The power of the coach

When I started the week, I felt good about my couch to 5K program. Full of myself actually. I breezed through Day 10, congratulating myself on being in much better shape than I thought.

Then came Day 12. It kicked my a$$. Brought me to tears on the well-traveled Delaware Avenue here in town. I tried to hide it from my trainer, but that last minute brought me to my figurative knees.

I told him later I was quitting.

"No, you're not," he said calmly. "That would make you a hypocrite."

Say what?

He repeated back what I always say to him, about never giving up and fighting for what you want.

He's a teenager - since when do they actually listen?

Ouch!

I saw this van today and had to take a picture. It's a perfect match to one I took yesterday.



Eight weeks to go

Today marks one week in the training program that seemed like a good idea last week.

Don't I look thrilled?

The fact that I'm still going is nothing short of incredible. But today it felt like I was going to die. (Note to self: The fajitas beforehand probably wasn't a good idea.)

The run increases on Wednesday. If I make it we will definitely have margs on the deck later. Stop by.

Team Rilonka Ya-kob-son

On Monday I went jogging with my new trainer. We started the nine-week couch to 5K program. Here we are immediately after our first 12-minute workout. Notice that my face is as pink as my Nike Dri-fit. I could barely breathe. He looks like he took a leisurely stroll to the mailbox.

Why this coach?

1. He's an experienced runner.
2. He's tough as nails, so my whining will go nowhere.
3. I want to set a good example, so I'm less likely to give up if he's in the picture.

Our goal is to run a 5K in the fall.

If you see us out in the neighborhood, cheer us on.

Ready for summer to begin

The outdoor living space at the Hoop-lah house just got an upgrade. New furniture, new stuff from Pier 1 . . . we are living the good life around here.

We ditched our old stuff via Craigslist. That website is either the greatest invention ever or a gathering spot for the whack jobs of the world. I've spent the last three days fielding e-mails and phone calls from people who never showed up or people who expected next-to-new quality for next-to-nothing prices. Apparently the word "used" creates confusion.

Imagine my delight when an angel named Larry showed up today and bought the whole thing. Strangely, unlike everyone else, he didn't care about the broken chair or the tabletop that sloped down. But he scrutinized that umbrella as if he were buying a Persian rug. I let him talk me down $25 and off he went. Good times, Larry!

In case you can't tell, that is an old braided belt around the umbrella. Classy, right?