Monthly Archives: September 2008

The temple of health

Back in my early military day I remember thinking that calling a gymnasium a temple of health was really, really hackneyed – in a rare display of common sense I managed to not voice my opinion. In my present situation, gymnasium is just on of the features of the facilities that I exercise at – two as I have the choice of two superb indoor facilities.

The first is called the RecPlex – it has a recovery pool and beautiful 25 meter swimming pool , a basketball size gym and a cardio fitness centre. The cardio area is usually empty except for me so I can sweat to my heart’s content and listen to my iPod through the stereo – no wires, no tangles except for my hair. The RecPlex is next door to the National Air Force Museum, the main CANEX (shopping outlet) and a Tim Horton’s. Exercise and then reward yourself with a fat pill?

The second is called the Gymnasium but is also referred to as the South Side – this is the larger centre, having a double basketball size gym that can be divided off for multi use, saunas (guys and girls…) and then a huge cardio/weight training centre. This facility is frequented by the Army types that don’t call themselves airborne anymore, Air Force types and a few Navy girls – Navy girls being the babes of the bunch in my opinion!

A few things about these facilities make them wonderful places to work out – I know the staff by name, and the guys who work out there are polite, pleasant and appreciative of a girl who runs as fast as they do. The women – holy Hanna they can be nasty things!

Do you know

See the marketplace in old Algiers
Send me photographs and souvenirs
Just remember when a dream appears…

No matter where he takes you, Timbouktou, it don’t matter, because it’s fate. Know? Nobody can stop fate. Nobody can.

I really hate the way that exercise can fuck with my hormone levels – it has to do with the fact that when I exercise at or above my 80th percentile my body metabolizes E and P so fast that I get a really sudden and nasty mini-PMS. It’s horrible.

I get very emotional and need to hide so people can’t see me, especially after I listen to music such as that which the lyrics above came from, and then have the voice over narration at the end spawn vivid memories of how fragile life can be.

The stop gap solution is for me to go work out like a maniac – let pain and endorphins combine to allow me to go until I am drenched and have forgotten everything except for the space I am in. if you have not been there, well, this won’t make any sense to you – the chemical cause and cure.

Docu-drama

A new twist has developed in my ongoing struggle to get all of my documentation switched over to my proper name – did you know that for many government services we Canadians are only indexed and identified by our SIN? I was already aware that SIN is not an acronym for Social Insurance Number – it’s actually Singular Identifying Number. Without it, or with errors in the information associated with it, well. you’re pooched in many circumstances.

In my case, Human Resources Development Canada (HRDC) is willing to help me stick it to Bell Aliant and Lockheed Martin for the way that I was treated, and more importantly at the moment, the way way that they are treating me. That’s quite nice of the government, no? The wrinkle comes in that I have not yet changed the name and gender that is associated with my SIN – ooops – running Charlotte Katherine Bickford comes up with a “hey – you’re deceased lady” and a “that’s not your SIN”.

Damn. But I do look pretty good for a dead chick.

Frustration 101

I find it just a bit frustrating that while some of the bits and pieces of obscure documentation that I need are relatively easy to obtain, others appear to issued and administered by the Ministry of Frustration.

 

I Google Agency X for contact information – the links on the website all point to pages that point back to a menu item for Contact Us, but of course, they provide no information.

I know that this is done on purpose as a cost savings measure – if you can’t contact an agency then they don’t need to have a pool of customer service agents standing by to serve the public. Hell no – all you need is a talented web designer who has a touch of dementia or a sadistic side.

Anyhow. With people like me looking for information I can almost understand why they hide :)

I don’t care

Just a touch of irony here…

and this one as I can relate to it :)

 

 

Owie

I’m not sure if I slept wrong or over stressed a muscle in my back while working out last night but I have a nasty low grade ache in my lower back this morning. No big deal as I can switch to a purely cardio workout on a bike or elliptical cross-ramp machine for a few days while I let the back sort itself out.

The real problem is that if I did in fact commit an act of nastiness towards my back it means that I was either not using correct technique or was being careless. Neither are good when you’re dealing with your back and weights. I “suspect” that I did hurt my back, and it was on a horizontal cable rower – that’s one of those evil things where you pull with your arms and back to lift a weight. I prefer the machines that isolate your upper and lower arms as they pretty much ensure that your back is protected. Such is life though.

Another owie, and this is a long term one, is resulting from having knees that contain parts built by Dupont and General Motors – I blew my knees apart in while serving in the Navy and had to pretty much give up running and high impact sports due to the pain. I’m getting back into running again as it’s part of a triathlon, and its a great way to burn calories while I keep my heart rate in the target zone. Ouch – I could damn near cry from the pain sometimes and I want so much to quit but my butt and my heart thank me, as do the people who get to watch me run. (yeah)

Anyhow, I’m trying to burn off fat while I increase my strength and endurance – these two things don’t go hand in hand unless you’re a bit of a zealot.

My ideal workout regime (and how I love that word!) would look something like this:

  • Monday — Weight training (60 minutes)
  • Tuesday — Aerobic exercise (60 minutes)
  • Wednesday — Weight training (60 minutes)
  • Thursday — Aerobic exercise (60 minutes)
  • Friday — Weight training (60 minutes)
  • Saturday — Aerobic exercise (60 minutes)
  • Sunday — Recreational sports

In reality I tend to spend about 60 to 80 minutes a day on the aerobic side and only about 20 to 30 minutes on conventional weight training. This is simply because weights are boring, I’m a aerobic/cardio slut/masochist and I’m frustrated easily with weights.

Anyhow… I’m going to try to get in a bike ride today and I will go to then gym – at least once!

I should also mention that I am trying to consume less calories and ensure that the foods that I eat are tasty, nutritious and satisfying.

That is difficult as the cottage cheese here sucks and I love pizza. It’s been a long time since I had a thin crust red onion, green olive pizza with garlic pesto instead of tomato sauce, so the prospect of a pizza sometimes consumes me.

The Halifax

The Handley-Page Halifax bomber display opened today at the National Air Force Museum of Canada. The bomber is located in an enormous purpose built expansion – although the expansion is nowhere near complete and the lighting is not all installed, the bomber is quite the sight.

 

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Whatever

Can you imagine the chaos that I can cause? A sailor on an Air Force base that has a large population of sojers?

Sweet little me, all smiles and joy.

 

Ad Astra

I was providing support at the Ad Adstra ceremony this afternoon – a solemn occasion at best as thousands of people gather to dedicate granite bricks engraved with the name of a serving or past member of the Canadian Air Force.

It was raining lightly on and off, an overcast early fall day that looked cold, a day suitable for remembrance.

It was in fact a miserably warm and humid day to be standing, so much so that during the ceremony two flag bearers collapsed – one, who was elderly did not survive. I watched as the paramedics fought to save his life, a very poignant scene in the midst of those gathered to celebrate the lives and sacrifices of others.

Mine now

It’s interesting how many people (myself included) tend to regard clothing from the men’s department to be women’s clothing once I wear it – perhaps a bit of a play on words but when you think about it, society still considers the colour pink, dresses and lycra to be the sole domain of females yet I can purloin a guy’s sweater or shirt and it’s considered to be “normal”, cute or just a non-issue.

Think about it – I can go to any store, pick up a large sweater from the men’s department and nobody bats an eye. It’s okay for me to smile and say “mmm comfy”. It’s okay for me to wear that sweater as people think, if anything, that some suffering male lost his beloved sweater.

It’s cute?

No, it’s mine now.

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