Reading: The Code Book

Moving: 30'35" Nordic Track: 3.5 miles

Watching: "It's a Wonderful Life"

15 December 2000: Compare and Contrast

Monday, 11 December, I came home, cued "Toy Story," and Nordic Tracked. In 30", I did 2.85 miles.

Friday, 15 December, without any aerobic exercise since, with Pearl Jam's Ten, in 30'35", I did 3.5 miles.

I know what I need to motivate me.

I feel good. I'm all sweaty. I really pushed in the first ten minutes, pushed to keep that level for the full ten, was flagging by nine, and did 1.2 miles in that time. If I'd kept up that pace, I'd've done 3.6 miles in the full time, or maybe more, if, say, I ever did anything clever like warm up.

But I am beyond sick of being out of shape, of not being able to wear my flaxen linen skirt (summer 1991), purple rayon overalls (fall 1991) black skirt with white polka dots (fall 1991)--I shopped a hell of a lot when I was depressed--of my jeans (fall 1995) being snug, of not having a hope of my slutty white Levis (summer 1989), of not wanting to see myself in trousers. After the springs of 1989 and 1991, I was off the pill, true, but I was on the pill in 1996 when I was fit, strong, and, if not willowy, much more at ease in my body.

Seeing my sister in a body I could have too (if I worked at it) was another spur. She doesn't work at it, but as the older sister, she got the better genes so doesn't need to.

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This week people've been complaining about the cold in Denver. Saturday in Boston, Jessie, a native, and RDC, native to Connecticut with a hiccup for four years in Florida, were both cold. I haven't been. It's either my layer of blubber (but RDC's jawline isn't razorsharp these days either) or my sheer relief from the brutal heat of this summer. This summer was way too hot. Or maybe I wasn't cold because of my coat. Walking through the Public Gardens and loitering near Park Station, RDC was cold and I was not. I always thought his adult and respectable, long black wool coat was better than mine (Jessie pegged us, or me at least. In winter I am a swathe of black, and when it's really cold I wear wool felt hats with curling brims and high crowns.) The wool of his coat is softer than mine and it has a scarf pocket. But his wool is softer because it has more polyester in it. Plus it doesn't button all the way around his neck. I wish I had the pocket, though. When I check my coat, I keep my scarf with me. CLH told me years ago, perhaps in Aspen four years ago or otherwise much longer ago than that, "I don't want to be around when you lose that." Damn straight. This is my Nisou scarf, and it cures the common cold and finds folks lost in mines faster than any bloodhound and volunteers in soup kitchens. I love my scarf.

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I had my hair cut today. I don't have it cut often enough and David suggested taking off a whole inch, so the ends must have been in really bad shape. So I'm currently feeling pretty bald; it takes me months to grow an inch of hair. Also I'm feeling perfumed; he put a lot of product in it, including some sort of silicon drops to reduce frizziness. After I started growing my hair out, I learned a new term from my beloved Frank: one of the several reasons he was opposed to my growing it out was that my ends would fray. Today David suggested cutting the ends in a such a way to give the hair more movement. I should have opposed that; I don't want movement for loose hair but an inverted U (as I did instruct him) so I can braid it all the way to the tips. He spoke by rote, asking if I was from Denver after he asked how long I'd lived in Denver and so probably he didn't pay attention to me at all. I don't know if I got my inverted U but I got the weird cut at the ends--what he did was bevel the ends. I feel like a coffee table. A coffee table who won't patronize him again.

It is so smooth and nonstaticky and slick that when I got on the Nordic Track I had to wrap the elastic really tight around the end of my braid so it wouldn't slip off.