Archive for June, 2009

on the move. keep the eyes and ears open.

Monday, June 15th, 2009

looks like carmen and i will be moving next month. this will mark my second move in less than a year. A trend, i hope this does not make. Perhaps the crab set the moving curse upon me?

anyway, we’d have loved to stay here, but it turns out that the landlord has other plans for the apartment, so sorry to any kids out there looking to sweep this place up.

moving. again. in july. this is going to suck.

carmen was pretty upset about it. more than a few tears were shed over all the work she put into this place. And the curtains. oh, the curtains.I guess we shouldn’t have really unpacked all my stuff.

i’m trying to look at the bright side. there’s a possibility of moving into a building with fios! plus, who knows, maybe we luck out and find an even better apartment. maybe one that’s off of an avenue so the kids in snv no longer have to hear sirens blaring over the phone all the time.

so, i guess i should wrap this up by asking if anyone knows of an apartment in the east village area with fios. anyone?

I can’t be your trainer

Thursday, June 11th, 2009

Over the past two and a half weeks, i’ve gotten carmen running with me. Carmen’s friends are impressed. They tell me they’ve never seen her run before.

anyway, it’s been going pretty well. we’ve been running three times a week. started at 20 minute runs and have worked our way up to 25 minute runs. actually, i should say that we started out with two back-to-back ten minute pieces and have worked our way up to one consecutive 25 minute run. We’ve progressed decently.

Are we where I think we should be after two and a half weeks? not really. I’m impatient, i know. We haven’t quite gotten to doing core work, push-ups, and squats that i’d like to introduce. We haven’t gotten to the stuff that really hurts. I’d love to get there, but i can’t be her trainer.

I can’t be her trainer because trainers need the latitude to make you cry.

Maybe it’s the militant way I was brought up in sports, but the only way i know how to get results is by breaking down the walls of rational thought. Crying is a pretty effective mean to that end. It’s like breaking a horse . . . almost. It doesn’t sound nice, I know. And it’s not that everyone has to cry. It’s more about being able to push them to that point.

The thing is, I know if i do make her cry, i’m the one that’s going to be hurting in the end, and maybe even our relationship will suffer. how much can you love a guy who makes you cry all the time? well . . . i guess she could develop some sort of stockholm syndrome or something.

anyway, the other day, it sorta happened. we got into an argument right before our run and i sorta left her in the dust for a good half a mile as i ran off some anger. eventually i calmed down a bit and realized what i was really doing. suddenly, this image of what she was experiencing, what it was like to see me running further and further away from her, popped into my head and my better nature came through. It wasn’t the sort of crying that you want to see, though. it was the “my boyfriend is a dick” crying instead of the “i’m so tired i’m going to puke” cry.

It also wasn’t a pleasant experience. We usually chat about our day while we run. It was total silence yesterday other than the occasional “watch out for the dog shit” signals. We didn’t talk much the rest of the night either. All-in-all pretty uncomfortable for a while.

We did, however, run a whole lot faster. We got about a minute thirty past our usual halfway point landmark, which means we found three extra minutes in a 25 minute run.

Was it worth it? The irrational in me says yes–it would have taken multiple weeks to reach that pace otherwise. Imagine how fast we could have run if it was the puke-crying! The rational says no–look at the cost! Inner conflict is so lame. We smoothed things out eventually. I think the cornish game hens i cooked up for dinner helped a bit. cooked in bacon fat with pearl onions.

moral of the story: maybe there are other ways to get people to perform, but making them cry sure is effective. and, no, I can’t be your trainer.

sub-moral of the story: i can be a real dick.