May 21, 2000 -- 11:50 PM EST

Doofy progress photo of me up, just after walking up in the morning. I hadn't realized I hadn't posted one since February, but then again, I look the same, so it isn't anything stunningly new to report. Then again, why should it be? I don't have to expect these big wowing visual results every time.

Secretly though, I'm hoping I budge off this plateau thing soon. I've been way more active lately, and working with Karen ought to give me a nudge in the food department right? I see her again tomorrow. Paul keeps feeling my legs because he says it's neat. I do the same thing -- feeling my leg muscles coming out.

Had a good weekend with Paul mostly hanging out together around the house. It's been a draining last few weekends because we;ve been so wrapped up going places and seeing people. Paul declared this weekend a people-free one so we holed up. Both of us have been really tired. Not much time to talk to each other or fool around or anything. We haven't even been eating dinner together because our schedules have been weird. With him it's work stuff, with me it's the beating of marathon training that makes me so darn tired at night.

Friday night we intentionally missed an HOA meeting and instead we crochetted and watched Johnny Dangerously with every intent of fooling around afterwards. Saturday morning I woke up and he woke up and we grinned at each other.

"Hi," I greeted him,

"Hi."

"I crashed."

"Me too."

"Did you at least think dirty thoughts at me?"

"Yes. Did you?"

"Yup. Only one before I feel asleep."

"What was it?"

"Ooo, I wanna see Paul naked! *snorrrrrrrreeeee*"

"Welcome to adulthood. When you are just too sleepy to screw," he laughed.

We went out to lunch, and got my new sneaks -- returning the old new sneaks because they don't work with the orths. Shoe shopping - huge drag! But I must compliment gear.com's customer service. Very nice people, very easy to return stuff.

Also paused at Toys R Us and bought me a Skip It and him a bomber airplane model. If you do not know what a Skip It is, you are missing out. When I was a kid I had one that was black vinyl covered plastic tubing on the ring and the cord and the end was a big orange lemon with beads in it to make it rattle. Skip It is similar, only it has a counter on the thing. I didn't even make it to 100 before I screwed up. I'm so rusty! Paul never had one and he thought it was entertaining only he skipped too hard, the thing flew off his foot, and went shooting across the living room to bash into the bookshelves! He's not allowed to play with it indoors anymore. Basically if you've every twirled your keys on your finger you know what to do with a Skip It. Except you twirl it around your foot and then hop over the cord and it goes by with the other foot.

I had to do a 1 hour and 15 minute walk for Saturday's training session, so I did it around base with Paul pacing me. That gave us another chance to talk. Then we napped, and he stayed up playing with his model on the dining room table while I read mysteries on the futon and we half-listened to Nick at Nite.

Sunday, I cleaned while he played with his car and I made him cookies and ate too many myself. Then we complained at each other because we forgot to get new blank tapes so we didn't tape the last X-Files. Grr.

Probably the best part of the weekend though was when he was out in the back yard shaving bark off a limb for the iguana cage and getting it ready to seal and I dragged a patio chair out with him under the shade of the big camphor tree and read Agatha Christie short stories out loud to entertain the both of us. When he was done, three stories later, we went inside to shower before leaving for lunch and shopping and he was looking in a mirror.

"Damn, I am really receeeding!" he stared at his hairline.

"I think it's cute."

"I'm not complaining, it's just an observation. We all have to get old. But damn, I'm receeding!"

"Coconut head!" I announced while bopping him.

He laughed. That's a running joke between us about my parents.

Every time they get mad at each other, they fume and if one is within range of the other, one might rap his/her knuckles on the other's head and shout, "Ay, que coco-naught!" in this weird Spanglish voice.

Paul once asked me what that was all about and I tried to explain that it meant something like thick-headed or numbskull. Coco is literally coconut, and figuratively head. But because my parents speak Spanglish to each other, rather than just say the complete sentence in Spanish -- Ay, que coco -- while lamenting the others' thickheadedness, they prefer to say coco and then scream the naught as some kind of an English afterthought. It really does come out naught instead of nut.

"So they are sitting around hitting each other and calling the other one a coconut head? How hysterical!" Paul giggled. "I'm going to start calling you a coconut head!"

It's sappy, I know, but I fall more in love with the man with each passing day.

I got the new Victoria's Secret catalog and a coupon for free panties. Being the underwear freak I am, I called up Holly to see if she got the same coupon in the mail and we plan to go claim those panties later tonight and go out for sushi.

I'm still flirting with running but we have no deep meaningful relationship yet. Maybe I'm spending too much time with his cousin, walking, and not enough time with him trying to get to know him better. Hrm. When I have speed work on Tuesdays rather than trying to walk faster I ought to try to run instead.

I was reading The Courage to Start this weekend. Mostly, it's a motivational runner's book -- about getting started, feelings you might encounter, etc. Not a program or anything, just stories. While about running this applies to other stuff too:

"For the most part moving our bodies feels good. Even with a few aches and pains, even with the strange sensations that overtake our bodies, even with the sounds of our lungs struggling to get enough air -- it still feels good. We know that this is the right thing to be doing.

Unfortunately the joy doesn't always last. All too soon, the thrill of our own success is replaced by our need to compare ourselves to others. No longer satisfied with the miracle that is occurring in our lives, we begin to look at our relative place and pace in the running world. Our best is no longer good enough.

The road to discouragement begins with a single word: SHOULD. As soon as the "should" appears in our thinking about our running we are in trouble. When we think we "should" be able to run faster, or that we "should" be able to run father, we have often taken the first step on the path to frustration and failure."

Worth mulling over a bit.

~Astrophe