Note to self: if you play ultimate really hard, don't go do a hard leg workout the next day. You won't do so well. Take a day of rest instead.

Heather and I were talking on the drive back from the Mischief City tryouts today. I think I did okay playing-wise, but I definitely feel my lack of aerobic fitness. Based on the sprints we did at the end, I've definitely lost my speed - the depressing part of the afternoon. Skills-wise I was fine - got to watch everyone struggle with the low release throws under a hurdle. I heard someone gasp then I was demonstrating the drill the first time around - made me chuckle.

Heather and I talked about various boyfriends and relationship experiences on the drive back south after dinner. At one point, I asked her why a particular relationship had ended, and she commented she spent the whole relationship expecting him to leave. Unsurprising it ended, it never really began.

The comment made offhand caught me a little off guard.

My parents' divorce when I was 12 set my expectations for relationships pretty low, so I can't say I ever expected a relationship to truly last. Guy certainly taught me a lot about love and adult relationships (the biggest being just because you hit a rough spot doesn't mean you're done), but not until Kris asked me to play to win, and not just play not to lose, that I really figured things out.

But that thought really never left. I often feel like I'm waiting for disaster to strike. Not that I expect bad things to always happen, I'm just surprised that the worst I've had to deal with in the last few years has been an exploding toliet, underwear eating dogs and too much work.

Despite thinking, "Now or never, things aren't going to happen just because I want them to happen. I need to actually put some effort into making it happen." and actually making things happen, I still wonder when the other shoe will fall, when someone is going to show up and say, "Hey, we know that you're faking being an adult," when this "golden time" is going to end and life is going to be hard again.

My body itches.

Not in the hyper-allergy reaction I had 3+ years ago, but rather in the I've-been-working-out-and-am-healing sort of way. Much the same way I know when I'm gaining weight in my legs (my legs physically hurt when I gain weight from inactivity and long freakin' hours of sitting still programming), I know I'm gaining muscle mass from the workouts. I can feel my body adjusting, healing, growing.

And it itches.

I've been going to the trainer for nearly two weeks now. Nothing actually shows. My clothes all fit the same, I don't have any new muscle to speak of. I'm pretty much the only person who can notice the difference.

I've had three trainers so far: Michele (one L), Christina, and Eric (no idea if those are spelled correctly, other than Michele's). Michele and Christina are the late afternoon people, Eric is the morning trainer, with another guy. I'm close to finding the sweet morning spot where it's not rushed or full, when I can sleep in a bit, but still get a good number of work hours in. So far, I like Eric best, as he seems to get ultimate (having played in college). I'm still worried a bit about the training not being ultimate-specific enough, but I know I need a good strength base, so I'm willing to go with the current training without (m)any complaints.

Despite being told that professional athletes come in for training at the facility, so far I've seen only really out of shape "older" people and high school or college softball players. I haven't seen much in between. I suspect I fall into the "older" category, but not quite. Most of the people that I've seen have serious bellies and guts. I may have a Bundy-pooch, but I don't have a gut.

I, admittedly, don't understand the motivation of many of these other clients. Thursday morning I went in for my session and was a bit disappointed with myself when I realized I was only five minutes early: the longest I would use the elliptic trainer would be 30 minutes because I'm called off the machine at 25 minutes into the session. Twenty minutes later, the other guy (two people work out with the same trainer at a time) came in, looked for his headphones, adjusted the television, then hopped on the elliptical trainer next to me. I don't go particularly fast on those things, the movement doesn't quite work well for me, and my toes go numb after about 10 minutes, but this guy was even worse than I.

Just as this guy got up to speed, it was time for crunches. I thought to myself, "Why is this guy paying this company $100 an hour for a trainer if shows up 20 minutes late?" But he's not the exception from what I can see, he's the norm. Over half the people I've watched will come in late, talk to the trainers, saunter upstairs and aerobically workout half-ass until it's weight time. Why spend all the money if it's just social hour with pulleys?

I had to tell Eric, too, that a normal response when I get frustrated is to tear-up, and that he should just ignore it. I'm not in pain, and I don't want to stop, I just want weights I can do. He promised not to put "Crybaby" in my chart.

Several times when working out with Michele, she asked me if I hated her, mostly because she was pushing me, making me work harder. I told her, "I know the end result. I'm not going to hate you for getting me there." She was surprised. I guess most people come in late, skip half the workout, then complain when they get sore. I want to be strong. I like that sore feeling. The itching may be "not so much," but the strength, yes.

I want to be playing ultimate another 10 years.

I guess the worst part for me is realizing that 10 years ago, I used to be like all those people whom I don't understand now. Track in high school was brutal. I didn't want to do any of the workouts, I was there because it was sports or a job. I wasn't there for me, I was there for someone else. I like that now it's for me. I want to be better, faster, stronger. I really wish I had learned the lesson much younger.

After watching a good four hours of Battlestar Galactica (watching it from the beginning, bought the DVDs), I turned on some random Law and Order SVU episode that tivo had recorded. Having seen every episode of L&OSVU except maybe two or three from the last season (and many of those episodes more than once), I was able to describe the whole plot from the first 30 seconds of the show. Kris was unsurprised.

A short bit into the show, which started with a dog chasing down a suspect, then finding another body (dead, of course), the officer with the dog called out to the other officers, "Detectives! You're going to want to see this. She (the dog) found a body."

This sentence immediately started me off on my "you're going to want to see this" rant (and how this show actually got it right). I can't stand television or movie dialog where one character says something like, "Captain, you're going to want to see this." If I were the captain, I would immediately shoot back, "Don't tell me I'm 'going to want to see this,' just tell me what the frack I'm going to see when I walk over there. Then I'll decide if I want to see "this." But don't tell me to come over to look. Idiot."

Kris laughed, then started talking about the dog, and other shows he had seen about work dogs. I cut him off and told him my dog stories.

When I was in junior high, we lived down the street from the Herrings. In particular, Officer Bob Herring, who we referred to as Ossifer Herring. He had a K-9 dog (crap, I can't recall her name), who was incredibly well trained. Dad tells the story of when Bob showed the dog his gun, pointed to the gun and said, "Mine." then set the gun on the floor. The dog went up to the gun, pulled it under herself, and sat on it. It was Bob's gun, and no one else was going to get it.

Another story of that dog was of when it was chasing an armed suspect. Said suspect had a gun and was running away when the dog was released. He had thrown away the gun and thrown his hands up just as the dog was leaping at the suspect, presumably for the throat. Mid-air, she heard Bob's call to stop, and managed to twist in the air mid-leap. Instead of killing the man, she merely knocked him over.

There were other dog stories (what was that dog's name?), but I'm blanking on them now. It was a big dog, not one I think I'd want, but definitely a very well trained dog.

Kris managed to finish his working dog story by describing a K-9 dog that lived at the officer's house, with two kids like five and three. The K-9 dog knew he was a pet when he was home, but the officer had to be very careful about what words he used around the dog. Sure, he was a pet, but he was also an animal trained to kill. When guests came over, people unknown to the dog, the officer had to be more careful, as the dog was typically fairly protective of the kids.

His other story, and the one he enjoyed more was about a shepherd who had three border collies. One was the dominant work dog. The shepherd gave his command to her, and she directed the other two (in dog-speak!) to execute the command. Kris said they were amazing to watch.

Yeah, watching. Time to turn off the television and do some work.

Whoo! Megan had her baby this morning! Mirabelle Margaret Smith! WhoO! Mark sounded tired on the phone. He hadn't realized that Kyle had sent an email to the team already.

And the floodgates open. The baby flood begins.

Yay, Mark and Megan! Way to be first!