tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56663971795450031612024-03-13T20:10:31.659-07:00jen's workout diaryMy ongoing delight of living in a physical body. When given a choice of uphill or downhill, always choose up.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.comBlogger97125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-39967040378763315712014-03-06T16:58:00.000-08:002014-03-06T16:58:58.626-08:00Day Sixty of the Bikram Yoga Sixty Day Challenge.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB13sp9twGoWSZcGqE05uom98cbugoQCMArjrjCY4-U0xHGeFv2kAS9xhSELYTnbaVgOn_x10FxnxoMqvRXALPwvqzUWMNtZHQeAhOhnI95Sk7VTQyg7alsCc8x6nbkai4x6czKdb7_yk/s1600/yoga.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB13sp9twGoWSZcGqE05uom98cbugoQCMArjrjCY4-U0xHGeFv2kAS9xhSELYTnbaVgOn_x10FxnxoMqvRXALPwvqzUWMNtZHQeAhOhnI95Sk7VTQyg7alsCc8x6nbkai4x6czKdb7_yk/s1600/yoga.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and some of my family goofing around with yoga postures.<br /><br /></td></tr>
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When my eyes clicked open this morning, the first thought that came to mind was, “Today is day sixty!” I felt a surge of happiness engulf my body. I threw the covers aside, ran into the kitchen and began my best impression of Julie Andrews in “The Sound of Music” At the top of my lungs, one more time from the top: <i>The hills are alive!... with the sound of music!... </i>I trilled.<br />
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My husband looked up from his cup of coffee and his iPhone and demanded to know what I was so happy about.<br />
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I started the first of the year with the best of New Years intentions: I’m going to fit into those jeans I haven’t been able to button up, I’m going to eat mostly vegan, I’m not going to eat any sugar, I’m going to pass on the red wine with dinner, I’m going to finish the Bikram Yoga 60 day challenge, I’m going to...<br />
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On day 40, as I sat at dinner at a local open air bistro, a glass of fine red wine in my hand, perusing the dessert menu while unbuttoning my jeans so I could take a deep breath, I said to my husband, “I feel like quitting.” He placed a warm hand over mine, looked me in the eye, oh, who am I kidding? He slapped the dessert menu out of my hand and told me, “Jennifer, you’re not a quitter.”<br />
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The reason I felt like quitting is because it was hard. I felt dehydrated, sore, fatigued. Dammit, I wanted to collapse on the sofa with a family size bag of Lay’s potato chips and watch some really bad TV. Something on the Lifetime channel preferably, where relationships never work out and poisoning your yoga teacher is the order of the day. Then Melissa Winn, Bikram teacher extraordinaire, recommended I drink fresh celery juice (natural salts) and purchase a product called <a href="http://healthforce.com/superfoods-rejuvenation/vitamineral-green">Vitamineral Green</a>. I’m usually leery of supplements but I have to tell you that stuff saved my life.<br />
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Bikram Yoga is a grueling 90 minute workout performed in 105 degree heat and humidity. If you’re planning on spending 5,400 minutes (60 x 90 minutes) in that environment, you’d better have something to replace all the minerals and salts you sweat out.<br />
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So, I made it! When we got to the very last posture of the 60th class this morning, I felt tears prick my eyes. I’m going to miss being in <a href="http://www.bikramyogalaguna.com/">Birkram Yoga Laguna Beach</a> every day. Tomorrow, my Surfer Boy husband and I leave for Costa Rica. Guess what we’re doing? A yoga retreat! Oh, and surfing. But tonight, we will be celebrating!<br />
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<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-87049714243006085092014-01-31T18:33:00.002-08:002014-01-31T18:52:24.109-08:00Day Twenty-Six<div style="margin-bottom: 15px;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I think I've talked myself into doing the 60 day Bikram Yoga Challenge. There are only four days left before I hit the thirty-classes-in-one-month mark and the owner of the studio announced that she'll be extending the challenge to 60 days for all those interested. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I had been having a little hissy fit with yoga-every-damn-day because gosh darn it, it's hard. After class yesterday, I came home and felt so sore that I called my Surfer Boy husband who was out and about running errands and asked him if he could stop by Gelson's market on the way home and pick up a bottle of fine red wine to go with dinner. The clever way that I phrase this, "fine red wine" makes me feel better about what could be a slippery slope into fine-red-wine-every-night. I seem to enjoy </span>vacillating<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">between excess and moderation. In yoga class yesterday, I found myself thinking about--of all things--medical marijuana. I don't like the way pot makes me feel, don't like having any substance that has control over me, and am not eager to go out of my way to meet with a doctor and obtain a medical marijuana card. But...a good friend of mine who's in a wheelchair was showing me his marijuana infused chocolate bars the other day. "This one," he said while handing me a box of chocolate which looked more like something I could buy at Whole Foods, than in a back alley, "this one will get you high and this other type won't. It just takes the pain away. In fact," he continued, "much as I resist taking drugs, I have to say, this stuff's a miracle."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Working out for ninety minutes in a room that's heated to 105 degrees is challenging. So why do I do it every day? I was questioning that myself when I woke up this morning and rolled over to my right shoulder that was in pain. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Arriving for class, I set up my mat next to one of the students whose litany of complaints sounded like mine: <i>It's tough fitting this into my day. It wipes me out for the rest of the day if I've gotten behind and have to do double workouts. I woke up this morning and my back hurt from stretching so much.</i> I stood in the center of my mat, took several deep breaths and the yoga started to work its magic. I felt loose and happy. W</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">hen we did the separate leg stretching posture that had me hanging upside down </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">like a kid hanging from monkey bars, my spine lengthened and I think I even grew an inch. Our teacher, Melissa, inspired us with funny stories about her brother's crazy penchant for high priced yoga shorts: Burberry yoga shorts. I didn't even know Burberry made yoga shorts. I started to relax with her instructions: </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">Inhale, one, two, three, four. Exhale, one, two, three, four.</i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">When class was over, my yoga buddy who's also trying to decide if she should extend the challenge to 60 days, gave me a thumbs up and mouthed: <i>I'm going to do it!</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So what if it's hard? If things were easy, everyone would be doing them. I love a good endurance event because I love the feeling of outlasting everyone. I probably would've done good in some of those "Last couple standing" dance marathons that were popular in the 20s and 30s. Pin a number on me, give me a good looking Surfer Boy dance partner and a lead role in <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0065088/">They Shoot Horses Don't They?</a> and I could make millions.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I drank the red wine last night but am happier without that as a big part of my life. And the medical marijuana? They Shoot Yogi's Don't They? All the same, I think I</span>’<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">ll have to pass.</span></span><br />
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Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-6008461648022281702014-01-29T19:30:00.003-08:002014-01-29T19:36:25.202-08:00Day Twenty-Four<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">For me, a day that starts with thirty bad boys standing single file wearing orange jumpsuits that say "Inmate" has got to be a good day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I met my favorite training partner, Rico, this morning at 8AM at El Moro for our Wednesday morning hike. He was five minutes late, which in the old days meant he owed me five bucks, but I didn't press the issue. I just gave him a hug and told him how happy I was that we didn't need to get up at zero-dark-thirty anymore to meet before work, on account of the fact that neither one of us work full time anymore.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">"I have to get up at five-thirty in the morning on Tuesdays to meet Natasha for our runs," Rico advised. "That gets old," he said while affixing his homemade suspender contraption complete with sleigh bells, just like Santa Claus puts on his reindeer's, this meant for scaring off wild animals or more likely, for annoying me. We hiked five delightful miles which started out </span>immediately<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> uphill--up a steep hill called </span>BFI<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> which stands for "Big </span>Friggin<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> Incline." We witnessed some spectacular ocean views through the heavy fog that was hovering over </span>Laguna<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> Beach this morning. We made it back to the parking lot just in time to see the government issue high security Orange County Fire truck pull into </span>the<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> parking lot. This was the second time that I'd seen this truck and I was quite excited because I knew what was held within the truck. A bunch of bad boy inmates that were just dying to see me. Let's just say that they're dying to see </span><i style="letter-spacing: 0px;">any</i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> woman, even one who's covered in sunscreen, no makeup, sweaty, hair askew and has as her companion a wiry </span>Puerto Rican<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> ultra-marathon runner who wears a homemade suspender contraption complete with sleigh bells and did I mention he also carries a knife?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The inmates were lined up single file by the time we got to our cars which were parked about fifty yards away. Just as I was hoping, not one, not two, not three, but all thirty of them were quite excited to see me. This I know, because they couldn't take their eyes off of me, especially the tall one who looked like Grizzly Adams, and the short one who looked like Uncle Fester. But, when you're the center of attention (only because you're the only female around) to thirty bad boys, the effects are intoxicating.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">After the hike, I drove straight to the Bikram Yoga studio for ninety minutes of sweating it out with all the other women (and two men) for what would be day twenty-four of my thirty day yoga challenge. Honestly, I've been feeling a bit burnt out with yoga-every-damn-day as I'm itching to get some other workouts in like surfing with my husband or more hiking. But when I laid my mat out and started talking to a couple of the students, I became inspired again and a bit ashamed of my lax attitude. One of the students had back surgery about a year ago. The thought of anyone fooling around with a sharp knife on my spine gives me the heebie-jeebies. But she is excited about the improvements she's feeling in her body due to the yoga. "I can feel my hips opening up." Another student looks like she has about thirty pounds to lose. "I'm starting to look forward to the workout and my whole day revolves around my yoga now," she said while unrolling her mat next to mine. "I'm going for the sixty day challenge when the thirty is done." Another student, a tall male person, told me that he quit smoking in June and also stopped taking the pain medication he was starting to get addicted to after an accident he'd been in. "All my pain is gone since I started the yoga."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">I unrolled my mat, stood in the center of the mat, looked in the mirror, took a deep breath, and felt lucky to be there. It could be a lot worse. I could be on weed whacking duty with the inmates in orange jumpsuits at El Moro. Hey! What am I waiting for?</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If I had my way, this would be the new prison workout.</td></tr>
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Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-19241701122219679432014-01-24T17:36:00.000-08:002014-01-24T17:36:38.697-08:00Days 15, 16, 17, 18 and 19Where did this week go? I had such great intentions of posting an entry into my blog every day chronicling the 30 day Bikram Yoga challenge. It's Friday, and my last update was on Sunday.<br />
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Monday dawned bright and early with a cup of coffee and ten milligrams of Valium. Why, you might ask? Well, I had a little trip to the dentist planned. I’m getting better, I really am. It used to be that I would cry when the chair-side dental assistant put that big heavy lead drape over my body to keep me from becoming radioactive during the dental X-ray. Now, I can actually sit down in the chair, lean back and relax--with the benefit of ten milligrams of Valium. I’m not a huge fan of drugs these days but when you need them, I’m glad they’re there. So, what does all of this have to do with yoga? Nothing other than the fact that I feel like I practically lost a week of lucidity, so unaccustomed to being drugged am I.<br />
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Monday was the only day of yoga I missed but that was okay because I was already two classes ahead of my goal. It’s half-way through the thirty days and it seems like that’s when some of the classes have felt like all I’m doing is going through the motions. But the yoga always works its magic. As I lie in <i>savasana</i> pose at the end of class, I always feel energy surging through my body and I’m glad I went. Always.<br />
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Dave was the first to finish his thirty classes on Wednesday, having done double and even triple classes on some days. I have a feeling we won’t be seeing him at least for a few days. “I’ll be on the golf course and drinking beer,” is what he told me.<br />
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I’ve been spending most of the week with my butt glued to my writing chair going through the final changes on my book, “Grand Theft Auto and Other Misdemeanors” which will be available on Amazon.com within (hopefully) the next month or two. Since I’m the writer, creative designer and PROOFREADER, I get to sit here and go through line by line by line over and over again until my eyes cross and my low back is screaming for yoga.<br />
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Thank God for the stress-reducing and spine stretching of yoga. I’ve been inspired by some of the students in the class who are relatively new or even brand new to this yoga and struggling through the postures. At least one such student told me today that she’s planning on participating in the sixty-day challenge. Do you think she needs my company? I’m considering it.<br />
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See you all when I see you!<br />
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<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-59645643726992892172014-01-19T20:15:00.001-08:002014-01-19T20:25:47.652-08:00Days Twelve, Thirteen and Fourteen<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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I completed the six day fruit fast on Friday and man, am I happy to be eating again. I’m really glad I did it though, because I feel light, happy and like I lost about five pounds all in my stomach.<br />
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Today, Kerry, Rico, Andrea, Ruzel, Anthony and I went to Shady Canyon where we rode bicycles on the trail, then hiked. I wish I had a video of Rico riding his bike because he reminds me of that comedian on Laugh-In who would ride this tiny tricycle and steer it into walls. Andrea got a recording of Rico in all his Laugh-In glory but said that it somehow got messed up, otherwise I would be able to share it with you now.<br />
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I went to Chris’s four-thirty class tonight. I came in feeling stiff and sore from biking and hiking, but left feeling loosey goosey. Such is the power of Bikram yoga.<br />
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Earlier today there was a <a href="http://www.lalalandcomfywear.com/store">LaLa Land yoga clothing</a> sale in the yoga studio which I missed because I was on the trail. But there were still some of the clothes available for sale and one of the students was trying a pair of too-small-for-her shorts on in the girls locker room. She had long, dark, wild black hair that cascaded down her back, covering whatever large tattoo that graced her back. She wore the tie-dyed shorts that were too tight for her, a black Lycra top and had her iPhone in hand, attempting various poses for her “selfie.” I promptly got out my notebook and started recording everything she was doing which is one of my favorite things to do. Way I look at it, the universe is just a vast repository of material which falls like rain out of the sky and then gets recorded in my notebook for sharing with all of you. So far no one has caught on to what I’m doing.<br />
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“Those shorts look great on you,” I lied. "Sometimes it’s good to take a picture of yourself just so you can see what they look like better.” She looked up at me all large brown eyes and pouty lips and smiled. “Just so long as you don’t take pictures in the locker room of us girls naked and post it to Facebook,” I cautioned.<br />
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“Oh, no. I’d never do that!”<br />
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“I know you wouldn’t. I’m just teasing you,” said I as I continued to make notes in my notebook.<br />
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She bought the shorts.<br />
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Class was entertaining. When we are in <i>savasana</i>, lying on our stomachs during the spine-strengthening series, we are instructed in between postures to turn out heads first to the right, then to the left. Turning my head to the right, I got to look at the guy who must be the missing link because of all the hair on his back. Turning my head to the left, I got to look at the tall hippie photographer who is covered in tattoos. Each turn to the left and I saw the tattoo of the skeleton on his calf waving at me. Both his arms are literally covered in tattoos. I usually enjoy staring at peoples tattoos to figure out what they’ve had inked on their body, but when it comes to his arms, it’s such a jumble that I can’t make heads or tails of it. I think it’s a rose garden complete with vines and thorns.<br />
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Sixteen classes so far in fourteen days and one more gold star on the board tonight.<br />
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See you all next time.<br />
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<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-44629088298422494202014-01-16T21:02:00.002-08:002014-01-16T21:02:28.485-08:00Day ElevenIs it really only day eleven?<br />
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9AM class with the Amazing Amy was low energy for me. You don’t think it has anything to do with this crazy fruit fast that my sister Monica (I love you very much) talked me into do you? Tomorrow will be the final day of the <a href="http://www.globalhealingcenter.com/cleansing/6-day-oxygen-colon-cleanse">six day fruit cleanse</a>. When Kerry popped his toast into the toaster this morning and the mouth watering aroma of bread warming in the toaster hit my nose and psyche, I realized, “I’m hungry.” But I love a good endurance event and let me tell you boy, this six day cleanse works. If I say anything more about it, you will say TMI (too much information) for sure. I’m certain, though, that it’s good to give our bodies a break from the constant shoveling in of food. Being on this minimalistic diet has got me looking at what everyone else is eating and the portions seem way too large. I know that I, for one, eat out of boredom, so it’s good to take a break and shock my system once in awhile. After all, I'm the one who's in control, right? Not some whim or habit like grabbing a box of Cheez-Its and eating the whole box before I even know what happened. Hey, that does sound pretty good right now.<br />
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Back to yoga...It’s all about the yoga and working on my new book. I got a brainstorm for a story idea while in Camel Pose the other day. The story opens with a woman who is sitting in a jail cell serving the first month of her Life In Prison sentence for hiring a hit man to murder her husband. She’s decided to write the story of what really happened in her diary, which will be available on Amazon.com if I have my way.<br />
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Sometimes it takes a good murder mystery to take my mind off of Cheez-Its.<br />
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See you tomorrow in yoga class!<br />
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<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-81779536362866534052014-01-14T19:28:00.001-08:002014-01-14T19:33:53.707-08:00Day Nine<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtrJlkekYZD8Jhg27FdupEaFKSIDThNZN77smZMJRXkKQwwW6kvoanoVEy_Lw_fIC00bDmGne_zklMXMBYp1GnOkTDzyED9xXDjE9WzEn66S6WHTccgLAMP8orWQZE-Wcfxwob9sJV2hs/s1600/full-moon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtrJlkekYZD8Jhg27FdupEaFKSIDThNZN77smZMJRXkKQwwW6kvoanoVEy_Lw_fIC00bDmGne_zklMXMBYp1GnOkTDzyED9xXDjE9WzEn66S6WHTccgLAMP8orWQZE-Wcfxwob9sJV2hs/s320/full-moon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I woke up today to another stellar Laguna Beach day, a full moon hanging heavy over the ocean and Amy’s nine-o’clock class. <br />
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Today is day nine of yoga and day three of the six day fruit fast. This detox program also includes a <a href="http://www.globalhealingcenter.com/cleansing/oxy-powder.html">colon cleansing formula</a> which has the effect of--let’s just say that as I stood in class for the first four standing postures, I wondered whether I’d have to bolt out of the room and straight to the bathroom. But I made it through class and was able to post another gold star onto the 30 day challenge board.<br />
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One of the students, Dave, is in a race to finish. When I saw him in class this morning I asked him how it was going and he said, “I’m just eager to get this thing over with. It takes time away from golf,” which makes me wonder why he’s in the challenge, but I’m sure he has his reasons.<br />
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As I stood in class wondering why I was doing this, I had that same feeling that I often have in a workout: <i>Okay, this part of the workout may be hard but the results are always worth it.</i><br />
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A good example is the six day fast that I’m participating in along with my sister who lives in Florida. I really didn’t think I could eat just fruit for the past few days. My daughter and her boyfriend called me from a wonderful restaurant right down the street from our house and said, “Join us for dinner.” I thought, oh great, what am I supposed to eat? But I packed up my avocado (avocados are considered fruits) with lemon juice and sea salt, my colon cleansing cocktail and Kerry and I walked down the street and had a lovely night out. I didn’t even salivate over my daughter’s steak dinner. Now that it’s the end of day three, I’m starting to see what people are talking about when they say they start to feel light and not at all hungry a few days into a fast. And the energy! I feel alive, awake and alert. I think that workouts are like that too. If we’re willing to get through the uncomfortable parts, the results are always worth it.<br />
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<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-76884935230075522292014-01-13T19:58:00.002-08:002014-01-13T20:06:18.071-08:00Day EightI thought I was doing great on day two of the <a href="http://www.globalhealingcenter.com/cleansing/6-day-oxygen-colon-cleanse">Six Day Fruit Fast</a> until I pulled into the parking lot of the yoga studio tonight and saw a sweet little old man walking towards his car from the supermarket. He had purchased an extra large bag of Kettle brand potato chips. I almost tackled him to the ground and fought like it was his life or mine for those chips.<br />
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This morning I woke up full of energy and couldn’t resist going on a (short) trail hike because it was such a gorgeous day. It’s January in Laguna Beach and the temperatures were in the 80’s, the sky was cerulean blue and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. I hiked up a hill called “I think I can” in El Moro state park and was rewarded with a majestic ocean view with a clear outline of Catalina Island in the distance. Hiking by myself has always been my favorite meditation.<br />
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I felt light and free all day, not weighed down with heavy food since the fast only includes six days of fruit. “I think this is the way to get rid of food cravings,” I told my husband, “because I’m not starving anymore like I was yesterday.”<br />
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Then I saw that nice little old man in the parking lot. But I didn’t tackle him. Instead, I unrolled my purple yoga mat and did 90 minutes of hot yoga with Melissa, yoga teacher extraordinaire who entertained us with a story about a woman who has a social network hash tag called #yogaeverydamnday. I’ll have to check it out.<br />
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One more gold star and another good nights sleep is in order.<br />
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See you tomorrow!<br />
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<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-53623705522572820632014-01-12T18:38:00.000-08:002014-01-12T18:38:01.874-08:00Day SevenToday was not only day seven of the Bikram Yoga 30 day challenge, it was day one of the<a href="http://www.globalhealingcenter.com/cleansing/6-day-oxygen-colon-cleanse"> 6-day Cleanse </a>that my lovely sister, Monica in Florida talked me into doing. Starting the new year, I knew I wanted to do something to make those jeans of mine fit better. Who am I kidding? I don’t even own a pair of jeans anymore because last years new years resolution was to clean out my overflowing closet, which I finally did in December. After all, why do in January what I could put off for eleven months?<br />
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“We’ll do it together,” said my fit, attractive, glowing skin, yoga teacher sister who lives all the way on the East Coast where she can’t really check up on me. “I did this fast a few years back and felt fantastic!”<br />
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I agreed and was up this morning, skipping coffee and making my distilled water, apple cider vinegar, lemon juice and Aloe Vera juice cocktail. Starbucks ain’t got nothing on this cocktail. The first thing I learned is that I’m addicted to caffeine. As my husband sat on the sofa with me as the sun was rising drinking his coffee while I drank my health cocktail, I wanted to tell him, “Stop talking so much!” Such is the power of caffeine on most of us.<br />
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Morning yoga class was delightful, not too crowded and I feel like I’m getting a rhythm going. I felt energized after class, drank my next health cocktail in the parking lot of the yoga studio, went home and spent the whole day eating vast quantities of fruit, since this is part of the cleanse. Dinner was two avocados which I savored. I never knew how great avocados, lemon juice and sea salt could taste.<br />
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It’s good to give the body a rest from time to time. But not from yoga! I’ll be back in class tomorrow for my next gold star.<br />
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<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-18442508371163135262014-01-11T21:04:00.003-08:002014-01-11T21:11:11.157-08:00Day SixIt was hot!<br />
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Saturday class in January is bound to be overcrowded. Everyone has got their new year resolutions of diet and exercise. I got to Marna’s 8am class with only five minutes to spare which meant that instead of my usual secret spot next to the back door with the ocean view, the coolest spot in the room, I ended up in the warmest part of the room. All those hot bodies made it extra warm, but then again, that’s why we go to hot yoga. The workout was great and I left happy. Happy to get home and hop in the shower.<br />
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One more gold star on the board.<br />
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<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-75054682236452719812014-01-10T21:45:00.000-08:002014-01-10T21:48:37.462-08:00Day FiveThere are a couple of students in our 30 day challenge who are in a frenzy to see who can be the first to finish the 30 classes, that is, before 30 days are up. As we were in triangle pose, I found myself wondering what I would have to do to catch up. <i>Maybe I can wait until they’re close to 30 classes, then do four classes in one day and beat them.</i> It’s been awhile since I’ve been involved in competition for monetary purposes as I used to be when I was in sales. Then, I was a fierce competitor and enjoyed the financial rewards and friendly competition amongst the sales reps. But in the yoga studio? Yes, I suppose I’m still having these kinds of competitive thoughts. I’m trying to decide if these thoughts are good, bad or indifferent.<br />
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As I thought about what I wanted to report for day number five, I logged into Facebook and one of my friends had posted this. I think I’ll go to bed now and ponder these words:<br />
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<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-4542953905554511492014-01-09T17:57:00.002-08:002014-01-09T17:57:37.048-08:00Day FourI pulled into the parking lot for nine-o’clock class just as Dave was getting out of his car.<br />
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“Man, is it really only day four?” he asked. “I don’t remember it being this hard last year. Did you think it was extra hot in class yesterday?”<br />
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Dave completed the 30 day challenge in about 20-some days last year by doubling up on classes to get the thing done early. Trish was right behind him and the two were treating this challenge like a competition. In fact, when Trish found out that I’d done three classes on the first day of the challenge, she was extra interested in how many classes I would be doing on day two. “Only one,” I said.<br />
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Pacing is important. Unless you have absolutely no life (which I’ve been accused of) and are able to spend the entire day in the yoga studio, it’s probably a good idea to stop and smell the roses and make the most out of 30 <i>days</i> of yoga, which is a pretty awesome accomplishment. I personally felt like I’d overdone it yesterday with my eight mile hike and then the 90 minute hot yoga class. And I’ve never overdone it before. Yeah, right.<br />
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So, I decided that I’m going to enjoy this challenge and with that thought in mind, as I left the studio today, the owner said, “Hey Jen, for those interested, we’re extending the challenge to 60 days.”<br />
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No rest for the weary.<br />
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See you all tomorrow!<br />
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<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-64482893824823886112014-01-08T21:18:00.003-08:002014-01-08T21:20:35.044-08:00Day Three<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When am I going to learn to not trust Rico? Rico is my favorite training partner and we like to meet every Wednesday morning for a trail hike. What I thought would be a nice easy hour and a half hike turned into a grueling three hours of steep uphill climbing followed by some pretty spectacular ocean views and steep downhill. Would I ever complain to Rico? No, I wait until I get home and then blog about it to the world.<br />
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After the hike, I rubbed my sore feet, then headed off to my fifth 90 minute hot yoga class in three days. The room felt delightfully warm and soothing on more sore back and muscles even though had it not been for the challenge I probably would’ve been home relaxing.<br />
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When I came home, Surfer Boy had prepared a mouth watering salad made from local organic vegetables and grass-fed ground sirloin which he says we need to improve our hemoglobin or some such technicality. I don't care what it does, I devoured every tasty morsel.<br />
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I think I’ll head off to bed now and dream of luscious hot fudge sundaes, something that is not on my 30 day yoga challenge diet.<br />
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See you tomorrow!<br />
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<i>Authors Note: The hike was pretty damn awesome.</i><br />
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<i><br /></i>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-84976100262581436942014-01-07T21:24:00.001-08:002014-01-07T21:24:56.166-08:00Day TwoI woke up full of energy after my three Bikram yoga classes yesterday. There’s nothing like wearing yourself out to the point of exhaustion to get a good nights sleep. I walked my Min Pin Rusty before the sun came up, paused to drink in the ocean air, then downed a strong cup of coffee before heading off to morning yoga class. I think I may have to go back to work as a top salesperson because I’ve talked several people into signing up for the 30 day challenge. I wasn’t really trying to accomplish this feat but several students advised me this morning that they were there because I had told them to “just put your name on the 30 day challenge list.”<br />
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I would’ve loved (maybe too strong a word) to stay at the studio doing yoga all day like I did yesterday, but alas, I’m a famous author and my audience is waiting for my next book. Then when I’m done writing the book, I’m going to see what swamp property I can sell all those rubes at the yoga studio.<br />
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Anyone out there interested? Your purchase will include a free yoga mat. And while you’re at it, “just put your name on the 30 day challenge list.”<br />
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See you tomorrow!<br />
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<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-11362597026846101992014-01-06T20:40:00.001-08:002014-01-06T20:48:31.957-08:00Day OneSo, I did four-and-a-half hours of hot yoga today.<br />
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Today was the first day of the Laguna Beach Bikram Yoga 30 day challenge. Last year I performed this 30 day challenge which is held the beginning of the year to kick off the new year. It was tough, but worth it. Not only did my practice improve, but I felt a huge burst of energy, especially at the end of the challenge.<br />
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For those of you who don’t know, Bikram Yoga is a ninety minute yoga workout in which the same twenty-six postures are performed in the same order every time, in a room heated to 105 degrees, I’ve been practicing for about eight years now. Back then, I dragged my husband Kerry to the classes and when he found out how much it helped his surfing, he decided he was there to stay. I love yoga. I started practicing when I was a teenager way back before there even was such a thing as yoga studios. Back then, my life was a series of contradictions--yoga and bong hits, health food and Dairy Queen. But I loved the way yoga made me feel, that deep relaxation and peace that came without having to meet someone in a dark alley for any kind of substance to get high.<br />
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I woke up this morning with great excitement, drank a cup of coffee with Kerry, then set about making my fresh juices which I planned on drinking in between classes. I plugged in my heavy-duty Omega juicer and juiced all manner of organic vegetables to rehydrate and nourish. These I put into Thermos’s which I had put into the freezer and toted them off to class.<br />
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Class One: 9am with Michelle. My mind would not stop its chatter. <i>Am I really going to spend the whole day doing yoga? What if I feel dizzy or nauseous? Should I have listened to my daughter Jessica </i>(who is more of a parent than I am) <i>when she told me last night “Mom, that doesn’t sound safe.” </i>I peered out the window at a perfect seventy-three degree Laguna Beach day. <i>Maybe I should just go to the beach.</i><br />
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Class Two: 11:30 with Melissa. I felt a little sick to my stomach because I insisted on drinking most of my homemade V8 juice after the first class. Maybe this would be a good day for a water fast. But Melissa entertained us with her usual upbeat personality and stories about her brother Jason who founded the Laguna Beach studio over ten years ago. Not a class goes by that Melissa doesn’t have a fun story to tell about Jason, the poor guy who was the only brother amongst six sisters.<br />
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After the second class, I sat in my car and drank more of my homemade juice and thought about how hungry I was. The thing about hot yoga is that you can’t eat much before classes unless you want to feel really uncomfortable. I looked down at my belly where all that Christmas pie and cheesecake had settled. I wanted to go home and eat. Haven’t I worked out enough for the day? I ran a couple of errands and started to feel better. It was such a gorgeous day that I drove the two blocks to the beach to take a walk before the 4:30 class. Parking was at a minimum but there was exactly one parking space available which I pulled into. I looked up and saw that I had parked directly in front of Dominique’s old apartment by Heisler Park. Dominique was my step-daughter, one of the true loves of my life. I smiled as I felt her spirit and could hear her laugh.<br />
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As I walked through the park, I had to stop several times because I was overwhelmed with how beautiful everything was. I thought about the people in other parts of the country, some who can’t even leave their houses, so high is the snow piled in front of their doors and driveways.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8WDnTBdvlSmUUXb7JqJinQlhVezwNAktRKmTHJQ-TR0RE11z5nKaQleFnT02bfrxV4e0E0T0uxpIXbpuz8Ur74AEh63MJ9cy3gxgnsMQQ4vt9FxaoTyak-I2RtjkV5kYejlUjF9e4FRs/s1600/heisler.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8WDnTBdvlSmUUXb7JqJinQlhVezwNAktRKmTHJQ-TR0RE11z5nKaQleFnT02bfrxV4e0E0T0uxpIXbpuz8Ur74AEh63MJ9cy3gxgnsMQQ4vt9FxaoTyak-I2RtjkV5kYejlUjF9e4FRs/s1600/heisler.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photos taken today at Heisler Park courtesy of the lovely Melissa B.</td></tr>
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It really was that gorgeous today. As I walked, I felt light, happy and grateful.<br />
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Class Three: 4:30 with Melissa. I couldn’t believe it, but the third class was the best. My muscles felt loose and gumby-like. At the end of class as we lay in Savasana (dead body pose) I felt blissed out. I’m glad I stuck it out.<br />
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See you all tomorrow!<br />
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<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-79162991502183251452013-09-29T10:13:00.000-07:002013-09-29T17:04:17.922-07:00Kerry's Awesome Eight Hour Birthday Surf-A-Thon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My adventurous, athletic husband celebrated his birthday on Friday. A couple of months ago I asked him how he wanted to celebrate since this was to be a big birthday. Okay, he turned 65.<br />
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"Well," he answered slowly while putting the finishing touches on waxing his surfboard, "We're going to be in Maui in September, so why don't we surf for eight hours?"<br />
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"Straight? No breaks?"<br />
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"Yes, eight hours straight with no breaks," he answered.<br />
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"I don't know if I can do that," I said while trying to change the subject and steer him towards a birthday celebration that included lots of red wine and chocolate.<br />
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"What do you mean? Of course you can. Am I talking to the same Jennifer Evans who's a seven time finisher of the Avalon 50 mile trail race?"<br />
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Maybe I took too much antacid in the 70s but I don't remember having finished that tough 50 mile trail race seven times. I'm lucky that I remember my daughters birthdays.<br />
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"I did?"<br />
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I did!<br />
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So it was settled. I picked up my iPhone and sent a text message to our good friend Glenn who lives in Maui:<br />
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<i>Hi! It's Jen. La Machina </i>(our nickname for Kerry because he's the machine) <i>wants to surf for eight hours straight at Launiopoko for his birthday. It's September 27. You game?</i><br />
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<i>Aloha Jen and La Machina! Hey, that sounds good. Launiopoko summer swells. Count me in.</i><br />
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My main concern--and it's a valid concern in Maui--was the hot Lahaina sun beating down on us for eight hours. I went to the ABC store, a tourist store in Hawaii that sells trinkets along with what seems to be their main line of merchandise--Hello Kitty paraphernalia--and bought a dorky hat to match Kerry's dorky hat.<br />
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September 27th the sun was just getting ready to peek over the horizon like it always does but Kerry couldn't wait. I felt him rustling around next to me in bed. His eyes snapped open like a ventriloquist dummies eyes and he leaped out of bed. We both had strong Kona coffee, grabbed our ice chest which was loaded down with almond butter sandwiches, cheese and pickle sandwiches, salted macadamia nuts, coconut water and energy drinks and headed out the door.<br />
<br />
"Slow down!" I said to my birthday boy husband as he sped along the main road leading to the beach early Friday morning. When my husband is on his way to surf, I have only one thing to say: <i>Everyone out of his way!</i><br />
<br />
We arrived at the beach a few minutes before Glenn barreled into the parking lot and screeched to a halt. Kerry was busy waxing our surfboards while Glenn ran around the parking lot with a quick Aloha to everyone at the beach. Glenn is the ambassador at Launiopoko surf beach. He's usually one of the first ones to arrive at the beach, and sometimes the last to leave. This particular beach is great for surfing, bringing your family for a picnic, lounging underneath the shade trees and talking story with the locals. There was no time for talking story.<br />
<br />
"Glenn! Have you got your waterproof watch on?" asked the birthday boy.<br />
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Glenn flexed his wrist and pointed to his over sized waterproof watch. "Fifteen minutes until we hit the water."<br />
<br />
"Let's start five minutes early."<br />
<br />
I could see how this day was going to turn out: adrenaline charged.<br />
<br />
The plan was that we'd start at eight and end at four. The rules were that Kerry was not permitted to leave the water for any reason during that time. I would serve as caddy, bringing the boys coconut water and sandwiches every two hours while they paddled to the area where the ocean flows out creating a natural pool, where the children like to play.<br />
<br />
The Surf Gods were smiling on us because the weather was perfect with a slight overcast and the ocean was glassy--no wind--which would last the entire day.<br />
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<br />
We paddled out, me with a slight lump in my throat, wondering how I was going to survive eight hours in the water, Glenn with his usual smile and Kerry, the adrenaline in overdrive. The boys caught waves right off the bat while we surfed and chatted with all the friendly people who were surfing with us. We would end up outlasting somewhere around fifteen rotations of surfers in the lineup.<br />
<br />
Glenn is one of the most stoked surfers I've ever met. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that he never stops smiling when he's in the ocean. His smile gets even bigger when he catches a wave. "Woo Hoo!" shouted Glenn, as Kerry paddled into and caught a wave. Glenn's enthusiasm is contagious and before long, I was shouting "Woo Hoo!" along with him not on the first wave, not on the second or third, but on every single one of the probably three hundred waves that the three of us would ride in eight hours. That's a lot of Woo Hoo's!<br />
<br />
Every two hours we would paddle towards the baby pool, the boys waiting in the water while I grabbed our ice chest.<br />
<br />
"Grab me a cheese sandwich, a coconut water and one of those protein drinks, my beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, sexy athletic wife, please," said my husband. (Hey, it's my blog, I can fabricate any words I want when describing myself!)<br />
<br />
The three of us set up a buffet fit for a king on top of our surfboards, savored every tasty morsel, waxed up our surfboards and paddled out again for another two hours. On our six hour mark, my arms and back were feeling pretty trashed.<br />
<br />
"I'll never admit to being tired," I said while rubbing my shoulders.<br />
<br />
"At least you'll never be the first one to admit to it," said Glenn followed by a "Woo Hoo!" as Kerry caught another wave.<br />
<br />
The six hour mark was tough for all three of us. I sat on my surfboard and tried to come up with some motivational words to tide us over when I remembered a quote from Ken Choubler, the race director of the Leadville 100 mile trail race. <i>"You're better than you think you are. You can do so much more than you think you can. We'll tell you when to start and we'll tell you when to stop. Meanwhile, just keep moving."</i><br />
<br />
I love a good endurance event. One of the things I've learned is that the body can be trained to do pretty much anything you want it to do. It's the mind that gets in our way and starts nagging and complaining about all the things it doesn't want to do. <i>Bitch, bitch, bitch. Whine, whine, whine. </i> If you had a friend that nagged and complained that much would you keep that person around? No! So we kept paddling and catching waves, "Woo Hoo!" and pretty soon Glenn looked at his watch and said, "One hour left!"<br />
<br />
It was at this point that my husband started acting like he only had one hour left to live. The look of determination on his face which was covered with so much sunscreen that he looked like<i> The Joker</i> was almost menacing. <i>Everyone out of my way!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
During this last hour, Dino Miranda who is a Pro Surfer, World Longboard Champion, Artist and oh yeah, a Professional Stuntman, paddled out to surf with us as he'd been doing periodically during the eight hours.<br />
<br />
"He's only got an hour left and I think he wants to surf longer," Glenn told Dino between Woo Hoo's.<br />
<br />
"Well, he can always extend it, bra," Dino answered. "It doesn't have to be eight hours. It can be nine."<br />
<br />
I could see Glenn starting to get a little worried that this was going to be our fate when he asked me, "Is he always like this?"<br />
<br />
"Yes, my friend, I hate to break it to you but he's always like this. His eyes snap open in the morning and he goes like hell until he collapses at the end of the day. But it beats the alternative."<br />
<br />
I've had boyfriends on every end of this spectrum--some who didn't like to work out at all and one who dropped dead at the end of a marathon. When I heard this sad news my first comment was, "Did he cross the finish line?"<br />
<br />
"Five minutes!" yelled Glenn.<br />
<br />
Kerry became even fiercer in his determination. "This is addicting. I'm feeling kind of crazy like I don't want to stop," he told me while scanning the ocean as another set of waves came through. We all caught one final wave, then caught one last inside wave together and emerged from the ocean with huge grins on our faces.<br />
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<br />
We were greeted by the Launiopoko locals with cheers, hugs and lots of Woo Hoo's.<br />
<br />
From there we dragged our tired bodies to the Aloha Mixed Plate Grill in Lahaina along with Pro Surfer Dino, his wife Kioko and their darling baby boy who is already learning how to surf. They start them young here in Maui where the water is warm and the stoke-factor is high.<br />
<br />
Much laughter was had over an authentic Hawaiian dinner of white rice, grilled chicken, juicy marinated steak, Asian crispy noodles and their signature dessert, fresh coconut custard.<br />
<br />
Dino, who is even more of an adrenaline junkie than the rest of us, confessed that when he saw me leave the ocean periodically to grab our ice chest of supplies, he thought we'd caved in and given up. "Bra, I was wondering what you were doing by the baby pool. Then I saw you Three Musketeers paddle out again."<br />
<br />
Kerry and I made it back to our condo in Kahana where we enjoyed hot showers, then collapsed at 8:30.<br />
<br />
When we woke up the following morning, the first words out of Kerry's mouth were, "Let's go to Slappy Cakes for breakfast."<br />
<br />
"Not until we go to hot yoga first."<br />
<br />
Glenn, stoked surfer that he is, showed up at Launiopoko bright and early for a surf session. "You know, this makes me wonder what I should do for my birthday," he told me. "Kerry set the bar for all those guys on the beach, yah?"<br />
<br />
As for Kerry and I, we sweated through ninety minutes of hot yoga that morning, then feasted on pancakes with shredded coconut and macadamia nut butter syrup. I can't wait to see what my Surfer Boy has planned for next year.<br />
<br />
Congratulations to all three of us and especially my Surfer Boy husband. You inspire me every day. You're a true testament to the old adage "age is only a number". In fact, you seem to get younger every day. I love you and our adventurous life together.<br />
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<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-88745520335808886412012-11-06T11:58:00.003-08:002012-11-12T07:24:53.444-08:00Pancho and Sancho"Dude, that board is sick!"<br />
<br />
Well it used to be, that is before my Surfer Boy husband decided to take it out into the ocean on a death defying big wave day. He came home from the beach, two pieces of neatly cut foam and fiberglass, one in each hand with a bereft look on his face.<br />
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<br />
"Are you okay?" I said while anxiously checking his body for signs of injury or limping.<br />
<br />
"Yeah, I'm okay but my board is not."<br />
<br />
Leave it to a surfer to be more concerned about the condition of his surfboard. Enter the <a href="http://www.dingdrxxx.com/">Ding Doctor</a> <span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">at DingDrX Surfboard Repair in San Clemente California</span>.<br />
<br />
Off we went, to San Clemente, home of Randall, one of the original <a href="http://www.dingdrxxx.com/">Ding Doctors</a>.<br />
<br />
I set my purse down in his work area when suddenly I saw two raccoons dressed in white coats going through the contents. Out came my lipstick as they unscrewed the top with their deft little hands, trying to figure out how it worked, out came my wallet containing my life savings, out came a pack of chewing gum which they were just unwrapping when I finally stopped them.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh79tRQkuFnoqxsVFDJ0GmJUzvO-xr1FI1hkfN2iQ1y6UJog9xTNo299hMKxf5xx3qSd7EOuDuW1QIhe7O3DNYP6UZGjGZWtSk1fwfDsDbFHGdhElGDuxhT_-3qQRQLhDepUsTTBtt7AnM/s1600/pancho+and+sancho+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh79tRQkuFnoqxsVFDJ0GmJUzvO-xr1FI1hkfN2iQ1y6UJog9xTNo299hMKxf5xx3qSd7EOuDuW1QIhe7O3DNYP6UZGjGZWtSk1fwfDsDbFHGdhElGDuxhT_-3qQRQLhDepUsTTBtt7AnM/s320/pancho+and+sancho+.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pancho and Sancho<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
"What the? Randall, where did these cute little guys come from?"<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It turns out that one of Randall's friends had a neighbor who had four baby raccoons born in his attic. The mother ended up on the wrong end of someones gun. The babies were left without a mommy.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"It was a natural decision to take them in." said Randall. The raccoons were infants at the time.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
How do you care for baby raccoons? That's what <a href="http://www.dingdrxxx.com/">The Ding Dr.</a> wanted to know. Local veterinarians weren't much help so it was off to the Internet trying to find the little information there was.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Thus started the long nights, up every couple of hours bottle feeding the little babes. Hot water bottles had to be kept constantly warm to mimic the mothers body heat. The nights were sleepless and the days were zombie-like for Randall. Two of the babies didn't make it, but two did. Randall proudly named them Pancho and Sancho, poured them a big bowl of <i>Friskies</i> cat food to celebrate, and put them to work in the ding repair shop, entertaining locals and customers alike.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis3MmMKehNCNnGiYY4pMdRX-rEnF46Nql0yMxzc48M3l9mtqgm0-98EI3MwoSmS6RReYD21YCxTfVNBs2PggL4yHfFWdaUyzV5ssQ4qZWpzE8MVj69mwlehxdXxgtlQRxGykUgi66ymi0/s1600/pancho+and+sancho.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis3MmMKehNCNnGiYY4pMdRX-rEnF46Nql0yMxzc48M3l9mtqgm0-98EI3MwoSmS6RReYD21YCxTfVNBs2PggL4yHfFWdaUyzV5ssQ4qZWpzE8MVj69mwlehxdXxgtlQRxGykUgi66ymi0/s320/pancho+and+sancho.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy/Mommy Randall with Pancho and Sancho</td></tr>
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Randall, the owner and operator of the original <span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><a href="http://www.dingdrxxx.com/" style="color: #119966; text-decoration: none;">DingDrX</a> </span></span>surfboard ding repair shop in San Clemente will fix your board so that you can't even tell where it was broken. I took one of my boards on a surf trip to Costa Rica a year ago when the baggage claim folks decided it would be a good idea to run over the nose of my board with their truck. Randall fixed it good as new. He's also a talented artist and will paint whatever design you would like on your surfboard or stand up paddle board.<br />
<br />
As for my Surfer Boy husband: "I've been surfing all my life and I've never found anyone who can fix my broken or delaminated boards the way Randall does." If that weren't the case, I'm here to tell you that this would not be a happy household. And a hush comes over the land.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpT6NszXSMF1UHCwMACSO1TFZSvPfbfYDq3ni5bpE2sYivt0Saf878R_Z23wnIq0fiywHABXtn-lubAGv9-goRwHaDbFa3aa1_nRo_3NRozfSkbwTw5XEeyLUgn1RyY6Dl1vk1BdWFT2A/s1600/kerry+with+board.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpT6NszXSMF1UHCwMACSO1TFZSvPfbfYDq3ni5bpE2sYivt0Saf878R_Z23wnIq0fiywHABXtn-lubAGv9-goRwHaDbFa3aa1_nRo_3NRozfSkbwTw5XEeyLUgn1RyY6Dl1vk1BdWFT2A/s1600/kerry+with+board.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kerry, Happily Back to Charging Big Waves</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Next time you snap your board in half while shredding Pipeline or the Trestles, or the airline folks decide to play Frisbee with your short board, pay a visit to the <a href="http://www.dingdrxxx.com/">Ding Doctor</a>. Who knows? You may even get to play with Pancho and Sancho.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Call The Ding Doctor in San Clemente, CA for an appointment today: (949) 294-4741<br />
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<br /></div>
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-22877000882121810822012-08-25T13:27:00.000-07:002012-08-25T13:27:16.895-07:00Race Report from 1998 - PCT 50 - A Cautionary Tale<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnBhnPxUQLZLSVUooJtzlSNXgrnZXwC9q4f4wVcRchyphenhyphendjxkfDZOCXnmasIDaANWDJiE0Jm-SLYG_l-B5hlQRprsFEbQc9rsDSARIODbp4D69XnYmJ6x38sP0NDb271mSuJH7cW0SMNdmA/s1600/pct+50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnBhnPxUQLZLSVUooJtzlSNXgrnZXwC9q4f4wVcRchyphenhyphendjxkfDZOCXnmasIDaANWDJiE0Jm-SLYG_l-B5hlQRprsFEbQc9rsDSARIODbp4D69XnYmJ6x38sP0NDb271mSuJH7cW0SMNdmA/s320/pct+50.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Start of the PCT 50</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
It's never too late for a good old fashioned race report. Why do today what you can put off for fourteen years?<br />
<br />
Back at the tender age of thirty eight - you do the math - I decided that it would be a wonderful idea to run my first fifty mile trail race. I had a few road marathons under my belt. I'd spent some time alone to the tune of five or six hours at a stretch traversing Saddleback Mountain. I had my Power Bars, a hydration fanny pack, determination, grit and many friends in the Ultrarunning community.<br />
<br />
I started asking all these wonderful people - both of them - what would be a good first fifty? Marty piped up immediately with the name of a race in San Diego.<br />
<br />
I'm not going to tell you that the race is called the PCT 50. I'm not going to tell you that it has a fun reputation of being jinxed. I'm not going to tell you that I've run that race amidst an active forest fire, that it got cancelled half way through one year for an impassable snow storm when Ben Hian was in first place at the turnaround. No, I won't tell you any of those things. Instead, I'll tell you about my experience that fine day in November of 1998.<br />
<br />
My best, and only training partner at the time was my buddy, Bartender Bob. One night, Bob was at the Hare Krishna Temple in Laguna Beach having dinner. The Temple had a tasty vegetarian feast that was only six bucks - all you can eat. Plus, the Krishna devotees are really nice folks, they don't try to convert you. Bob was minding his own business when a likeable young man, who also happens to be a top ten finisher at Western States 100 - the grandaddy of all Ultramarathons - saw Bob's race t-shirt. It bore the name of some triathlon that Bob had completed. This nice young man saw the t-shirt, raised his eyebrows and announced "I've got something you might be interested in" Bob mentally steeled himself for this poor guys' sales presentation for Amway. But no! It turned out to be even more of a scam. Ultrarunning.<br />
<br />
Bartender Bob was introduced to the world of long distance running. He then introduced <i>me</i> to the joy of sweat, hard work, dehydration, laughter and pushing your body to extremes. And the endorphin high. That's what gets you hooked. I decided right then and there, that if there was a way I could get a morphine-like substance into my body without having to meet those dudes in the back alley - I was gonna do it!<br />
<br />
The PCT 50 - which stands for Pacific Crest Trail 50 was to be my first 50. I tried to talk Bob into doing it with me, but it was not to be. He was suffering from some injury or another at the time. He did, however, accompany me to the weekend we had planned in the fine town of Pine Valley. The motel was a cheap little affair but it featured a nice swimming pool. There are not many restaurants to pick from. Directly across the parking lot from our motel was a place called Steph's Donut Hole. What more does a carbo loading ultrarunner need?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEideVuHlk4R19pNMmnx6j3cPZ2QFjg1lcPJa-Sh6TdeJJhCH1J41TnIN1Zz64xybgL05IjjDKVbdwtypsuELJCDxxu-d4yLXng9V7-6VfjFYYXpxq41hOJnCskIUAk__khnYDgeZdTseHE/s1600/Pine_Valley_Sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEideVuHlk4R19pNMmnx6j3cPZ2QFjg1lcPJa-Sh6TdeJJhCH1J41TnIN1Zz64xybgL05IjjDKVbdwtypsuELJCDxxu-d4yLXng9V7-6VfjFYYXpxq41hOJnCskIUAk__khnYDgeZdTseHE/s320/Pine_Valley_Sign.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The race start was 6am at the local High School. It's an out and back course which features a downhill finish. How wonderful, thought I. My trail running claim to fame is hill running. Downhill. The morning was chilly and I was nervous. The field of eighty runners huddled together as the race director shouted "Go"! Talk about fanfare.<br />
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My run was going along swimmingly. Vast amounts of time in Ultra Marathons are spent blissfully alone, unless you have a running partner with you. I didn't. I did have a disposable camera with me to capture the scenery. Forget about church on Sunday. <i>This</i> is my sanctuary:<br />
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At the turnaround, I shed my warm running tights and long sleeved shirt in favor of some cute little peach colored silky running shorts and a tank top. Halfway there! On the way back, inexperienced I, started following some pretty pink trail ribbons. Now let me explain that trail races are marked by colorful ribbons at what is usually very large intervals. It's always helpful, during the race briefing, to pay attention to the Race Director when they tell you what color the ribbon markings will be. Did I pay attention? I think you know the answer to that one.<br />
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I had a really good pace going when suddenly I realized that I was not in Kansas anymore. The pink trail ribbons led me into a remote area that succeeded in resulting in lots of scratches on my sexy bare legs. I ended up standing on top of a boulder, looking like a sailor on a ship, hand held up to cover the sun from my eyes, surveying where in the heck I was. Pranksters had put up phony trail markings. Buyer beware. It happens more often than you think.<br />
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Up until this point, I had been concerned with the normal concerns of a healthy Ultra Runner; what I was eating, how much my electrolyte intake was, how warm or cool my body was staying. Now I was only concerned with one thing. Will I ever see my children again?<br />
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Now about this time, the next aid station that I was to have run through, was closing down. The aid station captain glanced worriedly at his clipboard wondering what happened to number 153 - Jennifer Evans. It was also about this time that Bartender Bob, who was waiting for me at the finish line got the message that number 153 was missing.<br />
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Jennifer Evans was worried about other things besides the aid station and whether or not I'd see my children again. I was judiciously looking at the sun to see how much time I had left before it set. Being a back-of-the-packer, I was prepared for nightfall with a flashlight, but it was waiting for me in a drop back at the now closed aid station.<br />
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As the sun slowly made its way to the horizon, this lost runner slowly made her way to the Miracle of all Miracles: The Sunrise Highway and what meant a chance of civilization!<br />
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After crossing the Sunrise Highway, I made my way to the next fortuitous chance of salvation. The Sunrise Highway General Store and the gentleman who was to be my, ahem - Savior:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPdmXQVIUAoFFhA5Ab30sXxln1wFP87c7-Y1eQUhyTCx_5rPgFQjsk8mLG3OkBE6jbBSrOSxT-Ex6p4xlHLOmZZQkPurq9dzeQUgM_XxdOTLDpyvYL3RbimS9kOb_LVT9FMD49obVwRoE/s1600/general+store.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPdmXQVIUAoFFhA5Ab30sXxln1wFP87c7-Y1eQUhyTCx_5rPgFQjsk8mLG3OkBE6jbBSrOSxT-Ex6p4xlHLOmZZQkPurq9dzeQUgM_XxdOTLDpyvYL3RbimS9kOb_LVT9FMD49obVwRoE/s320/general+store.jpg" width="301" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Disclaimer: I have no idea who the person in this photo is. This story is not a work of fiction but any reference made to persons real is purely accidental.<br />
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The photo above may not be the real Sunrise Highway General Store, but it's close enough. It was the kind of a place where you could get yourself a Big Gulp, a pack of Winstons and a Girlie Magazine, if that's what you're partial to. As you can see, they also accept not only every major credit card, but some I've never heard of. The total number of credit cards I carried that day equaled exactly zero.<br />
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I walked in with my bloodied up legs asking if anyone knew where the High School was as I needed a ride. A hardy young gentleman wearing a plaid shirt and a torn pair of jeans proclaimed "I know where that is. When I was in high school, I played football and we used to kick their ass"!<br />
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Well allrighty then. I figured he was as good a man as any to give me a ride back to the Start/Finish.<br />
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Folks, if you take no other advice in your life from this tattered Ultra Runner, please heed this word of warning: If you can't tell if a car is a Pinto or a Gremlin....... do not get in it!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqaY44l95f63uHvQ07C5aEv4E_vzcbULv5uV7Q1a-pglpIjWsmu2fMpX9XF0T-cQTJWVeVT_EmqnJe-7tWVEUW7Mr4yAt6r8dxjcVjwXJLkBYExwGidTWaDpf8Q5ggjDsQblow04PaxeQ/s1600/Ford_Pinto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqaY44l95f63uHvQ07C5aEv4E_vzcbULv5uV7Q1a-pglpIjWsmu2fMpX9XF0T-cQTJWVeVT_EmqnJe-7tWVEUW7Mr4yAt6r8dxjcVjwXJLkBYExwGidTWaDpf8Q5ggjDsQblow04PaxeQ/s320/Ford_Pinto.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The real Pinto/Gremlin was more of a puke colored green. My host and driver - I never quite got his name, but I'll call him Jethro - proudly escorted me to his sun faded car.<br />
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"I was in a fifty mile race and got lost" Said I.<br />
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Jethro eyed the race number pinned to the front of my running shorts and said "Where's your bike"?<br />
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"No, no, you don't understand. This is a <i>running </i>race"<br />
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When I sat in the passenger seat, my gaze fell on the floorboard of the Pinto/Gremlin. Or what I could see of it underneath all the trash. Let's see, discarded Slim Jim wrapper, a few cigarette butts, fast food wrappers - a regular back country buffet!<br />
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We sped along the Sunrise Highway with the sky slowly turning multicolored, Jethro telling me that he planned on spending the night out in the desert and doin' him a little quail hunting.<br />
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Okay - so that means there's a firearm of some sort in this jalopy. Lovely.<br />
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Suddenly Jethro made a sharp left hand turn onto a back country road and announced "I know a shortcut"!<br />
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Up until this point in my life, I'd never been that big on prayer - Catholic school cured me of that one - but I figured now would be as good a time as any to get my affairs in order.<br />
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"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It's been thirty eight years since my last confession, and these are my sins".<br />
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My prayer was abruptly cut short by the screeching of worn tires as Jethro slammed the car to a stop in the middle of BFE.<br />
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"What the"? At this point I was wondering - First: how bad do I smell after running all day long? The worst I've ever smelled in my life. One point for my team. Second: How fast could I run? Faster than Jethro, for sure.<br />
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There were two reasons for Jethro's abrupt stop. One reason was to hop out of the car and pop himself a cool one from his twelve pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon which was in the back storage area of the Pinto/Gremlin. Said vehicle did not have a trunk, which is good because that way, no dead bodies can be found in the trunk. The other reason was for what is politely referred to as a pit stop.<br />
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Now I may be blond, but I'm not....okay, yes I must have been dumb that day. I decided to stay in the car and see this thing out. Heck, I might be able to <i>blog</i> about it one day. How cool would that be?<br />
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"You know, this race is closely followed by the latest in walkie talkies. I didn't make it to the last check point. It's just a matter of time before a search party is sent out to look for me" I said, in my best <i>Joe Friday</i> voice. Jethro seemed unimpressed as he drove on.<br />
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Finally, after what was only ten minutes, but seemed like ten hours, we spotted the last aid station. "There they are"! I yelled.<br />
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Jethro pulled over as I clamored out of the Pinto/Gremlin as fast as I could. The aid station volunteers were all over me with alcohol swabs and band-aids to fix up my badly scratched legs. But I wouldn't let them help. No. I wanted my war wounds to go with the story. I had earned them.<br />
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I'm happy to report that I went on to cross the finish line at numerous fifty mile races.<br />
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I will end with a note of caution to my daughters who are now aged twenty four and twenty five. If you ever do any of the things that your Mother did and live to tell about it - you are grounded!<br />
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<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-19063207584401303142012-03-12T17:02:00.000-07:002012-03-12T17:02:14.987-07:00Jen's Awesome New Westsuit ReviewCalifornia has some of the best surf in the world. It's consistent, glassy, a great place to meet totally cute guys like my Surfer Boy husband, oh and one more thing about California surf - it's freaking freezing!<br />
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I seem to have what's referred to as cold hands (and feet), warm heart. I grew up in Miami and I was cold there.<br />
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I am very happy to report that this surfer girl can give you a five star rating on my new <a href="http://www.patagonia.com/us/product/detail/shop_landing.jsp?OPTION=WETSUITS_LANDING&src=vupa0001">Patagonia Wetsuit</a>. I'm the envy of all the surfers down at our local surf spot and am telling everyone who will listen just how great this wetsuit really is.<br />
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I love to surf. Being that it's March, the water temperature has been hovering around 56 degrees. My surf sessions have been accompanied by much complaining - again to anyone who will listen - and a hasty exit out of the ocean after about an hour with my tail tucked between my legs.<br />
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No more! You guys have just got to check this new wetsuit out. My surf sessions are now easily two hours and I could extend it to three hours, no prob, dude. I'm totally stoked, man. I think I'll check in on Face Book, take pictures for the blog and maybe even become a Patagonia spokesperson.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBF9DdMI_cw0Mr5b5JF6V77sDkVEw838SfIKfELbmKJo60HUm8OrWwXfIFf5NpKZa0q2A3EvnrO_vT6n5znLn0dQwXmNqToNqqJpU7Phs4NLyKMr9_YTCh4ualG25rBKjGn5VES4I6Odg/s1600/new+wetsuit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBF9DdMI_cw0Mr5b5JF6V77sDkVEw838SfIKfELbmKJo60HUm8OrWwXfIFf5NpKZa0q2A3EvnrO_vT6n5znLn0dQwXmNqToNqqJpU7Phs4NLyKMr9_YTCh4ualG25rBKjGn5VES4I6Odg/s320/new+wetsuit.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As my good friend Charlie says, I look like a model for The Price Is Right<br /><br /></td></tr>
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The wetsuit is made from recycled (Patagonia likes to use the word recycled every chance they get) polyester, chloroprene rubber - I've never met a man who didn't love a woman in rubber - and the real magic: Merino Wool lined.</div>
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What is Merino Wool, you might ask? Only the finest, comfiest, highest quality, known for its superb wicking abilities, wool. At least it's not Virgin Wool, which as we all know, comes from ugly sheep.</div>
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Here's what a Merino Sheep, prized livestock that they are, look like:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh5vYZEqMInVMSR7dJ9pt5ZLQSVmvRXqlw-hwpNjh7oOg9xlSMaAQ9-avnGABx6zT7ErL626Z_JdYbVQFBglYoCOd0Lbf8baN5eh-A_sK3Me5i8IknVWzEeUNm4VCliqaIfbsV1tqQw_E/s1600/Merino_sheep.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh5vYZEqMInVMSR7dJ9pt5ZLQSVmvRXqlw-hwpNjh7oOg9xlSMaAQ9-avnGABx6zT7ErL626Z_JdYbVQFBglYoCOd0Lbf8baN5eh-A_sK3Me5i8IknVWzEeUNm4VCliqaIfbsV1tqQw_E/s1600/Merino_sheep.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wouldn't you just love to have my coat for the lining of your wetsuit?<br /><br /><br /><br /></td></tr>
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As you can tell, I couldn't be more thrilled with this new development in my surfing career. I'm paddling out with a huge grin on my face, taking off on steep waves with utter confidence that my body's not going to freeze up, practicing my spinners and ballerina moves. All the other surfers in the lineup are looking at me wondering - "What happened to <i>you" </i>? They all want some of the kool-aide I'm drinking.<div>
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So, if you live in a cold water environment, or if you have aspirations of taking a surf trip to Alaska, the Patagonia Wetsuit is for you.</div>
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Excuse me now, while I slither like a snake into my new wetsuit (no back zipper friends) grab my surf board, booties and my smile for a surf session out in the Pacific Ocean.</div>
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See you in the lineup!</div>
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</div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-36195836190049731352011-12-03T15:20:00.001-08:002011-12-03T15:21:13.556-08:00Leavin' this page for awhileOn to other things right now, namely, family, friends and my mentor, Dominique.<br />
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Check me out at:<br />
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helpdominique.blogspot.comJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-69474707211954856812011-08-03T19:53:00.000-07:002011-08-03T20:00:01.084-07:00The All Day Workout<b>Goals. We all need goals and targets to hit in life. My claim to fame? I'm an endurance athlete.</b><br />
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<b>Prior to this wonderful adventure I've had with my two knee surgeries, my favorite training partner Rico, my Surfer Boy husband Kerry, and I were planning what we called "The All Day Workout" We had it scheduled on our calender and everything! What was it? Exactly what it sounds like. An All Day Workout. It was to start with 7am 90 minute Bikram Yoga in a heated to 105 degree room, move on to a several hour surf session, then end the day (until the sun set) with several hours running on the trails. This is my idea of heaven.</b><br />
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<b>But, calender date and all, it was not to be. My knee was hurting (waa friggin' waa) and you guys pretty much know the rest of the story which ended with the second surgery five months ago, the osteochondral allograft which was a bone and cartilage transplant from a donor (yep, dead person) graft. Thank you, donor. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!</b><br />
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<b>These days my life is pretty much an "All Day Workout" Luckily, I'm not working right now, so I have plenty of time to focus on workouts. Some of the things I envisioned in the All Day Workout are part of my day, and some are not. Thank ya Lord, surfing has been included as of two weeks ago. Amazingly wonderful to be in the ocean again! Bikram Yoga; well let's just say my classmates are so impressed with my tenacity that they want me to record </b><i><b>Jen's Rehab Workout Video.</b></i><br />
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<b>The one thing I wasn't quite counting on was all this goofy physical therapy: Range of Motion Exercises, Quad Strengthening, Lots of Stationary Bike. At first the stationary bike was so difficult that I could only do ten minutes at a time. Yee haw! I burned five whole calories!</b><br />
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<b>But now....... Since I've gotten stronger I can ride the bike for 90 minutes! It's still not exactly my favorite thing in the world but I've discovered that it is, in fact, an endurance workout. Especially with surfing and/or yoga thrown in the same day.</b><br />
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<b>And while I'm on the bike I listen to all kinds of cool radio programs: <a href="http://www.daveramsey.com/specials/welcome?ictid=goog&s_kwcid=TC%7C6886%7Cdave%20ramsey%7C%7CS%7Ce%7C5532976226&gclid=CNeU4cLQtKoCFYsd2godyQ1s5Q">Dave Ramsey</a> has taught me how to handle money, <a href="http://www.lesbrown.com/">Les Brown</a> has motivated me and inspired me while giving me some great belly laughs and <a href="http://www.hayhouseradio.com/">Hay House Radio</a> has inspired the metaphysical side of life.</b><br />
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<b>Finally: The Mental Part. SO important. It's probably the largest part of any recovery program. Mine is simple. I look at these two items below, every day, and visualize myself happily running on the trails, (yes, that's me in the photo) and how great I'm going to look in this short nightgown once both quads are balanced out. Try it. It works!</b><br />
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</i>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-15855708713008983292011-07-13T14:24:00.000-07:002011-07-13T14:26:56.376-07:00A Belief Is Only A Thought I Keep Thinking<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiK2K4ygEXRR4er4AVeVKAxqV1iCFAtY0cGDwIwjrqu8_CQS2o90oJcaLyxg-ktyTKjVuaDndIrHGc7gKGWqgbF4vLhyphenhyphengRcGrysGtA3Mmazbt9sb4wJNQDtl7ykbM0FnJdoWn2CHqypKU/s1600/before.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiK2K4ygEXRR4er4AVeVKAxqV1iCFAtY0cGDwIwjrqu8_CQS2o90oJcaLyxg-ktyTKjVuaDndIrHGc7gKGWqgbF4vLhyphenhyphengRcGrysGtA3Mmazbt9sb4wJNQDtl7ykbM0FnJdoWn2CHqypKU/s320/before.jpg" width="237" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq_OnxJ6a25m0mATIypIoawGZcQmc-7mijJHiXLNtaMOLAg-ht4zsw-is-vyDnRW3foy2D2Xl5mRkwHvdOJ_AFNSbYrf_i7DJXcxJNMkf-09mkD4Hw0hqeRwoFe4nXMZLxFUg3VRGmqjI/s1600/after.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq_OnxJ6a25m0mATIypIoawGZcQmc-7mijJHiXLNtaMOLAg-ht4zsw-is-vyDnRW3foy2D2Xl5mRkwHvdOJ_AFNSbYrf_i7DJXcxJNMkf-09mkD4Hw0hqeRwoFe4nXMZLxFUg3VRGmqjI/s320/after.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><b>Before And After Photos</b><br />
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<b>Summer's here! This little blogger likes to sit out on our deck and look at the ocean, imagining that I'm surfing. Time for an allograft update.</b><br />
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<b>It's been four and a half months since the osteochondral allograft surgery. When Dr. Bugbee advised me that it would be up to a year before I would completely recover, and that's how long it takes for the graft to completely integrate, well, I just didn't think that time frame would apply to </b><i><b>me.</b></i><br />
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<i><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b>There have been times during this past four and a half months that I wondered, "Why did I do this to myself"? Oh, the pain, the hard work, (did I mention the pain?) And then yesterday I had a big breakthrough.</b></div><div><b><br />
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<b>I had my four month follow up with Dr. Bugbee last week. When the technician took the X-ray I asked her how she thought I was doing compared to other allograft patients given the time frame. "Great!" Said she. "A lot of folks are still on crutches at this point"</b><br />
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<b>When the Doctor reviewed the X-rays, we looked at my new bone and cartilage together, and you can see it integrating and becoming a part of ME, where before there was major deterioration. Groovy!</b><br />
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<b>Here's what I've been doing:</b><br />
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<b>Bikram Yoga (90 minute heated to 105 degree room) 4 - 5 times a week</b><br />
<b>Range of Motion Exercises 6 times a week</b><br />
<b>Stationary Bike 15 - 30 minutes 5 times a week</b><br />
<b>Walking the dog 2 blocks a day</b><br />
<b>Physical Therapy Sessions which includes electro stimulation on quad 2 times a week</b><br />
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<b>And:</b><br />
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<b>I started keeping a journal of positive affirmations about six weeks ago. It's filled with all kinds of statements to myself about how I'm healing, what I'm doing, how I'm surfing, running, healthy etc. There is great power in thoughts and the written word.</b><br />
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<b>One of my favorite: "The Healing Power Of The Universe Is Surging Through Me Now" I say, write, and think that thought hundreds of times during the day, go to bed with it at night and wake up with it in the morning.</b><br />
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<b>A Belief Is Only A Thought I Keep Thinking. Why is that important? Because most of us say things to ourselves over and over, allow others around us and the media to put thoughts into our heads, and then wonder why we don't have what we want in our lives.</b><br />
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<b>A Belief Is Only A Thought I Keep Thinking. Hey! I'm starting to believe that.</b><br />
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<b>So here's my breakthrough:</b><br />
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<b>Yesterday, I got on an elliptical trainer and worked out, worked up a sweat, felt like I was running, had full range of motion, and no pain. Prior to the surgery, this was something I could not do without immediate pain. I was astonished, amazed, happy, thrilled, elated, euphoric and almost couldn't believe how great it felt.</b><br />
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<b>When I got off the elliptical trainer I reminded myself that The Healing Power Of The Universe Is Surging Through Me NOW! Simple really. Change your thoughts, change your life. The most exciting part: You get to pick from the buffet of life. What are </b><i><b>you</b></i><b> thinking? I'm thinking happy thoughts for you. Happy Trails!</b>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-56247320378281889742011-06-06T15:54:00.000-07:002011-06-06T15:54:40.948-07:00I Did It!<b>For three months I've been looking at it, beckoning me, tantalizing me with its scent. I can see it </b><b>quite clearly </b><b>from my bedroom picture window.</b><br />
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<b>Month one it seemed an impossibility.</b><br />
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<b>Today, I threw my one crutch, which I use about 50% of the time now aside, leashed Rusty up, laced up my Nike's and went. To the beach.</b><br />
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<b>No crutch, no husband to lean on. Just me, Rusty, the leash, and hopefully no errant cat to catch his attention.</b><br />
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<b>"The Walk" entails one block, downhill, a series of stairs, downstairs which are typically followed by upstairs, the uphill and back home.</b><br />
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<b>I DID IT! Once we reached the beach, my feet, Nike clad that they were, touched the sand. Ah, heaven. There were a couple of surfers out, little kids running, Mommies chasing, dogs barking and one curious tattooed couple at the top of the stairs watching and wondering why I was taking the stairs so gingerly.</b><br />
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<b>Back home I sit, on my bed, laptop and ice pack, breathing in ocean air. I can still see the tattooed couple on the stairs, enjoying this perfect seventy degree, not a cloud in the sky, California day. Life is good.</b>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-15664706705800369312011-05-23T12:04:00.000-07:002011-05-23T12:04:38.522-07:00Three Month Allograft Anniversary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCwmgOMDhshva_HkZUyolQFBlEmqH9gkk-cuCDXHZaWIKzHnJ7u6YQN0fiLVg1q0TP6zXOZw5AxGd-dAdCLk-T4R2ACCe3qnIILF6gDgB6lRcpAcbHotktNwFkhYMHvz-nta1GgpwAyC4/s1600/jen+and+kerry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCwmgOMDhshva_HkZUyolQFBlEmqH9gkk-cuCDXHZaWIKzHnJ7u6YQN0fiLVg1q0TP6zXOZw5AxGd-dAdCLk-T4R2ACCe3qnIILF6gDgB6lRcpAcbHotktNwFkhYMHvz-nta1GgpwAyC4/s320/jen+and+kerry.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b>Today marks exactly three months since I was the lucky recipient of some wonderful person's (donor) living bone and cartilage in my knee.</b><br />
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<b>I was hoping to write a bit more about the experience but haven't because I've been hesitant to write the following words: I didn't know it was going to be so dad-blum, freaking difficult!!!!!!!!</b><br />
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<b>Pain, tightness, restless sleep, vulnerability.</b><br />
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<b>Okay, we got that out of the way. Now on to the good stuff. I'm using this as a time to learn how to become more </b><i><b>relationship</b></i><b> oriented. Everyone who knows me well, knows that romance, long meaningful conversations into deep hours of the night and long walks on the beach holding hands make me want to gag. I remember my good friend Ron advising me, when I asked him one day what would be a good idea for a date. I was planning on having someone "special" over to my home. He told me to go down to Trader Joe's, purchase a bunch of gourmet food, remove the food from the plastic containers, put it into fancy bowls to make it look like I'd been slaving over a hot stove all day, light candles and then rent a video - one of those romance movies that make you feel like the plot and love story really </b><i><b>could </b></i><b>happen in real life. Okay, the candles I can light. Gimme a break here. All the rest of that? Too much work.</b><br />
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<b>My relationship with my husband of four years, after having been single for seventeen years, is flourishing post surgery. Remember the old days when they used to hobble a person to contain them? I suppose it's kind of like that. Except for the fact that I'm now considering purchasing stock in Victoria's Secret. When I was Super Woman Athlete, most of our weekends were spent on some type of extreme athletic event. Now there's time slots open for, well, investing in Victoria's Secret stock. I'm trying to be polite here.</b><br />
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<b>Another update: Today I took my one crutch, held it in front of me like a tightrope walker and WALKED across the room! It felt so good I burst out laughing! One of my yet to be realized life goals is the become a tightrope walker. I even consulted with a professional at one point for some pointers. You don't look down at your feet, you look at one point straight ahead, put your arms out for balance, and go! There's a bit more to it than that, but that's how I'm retraining myself to walk. The at home tightrope is just around the corner folks!</b><br />
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<b>To my donor: Happy Anniversary Baby!</b>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666397179545003161.post-64739200445819875492011-05-17T12:00:00.000-07:002011-05-17T12:00:20.323-07:00Tales From The Crypt<i><b>The following story is true. The names have been omitted to protect the not so innocent. I will recount the story to the best of my ability.</b></i><br />
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<b>As many of you know, a very dear family member is dealing with a health issue which has her, temporarily, in a nursing home.</b><br />
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<b>Yesterday, she requested the </b><b>presence</b><b> of a specialist to inquire about a certain treatment.</b><br />
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<b>About an hour later, into her room floats, or at least she appeared to be floating, a woman who appeared to be angelic whilst at the same time officious. She listened attentively to the patient. She then announced: "You're a beautiful person. I'll be praying for you" Without warning, she then burst into a heart wrenching rendition of </b><i><b>Amazing Grace.</b></i><b> Luckily she had a melodic voice. Now understand, that my family members condition makes it unable, at this time, for her to jump out of bed and flee. Thankfully, she had a cool washcloth on her forehead which she then proceeded to cover her entire face with until the "treatment" was over.</b><br />
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<b>My question is this: If this is the treatment rendered to "Beautiful People" what happens if you're ugly?</b>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02192681229051018718noreply@blogger.com0