Paul's new idea for a blog

Paul was just looking over my shoulder at some blog I'm reading.

I read weight-loss blogs, running blogs and fashion blogs (yes, I'm just that shallow), particularly blogs devoted to my favorite stores. He asked me if a picture of some 22-year-old size 2 is me (and was serious) and reminded me yet again of why I married him.

Anyway, after I told him about the women who blog about their clothes, he proposed a new idea:

"Do you think I could do a blog called Naps I Have Had? I'd have pictures of me sleeping and everything."

I bet it'd become a cult hit.

A base level of fitness

Here's one thing I've discovered about fitness, which should have been obvious. But I can be pretty slow about such things.

One you get your base fitness up to a certain level, you don't have to be as consistently active to maintain it. Says the former slug.

It's surreal to be hit with the realization that I could just hop out of bed and jog for miles without it being a big, huge deal. It's more of a scheduling issue.

OK, when it comes to food, I hit a similar place when I stopped eating sugar, wheat or any form of flour. Before I did it, it seemed impossible. Now, it's relatively easy.

My goal now is to get to that same place in other areas of my life where I'm lacking.

Running: I let Paul talk me into staying home this morning, which means I'll need to do 14 miles on my own today or tomorrow, in order to keep with my training schedule. I was telling him about how I've cut three minutes per mile (about 20 percent) off my casual jog pace during 2009. He thinks it's hilarious to see me thinking about such things.

Five miles

I rediscovered some love for running today, with my slow five-mile run.

It took me 58 minutes, which is actually pretty darn good for me, of late. And that's including time I spent waiting for traffic lights to change.

It was a straight run.

One of the the things I'm not delighted about with the running club is all the walking.

I understand the science, but I think it messes with me psychologically. It has put the option of walking on the table -- where it didn't exist before.

I've run for hours without walking before; since I've started walking regularly during my runs, the idea of walking comes into my head more. Which isn't good.

There's actually a parallel with my diet there. Tiffany talks about how you just don't take that first bite. It's not that the first bite would kill us; it just makes the second and third and 600th bite that much easier. So, I need to run more where I don't walk, where it's not an option.

I did that today, and it was fun again.

Burning not so bright

Tiger Woods' personal life is all over the news, of course.

From my friend David Haugh at the Chicago Tribune: "If marital fidelity were factored into how we view athletic greatness, every sports hall of fame could be reduced to a foyer. That isn't condoning that reality, just acknowledging it."

And from the Boston Herald: "The percentage of men who don’t do what Tiger did in some manner given his status and the temptation it affords is small. And half of them are lying."

My take: Unfortunately, they're right.

Paul's take: There used to be a sense of honor (and machismo) in resisting temptation. Plus, he thinks that women who would sleep with a married man are such low-quality that he doesn't understand why any many would want them. He just doesn't think like an athlete. Or an otherwise famous person.

I've seen all kinds of things growing up around sports and covering them. I could've "dated" plenty of ballplayers, if I had wanted to. (The only ballplayer I ever socialized with was an Amherst grad who used to talk literature with me when I was a teenager. And, yes, his teammates considered him a weirdo. He didn't make the big leagues.)

I didn't want that kind of drama in my life. It wouldn't have turned out well. And, so, I was very careful with men. I didn't want a man whose fidelity I had to worry about. There are no "Stock-market writer Annies" waiting outside Paul's office door. There are tons of women who stalk pro and college athletes. And, even if the women aren't there, the athletes are taking advantage of their status to chase other ones -- basically, anything that moves. I used to get calls at 2 a.m. from football players when I was in college. They were wanting to talk to my roommate; when she wasn't home, they'd invite me over. So classy.

My experience around athletes, seeing their behavior and the personal challenges they face, is one reason I don't understand parents who push their children into fame-creating professions, such as show business. I do think people are ultimately responsible for their actions, but I think it's important to recognize that fame and wealth bring cultural pressures that mortals struggle to resist. I don't wish that for my children.

Quick run and a bizarre experience

I ran fast today for a half hour. And did hills. We'll see what that does.

Injury update: My bruise is almost healed. My formerly black toenail isn't 100 percent, but it's much closer to normal than it used to be. I suspect that the bruising is related to the toe issue, as I sometimes try to protect it within the shoe by altering my foot position. Bad idea.

How's this for weirdness? Some idiot boy (OK, twentysomething) told me I had a "great ass" the other day. Can you believe people?

Despite the appearance of being a crass compliment, it was a shocked, "boy-you-look-surprisingly-good-from-the-back-for-such-an-old-woman" kind of remark.

I disappoint the silly young men occasionally now, which I actually find rather amusing.

Here's what they do: I'm without my parade of children out on errands somewhere. Or maybe I have a younger kid with me. The men come up from behind me, all eager and excited, get a few feet in front and then look back, in order to see my face.

Sorry, boys.

Usually they don't say anything, but this one thought he had to, probably because I looked at him (me and my stupid eye contact again!).

I pulled out a semi-stern, mom-of-four-kids, all-purpose, Miss Manners-approved, "I beg your pardon!" and he was appropriately sheepish. I suspect he was drunk, but I didn't prolong the conversation to find out.

Only in L.A.

Thank goodness it happened now instead of a year ago (or 20 years ago) when it would've upset me more. It's just funny now. And a great addition to my list of bizarre stories.

Weight loss on TV

There are a bunch of shows right now that have a weight-loss theme on TV. I'm not a big "Biggest Loser" fan, so I don't watch that. But, doing some flipping around I've found a ton (forgive me) of shows that focus on obesity or the effects of no longer being obese. Here are a couple:

First, VH1's Tough Love 2, which is a "reality" show with a bunch of sort of scary women and a matchmaker/dating coach. There are challenges but no eliminations. One of the participants is a woman who has lost a lot of weight. She also has some self-esteem issues, and she scares men off by a) talking about her weight loss and b) being really clingy. After the initial episode, there hasn't been a whole lot of talk about her psychological adjustments.

Last night, I discovered "The 650-pound Virgin," another semi-dating show, this time about a man who has lost 400 pounds (over four years) and his quest to find a woman. Fortunately, this isn't all about dating and the whole thing is a bit less cartoonish.

That show is on the surface a bit more interesting (to me), as it actually focuses on some of the issues in body transformation. At the same time, the laser focus on getting him a girlfriend, while it offers up entertainment, probably isn't really helping him achieve the goal. I wouldn't be sending a shy, former 650-pound man into standard pickup places. He needs something that would come up more organically. Of course, then they wouldn't have a TV show.

Quiet weekend at home

The whole family has been feeling a little bit rundown. They start telling me this on Friday night, after we'd spent the afternoon with friends. Whom I hope we didn't infect.

So instead of running around and socializing on Saturday, as we'd planned, we stayed home. The kids rested. I finished up the turkey soup. Paul watched the Notre Dame game. I commented on how part of about-to-be-axed Charlie Weis' problem is he looks awful. I recommend no sugar, wheat or flour (which I don't usually do, but in his case I bet it'd help) -- and something other than a ratty gray hoodie on the sidelines. Paul finds my focus on the coach's appearance funny -- so unlike me; I know it's the 6-6 record and no defense that is truly spelling his demise, but I don't think the hoodie is helping.