The Little Bitty Itchy Bite...

I'll gladly say it...I'm old school. At this moment I am listening to Madonna's "holiday" and there are smokin' booty~shakin gyrations going down in this house...OK I'm chair dancing~that's the extent of it and the shaking gyrations, well, that's my muffin top trying to keep up with my rear end.  The music is cranked up and my tiny computer speakers are screeching with the exertion...or is that Madonna?


Chair dancing (although fun) does not qualify as exercise! It seems like I am making all kinds of excuses in my mind to get out of working up a sweat good and proper-like. Seriously, it's come down to me washing out cupboards and wiping down walls to get out of it...that's how desperate I am.


My running shoes sit at the door mocking me, my shorts are washed and ready to go with a shirt, sports bra and socks in a tidy little pile in my bathroom. Somehow having it neatly arranged makes me feel like I've already done something productive, minus of course the burn in my lungs~ the accelerated heart rate~ the sweat dripping down my back~ the rhythmic pumping of my arms and legs as I get past the "wall" and start floating without labored breathing. Oh how great it feels the be done a good run, the sense of accomplishment...what in the heck am I waiting for?

~THE REASON~

I have a horrible problem, everything I do needs to have a reason for it. I am goal oriented and work well under pressure and actually need pressure to motivate me so here I sit...chair dancing when I should be outside getting rid of my chub-rub.

Maybe you're wondering what chub-rub is. Let me give you a visual aid...picture this scene in your mind. It was very hot, dry and dusty. Our breath was catching in our throats from the occasional whisper of wind that would unsettle the powdery soil under our feet. It was only day 2 of our ascent to Everest Base Camp but we already felt like we'd been given an ass whopping after the easy terrain and beautiful scenery of day 1.

The rocky path stretched up as far as our eyes could see in an almost vertical wall face that somehow we were supposed to climb. There was an unpleasant odor in the air that we couldn't put our finger on, and besides the occasional rumble from our guide, it never seemed to change.

The bells would signal it...panic! We clutched and crawled our way to the mountain side of the path after reading in our guide book that tourists die each year in the Himalaya's because they go to the cliff side of the path when a yak train comes along and then get pushed over.  As the yaks pass we notice a couple of things~each yak has a bell around it's neck that is different in size and sound from every other yak in the train. The herder knows each yak by the sound of it's bell and would often throw a rock at the backside of one who was getting out of line. The other thing that became apparent, was that the fine dust we had been trampling over was actually yak dung ground into minuscule particles!

We understood very quickly that we needed to set a smooth, easy pace that was slow enough for everyone without losing our momentum because at that point if we could have turned around we might have! Our guide took up the rear and we started single file. We all took turns setting pace and when it was my turn I settled into a steady rhythm. One, two, three ,four, one, two, three, four. The air was so still and quiet, there were few other groups around and the world seemed hushed as we concentrated on having just enough energy to put one foot in front of the other.

There was a soft swish~swish~swish~swish sound that kept us in a trance like state, it's cadence lulling us into a nether-world of mountains already conquered and victories already won. When we stopped, the sound stopped, when we started climbing again, the sound came again...and that's when I realized what it was. Chub-rub. Yup, all this idyllic talk and here my pace was being set by the sound of my inner thighs rubbing together! I guess it was good for something.

There was nothing left of my inner thighs when we got back from that trip...they'd all been rubbed off and I was ecstatic about that! So here it is, July, the month I usually get the itch to book another trip for late winter...probably has more to do with the size of my muffin top and chub-rub than with the time of year it is. I need the reason to get out for a good long run, burn some hard core calories in a super-set weight session. I need the anxiety and exhilaration of  a rewarding adventure at the end of all my hard work that I know I have paid dearly for, but it will be worth it all.

And so it begins...