Is something eluding you, Sunshine?

Now that my workout routine is seemingly on track (though I’m eagerly awaiting my exercise disc in the mail, as the final piece of the puzzle), I’ve decided it’s time to turn to nutrition, an area where I’m a bit behind the 6-ball, as they say. Quite frankly, while the cheesy/crunchy/sugary food group diet has been delightful, it’s not exactly sveltening. And with spring and sundress weather looming ahead, it’s time to lighten up a bit.

So with that in mind, I’ve been studying various nutrition plans, and have decided to go with an approach that will have me thin and, apparently, living to 110 or so. Not that I see that as essential – at this point, I’ll take next week – but hey, fringe benefits are fringe benefits. Of course, one does have to give something up. Like food. I’ve been reading up on the Longevity Diet, which is based on studies that show that people who follow very low calorie diets manage to suppress many of the effects of aging, including heart disease, diabetes, etc. Those are the pros. The cons are that one has to live on nuts, berries, fruits, vegetables, and twigs, and oh yes, for a treat, lots of tea, which is relatively packed with nutrients of some sort. And the people on these diets pretty much uniformly look like crap: pale, pasty, gaunt, old, like this guy.... who's 29. Me, I guess I’ll just have to rely on my natural good looks to carry me through.

Of course, this plan intrigues me. Why? Well, the obvious answer is because it’s completely moronic, and that’s what I’m all about. Saying and doing the stupid shit, so you, gentle reader, don’t have to. This of course means that I’ll have to give up my beloved cheez doodles for a while, since I think they’re calorically dense but maybe not so high on the nutrition scale. Plus I’d eat my daily allotment of calories with about one handful of doodles. So - *sob* – you win, Chuck, dammit, you win!

Anyway, this wacky longevity diet requires that one cut back on calories by about 40% or so. Far be it from me to be half-assed about anything, so I figure I’ll just cut them in half. My motto: if you’re not going to win, then at least crash and burn with gusto. Dream big, people, dream big! Apparently many consider it a good idea to start with a detox week first, and the Master Cleanse diet involves a week or so of nothing but drinking some vile-sounding molasses/pepper/lemon concoction, which I’m interpreting to mean “liquids, fruity or otherwise.” So far today: faux coffee, cup of tea with honey. I can feel the antioxidants surging through my blood vessels already.

My favorite quote from one of the articles: “You might love a big bowl of ice cream, I might love two blueberries.” Umm, yeah, because those are about the same thing.
Would ice cream WITH blueberries be a zero-sum meal? Cause I could live with that. Adding pie to the equation just adds some necessary grains, right?


On another note, I’ve found the perfect training shirt for me: the Club Fat Ass t-shirt. I see this as motivation to be faster, since we’ve already established that I’m the Slowest Person in the Club. I think this is attached to my name permanently; much as we have “IrishDanceSensation Michael Flatley” and “KingofPop Michael Jackson,” I am “SlowestPersonintheClub Tasha Huebner,” or just SlowPIC for short. Since I can’t actually wear this shirt without, well, passing people on the run, that means I need to NOT be the slowest person, i.e. get out there and bust my ass. Not quite sure how this’ll fit in with the new diet, but hey, I guess I’ll find out. Can I at least have my next cup of tea yet?

Observations ...

1. Jane Fonda had some rockin' legs.

2. I guess this applies to our whole blog, not just one thread. I love this ...

Suck it up, buttercup

Aww, Chuck, you had me at…….the Little House on the Prairie picture. If I may, I’d like to be the feisty, some would say ornery, Laura Ingalls, as opposed to the saintly Mary. Going against type, I suppose.

Stupid Tasha: Shut up about all that! Do the wager! Take ‘em all on! Wheeeeeee!
Less Stupid Tasha: Umm, no. I’m used as the Tri Club baseline for suckitude, and you want me to pretend I can beat my gungho teammates? No.
ST: Come on! No pain no gain! No guts no glory! No…
LST: Okay, enough with the inner Jane Fonda!
ST: They’re wimps! Look at Ryan with all his fancy-schmancy silly gadgets, but who still falls on his bike all the time!
LST: Umm, that’s me. I fall on my bike all the time.
ST: Never mind that! Look at Kevin and his whiskey and Girl Scout cookie diet…
LST: He’ll kick my ass on the bike. Well, even though I did order him the
mini circus bike from the bike rental place. Plus his bike horn is made out of a real lead ingot.
ST: Chuck…
LST:….swims like a fish.
ST: Carolyn…
LST: …is building a sandladder in her backyard.
ST: Max…
LST…is Russian for God’s sake! You grow up tussling with babyshki over the last jar of mayonnaise at the store, you grow up tough. He could do this in his sleep.
ST: So what! Do it!
LST: Hmm. Oh, okay, why not? I’m in on our friendly wager, folks, so bring it on.

My new motto: Embrace the Suckage!

Deep Thoughts

Seems my earlier post was misinterpreted. I love you all in a way that words cannot describe, so I will try pictures. It is usually this ...
























with an occasional dose of this Cujo ...














not to confused with this Cujo ...











We have our ups and downs. Sometimes we're this family ...
























... but sometimes we're this family ...
























... but, in all seriousness, I wish I could quit y'all, but I can't

Uh.....

Sure Ryan, open challenge. After all THIS IS ALL IN GOOD FUN! :)
Loser buys dinner at Gibsons? Anyone else want in?
We could handicap to make it interesting...

Ouch

Wow, Chuck, you’re bringing us down by dissing the cheez doodles. Just….wow. What’s next – a vitriolic attack on my Thighmaster Route to Kona plan? Here we are, Kev and I, just trying to live the dream, and you’ve gotta be dragging us back to earth. With a thud. Sad.

I guess I was also under the radical impression that people read this blog in order to be entertained, and not for long discourses on our training methods and routines. I could be wrong on that, I suppose – I’ve been known to be almost wrong before, I think, at some point in my life, not that I can recall that at the moment. I mean, we COULD do that on a daily basis, post our daily workouts – but that would just be stealing Ryan’s thunder, his niche, his raison d’etre…..and how unfair would that be? Plus it would be….let’s see, what words am I looking for…..oh yeah: boring as shit. And God help anyone seriously looking to our training for guidance. I guess we COULD keep talking about how scary the sand ladder is (it’s steep! It’s sandy!), but I’m thinking that might wear a little thin by June, and oh yeah, it would be…….boring as shit.

So, maybe Kevin and I can continue to amuse ourselves by posting our “attempted humor,” and you and Carolyn can post whatever earnest thoughts pop into your heads, and we can all coexist peacefully. What say?

Was that an open challenge?

Kevin, was that an open challenge, or solely directed at Chuck? If it's an open challenge, I'll bite! Regardless, I'll be wagering on one of you two come race day

Uh ... no

Dearest Kevin, I never said that such a workout was neither real nor entertaining. I simply commented that I was surprised by a post that was about something other than such a workout or attempted humor. As for the competition, I must respectfully decline. I am looking to (a) finish, (b) stay unhurt and (c) have fun. You will need to find someone else for this competition, perhaps someone with a similar need to prove his manliness and overcome feelings of inferiority.

Et tu Brute?

Hmmm. I think what I just read was that my intensive 100M workouts and dietary habits did not qualify neither as a real workout nor as entertaining reading. Perhaps we should see who reaches the finish line first? Care to wager?

thanks for the good news and bad news

Chuck, thanks for the info. Good news...10k rather than 7.5miles. Bad news...sandladder in the middle of the run which was exactly what I was fearing! Oh well, should be interesting at the gym...run a couple of miles, jump off, run over to the stair machine, do the stair machine for a bit, jump off, run back to the treadmill, and run some more.

In regards to the sandladder, having done it before, can you give us some more information on it? how long is it? is it actually in sand or are there established stairs? are you in a dune? i don't quite get it. thanks!

CHUCK'S RESPONSE:
It's a mix of railroad ties as kinda steps with maybe 6-12" between them and some sections of soft sand w/o the ties. I can't remember which comes first, the soft sand or the ties. These pix LOOK LIKE the soft sand is first ...
























Here are the ties
























this is a good picture too, and it LOOKS LIKE the ties go all the way to the beach, but the other pix seem to show soft sand to the beach. I think this one is an opitical illusion, the sand next to the ties looks very close and the sand texture at the beach looks really far away. I seem to recall trudging for a while in soft sand to what I thought was the top at a serious incline, but what I thought was the top was only a change to a less steep incline and this change looked like the top of the hill from below bc you couldn't see the top half bc of the lip. makes sense then in this pic of the ties that it looks like a drop off at the end, but I think that it is only a change to a more steep pitch after the drop off. I think those 2 people at the front of this picture are looking at a steeper decline rather than walking onto the beach

A training question ?!?!?!

Carolyn, such a refreshing change from posts re 100 yd workouts and cheese doodles!! A real worout question. I guess we need those every so often.

When I did the Escape from Alcatraz I was prob running 9 min miles in workouts. I did the 8 miles on raceday on a 10:20 pace. I also sprained an ankle and the last 2 miles were a crawl, so it prob realistically should have been 10:00. The 2nd run here (remember there's that 2.5'er bw the swim and the bike) is similar to the 8 I did in the other race. See my post from a while ago re the route. NOTE, the 2nd run is now being reported as 10K rather than 7.5 miles !!! yippee.

On the tricalifornia webpage, it looks like the sandladder is 3.5 miles or so from the finish. Transition and finish here is further west toward the ocean and the GGate, so sandladder seems to be maybe 4 miles into the run and maybe 2.5 or so from the finish. yes, just about in the damn middle.

re trainer boredom, dunno. spinervals has some good workouts but you can only watch so many times. "24" episodes were good but I'm now caught up. recording a 1 hour show on your tivo (which is usually 44 minutes in 6 segments) is a good workout, I used to do 6 sets on 7 or so minutes each at following gears 3, 6, 9, 12, 15, 18. pretty tough toward the end. It has to be an intense show though.

race/training questions

so, i know the hills are challenging in SF and the course is difficult, but what does everyone thing about how times will transfer? what will your regular pace be out there with the course and challenges?

also, where does the sandladder fall in the run? just trying to figure out if training wise it is best to do the stair machine first and then run or vice versa or mix the two together.

oh and anyone have any suggestions for trainer rides? i get incredibly bored on them and i'm wondering if there is a way to prepare for climbs on them?

Less Than Zero

Well, yet again I’ve discovered that I’m the LCD (Lowest Common Denominator, for you non-mathy non-Wharton folk) of the Tri Club. I keep getting the “are you actually training??” questions, which quite frankly, I don’t understand – after all, one doesn’t get this kind of bod without my strenuous 15-minute-a-day workouts, you know – if you can dream it, you can achieve it. But apparently my sheer audacity at signing up for IMMOO has inspired people left and right to themselves sign up for all sorts of things they never thought possible, using the “if SHE’S crazy enough to sign up for an IM (read = given her total lack of athletic abilities), I can certainly do such-and-such” argument. Apparently my IM effort is akin to doing a walk-a-thon across the Gobi desert, bungee jumping off the Empire State, and doing some 1-day 500K bike ride in Colorado. In winter. Because that’s the kind of thing my Tri Club compatriots have signed up for.



I also loved the comment by a friend who told me that she had “somehow managed to stumble across a person who’ll be slower than (you) at IMMOO!” Wow. That IS truly amazing. I forgot to ask if she was blind and/or 82 years old. Sigh.



This of course just makes me even more determined than ever to succeed. So in addition to my Thighmaster workouts, I’m adding an incredibly tough disc routine, whereby I’ll sit or lay around holding out my disc, clearly working to exhaustion muscles I didn’t even know I had. The mind reels at my dedication. Oh, I sense the skepticism that I’ll actually stick with it – *sob* – but I’ll show all of you, dammit! I will!




I’ve also decided that I’m now going to work on my swimming exclusively through dryland training. According to the presentation at last night’s Tri Club meeting, dry land training is just as good as actual swimming (at least that’s how I understood it), so now I never even have to get in the water until race day. Sweet! I might even get this funky swimming apparatus – I’m not sure where I’ll put it exactly, but heck, furniture is overrated anyway.



Ryan, umm, thanks, but I…..I…..MOVED suddenly, yeah, that’s it. I can’t recall my new address off the top of my head, so I’ll get back to you on that.



And Kev, thank you for the lovely plant you dropped off at my doorstep in the wee hours of the morning. I’ve always wanted a Venus flytrap! Oh, some bad news though – I was talking to Eva this morning and she was all excited about surprising you with a visit today….but then she saw your comment about the bags of ice and, well, our last conversation was a little garbled, but I think she was off to Tahiti, mumbling something about “no, no, not the shrinkage excuse again, dios mio”. Though maybe I got that part wrong.




Btw, Lyuba is a classic Russian name – of course it means……….Love. Sigh. It just restores your faith in humanity, doesn’t it, seeing fate work its magic?

Tasha, your address please

Tasha,

Thank you ever so much for your friendly reminder about International Women's Day. Since you're so near and dear, I want to make sure I get your flowers to you as soon as possible, so you don't get the impression that I don't care. Please send your address ASAP, and I'll make sure to get those dead roses over to you most expediently!

Mail Order Brides and Extreme Training

HAPPY WOMEN OF THE WORLD or whatever DAY!

A very special thanks to Mom, Eva (miss you baby!), my proctologist, and all those wonderful women who have made my life the living wonder it is! 1,000 thanks!

Yikes! OK, now I see the web site those emails came from. Tasha, ANOTHER mail order bride? Gee, thanks. I mean, I was never one for the petite girls, but, ummm, well, Lyuba sure seems to be.....rather.... strong....huh? And, well.... I'm noticing she has a 5 o'clock shadow, too. Are you sure this is a woman? I can't find the name Lyuba in any Russian Book of Names from girls. Little help... please? Besides, not to burst *her* bubble, but Eva is just days away from calling and proclaiming her undying love for me. I just know it.

Extreme training this morning entails my normal swim, 5 x 100M, but with large bags of ice in my jammers to emulate conditions in the bay. I'll keep you posted on how that goes...

Women of the World, Unite!

Today, March 8th, is International Women’s Day of course, and I’m posting this sufficiently early as a reminder to all the men out there to hit the flower shops early in order to get the best selection, before everything gets picked over and there are only bedraggled petunias left. I’m sure you’re all aware of this holiday’s customs, whereby women get to sit around and eat bonbons all day, while the men not only do everything around the house, but are also required to give flowers to not just their main squeeze, but random women on the street as well. Or potted plants – een old country I was once given a plant, so those are okay too.





Btw, Kev, I’m glad you liked the pictures…but…..umm…..those actually went with the marriage proposals, not the joke-a-day. I, uh, guess I should have been clearer on that. And, I think you accidentally replied to one of them, because Lyuba has asked me to tell you that she’ll be arriving in 2 weeks, and she’s really really looking forward to celebrating her 30th birthday with you.



My bad….

Deep thoughts with Chunky StyleZ

If a swimmer is attacked and, say... eaten, by a shark, and nobody notices, does he really go missing?

1983 Commercials - fun memories

Great video. many mullets and tight shorts.

pepsi
le menu
280Z (I swear, that guy is STILL doing voice-overs)
budweiser pirates
dungeons and dragons NERDS
clorets, the breath deodorant
underalls !!!
john MacEnroe's short shorts
juan valdez picking coffee beans
"tom cruise is stefen djordjevic" - "he's been put down ... and pushed around ... long enough"
ColecoVision !!!
"penetrating vapor action"
wild musk - this may be the best of the lot, better than the Geico Cavemen by far
sony walkman

A Return from Exile

First off, many many thanks to my friends and family who sent flowers and notes of well wishes. The doctors tell me I seem to be fine and all normal brain function is back. Motor skills are still a bit weak, but I was given the all clear to begin working out again.

It seems the Hostess Cupcake / RedBull diet I had been developing after failed attempts with the White Castle Nutritional Plan and a rather quick plateau with the FlufferNutter sandwiches, had sent my blood sugar levels through the roof and me into a sugar coma. Two weeks in intensive care at the Illinois Institute for Sports and Genetic Research have me back on my feet and ready for action. Thanks guys! That being said, I am way behind in training, life ... and posting here. God knows I need my back waxed like nobody's business. Oops... did I just type that?

OK, so just a note to say hello again to my team, who so generously and thoughtfully sent me jack shit in my absense - except for Tasha. Dear Tasha, thank you for the joke-a-day in Russian.
That was very thoughtful. While I couldn't understand a word they were saying, those husky, peasant-stock women sure do LOOK funny. You're the best!

Big props to my man Jason at Get a Grip, who supposedly reads this blog on a regular basis and gives as good a "straight man to another straight man" hug there is. Much luv, bro.

Now if you'll exuse me, there's a Hostess Twinkie that requires my attention.

Whereupon Tasha Almost Gets Herself Killed

The guys I play hockey with, when pressed to describe me, usually come up with the word “fearless”, which I suspect is just a nicer way of saying “stupid.” I myself will confess that I seem to have Little Dog Syndrome, where the tiny puppy takes on the 200-lb. mastiff. And I know this’ll come as a shock to those of you who know me, but…….I do have a wee bit of a temper.

So we have a game Saturday night, where unbeknownst to me I’ve somehow been designated as tonight’s tackling dummy by our opponents. In particular by the biggest guy (aka “BigGuy”) on their team who looks like he did time in San Quentin. When he grins menacingly at me over a faceoff, I could swear I see a glint of silver. He starts by trying to wrap his stick around my ankles in order to trip me up, but I elude that one and tell him “don’t even try that crap on me, bub.” Foolishly ignoring my warning, he later crosschecks me across the back and sends me sprawling onto the ice. And gives me a sarcastic "Oops." This is where the temper thing kicks in, when I get up and do the same to him. Adding a couple of whacks in the shin for good measure. And skate off. Oops yourself, pal.

Even later, I get run down and do one of those cartwheel things in the air, and of course land smack dab on my bad elbow. Now I’m pissed.

So when there are 5 minutes left in the game and I’m run down along the boards by BigGuy who then lands on top of me for good measure, I’m pissed off AND a little exasperated. So of course I bounce up (sturdy peasant stock and all), and as I yell at him – “WHAT do you think you’re doing? Give it up already!” – I punctuate my point with, yes, a punch to the shoulder. And then another one.

Now, given that this particular guy is a giant who’s built like a brick s&*thouse, he’s now been stunned into silence, his mouth agape. I jab at him again. “What’s the deal, huh?” Time stands still at the rink as everyone waits to see if I’m going to get my ass handed to me. And is that a tic in his eye? I suspect the guys see me flounce into the rink looking like a girlie-girl and think I’m a pushover, as opposed to a little she-devil on skates. With that *slight* temper I mentioned earlier.

Finally, like a bear roused from deep hibernation, BigGuy roars out that “if I had run into you at full speed, I would have killed you!” He’s looking a tiny bit irate at this point, to say the least, so I decide I’ve made my point and just give him a “hmph” and skate off, tossing him the most menacing look these big brown eyes can pull off. I suspect the effect is much like Bambi, if Bambi were wearing a hockey helmet. Oh well. The collective sigh of relief in the rink is palpable. After the game and after we’ve lined up and shaken hands with the other team, I skate over to BigGuy to magnanimously offer an apology and to tell him that I was kind of joking around. He was ready to offer up apologies too, and as I’m skating off to the locker room, he adds “oh, by the way, nice crosscheck in front of the net!”, and I think to myself ah, another guy who’s fallen under my spell after I’ve tangled with him on the ice. It’s a gift, I tell you, a gift.

Unfortunately, I think my elbow is broken. Ouch. Will have to cut back on the chest press reps I’ve been doing with the Thighmaster. Maybe dial it down to 6, from an overly ambitious 8?

On another note, Kevin was kind enough to drop off my mega-supply of Girl Scout cookies over the weekend. So, who’s up for a box or 6? Anyone? Bueller? I’m trying to avoid piling on any more zaftig….

And now, a word re one of our sponsors ...

The services of one of our sponsors, Pyrasports (see left), is not as readily apparent as those of DeSoto or Accelerade. Here's a little bit about Pyrasports, which also is affiliated with an IT company, Pyramedium (my behind-the-scenes technical advisors). See link to Pyramedium at the Pyrasports site.

Pyrasports is web-based training software that was originally built for several schools on the West Coast. Creating an account is free (when signing up, please note that you found Pyrasports through the damnthiswateriscold blog).

On Pyrasports you will be able to record your workouts and nutritional habits, read (and submit if you want to be published) articles ranging in topics from heart rate monitors to wellness to chocolate mousse, and interact with other people who like to have a healthy lifestyle. Some users have asked if they could use the site as a substitute to match.com but the administrator cannot comment on this.

Pyrasports is constantly adding new users and also running a few fitness challenges every now and then. A few Alcatrazers have used the software to stay on track and it's very easy to use. Check it out.

Another day, another grueling workout

Carolyn, your timing is perfect, because yesterday was a classic strength training day for me. Heavier than usual actually, since I was signing up for the HHH, aka the Horribly Hilly Hundred. In fact, I’m not sure I have to even do the ride anymore, considering the workout I’ve already gotten. The HHH is one of those insane things that we pay good money to do, instead of spending it on sensible things like ice cream and sundresses. A 100 or 200K bike ride through the steep, soul-destroying hills of southern WI. “Fun”!

So after waking up early and limbering up with some thumb circles and a series of “jazz hands” to get the blood circulating, I carbed up with a Mountain Dew and my new perfect food, a corndog, i.e. a self-contained unit of triathlon nutrition in a perfect golden bundle, and sat down at my computer. All systems go, everything is in place. Waiting for 10AM, so that I can quickly get this registration over with and get to my daily Road-to-Kona visualization exercise.

10AM

What the…??? All hell breaks loose, as if a hive of angry bees has attacked the central active.com node. Error page. Error page. Is it my computer? My connection? Doubtful. I can’t even get onto active.com at all. Shit! I keep trying…..

10:35

Cell phone rings. It’s Deanna.

Deanna: Did you get in? I got to the payment page and then it booted me off.
Tasha: You actually got to the rumored-but-rarely-seen registration page? I still haven’t even been able to log into active.com. This is ridiculous.
D: Yeah, I got on right away, had no problems until I submitted payment.
T: Well, you were spoiled by early success then, because I seriously have yet to get beyond the first page where you log into Active.com
D: I don’t know what to do – I have no idea if I’m actually registered!
T: Try thinking Viking thoughts. Arrrrrg and yo ho ho!
D: That's a pirate, you moron.
T: Oh.

I keep trying. After multiple tries, I keep getting a bit closer, then get the error page. I then discover that the event is in my cart, so at least I know I can just go back to the cart rather than the initial login page.

11:00

Deanna calls again.

D: I don’t think I’m in – I haven’t gotten a confirmation.
T: You’re still ahead of me. I’ve just managed to get to the payment page for the first time. Woo.
D: I have to go to work! What shoul….
T: AHHHHHHH!! Oh, sorry. I hit the payment key and got the damn error page.
D: That’s okay. So far I don’t know anyone who’s gotten in – everyone is saying the same thing.
T: How can there be so many nutballs signing up for this thing? Who ARE these people??
D: I have no frickin…..
T: AHHHHHHH! Sorry! It happened again!

And so on. This madness continues, I keep shrieking in Deanna’s ear, and when the dust settles, it looks like I’ll be riding my 200K with the maybe two other people from the Tri Club who got in, and 998 computer geeks who also scored. On the bright side, they should be easy to eliminate. Oh sure, this supposedly isn’t a race, but really, if you’re not knocking people out of the way whenever you have a chance, then what’s the point of it all?

But before I go off to do useful things, I pen a letter to active.com, aka the assclowns who have just helped suck away my entire morning.


Dear Active.com;

I apologize in advance for bothering you with my meek entreaties, perhaps pulling some of you away from your hourly cup of tea or snack. After all, who am I, the lowly and enfeebled paying customer, to come between you and your daily ruminations and activities, which apparently do not involve maintaining a system that actually lets people sign up for races? In spite of my presumption, I would ask that you consider my modest proposal: that in order to facilitate event registration in the future, you could use some of that fee we pay you to spring for a few extra bananas for the dedicated and hard-working monkeys frantically handling sign-up via abacus and stone tablet.

This seems to be the only plausible explanation as to why registration should take 1-3+ hours and involve so much frustration. We are not downloading the entire history of Russian literature set to interpretive dance; we’re trying to sign up for a damn bike ride. Perhaps you could upgrade from the vacuum tube technology
you’re currently using in your Motorola 6800? Just a suggestion.

Sincerely,
Princess


I feel much better. Now I’m off to “Speed Racer” my bike, by adding sharp blades that will shoot out from Ginger at the touch of a button, thus slicing my opponents’ back wheel into shreds. Hey, they don’t refer to the HHH as “Biking like a Viking” for nothing…..

Tough Guy Competition

Now THIS is a tough 8 mile race.

One my all-time favorite quotes: "Drunk is the best time to fill out the race application."

• The Fiery Holes: A series of ditches filled with chest- to neck-deep, bone-chilling, muddy water. In between is a small island with burning bales of hay you must run through. "By that point you're usually so cold that you just stand in the fire to warm up," Capone says.

• The Viet Cong Tunnels: A series of used sewer pipes that snake underground for 20 yards. Some are barely wide enough to fit in, let alone crawl through. And according to rumor, one has a dead end. "If you have any fear of dark, smelly, confined places," course marshal Paul Skone says, "this will address it."

• The Tiger: You climb up a 30-foot net, climb back down, climb up another one, then climb back down. Easy. Except in between you race through a 20-yard stretch of "jelly fish" electric tapes, some of which are electrified. "They're set to a charge that will stop a bull," Skone says.

• The Underwater Tunnel: Already bordering on hypothermia, you wade 30 yards through frigid, neck-deep water, then swim underwater beneath a bridge, popping up for oxygen twice if necessary (it is). "Evil. That's the only word for it," Skone says.

Strength Training Advice

Dearest Carolyn,

You have most definitely asked for advice in the right place, I am most certain that some of my esteemed teammates will happily opine with their utmost expertise, but please allow me to help guide you in the proper direction.

First of all, I must disclaim that I have what some might refer to as a brutal strength training program, which I follow virtually every day. It is as follows:

First - I drag my butt out of bed every single day, upon successfully standing, I plod to the bathroom so I can shower. Exhausted, I stand in the shower and let the hot water run over my muscles to sooth them.

Secondly - I live on the 2nd floor, so I walk down the stairs each day, working my quads as I control my descent to the first floor. To make this more difficult, I carry a bag, which has a computer in it, amongst other things, to provide additional weight.

Third - I eat, all day long, this causes my stomach to work and it strengthens my jaws.

Fourth - I take the stairs when I get home, once again, carrying my bag, therefore strengthening my legs.

Fifth - I continue eating. For instance, I'm currently eating chips and guac (homemade btw). The trick is, and this really burns, you need to hold your arm out parallel to the ground and bend at the elbow, this works the bicep and deltoids. See, I'm thinking.

Please let me know if I can be of further assistance.

Ryan

strength training

what programs does everyone follow? i'm looking for a good strength training program to do twice a week.

Wookin Pa Nub….

…in all da wong paces……Listening the other day to the classic sounds of Buh-weet singing “Wookin Pa Nub,” I was thankful that I have already found true love, in the form of RCG (Random Cute Guy) at the rink, whose name I don’t actually know. YET. Minor details. Of course, being deliriously overjoyed at my sure-to-be future state of bliss (assuming I ever see RCG again), my current goal in life is to see everyone else as happy as I am. Well, along with the goal of getting those idiot people at JAY’S to give us our fricking sponsorship before I go into the poorhouse from buying all these cheez doodles to fuel my RIGOROUS TRAINING REGIMEN. But I digress.



It does, however, seem to me that our little team needs some help, particularly some of the menfolk. Now, Kevin seems to be all set in the romance department, luring women in with the promise of being able to play with his vast and extensive Pez dispenser collection. Chuck is happily married. Mr. Peabody, aka Ryan, “claims” to have a “girlfriend,” but have we seen her? Or for that matter, have we seen the Big P himself lately?? No, he seems to have eluded us, not a peep in over a week – Team, I think it’s time for an intervention. And Max is single. So, Ryan and Max, I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of posting profiles for both of you on Match.com – now all you have to do is wait for true love to come rolling in. Umm, I forget the exact details of what I wrote, but please try to sound knowledgeable about winning the Nobel Prize, in between jetting off to the Cote d’Azure for a weekend jaunt on the beach, okay? And, umm, try to appear independently wealthy. And if you don’t have tattoos, could you quickly get some? Thanks! That appears to be all the rage these days with the young people. The rest is all a blur.

Oh sure, it’s a bit of a scattershot approach, but hey, even a blind pig finds an acorn once in a while. And after all, aren’t we all really just, well, wookin pa nub?