself in a blanket, took 2 ibuprofen and TV-napped for about an hour. But I did manage to get myself up and showered and off to my bo staff class where I still had enough energy to participate fully and totally smack myself repeatedly with a wooden stick. Woo!

P.S. I lurve the bo staff. I shall name it Charlie and we shall become the best of friends.

Sunday's walk wasn't quite as magically delicious but I did take the mom and two disposable cameras along and we... oh we had an adventure. I stood on a rock on Main St. and waved to passing cars. There are pictures. Once I get them developed, I'll be happy to share.

Triumph of the Will (without the Nazi connotation)

I accidentally did 4 instead of 2 miles on my training walk this morning. Details to follow once I shake the sausage fingers. Man, they weren't kidding. I should take a picture. I feel like I have people-sized hands!

Happy Feet

I took a gander at the sock selection at Target last night and found the ProSpirit Coolmax socks I'd heard about. These bad boys are cushioned in the toe and heel and I'll tell you what: they're my new best friends. My feet feel fantastic today!

Meat and Potatoes

I've been wearing the new sneaks pretty religiously to work just to break them in but today I'm thinkin' it might be a good time to fall back on my old buddies: Turk and J.D.

Pre-naming, these are the sneaks that got me through (and to, which was by far the hardest part) the Team with a Vision 5k last Fall. Scroll on down the walkers results list to numbers 61 and 62 and BE IMPRESSED with our mighty mighty (slightly less than an hour) finish! Alright, we weren't exactly hoofin' it but I got to take a lovely 2.6 mile stroll around Artesani Park with my boss to benefit blind services in and around Boston... including my very own company.

Ohhhh Turk and J.D. Good guys. Good sneakers. And now I'm thinking I should name new sneakers after some good chicks.

Buffy and Faith are in the running, for sure but I'm also looking for something a little less kickass. Like... Tina Fey and Amy Poehler or Ace and Gary...

Oooh, or Eggs and Bacon.

Or Divide and Conquer.

Go Ahead Johnny, Be a Hero

Big Fat Thanks to Nancy and Eric for their generous contributions.

Shake yo money makers.

p.s. Cash money donations won't show up for a while. Oh but they will.... yes they will.

Day of Rest

Right, yes, updating. I know, I know. It's just.... and I'm all... and the thing is... I'm like...

No, I didn't walk today. Blame Canada. Or Mike's Hard Lemonade. Or... um... this guy:





These ads need to end. I mean it. They're just disturbing.












My hips hurt today which is just ... weird. I walked. That's it. You wouldn't think... sigh. Whatever. My body is a wonderland. But less John Mayer and more Cryptkeeper. Pardon me while I pop my shoulder out of joint, remove it, and use it to beat the crap outta Mr. Six Flags Man up there.

STOP DANCING! STOP IT! I DON'T WANNA GO TO SIX FLAGS.

Like a Record, Baby, Right Round

I fully intended to walk at least 2 miles today... but didn't quite accomplish my goal.

Admittedly, I don't know my town very well. I live on a main road. I know how to get places via main roads. I tend to walk... on main roads. Because the back roads here are complicated and curvy and damnit, if I get lost, I will cry. I hate getting lost.

So I walked around in circles. AH LOT of circles. Eventually, I just got bored so I came home and found out that all that walking came out to be about a mile and a half. D'oh. That's it?! Then I went in the back yard and practiced my karate forms so I didn't feel like too much of a lazy ass. I'll tell you what, forms are a lot harder on unevenly frozen dirt mounds than on basement floors. That was tough.

Tomorrow, I'm walking in the opposite direction. It's about a mile from my house to the park and there's a track at the park so I can easily get in at least 3 miles...

I am, however, going out tonight. Walking may be slightly more difficult tomorrow.

There's a Reason He Don't Run on Tables

I'm having an off week. A 'can't get out of bed' week. And it could be the cold weather, or the poor quality of sleep or, as I've pondered aloud today, I could have malaria. Regardless of the reason, I haven't been excercising in the morning (Monday and Tuesday but not so much yesterday or today--and likely not tomorrow) and it's been teeth-pullingly difficult to get myself to do much after work.

Not that I haven't.

I went to karate last night and feel justified that that class would normally count towards 90% of my weekly excercise needs. Oh but it doesn't count toward walking. There's no training for walking like... walking, or so I've heard. I'm working on it, kids, I really am but weeks like this, it's hard enough to schlump my way 5 blocks to work and back nevermind getting up early and going to bed late. Must sleep sometime.

I have every intention of oversleeping this weekend. And killing the malaria with copious amounts of alcohol at the mini-non-reunion this Saturday night, to which I also plan to bring a donation jar and a little thing I like to call my A game. Oh that's right. I will act like an idiot for donations. Be prepared for some serious table-dancing. I'm bringing back the Running Man.