Notes from the Red Bird House

I hereby declare today to be an Off-Day. I did so at approximately 5:06pm while on my way home from work. Hmm... I worked on an off-day?  Yep, I sure did. Sometimes I do and sometimes I don't. You see, there's a difference between an 'off-day' and a 'day off' - the former is about exercise/working out and the latter is about work, traditional money-making work. Generally speaking, I get two days off a week. Off-days, however, are a different story. In my previous competitive distance runner incarnation, I never, if ever, took an off day. I ran AND stationary biked every day. When I say  'every day', I mean every day. When I say, 'AND' I mean AND, as in both. On the same day, every day (I warmed for all my morning runs - long runs, short runs, and races -with an hour on the bike. I often biked again in the evening to 'cool down' from the day). This included holidays, sick days, 'days off', rainy days, snowy days, hot days, crampy

I haven't practiced that level of genius in a very long time. In a way, it was true genius; in another, a nify euphemism for stupidity. I'm good at navigating that particular gray area. And believe me - there's a gray area. Stupid isn't always stupid and genius isn't always genius. Except when they are and excluding when they aren't. Most people don't understand that it's not entirely black and white and seldom easy once you get to analyzing. There isn't a definitive line or a sign that says, 'Welcome to Stupid: Population 1', nor is there a warning sign that says, 'Now leaving Genius'. Nope. Unfortunately, the difference between stupid and genius is more like Area 51 complete with no-fly zone or the bridge in 'Three Billy Goats Gruff', complete with ugly troll. In other words, it's not always easy to tell where you are and what once seemed genius can inexplicably turn to stupid. Thankfully, it also works in reverse - what

I decided a couple weeks ago that I want to learn to swim. Now, by 'learn to swim' I don't mean 'learn to swim'. I've been swimming since we got our first backyard pool when I was four or five. That said, I can save my life but it's not pretty. I want to learn to do more than doggy paddle and sink while doing an imitation crawl. Ultimately, I want to be able to swim well enough to compete in a triathlon. I am well aware that there are several inherent issues here. First of all, I hate water. Yes, I shower regularly and I drink it to rehydrate, but as far as full body submersion goes, historically I'm out. I have been know to cool off in a pool on a hot day while sunbathing, but it has to be absolutely sweltering out. I'm not afraid of drowning, but I'm not not afraid of it either. It kind of lives out there in the netherworld of my 'sort of' fears, the ones I avoid bubonically so I don't have to worry about them. If I don't go n

Factoid: More people hook up on major holidays than any other day of the year. I'm not exactly in a position to argue with that logic. I'm part of the statistic. It makes perfect sense, really. Lonely adults with no family and/or no desire to spend time with family? Toss in a major holiday and the math gets super easy. And I tend to get super lucky. By major holidays, you have to understand, I mean exclusively Thanksgiving and Christmas. Even though I'm a Christian, Easter doesn't count. Most places are open and I don't get an automatic day off or holiday pay. The same goes for Halloween, Memorial Day, and the Fourth of July. None are 'family' holidays, like Christmas and Thanksgiving. Those days have family written all over them. Unless you're single and live a light-year away from family and choose to stay a light-year away. Even if you're Amish or Mormon, that kind of loneliness is a spring board for hooking up. This means that people, who norma

The difference between can and can't is a small, thin, nearly infinitesimal line. It's best not to tell me I can't because I'm going to insist that I can. I've been to 'can't' and I tend to like 'can' better. There's always the murky, ugly possibility of failure when you step away from 'can't' and reach for 'can', but then again 'can't' never accomplished anything anyway. 'Can' at least gets you off the dock and to the starting line. What happens next is up to God, endurance, persistance, dumb luck, and maybe a little smart luck. Sure, I've blown chunks (literally) and broken my leg on the way to 'can', but then again I've collected a couple really cool trophies and a whole lot of self-satisfaction the times I've gotten all the way there. 'Can' just feels better. Endurance is a state of mind. Truly the body will go where the mind allows it to. Well, at least that's how

I come face-to-face with stupidity quite often. Sometimes I'm looking in the mirror. Sometimes I'm not. Here's ten examples of 'genius' in action, all from just this past week. 1. When going to pick up a take out pizza it's best to have your debit and/or credit card in your wallet. Or you will end up driving back to your house to get it. 2. If you think a cute girl wants to kiss you, let her do it. The chance may never come again. Then again, if you do it right, it might. 3. Physiologically speaking, 'chest' and 'shoulders' are connected. Therefore, if you have a sore shoulder, it would be best not to work 'chest', if you don't want said shoulder to hurt worse. It's also probably smart not to play tennis (...then again maybe that's just me). 4. Whatever you do, do NOT drink the chocolate milk handed to you by the Milk Mustache People immediately after finishing a 5k race. It will  induce projectile vomiting and thus p

A couple Saturdays ago, I ran five miles and skated a half marathon (13 miles). I'm forty-two years old. When I turned forty, I was determined to redefine what it means to be forty. At the time I was in ok shape, but most of that came from tennis and a physically active job. Then I moved to Austin and sunk into the fitness doldrums. I turned forty-one and felt like I was in the worst shape of my adult life. I wasn't working out and I felt fat. I'd done nothing to redefine a decade. I was disappointed in myself, just not disappointed enough to get my ass moving. Then one day I went to the gym. Another day, I ran. Another day, I skated. Another day, I biked. Then I did it all over again. Miraculously, my body changed. My muscle tone and endurance improved. What was once flabby wasn't and what used to make my lungs feel like they were bleeding didn't. I don't think it's what I did as much as the fact that I did it over and over again. When I was a personal tr

I'm going to say it right here for all to see (and read). The best thing that happened was that it didn't happen. I suppose it could have. We had our chances. I think anyway. Or maybe it was just my imagination. But I swear that one time, it's what she wanted. Too? Yes, I suppose I wanted it, too. I was young then and so new to it all. I wasn't out, but I was sure that I liked girls. Well, women. I liked her. A lot. I did all the stupid things I've learned not to do when crushing on a straight woman. Ok, on any woman. I wasn't crazy, just earnest. In hindsight, I was a probably a dumbass in many ways, but at least my heart was pure. She was my first Rodeo, the one who set the standard, the one who helped me understand so much about myself. When she told me she loved me, for the first time in my life, I didn't see it as a character flaw. For some reason, I believed her. Partly because I wanted to and partly because I knew I'd never win a debate with her.

I've discovered yet another beverage that mixes well with Sailor Jerry's Spiced Rum - Diet Peach Tea. As I say that, I realize that's an incredibly alcoholic opening line. Hey everyone, guess what I like to drink? You'd think I'm the resident expert and liquor connoisseur. Hmm... Well, I suppose I'm all that, just in doses that would be considered somewhat South of alcoholic. I'm not going to lie - I do enjoy a drink. And I especially enjoy Sailor Jerry's. Thus far, I've mixed it with Diet A&W Root Beer, Coke Zero, Diet Rite Cherry Cola, and the aforementioned Diet Peach Tea. I'm not a fan of it sans-mixer. Yes, I'm a pussy when it comes to alcohol. I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a mixer; I like the combination of flavors. So sue me. Once upon a time, my girlfriend (or maybe she was my ex by that time. Duh. She was. Her boyfriend was there and I walked through a screen door after drinking three too many shots of Tequila Rose.

Technically, I feel petulant rather than bitchy but I truly think we're talking about shades of gray here. In any case (or either case), I'm in a rare mood for me. The Me that I usually am is go with the flow. 99.9% of the time I'm 'Eh, whatever', as in 'whatever you want to do'. I'm not saying that feel like my opinions don't matter as much as I'm saying my opinions don't matter. It's a tradition in my world and I accept as much responsibility for it as I place upon others. Here's a common exchange in my life - Friend: Where do you want to eat? Me: I don't really care. Oh, except not fish. I don't eat fish. Friend: You don't eat fish. Weird. Me: It's true. Occasionally maaybe, but as a common practice, no. Friend: Cool. Hey, let's go to Red Lobster. Me: [internal eye roll and inaudible sigh] Ok, sure. Seriously? Over one hundred restaurants at our disposal and my friend chose Red Lobster? My one and onl