Day 208 = Gym + Stuff I Don't Like at the Gym

Sept. 30 - I finally registered for the Austin Marathon today. And just in time to save $10 on the registration. Hey, 10 bucks is 10 bucks.

This morning was another gym workout. I really do love doing the whole personal training thing. I've lost 5% body fat and my trainer wants me to lose another 5% by Thanksgiving. I have a similar goal. We are team on this.

Before the gym, I had yummy cheese grits, which is one packet of instant grits plus about 1/4 cup of 2% milk Kraft shredded sharp cheddar. Deeeee-lish. I mean, I can't really go a day without cheese, let alone trust any freak who does not like cheese (and they're out there, y'all, walking among us). But I want to try these "egg mugs" one day.

Anyway, back to the workout. While I like working out at the gym, there are some things I hate. Sometimes I think Regan makes me do these crazy exercises just for her own entertainment. Like how I am petrified at the thought of jumping up on a step. Whether it's 3 inches off the ground or 15 inches off the ground, I am so scared of falling. I'm a bit neurotic sometimes. So this morning she got out an aerobic step and wanted me to hop on one leg onto the step and then hop off on both legs to the other side. To see me attempt this (and I mean for each jump) you'd think I was psyching myself up to walk across hot coals. So each successful jump is a personal victory. I've seen athletes in the Special Olympics who have more balls than I do when it comes to hopping on a little step.

And then it happened. Ha! I told you so. I tripped over the tiny step. I caught myself, but I just know the cute guy working on his abs saw it all in slow motion.

Day 206 = Gym + Running + Whole Foods

Back at work and trying to give a shit. Makes me wonder what I want to do with my life should I ever find myself not sitting in a cube, which is just not normal, people.

After 5 days of partying, one thing I do know I want to do is not drink and to possibly embark on a week of two-a-days. This morning I went to the gym and then tonight I got in a run.

So to soothe my raging case of the Mondays, I stopped by Whole Foods for dinner. I just love living in the same city as the Whole Foods headquarters. I love their smoked mozzarella pasta salad, and while I was there I grabbed some triple-cream Brie. Hello, you.

Being a cheese buyer might be a career option, since I would not consider a shoehorn duct-taped to my mouth with a bucket of queso being poured down my throat to be torture. I once met the cheese buyer for Whole Foods at a party. Before you say anything, Mom, he's married. But you know that if I ever married a cheese buyer, I might as well clean out my closet and buy mumus. And I can just forget about ever seeing my feet or my vajay-jay again.

Day 201 = Gym + Long Night

Thank goodness I woke up at 5:30 am to get in my gym workout. It is a relief to know I got that out of the way because I didn't come home until 9 am.

Let's see, where do I begin? I'd say the long and the short of it is this, but there's a long version floating around that only a couple of people have seen. So you, dear reader, get the short of it.

Let me start out by saying I am not easily impressed. I don't care if you drive a fancy car or wear fancy clothes or carry an expensive purse. (Shoes? That's another story. I can drool for days over shoes.) But when it comes to people, I am impressed with intelligent wit, and sometimes fart jokes.

So there's this funny guy I've been wanting to get to know better just because I like to have a good supply of funny people in my life. And you know, who knows what else. And last night, I got the chance to see if he could impress me.

7:30 pm: First we met up at Deep Eddy Cabaret for some pool and beer. The idea was to shoot pool and the loser buys beer, but somehow, I won two out of three games and only bought one beer. Maybe it was my lucky green shirt I love so much.

10 pm: Next stop was Molotov Lounge. This bar used to be my favorite bar until it got all douchey. I only tolerate it now after a few drinks. OK, in my mind I own that place. In reality, the Austin Bachelor owns it and I. SAW. HIM. THERE. So in awe of that I just had to text Amy S. about it since two years ago we went on a pub crawl of the bachelor's array of bars, a pub crawl story that now lives in infamy of our inside jokes. It was also that night two years ago that I vowed to never drink again. Where does the time go? I just simply can't neglect a harmless Jagerbomb. Just sitting there looking all cute. And his friends, a Bud Light and a Lemon Drop shot.

Now, where was I?

12 am: We heard that Rain had karaoke night, so me, the funny guy and like 5 other people went over to Rain. I signed up to sing "Fancy" by Reba McEntire and he signed up to sing "Sweet Caroline" by Neil Diamond. I think we both nailed our performances. That was my opinion after, what, 10 drinks. It was at this point I decided I was not going to get up the next day to run 9 miles.

1:15 am: On to The Aquarium, where I met and made more acquaintances of the night. I think this was like the third time of the night we heard "Don't Stop Believin'" - not only is the one song EVERYONE will sing in a bar, but one day if I ever run for President, that will be my campaign song. I just want to hear my crowd sing it. And then my friend Anne can come out sliding on her knees doing a sweet air guitar.

I was just having a great time and having fun hanging out with funny man. I had no idea what the night had in store honestly and I was just totally relaxed about it and not thinking too much about it. I was dancing and probably looked like a complete idiot. When the bar closed, we followed his friend and a couple of girls around the corner to the guy's house and I got in his friend's truck and he moved it somewhere - I think. His friend had a garden knome in his truck and that is when I took that picture of me.

2:35 am: It was past closing time, so funny guy hailed a cab. The issue in the backseat was do I go pick up my car and go home or go to his place? I decided to pick up my car and drive him home. For one thing, I didn't want to leave my car in a dark parking lot with my work laptop in the backseat and I also thought I could use some water before I make the 10-minute drive to my house.

So we go to his apartment and open the door and his little dog, who is like a miniature schnauzer or something had an accident on the floor. So he cleaned it up before I came in and he was kind of upset with his doggy, but I was like, slurring, "That is totally OK." I might have even given the thumbs up. Doggy knew she was in trouble so she kept trying to hide behind my legs. You know how you meet other dogs and you're like "that dog is nothing to my dog" and it's like you can't even bear to pet them or you think they're gross? Well, this doggy is not like that. She's such a cuddler and so soft and sweet. I sat down on one end of the couch and she pretty much laid next to me the whole time. "She vouches," I am told.

For the next 4 hours, we stayed up and talked and drank, yet, more beer and listened to music, and of course me, blowing his mind with my extensive knowledge of 70s music. Then I passed out in my clothes at around 7 am because I was barely hanging on by like one coherent thread. I'm sure you want me to fill in blanks, but it ain't gonna happen on this blog entry.

At about 8:30, I got a text from work, and that woke me up. So I got up and decided to go home. I whispered in his ear that I was leaving and then did the walk of shame to my car. Of course, not that I had anything to feel shameful about. I slept in my clothes, so I looked like I was going to work, for all practical purposes. It was SOOOO cold. F-ing cold front in September. Probably not to you, but to me, it was cold in the 50s in September in TEXAS!

So I went home and went back to sleep. At about 10:30am he texted me this: Dammit. And some texting ensued for the rest of the day. I was getting the business about being a bad influence. Who, me?

The verdict? Impressive.

Blog Name Contest

Are you a whiz at assigning nicknames? Can you look at a new product and easily identify its brand? Here is a contest for smart and creative people like you. I'm looking for a new name for this blog. Something that is brief and unique, yet embodies the essence of this blog. I started out challenging myself to workout for 90 days straight, and I've exceeded that and plan to continue this trend. Since the blog has evolved, and I want to find the right moniker for this baby.

Your Action: Read through the blog's archives; search on random terms to see what you might find; check out the "Workouts" section and read entries about each type. In other words, get to know the blog and see what you take away from it. Hopefully, you'll be inspired to name your heart out. The winner will receive a $50 iTunes gift card.

How to Enter: Just send an email to namethisblog@gmail.com and write your suggested blog name in either the subject line or body of the email. Think of the blog name as a domain name (URL). Feel free to provide an explanation for your name or a tag line. But what I'm looking for is a blog name that would also be used as a domain name.

Rules:
1. You can enter as many names as you want. However, multiple entries do not increase your chance of winning.
2. Winning name will be selected when blog author finds "the one." Blog author's decision is based on personal preference.
3. Entries may be submitted up until 11:59 pm on 10/15/2009.

4. Winner will be notified by 10/31/09.

5. Winner will be awarded with a $50 gift card to iTunes.

6. Winning name will be property of blog author and used to create a domain owned by blog author. The winning contest entrant agrees to relinquish all intellectual property rights to the winning name they submit if their entry is chosen.

7. Note that there may not be a winner if none of the entries are selected by the blog owner.

Thank you for entering and good luck!

Day 200 = Running + 200

There's a movie called 300, but I don't know what it's about. Don't care. Today is my 200, and I do care about that.

Over the last 200 days, I've set out to do something I never saw myself doing: working out every day. Naysayers and Oprah were like, "Girl, you don't have to work out every day to see results." And I was like, "Whatever." I proved them wrong. And I proved I'm right. I like when that happens.

So now that 200 came and went with a run through my neighborhood, I realized this is my life I'm building here. I can't imagine going a day without working out. I thrive on it. I think I've written about this before about how I clear my head and love that it's my "me" time, even though I get quite enough of that by being single. But this is part of my life like the way breathing and eating cheese are like everyday givens.

There have been days when I've looked in the mirror and said, "Bitch, get it together." But most days I can't wait to get away from the office and lace up my Brooks for a run or a walk along Mesa and the deer.

I have a running shirt that says "Running Is Cheaper Than Therapy." Es verdad. How many times have you heard people talk about the benefits of working out? It's like you know they're true but until you actually see them yourself then you really can't appreciate them. My resting heart rate is lower than it's ever been, my mind is clear, I'm focused, I'm less fatigued, my skinny jeans have come out of retirement. I'm generally a happy person, but I have never been happier than now. And not just happy - content. Ever since I started running over 8 years ago and then endurance running, I haven't needed anything "extra" to calm my nerves or help me chemically adjust. Running keeps me sane. This photo is from 3 years ago after I completed my first half marathon (Sunriver, Oregon).

This 90 day experiment has definitely changed my life. I challenge everyone to give it a try.

Day 199 = Gym + Chandler

This morning was more workout. MORE WORKOUT. I burned over 250 calories during my workout with Regan this morning. That's pretty good for lifting weights like a bad-ass. Helps me keep my pimp hand strong. Like at work. Like when I worked tonight until 8:30pm.

So.... my friends really don't know what it is I do at work all day. I'm like the "Chandler" of the group. Remember how on Friends how no one knew what Chandler did. That's me. Chandy.

What is it, you ask? I usually roll into the office at about 9 am. Really, it's more like 9:15 because I have to get to the Dell campus, park in the lot in building 3 and then walk across a street to building 2 and then walk up 3 flights of stairs to what we lovingly call "the penthouse." Then I check my email for about an hour and go over my "to do" list, which never ends. My basic goal this year is to put $22M in Dell's revenue pipeline. I'm only about $5M there so far, but that is just a "projection." I do this by buying and selling leads, like a broker of sorts. I buy the leads, nurture them and then try to sell them off to sales like they are the Glengarry/Glenross leads. So they can be closing. Always. Or no coffee.

Then I go to meetings for most of the day and have to literally block time on my calendar for "busy work." It's all very challenging. Very. Challenging. And my coworkers make it worth it. Well, that and the popsicles we keep in the freezer.

Day 198 = Running + Paperwork

I am convinced that I have dumped my weight in paper again. I've also got two piles waiting to be shredded. My paper disposal project continued today as I combed through the paperwork I brought in from the garage last week with the intention of pilfering through it at a later date. That date was today. I got to go through more bank statements, more 401(k) statements, more random notes from way back when.

I took at least half a dozen loads of paper down to the 90-gallon recycling cart in the garage. The recycling is picked up every two weeks, and my bin is already full. The next pick up is Oct. 1. It is fair to say that I've now come to the conclusion that I have a burning desire to document everything. Is this just news to me or was this a surprise to you, too, reader? Just from the reading I did today gave me the idea to write "Memoirs of a Serial Documenter."

After sitting on the floor numbing my ass for about 6 hours, I brought in a pillow and sat for another 3 hours organizing piles of trash/shred/recycle or save and file away. I cleaned out my filing cabinet finally. The pic is of the view I pretty much saw all day when I looked up from my work. That or the marathon of "The Cosby Show."

I finally decided to run tonight for about half an hour. Partly because I needed to un-numb my ass and partly because I've been munching on leftover chocolate-dipped strawberries and mini sandwiches today. But also because I'm so close to Day 200.

Day 197 = Running + Grunting

I've noticed that during my workouts with my trainer, I've been grunting lately. Sometimes it's because I'm working my ass off and sometimes it's more of a "I don't wanna do this" grunt but I know I'm gonna have to reluctantly suck it up and do it anyway. I finished my 8-mile run this morning (the last 3 miles were speedwork splits) and I walked over to the others at the water stop and let out a big, involuntary grunt. The grunt was ignored by the others in my group standing around because they all get it. But I was a bit mortified that I'd just grunt like that. In public. It makes me wonder how often I say fuck and shit and Jesus Christ at work and not even realize it. I also grunt at work, but it's more of me letting out a long sigh because I hold my breath to deal with stress. I forget to breathe.

I could have totally hung around and continued grunting, but I had my heart set on a breakfast taco at Juanita's. It's becoming my new fave. I think I'm going to have the first-time marathoners in my group meet up after their run at Juanita's train shack. I thought I'd be good this morning and ordered my migas taco with egg whites. It was just as good. I don't know what it is about those tacos, but if I was more into Yelp, I'd be Yelping the shit out of that place.

I had to be good because I was co-hosting a "honeymoon" shower for my friend Mary at my house today. And I knew there were about 3 dozen chocolate-dipped strawberries in my fridge and about 3 dozen stuffed mushrooms that I'd made last night. And the mini sandwiches and guacamole and fruit. Plus the sangria and the shot bar that my friend and co-host Shelli and I came up with. The photo is of us three (Shelli, Mary, me) at the shower today. The food was a big hit. We had also ordered mini cupcakes from L's Cupcake Cafe. The icing rocked, but the cake could have been more moist. And for about a dollar a cupcake, L must be making a mint. Here's something you can save money on and impress your friends.

Heather's Chocolate-dipped Strawberries
1 pound chocolate almond bark
2 pints strawberries with stems if available (rinsed and dried)

1. Melt the bark in a microwave-safe dish (about 90 seconds) according to package instructions.
2. Dip strawberries in the chocolate and lay on a flat surface (like a lined cookie sheet) to harden.

Done. Enjoy. This recipe costs about $7 to make and looks totally fancy. Beware - there are about 30 calories per berry.

Day 196 = Resistance Bands + My Foam Roller

I'm sore and kind of restricted to just working out with my resistance bands tonight because tomorrow I'm hosting a "honeymoon" shower for my friend Mary, who is getting married Oct. 10. So I'm just up cleaning the downstairs, as no one will be allowed upstairs except under special circumstances. Like if the special circumstances is when that person is me. It's just that the closet downstairs can't hold all my crap, so I have to make like 34 trips up and down stairs to clean the living room.

So back to being sore and feeling like there is something living in my hip that is wringing out the ligament in my hip joint. I found out from my doctor today that I have a laberal tear there, so I'm going to have to start physical therapy. But honestly, the one thing I really believe that can help me cost $40 and all I have to do is roll out of bed to use it. It's my foam roller.

I wasn't a believer at first. I'd heard about foam rolling and trigger point therapy, but not really sure what that was all about. I started using one at the gym to roll over my hip, which consists of me laying face down on the floor and rolling the foam roller along the inside of my leg up to my groin. Not my finest moment at the gym, but the release it gives my hip is miraculous.

So now I foam roll before every long run and when I hurt. Best $40 I've spent in a while.

Day 195 = Resistance Bands + Let's Get Physical

There are a lot of ways to work out. Tonight, I selected resistance bands because I was tired and my hip was a little sore, but since this is about 90 days/90 workouts, I just want to go over some others. I mean, you can think of this on your own - go for it. I won't stop you. But I found this nifty "workout guide" with 7 workout options when I was cleaning out my garage and wanted to make some comments on it.

1. Walk - This works. I ran my first 5k in 2002 in about 45 minutes. That is really slow. Like a 15-minute mile. Then I took a 3-month sabbatical around Europe and did a lot of walking and the next 5k I ran, I finished in 35 minutes. I shaved 10 minutes off my time by increasing my endurance from walking. Walking also prevents injury. So even if I just have 20 minutes for a workout, it is better for me to walk than to sit on the couch and eat kettle chips.

2. Run - This is my preferred method but not always the safest. It makes you injury prone, and not just for face plants. I've had shin splints and knee problems - and trained and ran a marathon with both. Now a hip problem. Sometimes the muscles in my lower back are so tight I can barely allow anyone to touch them. In fact, according to my MRI pics, my ass looks like a steak. And the calorie-burning potential is insane. Expect to burn about 100 calories for every 10 minutes of running.

3. Step Class - Hate it. Next.

4. Play Tennis - I took tennis in college as an elective and earned an A. Am I good? No. But I will go play with anyone on a dare or if I'm drunk.

5. Swimming - Many mornings in high school started out like this for me: 6 am, I was awoken by my dad turning on the light and pulling the covers off my bed. "Get up. Let's swim." This was my alarm clock and my cue to put on my suit so I could race him in the pool. He always beat me. So sometimes I opted out and rode the stationary bike in the kitchen.

6. Clean House - Bitch, please. There are kind people who you can pay to do this.

7. Bicycling - People in Austin LOOOOOOOVVVVVEEEE their cyclists. See how I just exaggerated that ridiculous spelling? Sorry, but some cyclists are pretty ridiculous. You'd think people - especially cyclists - forgot that PEDESTRIANS HAVE THE RIGHT OF WAY. They still do, by the way. Austinites have bumper stickers that say "be kind to cyclists." Doesn't mean they have to own the road, though. Remember how I said my ass hurts from running? Do you really think I want to get on a bike with a tiny seat that feels like sitting on the end of a broom? The only reason I want a bike is so I can ride it up to the bar.

Feel free to comment on your favorite workouts....

Day 194 = Gym + Running + Commercials

The BodyBugg is kind of ruling my life at this point. My left arm has developed what looks like a permanent crease from wearing it, so I switch it to my right arm from time to time. And then when I plug it in to check my calorie deficit, I am obsessed with getting it to the 700 deficit goal I have. My workout this morning didn't burn that many calories, and knowing this, I had that internal conversation with myself on the way home that I find myself doing so frequently these days after a long day at work. It goes something like this:

"Should I stop at Mighty Fine Burgers on the way home? Do I? Do I want that? If I have a burger then I'll just get mustard only on it and I'll run for 45 minutes. But their burgers are all like a half a pound. So what have I already eaten today...."

Usually I pass the exit mid-inner-monologue and the desire subsides, but tomorrow is another day. And I ate leftover chicken tonight anyway and went for a run. Now my calorie deficit is like 865 and I'm thinking, "Oh, do I get to have a sugar-free ice cream cone? Will that keep me awake tonight?" So far the score today is Hormones: 0. Me: 2. I'm beating PMS for once.

An alternative, though, is Subway. Not my favorite, but I am kind of boycotting it now because I cannot stand their commercials. FAIL. I get it. Five dollar footlongs. Ggggggoin' stra-ooong. Stop singing people. You suck. You Subway marketers should be fired for that abomination. Bring back Jared. I already know Subway is cheap. I don't go there for a sit-down meal with cloth napkins and a filet migon. I go there for a cheap, sloppily made sandwich by either a) a guy who doesn't speako mucho Englisho or b) a teenager with an attitude. And don't gloat, Quizno's. You're not much better. And I hate those Cricket commercials that are like home videos exploiting kids. You should be ashamed. And don't get me started on the animal cruelty commercial with Sarah McLachlan. Even if I'm in another room, when I hear that piano hook of "Angel" come on, I run in there and turn the channel. I don't have hatred for this commercial. I just can't stand to see those sad animals or the thought of them. My friend Kara told me tonight that she thinks the woman on the Restasis commercial is creepier than a Stepford Wife. See, I'm not the only person who critiques commercials with a tongue-lashing.

OMG - as I'm writing this blog, that stupid Subway commercial came on. It's like it's watching me.

Day 193 = Resistance Bands + My MRI

Do you like small spaces? Do you like long needles? Do you like loud buzzing noises for literally minutes at a time? Then an MRI just might be your new happy place.

This summer, I have had quite the run-in with medical insurance, which is a by-product of me going to the doctor. I learned that my face plant cost about $1,200. My mammogram cost $252. And my hip X-ray was a $30 co-pay. Today I had an MRI on my hip, which cost $190. The one I was supposed to have last week was going to cost $667, but I was told I could go to another location. I am thankful these are my problems, but I do have sympathy for those who are less fortunate. It really brings the healthcare debate to the forefront for me. Before I knew about the other location, I sat and thought, "How bad does my hip hurt?" to decide if I was going to even go through with the procedure. Well, it hurts, so I made a date with the MRI.

So here's me this morning - ever the optimist - dressed up and made up all cutified just on the off chance that the radiologist would be cute and single (yes and married, it turns out). Anyway, I cannot wait to see my MRI scans. I just want to see what I look like on the inside.

I should note here that I have some vasovagal problems, which means I faint sometimes, but mainly when it involves the thought of needles. Like needles poking me. I can't even watch them on TV. Needless to say, tattoos are out of the question. This also equates to being a baby of a patient, so any cuteness I had mustered up at 7 am would have been lost on a cute single doctor anyway because after he injected me with dye into my right hip (for an arthrogram), I couldn't move or sit up for fear of vomiting or fainting. My leg felt so weird and stiff. They had to get a special stretcher to wheel me into the MRI. Yeah. I'm that girl.

So they wheel me in and put noise-reduction headphones on me and a wash cloth over my eyes. And then the show began. If you haven't ever been engulfed by an MRI machine, it's like being inside Tron. Or an alien pod. You hear a series of clicking sounds followed be either a long droning buzz or intermittent buzzing for about 30 minutes.

With the white wash cloth over my eyes doing its best to simulate night time, I thought it would be a good time to daydream. I've kind of put my crush behind me, and for the first time in years I couldn't even think of a guy I wanted to daydream about. While I've had two dreams recently about the crush, I am feeling like nothing's going to materialize in that area anytime soon. Yet my dream about Billy Crystal kissing me is an image that will not go away. So I started to think about what I was going to eat after this here MRI. Seriously, could I think about food any more than I already do? As the buzzing began, I thought about getting a donut. About mid-way through, I was thinking of a glass of pinot grigio. Toward the end, I was wanting a shot of Jager. I wasn't feeling claustrophobic, just annoyed and bored.

After the MRI, I still was wearing lipstick. Who wears lipstick to their MRI? This girl.

Day 192 = Gym + The Kiss List

Mondays. Always the 5:30 am Mondays with the working out and the trainer. Oy vey. This morning was early and I was sore, but I had a fulfilling calorie-burning workout. And I got to tell my trainer Regan all about my kiss list!

Many years ago – and I’m talking at least 20 years – I read in Seventeen magazine that a woman busses about 80 guys before she finds “the one.” Of course, that is when I promptly went to the dictionary and learned that a bus is a kiss. Growing up in sheltered Arkansas, Seventeen was my Bible, so I started on my list. And would you believe I have kept it up? For those who know me, it shouldn’t be a shocker. In fact, most would expect me to have charted them out in a spreadsheet. And I can now because I have uncovered the list!

I had been wondering what number I am up to now. Surely I’ve got to be getting close to “the one.” I knew I’d added some to my list since I’d last seen the documented manifestation of all my bussing 5 years ago, and I was eager to add them up. Since I spent 8 years with one guy, I had some catching up to do after my divorce. That’s when the list really started growing. But there was a lot of kissing before my ex; he's #30. I think I got mono from #18, who at some point in the last year has friended me on Facebook.

Seeing the list made me consider what really counts as a kiss? Was my first kiss when I was 10 years old and Jason Brown wanted to play kiss chase on the playground and I said no, but he ran after me anyway and kissed me on the lips? I was mortified! Ironically, I’ve had some of those mortifying random, unsolicited kisses as an adult so I wouldn’t have had much advice for 10-year-old me. After the playground attack, I immediately ran to the bathroom and splashed water on my mouth and looked in the mirror and said out loud that Jason Brown had just kissed me! And then I thought for a moment… Jason Brown had just kissed me. I kind of liked it. And I knew that he did it because I told him no. Ring a bell, ladies? Kiss chasing the "hard to get girl" on the playground is where it all began. And it continues, if you consider the playground is now a bar. I can’t help but see the parallels between my current situation and how my dating life started with playing games (or avoiding them) on a playground!

When I was cleaning out the garage, it was partly because I decided to dig up that list. I thought I knew where I’d stored it. I have a big plastic storage box in my garage that contains just about every piece of written work I created before computers plus more than a dozen journals. I have journals falling out of my bookshelves and drawers inside my house. As I began thumbing through the box I wondered if anyone might think the person who lives here is a writer.

I looked through the box and flipped through loose and bound pages and thought of kisses from men I’ve had all over the US and Europe. I had notebooks and poetry. Man, I used to completely dork out on some poetry back in the day. And the crushes. Scribbled all over pages and notebooks were I love Chad. I love Tommy. I love Drew. I love Jeremy. I love Gabe. I love Russell. It's embarrassing. I’ve never told anyone this: In the 7th grade, I wrote down all the cute boys’ names on little pieces of paper. At night, I’d draw one out of a box and whoever I picked, I’d fall asleep daydreaming about them. Things like what I might say to them in class. What if he put a note in my locker? What would I wear to a party at his house? I had a vivid imagination. Who am I kidding – I still have one.

And there it was. The list. In a box I'd ignored for 4 and a half years since I moved to Austin. The last guy on there was Trevor. He was a good kisser. OMG - if you're reading this and you remember Trevor, just let that tall drink of water sink in and blow your mind again. Probably the hottest, sexiest guy I've ever dated. I'm not sure I want to divulge how many men came after Trevor on this blog since it's public and my mom and my aunt read this thing daily. But there are a couple of boyfriends, a couple of international guys, and a couple of random guys. At least.

Kissing is harmless. I do value it and I am honestly not pimping out my lips to whoever will kiss them, but I go on a lot of dates and if a guy even so much as pecks me on my closed-mouth lips (cheeks do not count) then that is a bonafide kiss. But I am still on the hunt for #80. Seventeen did, after all, say "about 80." I hope 80 is a good kisser. If not, I might have to go to 81 or 90 for that matter. I am not opposed to seeking perfection in kissing.

Day 191 = Walking + My Garage

What does your garage say about you? Mine says I’m a paper hoarder. Because while I absolutely detest scrapbooking, I will keep stacks of bank statements, paperwork and lists (for everything from groceries to a list of items I was going to wear on my wedding day, like perfumed deoderent, which I find funny that I actually wrote that down) for literally decades. Me? A problem with detachment? Are you kidding?

For starters, I have bank statements, W2s and tax returns from the late 90s. Who the hell knows why I thought I should hang on to them. Actually, I didn't even realize I had them, and to think I have spent money for years paying to move this crap and/or store it in a climate-controlled facility. Some paperwork had paperclips that were so old and stuck to the paper that I just tore off the paperclip attached to the paper (so I could shred this paperwork).

I found the old letters from "Christy Leeth" - a mysterious woman who wrote me from prison during 2004 because she thought I was her 12-year-old niece. Some of my most entertaining monologues have come from those letters as I read about her questioning her niece about whether she had her "month friend" yet. That and writing out every laugh as "hi hi."

A business card from a pimp in Houston. (I cut out the number; my PhotoShop skills suck.) Not sure if you can read it, but it says "Pimps R Us" and "De Social Underworld Society." Contact name: J.B. Pimp'n, you know, for just be pimpin. A'ight. I picked up this beaut during some SuperBowl party in 2004.

Race medals – 4 half marathons, 1 marathon.

Transcripts from college and grad school.

Not that this should surprise anyone, but I found a hand-written list of every guy I’d kissed between 1984-2004. Who was "Poncho" and "Boom Boom" and "Guy in White Jeep?" And there were several names with ? as the last name. Or "random guy in bar." I felt like I'd just found the stash of hidden Christmas presents when I found this list, which I immediately transferred to a spreadsheet for posterity. And then added years 2005 to current. (Another blog to come to expand on this list....)

Some kind of ‘senior’ book where I talk about one day being married to Russell, my boyfriend during senior year (well, the one who stuck around the longest and #26 on the Kissing List). UPDATE: I Googled him, and even though we went to prom together in Little Rock, AR, he lives around the corner from Amy W. in Austin. Small world.

The most useful thing I found: Long lost recipe to Prejean’s crawfish enchiladas.

And photos. I found one of me and my first car. In 1990, thought I was such a bad ass with that burgundy Chrysler Reliant K car and my one and only CD, “Please Hammer, Don’t Hurt 'Em.”

Here's an oldie that I'd completely forgotten about. From the looks on our faces, it was my idea to dress up and pose for "old timey" photos. Sorry for the quality; I didn't feel like walking upstairs and scanning it.

The top photo is of the garage post-cleanup. Whether it's actually clean is debatable. But it is an improvement. After a day of cleanup, a visit from AAA to change my flat tire and a chicken dinner at Luby's, I managed to get in a workout of just walking around the neighborhood.

One of my most cherished items I found was a handwritten letter from my dad on his business stationery from when we lived in England:

Dear Heather and Jason,
It rains here everyday. I am missing you. Please call me on Sundays.
Love, Daddy

And of course every journal I've ever owned. My life is in this garage.

Day 187 = Gym + Jeans

This morning I rolled my 112 pounds of lean body mass out of bed and headed to the gym. It was a great workout. (Thanks, Regan!) Now - time for dinner.

It was so nice when I was walking to my car tonight, I considered going for a walk when I got home, so I gave some serious thought to what I might eat if I was just going to burn it off. I decided I'd probably pick up something at the store, and then I found myself at a little shop by my house. To buy clothes. What is more motivating to not eat a big meal when you can fit into smaller clothes?

I will be the first to admit I am in desperate need of Stacy London from "What Not to Wear" to come to my house and give my wardrobe an overhaul. I am begging you, Stacy!!! I am a disaster when it comes to buying jeans. I am a disaster when it comes to buying just about anything to wear. But I did come home with two dresses, a shirt (for work) and some jeans -- that look good and they are a smaller size!

Fortunately, I do own each of the top 10 items in Tim Gunn's top 10 list of items one must have in one's wardrobe. So I am safe for a while until Stacy shows up.

Day 183 = Running + Tacos

I am living in a world of regret today. I so know better than to stay up late the night before a long run. And I am paying for it.

Plans for Friday night? Why, yes

Number of glasses of wine? 4-5?

Bedtime last night? 12:15 am

Wake up time this morning? 6 f-ing 15 am

Miles run today? 7

I was totally planning on going on autopilot this morning during my run along Scenic, but my coach switched it up and we ran up Barton Hills. I can do Scenic in my sleep, and I was planning on it. But eh, not happening this morning. So I headed out following the other runners along the south side of Town Lake, over the little foot bridge and further south along Robert E. Lee. I think this is actually part of the Austin Marathon route, so it makes sense. And hills are good. Uh, sure they are.

So around 3 miles or so, I was reminded of my old marathon training strategy: no fiber the day before. Usually, I'd load up on carbs during the week and then treat myself to cheesy eggs for breakfast on the Friday before a long run. But what did I eat yesterday? A whole wheat bagel with peanut butter. Friends, this predicament I was in is what runners call the "runners trots." That bagel was talking to me. I was cramping. I was having trouble maintaining. So much so that I lost the route.

I decided to head east on Barton Skyway because I figured I'd run into a main road that I could take back down to the lake trail. And I did. I was somewhere on South Lamar by about mile 4. Actually, I'm not sure how many miles I'd run because I'd accidentally paused my Garmin at some point when I stopped to double over with cramps. The only thing open at 7:45 am on South Lamar and Barton Skyway was a 7-11, but no way was I going to use those facilities.

I decided to head back the way I came. At this point, I had pretty much sweated off any hangover I had and was enjoying the run, er, walking and cramping, the best that I could. You know, there's nothing like knowing just how far away you are from a clean bathroom when your insides are literally making noises like they are about to start a Jihad. Doesn't everyone else love being up at the crack of dawn and then "running" at 8 am when you're hungover, cramping and lost? Good news is I burned over 900 calories and a great song by The Cure came on my iPod ("Last Dance") that reminded me of living in England. It's times like these when I'm running that I tap into those old memories to get me to the next bathroom. Also, I just wanted to mention one of my favorite bands in my blog.

But before I headed home, I decided (at some point on my run) that I was going to try Juanita's Tacos on 5th Street (in the little train, as Shelli called it). O.M.G. Best breakfast taco I've had in a long time. Maybe ever. Perhaps it was the homemade buttery tortilla. Or perfect mix of eggs and peppers and tomatoes and cheese. I ordered one migas taco, but I regret that I did not order four.

Later that morning - yes, morning because I had been up, run 7 miles, shopped at Lowe's and watered my friend's plants before 11 am - I took a trip to Tacodeli for an order of 1 Heather taco and 1 Happy taco. I can't decide which one I like better, but they are both equally delicious to the infinity power.

And just when you'd think I'd had enough tacos, I made taco filling with those Morningstar Farms meatless crumbles and a package of taco seasoning, which kind of capped off my yearning for tacos for a while. I mean, it's not the way I wanted the taco to go out that day, but since I'd gorged on three not-as-healthy-as-fake-meat tacos already, I felt I needed to be kind to my insides. (HA!) Pretty much I am now of the belief that meatless tacos have been overplayed (at least at my house). I'm retiring that recipe for a while.

Day 179 = Yoga + Happy Days

Tonight after work, I did yoga for the first day of September. In yoga class, I tried to find my center or at least keep my balance. The thing about Bikram yoga is the routine is the same every time. But I don't know how long I'll keep going. Once my trial membership runs out, it will get expensive to keep up this habit.

So in finding my center, I thought about some of the good ol' days. Back when I lived in my first apartment in Kemah, Texas, right after my divorce. It's weird to think about the places I've lived before and called home and the memories each place contains, and yet I'm so far away from those places now, both physically and emotionally.

I remember one night I had my friends over, and we decided we'd write a book about men. We called ourselves the Book Babes and there were four of us - me, Theresa, Denise and Lari. For a time, we were inseparable. And there was always wine involved. I do remember drinking wine at my little apartment. It was before Theresa and I decided to take breaks from our jobs and life as we knew it, store everything we owned in a 10x10 foot storage space and backpack around Europe for three months.

No matter what bad days I have (or good days), I can always look back on happy times when I thought I had nothing. But I had so much, and I can appreciate that now. I realize I might actually be happiest when I have nothing left to lose.

It was less than two months after 9/11, and I was just starting over after my divorce. I lived in an apartment near a marina and a golf course, and it was along this golf course and along the dock of this marina that I took up running. I would challenge myself to just run to the end of the street without stopping. Or just run to the stop sign without stopping. Or just to the end of the dock and back without stopping. Eventually I could run for several minutes at a time.

I was a technical editor for a NASA sub-contractor. My first day at the company had been Sept. 10, 2001, and soon after I started, I was selected to work with a team of NASA engineers that was developing software to help "ousiders" build a payload for the space shuttle. I got to hang out in the fixed-base shuttle simulator one day for research purposes, and when I disembarked from the shuttle, there was a tour and I thought, "This is the only time anyone will think I am a real astronaut!" I wonder if kids on that tour still say to their parents, "Remember that time we saw that astronaut, Mom?" And then one morning I came into work and some of the guys there asked me if I wanted to go to the motion-base shuttle simulator, and I said well hell yes. So I got to sit in the cockpit and pretend to fly the shuttle. They turned on a simulator program, and I actually landed it. On the grass along the runway of course, but I didn't wreck it like the intern did.

Then I'd go home to my one-bedroom apartment with a tiny kitchen in which I can't remember cooking anything. Well, except for when my mom came to visit me right after I moved in. I didn't really have any furniture except a bed and a chair and a huge desk because I didn't want to move anything out of the house I shared with my ex-husband. I didn't even have a stock pot. I was sick and she wanted to make me homemade chicken and dumplings because that's what moms do. So we had to run out at 8 o'clock that night to find one. I eventually upgraded to a Calphalon nonstick to match the rest of my share of the pots and pans, but I still have that cheap stainless steel stock pot that she bought for me.