boozey biking

As you know, I am in love with my bike. We go everywhere together. I tackle hills, that left side of the road thing, narrow streets, buses, pot-holed bike paths, bugs flying into my person, aggressive fellow bikers, oblivious pedestrians who step out onto the road without a second look, one-way streets, rainy weather, night time ... and now, (it had to happen) I can successfully add the drunken bike ride home.

Funny, when you've had 6 glasses of wine on a summer night out, you don't FEEL drunk. And you would deny it if asked. The clear tell. So Mark & I were trying to be cool in Cambridge and went to a groovy new down joint called Soul Tree. We had a coupon. Which tells you how cool we really are. It was really a trip to be 'out' in a 'club-like atmosphere' a) at all and b) with Mark. We both reverted to those people who used to go to those places when we were 23. Neither of which, by the way, really are all that nice. But we hung and gawked and drank and felt a little old, but cool. I was proud of our bad arsed selves for leaving the sofa in celebration of the night.

Sooooo, then we biked home. A little shaky, but we cruised fearlessly along the Cambridge city centre streets, weaving in and out of night time revilers as the pubs closed. And my sweet baboo, Mark, in his loving way, wanted to hold hands. While we biked. Now before ye passes any judgment, in the spirit of full disclosure, we have actually attempted this trick before. I know, gag. And while adoring, it is a bit tricky in the light of sobriety. I cannot stress this enough, it is not something to attempt under the dark cloud of pino gregio.

Let's just say ... parked car, me, ground, scraping, bash, bloody knee, surfacing bruises today, dumped purse, neighbor lady calling "Are you alright???" from a nearby window, panicked and laughing Mark, stunned and laughing Carol. I managed to earn a deep knee scrape -- reminding me of being 10 and losing patches of skin to driveways and playgrounds and trees. But this time we lost Mark's cell phone -- which musta fallen out of my purse and failed to collect it as we picked up my dignity and lipstick.

I know Mercury is in retrograde -- started at the same time of my crash test dummy stunt. Is the universe warning me to wear a helmet? Curb my daredevil antics? Model my bloodied knee to my neighborhood local 10-years olds with pride? Or just keep that hand holding behind closed doors where it belongs?

fit camp finish

So, for the last 6 weeks, I have been going to the gym 4-5x a week and enduring hard core sweating and grunting and lifting, and puffing. I've done spinning, weights, treadmill trekking, aqua fitness, power walk/run, circuits, groove dance, Legs, Bums and Tums, power yoga, endless ab work, and cycling back n forth to the gym endlessly, and WHEW!

Throughout the 6 weeks, I complained, but I did it. And then I started doing less complaining and kinda (shhh) started liking it. It felt good to be doing it -- to be pushing myself, sweating in the name of fitness. And fun to have fit mates to winge with and rally each other on. I learned that I adore aqua classes. Lord- I am so LIGHT in the H2O. And no sweating! A beautiful combo. And I learned that I am stronger than I thought, in both mind and bod.

And yesterday it all came down the pike. I had my 'after' measurements... total drumroll. I'll admit, I was nervous. I loved NOT knowing, as anything was possible and it took the focus OFF of weight loss and onto feeling better and getting fit. But this was reality. What if all my hard work didn't amount to much on the scale?
I knew I was smaller -- my clothes told me so. As did the mirror. And Mark, when prodded with a stick to tell me. But getting the hard numbers was an important step in this truth.

So, enough wind up. Da Da Da Da: I am the new champion in Inches Lost for the History of Fit Camp at my gym -- 22 inches lost! That 22 total inches off -- from each arm and leg, on the waist, bust, hips and butt. They are literally posting my results at the gym on a poster. I lost 1/2 a stone too! (that is 6 pounds) and as my instructor tells me, more actual weight will come off now that I have converted my blubber to muscle.

I am darn proud -- not just of my (fab) results, but for doing something I was most scared about. Going headlong into the gym and ignoring any hangups and insecurities and just (sorry Nike) doing it.

I feel good, but I am not done. I am continuting on in a Fit Camp Revival for the next 6 weeks and have made some great work-out and potential out-of-the gym buddies to spur me on.

More importantly, I am off my arse and on my way.

ok in cambridge

London underground explosions today -- 6 underground stations and a double decker bus.
Mark goes to London at least 3 times a week for work. Thankfully, today Mark worked from his Cambridge 2 of the stations that were hit-- Kings Cross and Liverpool Street -- are where Cambridge trains arrive into London.

Whew.

It is all a bit familiar. And too close. Checking in with friends, alerting folks of being ok, nonstop TV coverage, questions, speculations, outrage.

happiness is

fiddling around on digital radio and tuning into the beginning of This American Life on KCRW while I cook dinner.

Random cows in Cambridge 

my perfect orange-flowered bell for my bike, courtesy of Helena!