Chinatown Ping Pong

After months and months of saying that we would go, Colin and I finally made our way over to Oakland's Chinatown for Ping Pong Thursday at the neighborhood rec center. I was a little nervous. I thought I would be the laughing stock of the rec center, that all the old Chinese men would want to disown me as one of their own race for not being able to swat that little ball like a badass.

When we got there, the place smelled of pizza. There were eight tables set up and six were taken by older people, mostly men and mostly Asian. There was one other woman, a Cantonese-speaking lady the age of my mom, there. Colin and I chose the table closest to the wall and the most out of view of all the other players. I pulled out my paddles from my bag and a little orange ball (five out of the six other tables of players were also playing with orange balls).

We started to play. Leisurely at first, chit-chatting along the way. I started to sweat and could feel my glasses slipping down my nose. Colin was making me run from one edge of the table to the other, as he was swatting the ball to opposite corners. I lunged and stretched to reach them. He also was hitting low and hard, so that I was at least three feet away from the edge of the table trying to return his hits. I felt like I was starting to look like the other players there and a little like Forrest Gump but not nearly as good a player.

We were getting better and taking more risks. Then, we started to get sloppy. My legs were getting tired. My armpits were sweaty. My balls kept missing the table and would bounce toward the little barriers set up to prevent renegade balls from travelling too far. I couldn't return his serves. We had been playing for an hour and a half and we were getting tired. It was time to call it quits.

I never guessed that ping pong could be so exhausting. But, looking at the other sets of players on that gym floor and all the sweat that soaked their shirts, they certainly knew how much of a workout it could be.

As Colin and I walked out of the rec center on our way to dinner (of burgers and beer), Colin saw a sign: in honor of the Olympics, ping pong would be held on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays nights (rather than just Thursdays) and free for the entire month of September. We would be back for three nights next week.

Home

I went home to Los Angeles over Labor Day weekend. It was an extended trip, Thursday to Monday, and Karen and Woody flew in from New York. It was Woody's first time meeting our family, and he arranged a ping pong tournament (complete with tee-shirts and a trophy) at our parents' house for the occassion.

I knew that going home might bust my more fit, less fat plan. There's something about LA that sucks the energy out of me. Maybe it's the heat or the fact that my parents have taken to pampering us now that we no longer live in their house, and all I want to do when I'm home in LA is sleep and eat--a bad combination for trying to get more healthy. And, there's always food at my parents' house. Tons of it and my mom makes sure that we eat it.

On this visit, I also knew not to pack my running shoes. When I went back for July 4th, I had optimistically lugged my shoes with me, hoping that I would be able to work in my workout routine during my stay. But, of course, I didn't. So, rather than pack shoes knowing that I wouldn't use them, I decided to leave the shoes in San Francisco. I wouldn't run. I wouldn't exercise. I would let myself eat and sleep and enjoy a little rest.

All You Can Eat Meat

Going to a meat buffet is not a good way to get more fit and less fat. But, I went to Little Sheep Hot Pot in San Mateo and stuffed my face anyhow. Last night was Little Sheep's final Tuesday for its all-you-can-eat special in honor of the Olympics, and Jo made reservations for ten of us at 9pm, the only time we could be accommodated.

I was nervous. After months of having dinner at 6pm and eating brown rice with vegetables and lean protein regularly, I didn't know how I would feel after eating as much meat as I could handle so late at night. After several days of being excited for the meat bonanza, I started to feel a little queasy at the mere thought of beef, lamb, and pork squishing around in my stomach only minutes before I would lie down for bed. Would I undo all the good that I've done in one night of a meat splurge?

But, when I got there and saw the bounty that would be put in front of us, my nerves eased and I was excited again. I was fired up and ready to go, and knew that it was a smart move when I put on my big pants earlier that night. And, there were vegetables with all that meat. Napa cabbage, bok choy, pea shoots. Plus, three types of mushrooms, two types of tofu, mussels, shrimp, and noodles. I felt less gross knowing that there were vegetables. So, I ate, ate some more, sweated a little, sighed, took a break, just to eat more. There was no moderation. Then, I was done.

I didn't leave feeling too disgusted with myself. I didn't feel too heavy with food. I didn't feel like throwing up. But, as I was walking back to my car, I felt pain gripping the side of my belly.

Pigmentation

The music teacher stopped by my office yesterday to ask if I really did walk by him as he was playing jazz with his band at the Fillmore farmers' market several weeks ago. I said, yes, that was probably me but I wasn't sure it was him so I didn't say hi. He looked offended in a mocking way, and I promised to stop and listen the next time he was out there.

As he was leaving, he also told me I looked different.

-I got new glasses, I said.
-Nope, not that, he said.
-New hair cut?
-Nah. It's your pigmentation. I want to know what you did over the summer.
-Hm...nothing really.

Did he mean I looked more tan? I had a healthy glow about me? Pigmentation?

Injured

I had been feeling really good about my fitness plan, had been sticking with it for weeks, and had been seeing improvement in my ability to run (I had been able to run for longer and longer distances, and hadn't felt like throwing up or wheezing). And, of course, it was too good to last.

I injured myself about two weeks ago at my friend Erin's wedding. There was a step that I didn't see, so I fell and hurt my ankle, though I didn't notice it until the next day when I couldn't move my ankle and my legs were covered with dark bruises. I took a day off work because it hurt too much to walk and was wobbly for days.

Last week, I tried to go jogging again for the first time since I fell. The first day was okay, though I felt a little wheezy. The second and third days hurt. After about a block of running, I started to feel pain in my left ankle. I had to stop running and walked the rest of my 4-mile route both days. I felt like such a wimp but knew that putting more strain on my ankle wouldn't help.

My ankle isn't looking all that swollen or bruised any more, but it does hurt when I press on it. I just want to get up and running again, as with every day that passes without me going for my morning routine the more difficult it will be for me to get back in to the routine. But, tomorrow is a new day and I'll set the alarm to wake up early to go workout, even if that means walking, rather than running, four miles.

Changes

Even though I haven't been noticing a difference in my bodily fitness, others have. I returned to the school last week to set up my office. One of the first things one of the other counselors told me was that I looked fit (and I hadn't even told her about my More Fit, Less Fat plan). She said that my face looked more chiseled, my neck looked extra long, and I my arms looked more toned. She wondered if it was the clothes I was wearing, but I was just wearing a t-shirt and cropped pants (clothes she has seen me in before and nothing that would hide bulging body parts). A little later, the ROTC coach wondered what happened to me and if I had been slimming down.

I hadn't been noticing much of a difference. I still can't fit into my skinny jeans. I still can grab all the lower belly jiggly-ness. I still see a wall of thigh. But, apparently, others are noticing something happen.

Or, perhaps they've forgotten what I look like after three months of summer vacation.

Marathon Buddies

I don't know how it happened, but I was able to convince Winnie and Billy that they wanted to run San Francisco's Half Marathon with me next August! As much as I am excited to have running buddies and new encouragement to work toward my fitness goals, I'm nervous that I won't be able to keep up with them. For all the time that I've known her, Winnie has gone to the gym regularly. And, Billy ran Bay to Breakers not too long ago. The only time I've stepped into a gym was to pick up a form and I can barely run three blocks.