Feel the burn

You don’t have to know me very well to know that I’m less of the track shoes and elevated heart rate kind of girl and more of the cake following by a generous portion of cake kind of girl.

Exercise and I are acquaintances, but not really friends.

Oh sure, I exercise occasionally. I walk to the train station to commute to work. I walk to the nearby grocery store sometimes. But as a structured activity, no.

A few years back when I was working hard to lose weight, a fit and fanatical friend of mine got me to participate in a 5k. She ran and liked doing 5k’s as a way to keep on track.

Let me be frank, my friend is one of those spin class in the morning, yoga at lunch and windsurfing for dinner kind of people.

So when she suggested I 5k with her, I resisted…hard.

But all 90 lbs of her is charming and a good negotiator, so she won me over.

I signed up to 5k. Needless to say, she ran, I walked.

That first 5k I did, I came in just under an hour on time, but dammit, I finished!

Since then, I’ve sort of gotten into doing the occasional 5k. Ever since The Good Man started hanging out with me, he’ll come along too.

TGM is 6’2″ with a MUCH longer stride than mine. So 5k’ing with him is all about me almost jogging to keep up. But he paces me, and that’s good…I think.

Yesterday we did a really fun 5k, the highlight was that part of the race route took you onto the field at AT&T Park, around the warning track and across home plate.

“That’s the same home plate Barry crossed,” exclaimed one of the breathless vendors at the race.

That was definitely the fun part. The hard part was that the race started at 9:00 and you HAD to be across home plate by 10:00.

Now, think back. My first 5k was just under an hour. I haven’t done a 5k in some time. So I was pretty worried I’d miss out on this fun chance to be on the field.

So I went all out on the walk. I was pumping my little arms and legs and huffing and puffing.

And I made it. I stomped on homeplate with some glee.

Sadly, I still came in the lower-middle of the pack with a paltry time of 47 mins…but I did get to scoot across home plate right behind the good man and we saw Giants pitcher Jack Taschner walking on the warning track. He’d gotten “caught in the herd” as he said and couldn’t have been nicer when I said hello. He went on to have a crappy middle-reliever outing in the game that followed, but oh well.

It was a fun day and it was PACKED. People really came out for this even and everyone was fired UP to make it across the plate.

A few lessons I’ve learned:

*There are those who believe they’ll make better time by intermittently jogging along the 5k trail. I find they will usually pass me, then they run out of gas and I pass them, then they see me pass and rev it up, then ten minutes later I pass them again and usually we finish about the same time.

So generally speaking, a nice even pace is probably a better bet.

*The body is less forgiving of random acts of exercise as it ages. I find this not amusing in the least.

*Ballpark nachos taste a heckova lot better when you know you already exercised that day. Hell, they taste good even when I don’t workout first. Ok, to be clear: ballpark nachos are nice. Maybe I already knew that lesson.

And finally:

*Man do I sleep good when I’ve worn myself out.

(yes…THAT homeplate)

It’s a long way from Albuquerque

Had the opportunity yesterday to pick up my finally finished wedding dress.

This custom made dress purchase has been an odd experience, but in the end, I think it will be lovely. Most importantly, it’s DONE.

At the end of the fitting appointment, they placed a long zippered bag into my arms and sent me on my way.

I rode the creaky elevator down holding the dress out from my body like a sick child, careful not to bump or soil it.

I stepped out onto the street in San Francisco, headed to find The Good Man.

As I waited for the light to turn so I could cross a busy intersection, I had crystal moment of realization.

Look at me, here now. How did I get here?

I’m walking in Union Square in the glorious and tony San Francisco, holding before me my custom made WEDDING dress.

How did this little insecure girl from New Mexico end up here?

Amazing how far I’ve come. I’m proud of me.

As I crossed the street, my eyes searched out the The Good Man. I found him, leaning against a wall, looking more handsome than ever. And I started crying.

Happy tears. Relief.

I don’t know how I got so lucky. I’m just so grateful I did.

So…what did YOU do for the Fourth?

How was your holiday? Didja do something nice? Fun? Cool as heck?

Yeah, how did that bbqpoolkidsfamilymomanddadhotdogsfireworksinthebackyard turn out?

Good? Great, happy to hear it!

My Fourth? Well.

The day was mostly quiet. As the sun was setting, that’s when it got interesting.

The evening kicked off, well, here:

That’s the, uh, San Carlos Airport.

And those there are, uh, you know, your standard issue Cessna type aeroplanes.

See…our next-door neighbor is a pilot. He started in the military then had a career piloting the “vomit comet” for NASA.

These days he’s semi-retired, making money by piloting incredibly expensive Gulf Stream and Eclipse jets for the Bay Area wealthy.

So an offer was made to The Good Man and me…see, he’d rented a plane for the evening…wanna go see fireworks from up there?

Yes! YES WE DO!

And we did!

Our original course was the big show in San Francisco.

However, San Francisco being what it is…this is what it looked like up there.

Gorgeous sunset. But miles and miles of fog. Not so swell for watching fireworks.

We headed down the peninsula, intent on taking in the fireworks near the much clearer San Jose, at the Great America amusement park.

Problem is, Great America is in the San Jose Airport airspace, and they don’t think weekend fireworks cruisers are all that interesting. Humorless, they are, as they keep busy landing and taking off a near steady stream of commercial airliners.

So we headed back up to mid-peninsula in took in the smaller shows in Redwood City and Foster City.

You ain’t never seen fireworks until you’ve seen them from up there.

Wow.

Can’t offer much in the way of fireworks photos. Between it being dark and the motion of the plane, none turned out. But damn…it’s amazing to see!

Oh, and the ol’ “vomit comet” pilot showed us what just two G’s feels like (fighter pilots get up to 9).

Feels like getting out of the damn plane and walking around on the ground again, please!

Yeah, I’m pretty sure I had a cooler Fourth of July than you did….:)

By contrast

Wednesday night, at Sears Fine Food, in the great city of San Francisco…

Over kick ass eats, starting with an avocado and crab salad, while discussing the day, life, so on, I say to my fiancée, “I think I’m a little bit in love with my new handbag.” I pick it up and show it to him.

He replies, “Yeah, you seem to be happy with it,” and turns back to the Giants baseball game playing over the bar.

Thursday afternoon, at Wahoo’s Fish Tacos, deep in the heart of Silicon Valley…

Over taquitos and spicy beans, I say to one of my closest girlfriends, “I think I’m a little bit in love with my new handbag.” I pick it up and show it to her.

She stretches out her arms and makes a “gimme gimme” gesture with her hands.

I hand it to her. “Kenneth Cole,” I say, “on *major* sale at Macy’s.”

She plunges her face into the supple leather and inhales deeply. “God, I love that smell,” she says.

And as she hands it back to me, she says, “THAT is a great bag.”

Moral of the story?

Know your audience.

The rigors of model-dom

Subtitled: I don’t get out of bed for less than $10,000 a day.

Or, er, yeah I do.

I actually get out bed at 6:00 in the ayem (grunt) to PAY someone to be personal paparazzi for me and The Good Man.

Today was our engagement photo day. Part of the package deal we got with our wedding photos.

Well all righty, then.

I was terribly nervous and not terribly prepared. Yesterday I realized that my nails and toes were a MESS and we had dinner out with friends last evening. Time just ran out.

So…I had a “special” offsite meeting at work and at least got that cleaned up.

I agonized over what to wear. So did TGM. We’re both awfully independent cusses, so really, we didn’t consult with each other much on color or style. And yet, we intuitively ended up blending together just right (we’re all pycho psychic that way).

I wore a purple patterned dress with some fun red shoes. TGM wore a blue button down, nice jeans and his new leather blazer (he looked hoooooooot).

We trudged up to San Francisco for a variety of locations for the shoot.

It was kind of a crazy day, one of those oddball times where nothing seems to come together and then yet it did. Our photographer forgot her camera battery, so right away off we went to obtain a new one…until she remembered she had a spare “emergency” one tucked in her bag. She was terribly embarrassed but need not have been. We ALL do stuff like that…

Later I got dive bombed by a little blackbird in the park that I guess wanted some hair for it’s lnest because it tugged out a few strands and *freaked* me OUT.

All weird sh*t aside, once we got going, it all came together. Our photographer is really great and super creative and very professional.

Who knows if the pictures all came out ok or if TGM and I just ended up looking dyspeptic in all the shots. Could go either way.

But at least TGM and I had some fun ideas for locations. Our photog says she gets a little tired of all the same locations in SF. Baker Beach (with the Golden Gate in the background…you’ve seen this photo…over and over and over), Palace of Fine Art (a MAJOR wedding photo location…just, ugh) and hanging off a trolley car (uh…no).

Instead we picked Nob Hill, North Beach and AT&T Park.

We have a few weeks for the photographer to get up uploaded so we can see how they all came out.

But for today. Whoosh, am I tired. I mean, really tired. How can posing and smiling big cheese and kissing my handsome man wear me out so much?

But it did.

Ah well, this is the next milestone in our journey toward getting hitched. Just over 70 days remain.

Ba-KAH!