Under Pressure

Monday: no gym. Dad and Mom were here, and I had to get home to cut the grass before they did. They were almost done in the time it took me to get home from work.

Tuesday: Trainer has to reschedule as she is having morning sickness all day. I complete my 20-minute interval jog and rack up almost a mile and half. Also completed upper-body strength training.

Wednesday: Friend cancels dinner plans. Worked out for 30 minutes on the elliptical, racking up 3 miles. So much easier, but not the goal. Completed core training.

Thursday: No workout, drinks at Kona.

Friday: Should have worked out, drinks at The Flying Saucer and movie night.

Saturday: Just enough time to meet the girls for a fun-filled afternoon. Strength training at home after snacking.

Sunday: Interval jogging around the neighborhood. This was a bad idea as it was 300% humidity outside. I manages 12 minutes before realizing I was soaked in sweat and was struggling to breathe.

Let's see how next week pans out.

In the meantime: Kitten entertainment

Overkill

"I cant get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications ...

Its time to walk the streets
Smell the desperation

At least theres pretty lights
And though theres little variation
It nullifies the night
From overkill"

I hadn't heard this song in a really long time until this morning on my way to work, Sirius channel 8 (The 80s) reminded me how awesome Men At Work is. On top of that, I was struck by the lyrics. Sure, we've all been told that we shouldn't worry about the things we can't control, focus on the things we can influence. Try telling that to your sub-conscience when you're trying to sleep and could keep thinking about something or someone.

What's keeping me awake...lack of vocation, complicated emotions, over caffeinated delusions. You know, the usual.

Today also begins my couch-to-5k training plan. As I've been making good progress at the gym, I decided I needed another goal to work on for the next year. My friend Carla inspired me after she decided to sign up for the San Antonio Rock and Roll Marathon to raise money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. So in addition to helping her raise $2k, I figured I'd get my own unproductive ass and train to join her next year. I think next year is a good goal, I can't imagine I'll be able to pull 13 miles out of my ass by this November much less the entire 26. However, I think I can at the very least attempt something smaller this year. My first milestone, I've decided, will be Soler's Sports Missions 1/2 Marathon, 10K & 5K on October 11, emphasis on the 5K. This is to be followed in March with the Komen Race For the Cure; no walking for m next year! It's quite possible I've gone nuts.

I began my first day with a 25 minute mix of running and walking. Managed almost a mile and half, maxed my heart rate at 182. That's impressive for me who typically starts wheezing at 150 on the elliptical. Three miles in eight weeks. Thirteen mies in 52. Who knows what will be next.

Amanda

I dragged Luz with me to the Smashmouth/Styx/Boston show with me over the weekend and had an absolute blast. Granted, she had no idea who the bands were and it was hot and muggy, but I sang along to every song and left with a giant smile on my face for having the chance to see such a great show.

Smashmouth did a short set of all their radio hits, and even played two Van Halen songs. Styx did a longer set, although I was slightly disappointed that they didn’t play MR. ROBOTO, LADY, or BABE. Either way, the music was so good. And then of course Boston. How cool is it that a super fan is currently the lead singer? He nailed it.

The highlight of the night for me, however, was Michael Sweet (of the band Stryper, remember Jesus glam rock) singing AMANDA. Yeah, that was awesome. Of course, it’s my secret girl hope that someone will sing this song to me.

It's A Beautiful Day

Finally getting to the other side of the mountain, with a clearer perspective on life. With that in mind, my focus today is Top Chef. (Note: I've had a fantastic wish of being a chef for over ten years now. Had I known such things as Culinary School existed, I may have had a different life.)

And then there were five: Richard, Spike, Antonia, Stephanie, and Lisa.

Eww... The challenge is a Tomahawk Steak cutting race in a meat packing facility. Meat is yummy, but a giant slab of cattle just loses the appeal. OOooo! Rick Tramanto is the guest judge for the challenge! Now I really want a giant steak, but I'll have mine cooked medium.

Spike wins the Quick Fire and the troops get to cook in Chef Rick's kitchen. (!!!) I had dinner about half an hour ago but watching them get their dishes together is making me hungry.

And look who are the guest judges: Harold, Huang, and Ilan. The former is being constructive, the latter two are being snobby. Even the other judges aren't as harsh. I think it's between Richard and Spike to go home.

For the record, I like to laugh when I hear some of the pretentious crap that comes out of any judge's mouth during any of the tastings. It's the same reaction I have when I hear people talk about wine.

Moving on... I will post this and watch the end, chatting w/DO by text and guessing who will be the Final Four.

***
I will say that writing vapid thoughts about 'reality TV' helps keep my mind occupied. I've come to terms with losing my friend and now I'm learning to accept that the sky will be a little less blue for some time. It's still surreal, but life continues and I choose to live it with open arms.

Ain't No Sunshine

from the San Antonio Express News:

Lisa Marie Castro, born March 15, 1970 in San Antonio, TX, went to be with the Lord on May 18, 2008 at the age 38. She was preceded in death by her father, Alejandro Castro. Lisa is survived by her mother, Inez Castro and companion, Robert Engel; her brothers, Alex and Mark Castro; aunts and uncles, Mary Arroyo, Celso Zepeda, Victoria Matustik, Consuelo and Raymond Gutierrez (her godparents), Jose Zepeda, Janie Kypuros, Lupe Tygett, Marty Zepeda and Isabel Zepeda. She is also survived by many loving cousins and a multitude of faithful friends.

Until I see you again on the other side of the shore, I love you...

Give Me Something to Believe In

(Christmas 2006: Suze, Claudia and Carla up front, Lisa Marie and I in back)


Since I was flying out today to visit Mom, I took Friday off and spent a good chunk of it with Lisa Marie in the hospital. Had a conversation with her, fed her some Whataburger and fries that her Auntie Marty brought over, but I mostly watched her sleep.

So I prayed.

Well, I tried to. It's been ages since I've actually done it so instead I had a conversation with God. And I held Lisa's hand. I wasn't able to tell her all the things I wanted to without making her upset, so instead I focused on making her laugh.

It was really hard not to start bawling when I went to grab a bite and beer with DO and Nat after leaving the hospital. I did lose it a bit after getting home and having a few beverages; DO encouraged me to cry it out.

All we can do now is wait. I have such mixed feelings about my trip to New England today...

Somewhere over the rainbow...

I hate hospitals. I know I've said it before, but each visit seems to only get worse. On top of this, I walked in with greater dread and tears in my eyes today. I found myself rubbing a huge glob of the free hand sanitizer on my hands the entire elevator ride.

My beautiful friend, my sister from another mother, is dying. The doctors came back and said yesterday that the cancer is metastatic and that they will manage her pain and illnesses in an effort to keep her comfortable. Two weeks at best, two months tops.

I've said these words five times today, and it's still not getting better.

What. The. Fuck.

I'm angry.
I'm angry that the hands I held will no longer be able to play with her dog.
I'm angry that she won't be able to go shoe shopping and comment on the smells of the store.
I'm angry that she won't be able to go for her long hikes, shop at Whole Foods, bake giant chocolate chip cookies, or try new wines.
I'm angry that I won't have her around to do all the sisterly things she's ever done.
I'm angry that the world is losing a great spirit, compassionate heart, and funny soul.

I'm scared that she won't be here when I get back from visiting Mom.
I'm scared to say goodbye to her, I don't know that I'll have the words to tell her what a wonderful friend she is.

My dearest Lisa Marie -
I am a better person because of your friendship. Your endless patience, curiosity and compassion has taught me that there is always a light in the storm, laughter in the heart ache, goodness in everyone, adventures to be had, and so much more.

My beautiful sister -
You've held my hand when my heart was breaking, reminding me that it would all pass. You've listened and shared at our sushi talks and martini laughs, reminding me that great friends are hard to find. I've valued your honesty and support more that I can express.

My beloved friend -
You are stronger than all of us, fighting and laughing your way through this so much that the rest of us can't help but smile. There are too few people who can pull off a feather boa and funny socks in a hospital gown.

I need to get these words out now, because I don't think I'll be able to remember them all tomorrow. Will I say the things I need to say?

And for the record, this is a really fucked up deal. Yes, yes, reason for everything, blah blah. Still fucked.