so...

I signed up for an online dating service last night. I confessed that I decided to run a marathon on my profile, AND OH MY GOD. I should be more precise with my wording.

I decided that I am going to run a marathon. I didn't say I can run a marathon next Sunday with you. aye ya-ya. oh, and French pop? yes, I like that mixed tape my high school French teacher made for me... and several songs I discovered through DDR.

I anticipate several funny and/or sob stories will result from this decision. stay tuned.
also -- in case you were wondering, I didn't go running the last three days. Hurricane Sandy and all. I stayed in and did cardio/weight workouts OnDemand. still counts.

a month in one-liners.

The world is slated to end on my sarcastic uncle's 50th birthday. Well played, Mayans, well played.
And what would have been my mom's 54th. not as funny.

There is no more joyous place than a Primanti Brother's eatery after a Steelers win.

I am far more productive on non-school days. well, not all the time.

"Caitlyn, I like you. Are you gonna sleep with us?" 4 year olds don't mess around!

I am familiar with the adage "if you don't use it, you lose it," but how long till you get it back?

Wanna dress up like a turkey? :D

I wish I had the sex life people judge me for all the time. My skin would probably be better.

"Remember when you didn't know anything about Harry Potter and I didn't wear mascara? Those were good times, simpler times."

Open bar? I knew all along that Beth was my favorite.

Tacos, margaritas, and Presidential debates are for America-lovers.

Kale is not for eating. It is for storage in the fridge to impress yuppie friends and wellness by virtue of ownership.

Heels are not for walking. Homeless guys in the South Side are kinda hot.

"Do you even know who Joss Whedon is?"
"Pretty big talk from a man who has never seen Firefly or Serenity and just saw The Avengers two weeks ago."

Pumpkin EVERYTHING.

I have issues. I am more concerned with a bag of Twix's safety than I am about coffee dumping on my white lab coat or my homework's general well-being. No amount of training myself to enjoy healthier living seems to help with my chocolate habit.

"Don't tell anyone, okay?" in Caitlyn language means, "TELL EVERYONE YOU HAVE EVER KNOWN WHO WILL PROBABLY NEVER ENCOUNTER THIS PERSON IN LIFE AGAIN (or ever, depending on how juicy/depressing the news is)!"

"You must be a teacher. They were so nervous to say hi to you!"
(is visibly hungover, wearing a cheerleading hoodie that has seen better days, leggings, and disproportionately dressy boots) 
"I sincerely worry for the future of our children if this is what your teachers look like."

To those whining about Hurricane Sandy NOT decimating their homes: you are the product of billions of years of evolutionary success. f&*$ing act like it.

Amish ice cream? Pretzel Taurus.

Pro tip: if you're not young, thin, pretty, or creative as Regina George, being as big of a bitch as her isn't doin you any favors.

The theme of my life these days is "Caitlyn gets sad at parties, Patrick cheers her up."

I did not perfect the art of running in the rain.

A current trend in running right now is minimalist running. The belief is that without shoes to boss the muscles in your feet around, more muscle layers are engaged and running is more natural. I was more than happy to tap into my evolutionary roots for running full speed, but no shoes + acceleration = count me out. I tried that once a couple of weeks ago, actually.

Not on purpose, mind you. My real reason for going outside was to get the mail, so I deemed shoes unnecessary. (I know, too lazy to put on shoes. This is the sort of motivation I am working with here, people!) Once I was outside, I thought 'well, if I don't go running now, I just won't do it today.' Yes, first I was too lazy to put on shoes to get the mail, and then too unmotivated to go back inside, so I ran. I am a weird amalgamation of spotty logic, mild hypocrisies, and bizarre contradictions.

I made it across the street, took about four steps in the cranberry bog, landed on the natural equivalent of a Lego figurine on a carpet, and almost hit the ground. I tiptoed gingerly back onto the pavement and ran home. None of those creepy toe-shoes for me. No barefoot running through the woods. Give me my Ryka's or give me... a day of rest.

If you're wondering what I did after my disastrous au naturale run, I put on my tennis shoes and took the elliptical for a spin. I figured I had had enough nature for one day.

Speaking of environment, I felt dedicated enough to take a run on a day whose forecast predicted a 40% chance of rain. I don't believe I even own a raincoat, and I wasn't about to run with an open umbrella. I am not to this level of fitness yet:



But seriously, though. I'm not. Will accept as a Christmas gift, however. I wonder how much those weigh. Erm, anyhow. The improbable floodgates opened overhead while I was making some good progress. I was peed. I booked it back to my abode and spent some quality time with my elliptical and The Daily Show with Jon Stewart reruns. I should raid my closets for a weatherproof jacket of some sort. Cape Cod isn't exactly known for its lack of precipitation, though goodness knows everyone drives in it like they've never seen rain before.

>.>

P.S. it's almost wedding tiiiime. =D

I suck at incentive spirometry and other truisms.

Nursing school is the worst possible place for procrastinators, hypochondriacs, and perfectionists because if you didn't already exhibit these qualities, they will emerge. During respiratory lab, I convinced myself that I have both a restrictive and obstruction respiratory disorder. I could sustain inspiration for ten seconds (like you should with an incentive spirometer) at a pitiful 1500. Others in the group could make their cartridges climb much higher for shorter periods, but not markedly shorter periods. The lab prof praised me for pacing myself properly because anyone can move a cartridge with force. Not everyone can move a cartridge with patience. Well, when I inhaled as vigorously as I could muster, no... not everyone can move a cartridge with force. It hovered around 1750. At least I'm consistent?

Then it was time for measuring what's known as forced expiratory volume, a good indicator of how well asthma medication is working. Well, I'm deficient in this area, too.

WHY? :( I run three miles (well, like I said. What I think is three miles. I'm still not confident enough to test my theory) and cool down with a yoga sequence of my own design. I should be better at breathing! Just the fact that I'm alive should make me better at breathing. Geez. You should see me now, trying to practice my yogic breathing while running. I'm pretty sure my neighbors think I'm nuts. No matter. I'm going to get my hands on an incentive spirometer.

listen to your body tonight

Running the cranberry bog in its entirety was no fluke. However, if my practice of yoga has taught me anything, it is this: listen to your body.

You are a new person with each new day. Yesterday's accomplishment is not necessarily a possibility today, as I learned two days after my first full completion. It is interesting to see how big of an impact external factors make. Is it muggy? Is it hot? Am I angry? Am I sad?

huge difference in run times, breathing capabilities, everything! I mean, y'all probably knew that -- but hey. I'm learning, k?

In somewhat unrelated news, I have replaced my computer chair (which was a bum-sore and an eyesore) with a medicine ball. Strong core, strong body, right? we shall see. The only bad thing about it is I feel less associated guilt with skipping runs on days I do a lot of homework because dangit, I've been busy stabilizing my core.

derp.

by the road called river, I laid down and wept.

That pesky goal I set for myself at the beginning of the summer? Finally done. Yesterday, I ran the entire length of the cranberry bog, approximately 3 miles, without stopping. -raucous applause- And then, as the title implies, I laid down by the road access to the bog and cried. Happy tears, happy tears.

I'm off to go make sure that wasn't a fluke.

stay tuned.

Mo!

he would not accept my lettuce offering.

not really on board for the photoshoot, either.

 

Everyone, meet Mo, denier of love. Typical man. (probably. I didn't check him for parts)