stillsostrange

My lack of LJing is venturing from slothful to truly sad. A large part of it is the absence of regular writing happening in Amandaland, which both leads to fewer metrics to post and a moderate case of bookless depression on my part. I don't enjoy bookless depression, and it's especially frustrating because the cure is obvious, but sometimes elusive.

Does anyone have any good writing memes, or feel like entering into a mutually assured destruction blogging pact? I need motivation, and small achievable goals. Otherwise my main source of content is going to become fitness posts, and I'm not sure those interest more than three people. (But if they do, let me know. I'll take what I can get.)

I have survived the holidays, mostly, despite letting them pass without an update. Now I just need to come up with a costume for Elysium's New Year's costume ball. I'm trying to figure out a way to reuse the copper feathers from my metal chicken griffin costume. Those should keep people from crowding me on the dance floor.

I've also committed to Warrior Dash in March, which will require much more training, particularly in the climbing ropes and jumping over fire departments. Between that and a 10k in April, I should manage to keep myself in reasonable valkyrie condition until the summer heat hits.

And after New Year's, I need to gird my loins and start marching on a new book. Any book will do, at this point.

Despite having slacked off on weightlifting for the past two weeks, I don't seem to have lost too much muscle. Tonight I sent a 5.10 that eluded me last week, and much it involved hauling myself up on crimpers. I was pretty surprised to have done so well.* This is the second 5.10 I've sent in recent history, which is a good sign. I also did more pushups during Powerhouse last week than I may ever have done before.

And despite a lot of holiday sloth, I went dancing twice this weekend. Ego Likeness played on Friday, which was a great delight. They played "Aviary" (aka Phaedra's song from Bone Palace), which made me very happy. Last night was a Peter Murphy tribute at a venue I'd never been to before, which was a pleasant diversion. As a Peter Murphy tribute, the set was pretty lackluster, but I still danced plenty. In doing so, I discovered what may be an unexpected side effect of recent weight loss: high heels have become more comfortable. They're still not pleasant, but I danced or stood for nearly four hours without misery or blisters. Or even fishnet chafing. Either thirty pounds makes quite a difference on one's feet, or I've leveled up in femme.

Now I just have to maintain my muscle gain till after Run For Your Lives, when I can start weight training again. And maintain my improved running stamina.

* I dogged the rope like woah, though, so take that with a little salt.

Sunday: 8 hours dayjob.
Monday: 1 hour yoga, climbing.
Tuesday: Weights. I added 5 pounds to my dead lift and subtracted 5 pounds from my pull-up assist. I also did Bulgarian split squats, even though we hates them, precious. 4 hours dayjob.
Wednesday: Sloth and more sloth.
Thursday: 4 hours dayjob.
Friday: 1.5 miles jogging. I actually jogged the whole way, with no walking intervals. This is amazing. 4 hours dayjob, but at least 1.5 of those hours were spent trying to catch a stray dog who was running around our parking lot. (We eventually succeeded.)
Saturday: Zombie obstacle course. This was not the grand Run For Your Lives event that I'm training for, but a local gym's knock off loving homage. The trail was longer (at least 4 miles, if not 4.5), but there were fewer zombies, fewer obstacles, and no mud. Obstacles included wheelbarrows and/or dragging our partners, carrying a 15 lb bag of sand* for 3/4ths of the way, zombie target practice, and carrying an additional load of bricks and a 2x4 the final leg. We didn't win, but neither were we last, and most importantly, I didn't die.**


* Supposedly we were carrying food to the safe zone. I think there would have been more pathos in having to transport flour-sack babies to the safe zone. And the babies might not have bled sand down my bra.

** I outran all the zombies. I learned later that my partner got tagged, but didn't tell anyone. So we would have eventually gone on to infect the safe zone and destroy the last attempt at saving humanity. Score!

Today I sent the final* draft of Dreams of Shreds & Tatters to arcaedia. Selling the damn thing may be a new nightmare, but it will be one that is mostly out of my hands. There is suddenly a book-shaped hole in my life. And since there's no pressing need to kill myself over D2 until I know the fate of D1, this means I get to cruise the city looking for sexy novels to have torrid flings with. Maybe Salvage wants to tell me more about its alien scientists and speedboat chases.

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In other news, I will be at Monster-Con on Saturday, October 13th. I'll be signing books dressed as a fish monster. As one does.

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In other, other news, I hope to participate in Run For Your Lives on December 13th. This depends on me getting the day off work, since large contingent from my bookstore wants to go, but I'm going to start training for a 5k anyway. December is the best possible time to run 5k. This means I have to abandon my beloved elliptical tomorrow in favor of the dreaded treadmill.

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On Friday I made a last minute decision to go see TKK after work, and am glad I did so. It wasn't like seeing them 12 years ago, but the show was fun and the venue pleasantly small, and Groovie was ambulatory the whole time. And they played "After The Flesh," which I'm been waiting to hear live since I first saw The Crow. And in an added bonus, my recent love affair with the elliptical means that I can now wear the striped tights which are the custom of my people without looking like a hobbit.

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And on that note, I'm off to the gym.


* Yes, I know. There will be a revision for an editor, copy edits, and proofs. Let me cling to my delusion for a time.

Friday: 6 hours dayjob
Saturday: 6 hours dayjob
Sunday: 7 hours dayjob, ~3 hours gothercize. Dancing on a holiday weekend--I suspect my lungs are still coated in other people's sweat.
Monday: 5 miles elliptical
Tuesday: 1 hour session with trainer
Wednesday: 1/2 hour core class, climbing
Thursday: 1 mile stair machine, 1 mile treadmill, 1 mile some other sort of cross training machine thing. I don't even know. What I do know is that I love none of them like I love my elliptical machine.

(22 miles out of Hobbiton.)

Something beautiful happened Wednesday. I'm not suddenly sending V3s, but I did sail up an overhang that has defeated me for more than three freaking years. I was so stunned to have sent the route that I turned around and sent it again. I'm surprised a choir of angels didn't await me with hosannas at the top of the wall.

Also, my endurance running is getting better, but a mile on the treadmill still leaves me red and gasping alarmingly. I need a slow zombie apocalypse if I'm to have any chance at survival.

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Sequels. These things are hard. The Bone Palace existed before I ever wrote TDC, and was always its own separate thing. But D2 builds almost entirely off Dreams, and needs to further an overarching plot while still doing its own stuff. I find this very strange and unnerving. Also, it means I finally have to figure out what the overarching plot is.

Friday: Rest day
Saturday: 7 hours dayjob
Sunday: 7 hours dayjob
Monday: 1 hour yoga, climbing
Tuesday: 1 hour session with trainer
Wednesday: Climbing & powerhouse (Alas, no dancing.)
Thursday: 1 mile treadmill, 1.5 miles elliptical, 1 mile stationary bike (these suck, I have learned; I shall shun them from now on), assorted weights. Then I came home and made a protein shake. What have I become?!

(13.5 miles out of Hobbiton, as the treadmill treads.)

"White Wedding" and Ministry's "Nature of Love" are both songs to which I am incapable of stopping an elliptical workout. So if iTunes plays them back to back, I'll go an extra half mile. Apparently what I really need in life is Al Jourgensen following me around shouting "Go!" Though that might be a bit strenuous for him these days.

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Sorry for the exercise spam. If it's any consolation, I'm currently brainstorming Dreams 2: Byakhee Boogaloo, so I might start spamming about that soon. It may contain a crippled WWI fighter ace who keeps a byakhee in a box.

Err, how embarrassing to find I've posted about nothing but exercise in the past week. Maybe I should write a book or something.

Friday: Rest day (4 hours dayjob)
Saturday: Many hours baking at a waterpark
Sunday: 7 hours dayjob
Monday: 1 hour yoga, climbing
Tuesday: 1 mile treadmill, 1 mile elliptical, assorted weights and walking lunges (There are muscles in my thighs: I know this because they hurt.)
Wednesday: Climbing & powerhouse (Alas, no dancing.)
Thursday: 1 hour session with trainer, 4 hours dayjob

(10 miles out of Hobbiton, as the treadmill treads.)

I'm slowly coming out of my climbing slump. I sent two V1s on Monday, and fell off a V10 halfway up.

Also, thanks to recent coffeeshop exposure, I've been listening to nothing but The Chameleons' Script of the Bridge since Tuesday. Someone may need to stage an intervention soon.

The new gym has been successful so far. 6.5 miles closer to Mordor, between the treadmill and the elliptical. How far is it to Mordor, anyway? The internet gives me conflicting figures.

Thursday: New gym (2 miles and various and sundry presses).
Friday: Armadillocon. Which is like exercise except the exact opposite.
Saturday: Still conning.
Sunday: 7 hours of dayjob, ~2 hours of gothercize.
Monday: Climbing.
Tuesday: New gym (2+ miles and sundry presses).
Wednesday: Gothercize, 2 hours.
Thursday: New gym (1 mile), 4 hours of dayjob.

As of this morning, I've lost 23 pounds since last year's World Horror, not counting the 5 extra pounds of water weight I was carrying at the end of that weekend. Now I need to get my strength and endurance up so I can make forward motion in climbing again.