I totally started this post hours ago, but I got caught up in the Red Wings game … and SQUEEEEEE! They’re going to the Stanley Cup finals!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My excitement would be greater if I had someone to share it with but … I. Will. Not. E-mail. The. Motherfucker!!!!!

This weekend done wore me out! After Miss Laci left today, I watched TV for a bit, napped for quite some time, then got my ass up to the office to meet with evil trainer girl for my make-up appointment, since I canceled last week (migraine). It was a HARD workout but I felt better once she mentioned she had increased the intensity. Of course, the beyotch had me doing push-ups, although this time, we used the BOSU ball. Fantastic. I shocked both of us when, after the last rep, I said, “Wait, that was kind of wussy” and re-did it. LOL When I left the gym, I was sweaty, tired, gross and smelly but I felt great. Workouts like that are wonderful. But now I want ice cream. LOL

I had one glass of wine last night — one! — and I barely made it through 40 minutes of my workout today. My walk was a breeze, even with five minutes tacked on, but I got on the bike, pedaled for a few and then thought, fuck it. Yes, the stationary bike kicked my ass.

RAWK!

Watching the Ironman Triathalon always, always, always make me tear up?

It’s one of the most consistently well done sports programs on television. The focus on the human drama is compelling — a woman with only one natural leg, making it to the marathon just in time; a man with ALS who’s trying to finish his last race — and Al Trautwig’s commentary makes up for all of the other lame-ass shit I’ve heard him say over the years. I’ve only been watching it 20 minutes and I’ve already brought out the kleenex.

My own athletic quest hit a snag today, as I hit the wall at 5 miles today. I had a few good miles, followed by a few slower miles … and then I started to get chills, my peripheral vision started to go and I was very afraid of fainting. I sat down, took a bite of my chewy granola bar and contemplated by last 1.5 miles. Yeah, not so much. My fingers were swollen to double their normal size and a recent scar on my hand had actually bubbled up into a blister, whereas before it had been flat.

Thank God I had my cell phone on me — I’ll never walk without it again. I called my friend Shelly, who came to my rescue. As she cheerily pointed out, I was a dumbass for drinking only water, not Gatorade, given the distance I’m walking and the temperature/humidity (84% at 8 a.m.). Yeah, she had a point.

I’ll still go for 7 miles next Saturday. I’m not ready to give up yet.

I did my 5-mile walk this morning and actually decreased my per-minute time. Hallelujah. My 4-mile walk last week was a bit of a train wreck as (a) I forgot my exercise pants and (b) I didn’t bring my dorky-ass water belt (I was at my parents’). My mother insisted I take my phone and the house key, so on top of my iPod and water, I had a lot to carry. I wore my capri jeans, because they have enough pocket space. Well, the jeans are a bit loose in the waist to begin with and they got to be quite heavy. I was disappointed with my time on that walk. Today, I walked 5 miles in about the same amount of time it took me to walk 4 last week. Yay for me! My pace worked out to be about 16 1/2 minutes/mile, still shy of the 16-minute mile I need to keep for this race in October. But still far better than my starting outdoor pace of 18 or 19 minutes a mile.

I went to a local park, as the sidewalk ringing the park is 1 mile all the way around. It was a bit dull, but I managed. I really really really wanted to stop after 3 miles, not because I couldn’t go on but because it was unpleasant. How can it be 72 and 75% humidity at 7 a.m.? Ugh. I was so sweaty, I couldn’t believe it. As a nonathletically inclined person, I am far more comfortable inside with A/C and a book.

But during my internal hissy fit, activities in the park started to pick up and there was quite a bit of eye candy to be seen — basketball, soccer and volleyball games all were going on, with men in their late teens/early 20s. Nice. Especially nice considering my eye candy is laid up at home with a tear in one of the ligaments of his knee. Sigh. I’ve been trying to talk him into letting me bring over one of the greatest movies ever, Honky Tonk Freeway, for us to watch, but so far, no dice. He’s probably just scared of my newfound athletic prowess. ; )

I did my 4 miles this morning. I managed not to die. Miles 2 and 4 were kind of a bitch, but overall it wasn’t too bad. It took me 1 hr., 17 minutes, which is about my normal outdoor pace of 18 min/mile, after allowing for a few minutes for time wasted at traffic lights. Sigh. What is the use of all of this walking if I’m not going to get any faster?! Sigh. But perservere I shall, as it is all part of the pursuit of a great ass.

from my trip to Chicago is of my friend, my mom and me. Okay, I did take a photo of a street sign for Wacker Drive, but that’s only because I knew it would make my friend laugh.

My mother and I have the exact same smile. It’s kind of freaky. Also freaky is her hair. I’m not sure why she’s growing it out. But she turned 60 today, so I can’t talk too much smack.

I’m walking 4 miles in the morning. I may die. It’s going to be like 90 tomorrow in the Detroit area, so I’m getting up at 6:30 a.m. to walk. That, too, may cause me to die. A nap and a return trip to IKEA are all I have planned for the day. Then on Wednesday, I’m driving back to Indiana. Which is kind of concerning, given that a sniper shot at a semi driver on the same route I’ll be taking. As if I’m not enough of a worrier.

So I have a dream.

My dream is to have a great ass.

The men I’ve been involved with always have appreciated my ass, but face it, it’s on the ample side.

I am 31 years old. I want to have my great ass by the time I’m 35.

I have come to the not-so-brilliant conclusion that the great-ass project requires exercise. Ugh. I am so not athletic. I always have hated to exercise, mainly because I’m not any good at it. As a child, I was tall for my age and gawky. I also started wearing glasses at the age of eight, so my hand-eye coordination always was lacking. Add that to a general disinterest in team sports and a few traumatizing experiences in gym class over the years — including a student-teacher in my 9th-grade class who was determined to make a volleyball player out of me. Ha! — and I have stayed far, far away from sports.

So my ambitious goal is to walk a half-marathon on Oct. 21. Of this year. The course only is “supported” through at 16 min/mile pace, which means I have to shave 2 minutes off of my per-mile pace AND increase my mileage from 3 miles to 13 in five months. I’m not gonna beat myself up if I’m not ready for that race.

But I will kick my own ass if I’m not ready for the Mini Marathon next May. I paid freakin’ $45 today to register for the race — registration always fills up, even with 35,000 slots. I know I can be ready in a year.

I am torn between my natural propensity towards laziness and my desire to be smokin’ hot. I took a small step today, and went to a real running-shoe store, where an adorable young man — oh, 25 tops — fitted me for shoes. The ones I liked in the size he thought I should have weren’t in stock so he called another store for them — oh, darn, I’ll have to go back to the store tomorrow to get them. He said when I come back, he’ll try some other shoes too. A-d-o-r-a-b-l-e. He reminded me of a boy I had a crush on in 7th grade; I’m sure I was blushing. Sigh. I can’t help from flirting, even when I don’t mean it or don’t have a chance. It’s fun.

Anyway, make plans to come to Indy next May. We’ll walk the race and have a fab-tastic time! ; )

Miss Monique actually finished a competitive athletic event — a 5k walk this morning. PLUS I got a shout-out from the race announcer as I finished … not quite sure why, maybe because my last name is Irish … but he implored me to wave to the crowd. Yay, me!

and what you are is beautiful.” — Goo Goo Dolls

I have my iTunes on shuffle and “Slide” just popped on. This song makes me happy. It’s Friday night, I’m home and there’s no place else I want to be. This past week wiped me out, and to top it off, today I found out that I have to pay twice as much as I thought I did at closing of the sale of the house the ex and I shared. I honestly thought I would faint when the ex called me today to break the news. But the house is nearly sold, and maybe my parents will send me a couple hundred bucks. Doubtful, but still …

I signed up to walk in a 5k on St. Patrick’s Day. No big deal, except I barely moved more than I had to over the last month, between my week of post-break-up depression and the ensuing 2 1/2 week sinus infection. But I hung in there for 2.25 miles today. I listened to part of “Shopgirl,” read by Steve Martin, on my iPod. I like his voice. I should sign up for another race or two. I need goals. Completing a 5k was the first goal I set out to achieve after that “Unstuck” workshop I went to in January, but I didn’t plan to do it until the summer. I have never competed in an athletic event before, outside of forced participation in gym class. I have never been sporty and the thought that people may look at me and say, oh, look at the fat girl trying, well, ugh. But I’m sick of being the fat girl and getting my ass of the couch is the only way to do anything about it. My friend, who is a runner, told me that there’s a local half-marathon in October and they accept walkers too. I’m going to sign up for that. Eight months is enough time to go from 2 miles to 13. Besides, I’ve just told all of you guys so there’s my peer pressure. ; )

Hey, if you haven’t clicked on my personality grid, please do so. I’m interested to see what y’all think of me, knowing me only from this blog.