Treadmills, Meatheads, and Boobs! Oh my!

I almost hate to admit this, but ...

I once again joined a fucking gym. Yes, "once again" as in, this is not my first time signing away my dignity and $35.99/month to subject myself to the 'over-tanned, over-pumped, meathead and huge-breasted, yet tiny-assed, boy short wearing' end of the fitness spectrum.


Historically, I have found that the gym is SUPER good for my self esteem. And every time I have extracted myself from an automatic payment nightmare at XYZ Corporate gym after paying months and months worth of dues long after I have stopped going, I tell myself, "Never again! I hate the gym. Even more, I hate PAYING for the gym when I do not go to the gym."

But, alas, I joined. Here is my explanation for this seemingly self-destructive behavior. I have a new schedule this year that is making it much more difficult and often impossible for me to work out after school during the week.

I get up really early and can run before school. As a matter of fact, I used to, but I have become a chicken shit and can not seem to make myself run around my gorgeous, and high end neighborhood anymore.



Also, in my palatial 900 sq ft house there is no where to put a treadmill, unless I really want to class the joint up by having one in the kitchen (I don't know why, but it has a large kitchen for a small house *shrugs*) Therefore, I joined the gym.

I have gone three times this week (which may be a gym attendance record for me) at 4 am and although running on the treadmill is a little slice of hell, I found that the 'Roid monsters and Barbie dolls tend to not be in the gym at 4 am so I am not as self conscious and pissy. Beautiful people, need their beauty sleep evidently.



I have to admit that Formulaic calling me out on my training mileage (he did not really 'call me out.' He innocently asked about it, but I have to be dramatic. It is how I roll) is what made me finally take stock of my current "training." I had to ask myself, "what is my goal and am I doing what I need to meet it?"

The answer was a resounding, "No."

Hence, the dreaded gym.

The Goal: (It has been alluded to, but not spelled out because my psyche and self esteem have taken a few hits this year and I could not handle any further failures)

I want to do a 50 mile run in 2011.

The reason for this (as if I need to justify why a fat, slow, perpetually bottom 10% finisher would want to run 50 miles since it sounds like a marriage made in heaven!) is that I want to see if I can and to see if I like it.

It is really the same reason I attempted Ironman (for the record, the answer to both of those questions in that case was another resounding "no", but I am glad for all the the experiences it afforded me. Well, except for that stupid, fucking swim, but whatever)

I am still undecided on which 50 miler to attempt. The leading contenders are Rocky Raccoon (Pros: flat course, looooooong time limit due to 100 miler at same time, I get to see IronJane, Misty, and S. Baboo Cons: In Texas and hubby is not loving the traveling, the race is in February and that limits my time to train) and American River 50 miler (Pros: Local, one of the flatter 50 milers for California, the race is in April so more time to train Cons: 26 miles of it are on the road, 13 hour cut off [this is the biggest 'con'], April may still be too soon training wise)

Hubby Update

Hubby is doing ok. He was doing great, the effects of the radiation were subsiding and he was getting his energy back, but then he had to get his last hormone deprivation therapy shot and now he is feeling shitty again. I am taking solace in the fact that this is the last round of this.

*sigh*

(This part is rambling and a bit of a downer. Feel free to skip)

I struggle sometimes with how honest to be about all of this. Here on the blog and in real life. On one hand it has helped me immensely to read honest accounts from the wives and lovers of men with prostate cancer on the other hand it is about my husband and me during the scariest and hardest time of our life together. And some of the topics and issues are, for lack of a better expression, not cool. Not cool at all.

When he was diagnosed we started feverishly researching everything we could find on prostate cancer. In our travels we came across several forums for people undergoing prostate cancer treatment. These forums offered a wealth of information and are chock full of really, really kind people.

Can you feel the 'but' coming?

But, reading day in and day out, about the horrors and complications, both short term and long term, that are associated with prostate cancer and prostate cancer treatment turned out to be a recipe for insanity and depression in the RBR household. So I forbade him from reading them (I sound like such a shrew, huh?) and I stopped reading them myself.

But then we entered a new epoch, one that is hard to talk him about, one that is even hard for me to think about and I returned to the forums. It has proved to have the same effect as before, except like an addict I keep going back expecting it to be better, and to find the answer I want.

I have yet to find that answer, but I do find myself working 18 hour days again, which is historically a sign that I am not doing great mentally.

So once again, I deleted all the bookmarks.

I do not have a wrap up for this. I still have not found the answer. I just know where I won't find it.