Part 2: How I Met Your Mother

Here's the summary from today, so we can get on to the good stuff:

-- I slept in until 8:30 a.m.

-- I had four pieces of pizza for lunch.  Yes, I had salad too.

-- I enjoyed white rice with my chicken bowl for dinner -- bad carbs... scandalous!

-- And Carvel ice cream for dessert!

Yep, my down-time is going great.

But that's not what I'm going to blog about.

Instead, I'm going to write about the first time Stephanie and I met.  Why?  Because today we took the second-biggest step any modern couple takes when signifying a committed, long-term, stable relationship.

We changed our relationship status on Facebook.

Yep, I know.  Huge.

So how did this five-year odyssey begin?  Some of you know the story, many do not.  My future children certainly don't!

Kids, this is how I met your mother.

Friday, January 20, 2005 started off like any normal day for me.  I worked for a few hours and was preparing to enjoy our company's free catered Friday lunch when I realized we were having sub sandwiches.  Yuck!  I can't stand sub sandwiches, especially the kind that are catered to events because everything is soggy and you can't get rid of the smell in the kitchen for hours.  I left the office immediately, which worked out conveniently enough since the Beastie Boys' new album, To the 5 Boroughs, was hitting stores that day.

I used to think I was the forgotten fourth member of the Beasties.  I suppose every Jewish kid does at some point!

BTW, future children: An album, in this case something called a "compact disc" or CD, is what old people used to listen to their music in the late 20th Century and early 21st Century.

Fortunately, there's a Best Buy and food court a few blocks from where I work.   (Kids, places like Best Buy were referred to as a "retail stores", where people used to go IN-PERSON to buy their goods. Crazy, I know!)  It would be the perfect spot to grab a bite and the new CD before heading back to work.  I ended up going to Sbarro for a slice of pizza.  Funny thing is that I NEVER go to Sbarro for a slice of pizza.  In fact, I hadn't been to that Sbarro in the entire year of working at my company prior to that moment.  I have no idea what motivated me to do so.  This is important because I had gone to my usual spots in the food court (e.g., Sharkey's, California Sushi Roll) I would likely have been eating indoors.  Instead, I chose to enjoy the warm weather and slight breeze outside at a table by myself.

I had been minding my own business at the table or a few minutes when out of the corner of my eye I saw three people walking towards me.  No, wait... they're girls!  No, wait... they're three GOOD-LOOKING girls... and they're still walking towards me!

Who's the one in the middle, I thought.  Wow, she's gorgeous!

That would be Stephanie, wearing a pink sweater and white collared button-down shirt, hair flowing, hips swaying.

Pretty woman... she's walking back to me?  Really?

"Care for some company?" That's what Steph said to me.

I looked around.  There didn't seem to be any other tables available, so it made more sense that they would want to share a spot with a lone guy.  Still, I wasn't complaining.*

Now, my inner monologue was far different at this point than what came out of my mouth.  I realized immediately that this situation was not normal, and if I acted like my "normal" self I'd probably screw up a potentially Good Thing (TM).  So I instantly decided to be like George Costanza in Seinfeld and do everything opposite what I'd normally do in a moment such as this.

That meant playing it cool.

"Sure, go ahead," I said casually.  Meanwhile, what I was thinking was, "OH HELL YEAH!"  Followed by, "Am I being 'punk'd' by Ashton Kutcher? Game developer dude gets three pretty women surrounding him at lunch and hi-jinx ensue?"

Stephanie and her two friends started their lunch, giggling and chatting excitedly about women's shoes.

There's a lot I can take, but if you're going to crash my lunch party of one, PLEASE don't talk women's footwear.  I mean, come on.

"Ladies, I don't mind you sitting here at all, but is there anything else to talk about besides women's footwear?"

Why yes, yes there was.  Me!

Stephanie changed the subject to what my story was: What did I do for a living, where I was from, etc.  Turns out that she wanted to pursue a career in communications and marketing, which is what I was doing.  At the time Steph was an intern for The Walt Disney Company, hence her reason for eating lunch in Burbank.

It was her first time eating in that food court.

Are you sensing the "meant to be" factor yet?

Steph and I proceeded to entangle ourselves in debate about whether an MBA was necessary for marketing professionals. (Steph was pro and I was anti-MBA).  The chemistry was evident from the very start.  We spoke rapidly back and forth; it was as if Steph's other two friends weren't even at the table.  We maintained eye contact the entire time, which was easy considering I was hypnotized by her beauty and uncharacteristic poise, polish and charm.  I kept thinking to myself, "who IS this girl???" But I had to keep playing it cool.  This whole moment was just too good to be true, I thought.

So, I did what any cool, calm and collected dude would do -- I finished my slice of pizza and excused myself from the table.

"Ladies, it was truly a pleasure meeting you.  I'm going to pick up the latest Beastie Boys CD now and headed back to work.  I hope you have a great weekend."

And I started to walk away.  I was literally prepared to leave the conversation, which is mind-boggling now considering that Stephanie is going to be my partner for life.

Thankfully, Steph's friends caught on to what was happening and intervened.  One of them butted in and said, "You two have so much in common, you should exchange business cards or something."

THANK GOODNESS!  I was jumping up and down inside but had to play it cool.  So I did exactly the opposite of what I'd normally do: I reached into my wallet, pulled out a card, casually flipped it on the table and told Steph, "Sure, call or email me any time.  Happy to chat."

And that was it.

She emailed me that night.

I served as her mentor for six months.  The chemistry was explosive.  We began dating in June 2005, a story I'll save for another time.

To this day, Steph tells me how stunned she was that I didn't ask for her number.  I honestly figured that the moment was so unexpected that I shouldn't over-reach because I might spoil it.  Those gals already made that Friday special for me, so why screw it up by being like all the other guys and ask Steph out in front of her friends?

I can't be more grateful that one of Steph's friends saw the situation differently and gave me the perfect opportunity to continue the conversation.

A conversation that blossomed into a friendship, into a romance and into the greatest thing that's ever happened to me.

So, kids, that's how I met your mother.  And there's a lot more where that came from.

242 days and counting.

* = Years later, Stephanie would admit that there WERE other tables available. She spotted me and wanted to sit with me.  It's at this point that I should point out that Steph has trouble seeing clearly from far away, so her judging if I was good-looking should be balanced accordingly!  I should also point out that I was wearing beige pants with a subtle plaid pattern.  Had Steph seen those pants sooner, which I referred to as "angry grandpa pants", she is the first to admit that she probably would have sat someplace FAR away from me!  Can't say that I would have blamed her.

Eat Well, Train Well

Day 4 of my week off of Ironman training went well.  I slept long, ate large -- including a lunch feast at Cecconi's in West LA -- and generally relaxed. I suppose it was the perfect time for a seminar on nutrition.

Tonight's discussion at Runnergy off Ventura Boulevard in Sherman Oaks was sponsored by Fortius and served as the perfect wake-up call that my respite was drawing to a close.  And that I probably should watch what I'm eating a little more this week.

Though I don't regret for one second the BBQ ribs, McDonald's cheeseburger, chili-cheese hot dog, ice cream, cookies and wild boar pappardelle ragout pasta consumed at various points during the week.

Damn, all of it tasted great!  Makes my mouth water a little just thinking about it.

At least now I can better appreciate just how bad that stuff is for me.  The nutritionist offered several pithy reminders of how diet and proper race nutrition can dictate your performance.  Some examples:

-- Have you "eaten a rainbow" today?  Simply put, picture a rainbow as symbolizing all the colors of the fruits and vegetables you should consume every single day.  Me? Today I got as far as green (lettuce), red (tomatoes), orange (carrots),and  yellow (banana).  Overall, we're supposed to have nine servings of fruits and veggies per day.

-- What color is your pee?  (Hope I'm not getting too personal.) If you're drinking enough water, it should always be clear or near-clear.  If your pee looks like beer then you're dehydrated.  If it's neon green then you've wasted your money on expensive multi-vitamins, which usually only absorb in your body at approximately 30% capacity.

-- How much water should you drink every day?  Believe it or not, divide your body weight in two and take that number in ounces.  For me, that's roughly 66 ounces of water every day, or approximately eight glasses of water (assuming roughly 80z per glass).

-- When it comes to carbohydrates, brown is your friend, white is not.  That sucks, because all the "good" tasting stuff is generally white (rice, pasta, white bread, flour, etc.).  But, the sugar goes straight in and out of your body.  "Brown" carbs (wheats, grains) stay in your system longer.

So what did I do once I heard all this information tonight?

I went home and ate Trader Joe's mint-n-chip ice cream.

Don't. Say. Anything.

That said, I'm getting more and more excited to get back on the training regimen.  I bounded up the stairs at work today, which is a sign that my energy level is returning to normal. I even jogged to a couple meetings today and to my car after work.  I love the feeling of feeling better.  I'm not all the way there yet, but am honestly about 90% now.  Can't wait for the final 10% to kick in!

Who knows, maybe I'll be eager to work out a little in the morning.

Nah.

243 days and counting.

Getting Back to Good

It's been 10 days since I last felt "normal." (Note: Some reading this blog would debate my definition of "normal.")

But I'm getting there.  Today was the first day I started to walk with moderate to little pain whether from illness or the LA marathon.  My legs are still sore, don't get me wrong.  But it's not accompanied by stiff shoulders and an achey neck.  My throat is noticeably tender but not raw.  My feet don't feel swollen or broken, though I owe our company massage therapist, Abby, for that.  Just 30 minutes with her this afternoon made me feel exponentially better.

And I'm getting caught up at work too.  My inbox is close to empty and workflow is back on track.  The past few days I've felt discombobulated in the office.  Like I was operating in a fog while trying to get better from the cold, prepare for the marathon, and catch up from the video games conference.  Finally, I can see some daylight.

And it looks good!

Meanwhile, I'm enjoying my time off from training this week.  I'm eating whatever I want (today that meant BBQ ribs for lunch), catching up on sleep (9-10 hours a night), spending quality time with Stephanie (even though she's sicker than I am right now) and generally starting to unwind a bit.

In other words, I'm getting back to good.

I'm hopeful this will help and not hurt my training in the long-term.

Time will tell.  I'm getting excited for Monday, but am glad it's still a few days away.

244 days and counting.

So That's What Happened

I went to the doctor's today. You know, about eight days too late. Turns out that while I indeed had a cold that definitely contributed to my demise at the LA Marathon, allergies played a big role too.

Allergies?  I haven't had allergy problems for years.

Think again.  My recent trail runs and bike rides to Hidden Valley came at the peak of spring, when all sorts of pollens were in full bloom.  As a result, my throat tightened, my glands hardened, my lungs overworked, and my breathing suffered.  This led, according to the doctor, to fatigue, which ultimately contributed to my body saying "enough is enough!" on Sunday.

So, as if I was 9 and getting allergy shots, I'm on medication again.  Flo-Nase and Allegra.

The good news is that I'm feeling better already.  My throat is starting to loosen and isn't quite as sore.  My eyes, while dry and droopy, feel a little lighter for getting so much sleep the past few days.

I'm going to take the rest of the week off from training, no matter how I feel. I think it's time for a little break.  Time to heal the muscles and just relax for a few days.  I'll get back to the training grind this Monday.

After all, I've got another triathlon coming up.  The next goal: Newport Beach triathlon on April 11.  Mark it down.  I will be ready. More than ready!  I'm getting fired up just typing about it.

But for now, I'm more fired up for a good night's sleep.  A full night's sleep with no training jolting me out of bed at the crack of dawn.  Yup, a mini-training vacation.

G'night.

245 days and counting.

A Race About Friendship

The LA Marathon won't be remembered for my performance.

I finished in 5:11, nearly a full 1.5 hours slower than I had hoped.  Sickness and fatigue shut me down at mile 9, somewhere between the end of Los Angeles and beginning of West Hollywood.    I don't quite remember where, but I remember when.  I was running with my buddy Chris and we both were steadily maintaining a 9:00-mile pace after a quick opening sequence of 8:35-minute miles.  However, as I monitored my heart-rate during the first hour of the run, I realized I was high in zone 5, around 166 bpm.  Something was very wrong, considering I was running slower than anticipated and in a full two heart-rate zones higher.  At that point, we came to the 10-mile water stop and I told Chris to continue ahead without me.  I needed a break.  He said he'd wait, but I knew better.  The race was over for me.

Chris disappeared quickly into the sea of runners.

Even though I was surrounded by people, I felt totally alone.  Dejected.  Defeated.

Angry.

I had trained so damn hard for this moment, nearly five months.  And it was gone in an hour.  Gone.

I tried to jog the next couple miles and watched as my pace slowly deterioriated.  Even with more effort, my times were slowing.  Ten-minute miles became 11.  Eleven minutes became 12.  With each step, I became angrier and more frustrated.

This wasn't fair!  I didn't deserve this!

Then, I remembered those poor kids from the Starlight Foundation.

THAT wasn't fair.

I started to pull it together around mile 13.  But then, I was rounding the corner onto La Cienega from Sunset when I ran into my Fortius teammate, Christina.  She was off to the side, walking.  I knew something terrible was wrong for her too.  Sadly I was right.  She pulled a quad muscle and was done for the day.  She couldn't bend her leg. Tears in her eyes, we hugged.  The day hadn't turned out the way either of has had imagined, and she's got an Ironman in six weeks!  I did my best to console her, and then she was gone.  Crossing the barricades to meet her husband for what must have been a sad ride home.

Again, I was alone.  Strangely, I had come to peace with the race by then.  I calmly resigned myself to two choices: Quit, or finish.

If I quit, nobody would blame me.  I was sick.  I was tired.  I hurt.  But, if I quit during the marathon, maybe I'd quit during the Ironman?

It's like cheating in a relationship.  If you do it once, you are capable of doing it multiple times.  That's not my style.

And there was more to it than that. Now that Stephanie and I are finally together, once and for all, I wanted to show her what I was made of.  What I really was made of.  That no matter how much the pain hurt.  Now matter how tired I was. No matter how I felt, I wouldn't EVER quit on her.   I would never quit on us.

From that moment on, at Santa Monica Boulevard and La Cienega, there was only one thing on my mind: Finish the damn marathon.

The next four miles were rough, but entertaining in a bizarre way.  West Hollywood was festive to say the least.  The crowds were boisterous and the street performances were lively.  The cross-dressing cheerleaders were definitely the highlight.

Then it was onto Beverly Hills.  Here I received a big boost from my friend and co-worker, Jason, and his wife, Jen.  They waited extra long for me to hit Wilshire and Rodeo Drive even though their friends had long past that checkpoint.  They walked a few blocks with me until I turned onto Santa Monica Boulevard again towards Westwood.  Their support and positive encouragement really made me feel good.  Despite my best efforts, I was still pretty dejected about my day.  But they helped put it in perspective that I was still going to finish something special.

Unfortunately, as much of a mental boost as that was, it quickly dissipated.  My body started to lock up and break down around mile 16.  I was walking almost full miles at this point.  I had no ability to run more than a few hundred yards before my heart rate would blow up again.

It was at this point that I saw the best familiar face possible: My longest-tenured friend, Kevin.  I've known Kevin since damn near pre-school. We've played soccer together.  We went to elementary school together.  We went to high school together.  We backpacked Europe together.  We've run half-marathons together.

And now, we've run the LA Marathon together.

Out of 25,000 runners, I literally had run into my best friend!

Kevin was having problems too with his marathon.  His knee was locking up.  And it was at this point I realized what the true point of my first marathon would be: It was a race about friendship.  Whether it was supporting my buddy Chris at the beginning, Christina in the middle, or Kevin in the end, this wasn't about performance.  It was about perspective.  About support.  About friendship.

The rest of the marathon was painful.  My feet felt broken.  My calves were incredibly tight despite wearing compression socks.  My IT band swelled.  But it was OK.  Friends such as Jennifer and Ryan showed their support near the Mormon Temple in Westwood.  Jason and Jen drove down to Brentwood to cheer me on and offer some refreshing coconut water at mile 22.  Stephanie kept me sane and motivated throughout the morning with text messages.  Corey and Maggie texted me telling me they were waiting at the finish line.

How lucky am I?

The final few miles couldn't have progressed more slowly.  My body was totally breaking down.  I'd shuffle a few yards, stop, wait for Kevin, or vice versa, and we'd continue walking. Cursing, but walking.  Questioning, but not quitting.  Never quitting.

FINALLY, the finish line was in sight.  Kevin and I tried to pick up the pace heroically, but all I was doing was searching for Stephanie, or listening for her.  That's all I wanted.  I just wanted to tell her that this race was for her.  That there was no quit in this body.  Not for the race, not for anything.

Kevin saw her first.  He pointed her out and I stopped everything to run across the packed street to give her a huge hug behind the barricade, just 10 yards from the finish.  Apparently my family and friends were right behind her, but honestly I only saw her.  It was a special moment.  All the pain and frustration was worth it.

I finished the LA Marathon, arm around Kevin.  We did it.

I will run better marathons.  I will set more personal bests.  But I don't know if I'll ever have an experience as special as my first marathon.  And I owe it to my friends.  To my family, including my parents who woke up so early after flying across the country the evening before.  To my sister and her boyfriend, who showed up just in time for the finish after having friends in town to entertain.

And, surprisingly, to the residents of Los Angeles, who lined the streets for nearly the entire route supporting us crazy marathoners.  I may not have acknowledged all of them, but I sure did hear them and appreciate their presence.  This city sure is beautiful when it wants to be.

Like the Randy Newman song, I love LA.

And today, I paid the price during recovery.  I left work early due to exhaustion even though I slept nearly 10 hours last night.  I'm still coughing up all sorts of stuff, and my legs are stiff and achey.

But it's a good kind of pain.

The kind associated with finishing something I started.

246 days and counting.

Back Tomorrow...Out Cold Tonight

Hi, you've reached Ryan's blog.  I'm not here right now because I ran the LA Marathon today and I'm in a lot of pain and extremely tired.

If you return tomorrow, I promise I'll post a full race report about everything that happened today.

Short version: I was still sick apparently.  I finished in 5:11, walking the majority of the final 17 miles.  I thought I'd finish between 3:42-3:55.  But despite the pain and disappointment, I will look back on this experience quite fondly because of all the support from my friends, family and random strangers throughout the greater Los Angeles area.

That's what I'll write about tomorrow.  Right now, it's all about an ice bath, Advil PM and a good night's sleep. I hope.

247 days and counting.

Calmness Pervades

I've spent so much time counting down to the Ironman that the LA Marathon snuck up on me.  Even with counting down every single day starting the beginning of the November. How'd that happen?

No matter, I'm glad it did.  As a result both of looking ahead to November 2010 and my current sickness, I find myself incredibly calm hours before the marathon.  I just returned from dinner with my friends from as far back as elementary school.  It was a pre-race carb-loading meal at Bucca di Beppo. (A small note on that: Do not go there when you want a quiet evening of conversation and reflection.  Bedlam!  Not good for a sore throat.)  Even my friends were surprised at how mellow I was at the meal.  I blame the meds.  I've been taking Sudafed nasal decongestant throughout the day, and was lucky enough to catch two naps in between meals.  More like I needed two naps due to the fatigue.  Even now, I feel a little spacey.

I'm tired.  If there wasn't a marathon to be run tomorrow, I'd probably take the day off from training.  No matter, especially after seeing those amazing children and teens last night at the Starlight Charity event.

I know I can finish the marathon tomorrow.  I've put in the training.  I've done the hill climbs.  I've ran in the rain and the mud.  I've run 14 miles before the start of a 10k race .

No matter how I feel when I wake up tomorrow, I am ready.

Ready for the pain.  The fatigue.  The crowds.  The elation.  The beauty of the city and support of its inhabitants.

I'm ready for all of it.

I'm ready to check off a lifelong goal -- to complete a marathon -- off my proverbial "Bucket List."  I never thought I'd see this day because of my asthma, IT band tightness, flat feet and bad back.  But here I am, ready to compete.  Ready to run. Ready to do my best.

And no matter what, it will be a personal best marathon time!  (Though, to be honest, I'm shooting for 3:45-3:55 as my goal timeframe.)

Ready.

And now, ready to sleep.

When I write tomorrow, I will have completed my first marathon.  That's pretty damn cool.

1 day and counting, part of the journey towards 248 days and counting.

A Healthy Dose of Perspective

Y'all are probably as sick of hearing about me being sick as I am writing about it. Don't worry, I'm shutting my mouth...err... banning my fingers from typing anything to that effect.

Here's why. I had the true pleasure of attending a charity gala tonight with Stephanie and a few work colleagues on behalf of the Starlight Foundation, an organization dedicated to helping kids in hospitals with severe health issues.  The company I work for is a very proud sponsor of Starlight, donating NintendoWii Fun Centers to hospitals for kids to enjoy DVD and video games entertainment when they are confined to their rooms or beds.

After being reminded throughout the evening about the good work Starlight does, a head cold two days before a marathon means nothing by comparison.  I have functional legs.  I am grateful for that.  My organs work.  I am grateful for that.  My health issues are not life threatening.  I am grateful for that.

Normally, I'd say the highlight of any evening would be meeting Mr. T, which happened tonight along with my pal and colleague John (pictured).  For the record, Mr. T couldn't have been more gracious, considering I goaded him into his trademark phrases when I told him "You ain't so bad!"

What a dream come true for a life-long A-Team and Rocky fan!

But that really wasn't the highlight.  And I'm somewhat surprised to even admit that.  The real highlight came in the form of hearing a love-affair story of two kids in Starlight who met through their teen connect program, Starbright World.  Both kids had little to hold onto in terms of dealing with the difficulties of their situations.  Until they met each other. And befriended each other. Supported each other. Nurtured and nursed each other.  And ultimately began dating.  Now, a few years later, they got engaged.  Today.  Before the Starlight event.  It was such a touching story and moment.

Even before the gala I was planning to run on Sunday, no matter how I feel.  But now, I'm running not just for myself, but for the idea that so many other people -- kids especially -- suffer every day with so much more and have dreams even bigger than my own.  And my dreams are big!  I owe it to them to fulfill my own dreams because I have a healthy body and mind that allows me to do so.  No excuses.  I am grateful for everything I have in my life, everything around me, and grateful to even have the opportunity to run this marathon come Sunday.

I'm a very lucky guy.

249 days and counting.

Not What I Expected

I am still not feeling well.  My throat is improving but still sore -- though sipping bitter ginger tea the past 24 hours has definitely helped.  I'm fatigued and my neck is still tight despite Abby's magical hands.  I'm coughing junk up from my lungs. But, I was able to log a hassle-free-but-sweaty one-hour spin on my bike trainer this morning. No pain, no problems.

The LA Marathon is in three days.

At this point, I have no idea what to expect.

I thought I'd be better by now. I figured my health, nutrition, training, mental outlook and all the factors that go into effective race preparation would help me.  Instead, I'm exhausted.

Maybe I can get that magical good night's sleep tonight that will put me over the edge towards a final recovery.  After a yoga/stretching session that I'm about to begin shortly within the comfort of my bedroom, I will take a hot bath and immediately go to sleep.  With the help of some melatonin and possibly head cold medicine.  At least that's the plan.

I wish I had something more positive or upbeat to discuss. The truth is, I'm nervous.  Quiet.  Tired.  Pensive.  Shifty. This isn't how things are supposed to go days before my first marathon.

I'm still planning to run the race.  But now I'm also planning to bring my cell phone in case I can't continue on the route for some reason.  I hope to erase the need by Sunday.

Right now, I don't know what to expect.

I can only hope for the best.

250 days and counting.

PS: For those of you who are running the LA Marathon with me, I enjoyed this Los Angeles Times article about whether it's truly faster to drive the marathon route in rush-hour traffic or run it during the marathon.  It's funny and sad because it's true.  There are some good running tips embedded throughout the piece as well.  Enjoy!

T-Minus 4 Days and Nervous

My recovery from the GDC "nerd flu" is literally becoming a race against time. Coach Gerardo was hoping I'd be better by today.  He thought two days would be sufficient for a full recovery if I rested and hydrated enough.  We're headed into the fourth day and while my body is adjusting back to the beginnings of normalcy, I'm just not feeling great yet.  Despite my massage therapist Abby's best efforts, I'd put my condition as an 8 on a scale of 10.  My neck isn't as sore as last night and I've gained some mobility, but my throat is still scratchy and raw.  Worse yet, I've started coughing up phlegm.  Nasty stuff too, of the fluorescent and mocha-colored variety.

All of this is starting to get me worried.  I've got four more days to be 100% healthy and ready for my first marathon.  If what is now a head cold seeps into my chest, I'm all but finished for the marathon before it starts.

Not all of today's news was poor. In fact, I was being able to run without any side effects for 45 minutes.  My lone workout called for an hour staying within heart-rate zone 1, which was no problem -- even running up to 6 mph for five minutes without approaching 140 bpm.  (I had to cut short the workout due to a busy day at work.) That's definitely a good sign, so much so that by the end of the workout I didn't really need to shower before changing since I hadn't broken a major sweat.

Tomorrow, I'm spinning for an hour and 15 minutes and then doing an hour of yoga in the evening.  That's the plan. At this point though, I've learned that plans don't necessarily matter.  It's what you do and how you act when reality presents itself to you, ready or not.

251 days and counting.