karma of the universe part III

Dear Ma'am/Sir Karma of the Universe,

I'm sorry. I have no excuse. I f--ked up. AGAIN.

Sincerely yours,
The Fierce Runner

karma of the universe part II

Dear Ma'am/Sir Karma of the Universe,

I greatly apologize for my recent faux pas, for even the most brilliant person on earth can stumble and do something stupid from time to time. Seeing that I'm not all that brilliant, I am prone to do something stupid many, MANY times.

It has been brought to my attention that you sent over the Handsome Stranger (HS) on purpose. Clearly, you read my earlier note and did everything in your power to send some phenomenal love karma my way. The HS was more than I could have ever bargained for: smart, charming, cute, getting his MBA at the rival school, in my age range, does not have rotten teeth, isn't homeless, has actual life goals, and loves to cook. Admittedly, I was completely caught off guard. I wasn't trying to hit on him. When I asked the HS, "Do you love your ipad?" I sincerely wanted to know if he actually loved his ipad or not! Sorry Ma'am/Sir Karma of the Universe. Even you have to admit that you've blinded me with so many toads that I have no idea what the prince is supposed to look like. Hence, why it didn't dawn on me that the HS was a gift from you sent directly to me.

With that, I sincerely apologize for my faux pas. Clearly, I have no game. I am mojo-less when it comes to matters of the heart. Obviously, the eye contact, the body language, the offer to play with his ipad, the silly questions about my re-usable coffee mug, and the many times he repeated how hard it is "being new in town" and "not knowing anyone" clearly went over my head. I have since taken proper notes to self. When the HS declares, "I hope to see you around soon," this is clearly my cue to surrender my phone number and any other information he may need (e-mail, relationship status, the color of my underwear...).

I beg you, Ma'am/Sir Karma of the Universe, please do not hold this faux pas against me. Feel free to send me more strangers just like this one. In fact, if you want, you can send me back that same exact one. I promise I will know what to do next time. Thank you for listening.

Sincerely yours,
The Fierce Runner

karma of the universe

Dear Karma of the Universe,

I understand that not every gal gets to have her cake and eat it too. Life is about a give and take relationship. Though every gal deserves her every heart's desires, I'm fully aware that such desires do not happen all at once.

I am also fully aware that the energy you put into the universe is the same energy you receive. Hence if you are miserable to others, others will be miserable to you. This is why I try to enrich other people's lives with laughter and positivity. Even in my darkest hour, I will find the time to make someone else laugh because I do not believe in sharing my misery with others. It's not part of by belief system. I believe in looking at the bright side of things - that even when things are tough, that there is a reason for everything.

With respect to matters of the heart, you have made it very clear to me that you refuse to make this easy. Fairy tales tell me that I have to kiss a lot of frogs to find the prince. I get it Ma'am/Sir Karma of the Universe. I don't like it. But I get it. I have to earn the love that comes my way. Though you have decided to throw every road block in my way, I will no longer fight it. I accept that this is the path that you have so cruelly paved for me.

It has been brought to my attention that the reason why you have sent so many toads in my direction is because you want me to have a clear understanding of the kind of partner I do not want to have in my life. Oh Ma'am/Sir Karma of the Universe, I am writing to let you know that I have a very clear picture of what I do not want in a relationship and a life partner. This is why I urge you to please stop sending men who:

(1) are old enough to be eligible for medicare
(2) cannot remember EVER reading a book from beginning to end
(3) list Jersey Shore as their favorite TV show
(4) cannot tell the difference between a muffin and a cupcake
(5) do not have the sense to say "please," "thank you," or have the capacity to open doors
(6) are more interested in my ethnic background than my name
(7) are interested in me because I remind them of that exotic woman they met in Thailand, the Philippines, Vietnam, and any other exotic location they happen to have traveled to or have been stationed at
(8) do not possess the capacity to accept a woman who is more interested in developing her mind over her breast size

This list can go on. But since you are the all knowing and powerful Ma'am/Sir Karma of the Universe, I'm sure you understand what I mean.

Please, Ma'am/Sir Karma of the Universe, do not take this a letter of complaint. Think of it as a performance review in handling my love karma. You and I have had many conversations about what it is that I am looking for. I acknowledge that you have put in your very best and I thank you for the wonderful people you have blessed me with so far. (For the record, sans the major tragedy, the last one you sent wasn't bad.) Right now, I urge you to please stop sending me the toads. I'd rather you took a break from handling my love karma than sending me another useless person whose only function is to decrease my faith in the opposite sex. I hope you and I can come to some mutual understanding.

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely Yours,
The Fierce Runner

mr. eol

Dear Mr. EOL (English is your Only Language, so stop f--king it up!),

Before I begin, I'd like to let you know that I'm not a snob. I teach reading and composition at UC Berkeley and English is a second language for most of my students. Typically, I don't make a big deal out of grammar issues.

However, Mr. EOL, I am continually disgusted by your grasp of the English language. Unlike my students, you have no excuse. English is your first and only language. You were raised with an elite education - private schools all your life. Why you cannot determine the difference between what is plural and possessive proves to me that you are a blundering idiot. Just so you know, there are MEMBERS at the gym, not member's. Every four years, athletes compete in the OLYMPICS, not the the olympic's. Your misuse of the apostrophe is appalling. Please don't get me started on your inability to differentiate between your/you're, its/it's, and their/they're/their (note: thurr is not a word). While we're on the subject, a lot is two words. There is no "a" in definitely. Are and our are two completely different words. Such weaknesses are symptoms of an incompetent muscle head who hasn't figured out the difference between his brain and his ass (in case you were wondering, a brain fart does not come out of your ass).

For the record, I don't give a shit if you can deadlift a school bus or clean & jerk the governor of California (which is gross if you're reading this the wrong way). Though you may be "fit as f--k," you are still just another dumb f--k who gets off on photos of yourself doing handstands in odd places.

With that, I hope someone drops a 45# plate on your balls. When you scream, please note that "ouch" should end with an exclamation point!

Sincerely yours,
The Fierce Runner

Today's Small Victories
Again, I made it to the box despite having to deal with a modified "Fran." She's a bitch no matter how you frame it. I've also declared that I need to say good-bye to desserts. Seriously. They suck the life out of me and force me into a deep sleep followed by a headache. Today's peach mango pie a la mode was probably a shock to my body, considering I've been cutting out the refined sugars lately. Yes. That means I'm limiting my cupcake intake. (tears)

Warm-up
500 meter row
25 GHD sit-ups
25 GHD back extensions (I hate these things. They make me want to pee!)

CrossFit One World WOD
Strength:
Determine new front squat one rep max. 135# (PR!)
Bench Press 5x3 at 75#

Conditioning:
Complete 21/15/9 reps for time of:
Thruster 53#
Jumping Pull-ups

Joanne's Final Time - 8:25

Notes (to myself) about this workout: I was really happy with the strength portion because I PR'd my front squat. My previous squat was 123#. Though I felt like I had another 5# in me, I again, decided to go conservative. Never ask for more than you can chew. It was great to hit the PR because I remember when I hit 123#. I thought I was going to die. I could feel myself getting off line very quickly. Regarding the bench press, I was also happy that I could handle 75#. It's not my strongest lift and it's been a long time since I've done it.

As for the modified "Fran," I was satisfied with my thrusters and pacing. I still hate the pull-up. After class, I tried it with the band and I could hardly bend my elbows for the pull. I need two bands to get some kind of pull. Gah! I hate how weak I am in the upper body!

Mr. White T-shirt

Dear Mr. White T-shirt,

For the record, when I am out and about in San Francisco with my near and dear girlfriends, you are the last thing on my mind. I don't care that you played football at the University of Spoiled Children. I don't care that you now spend your days and nights fighting fires and saving lives. So what if you've just been drafted to play professional football? Such accomplishments are hardly impressive in my book.

Seriously, Mr. White T-shirt. I barely noticed how tall, tan, athletically inclined, and incredibly good-looking you are.

Tisk.

I'll have you know that a woman of my caliber has far better things to do than to stare at the way your muscles enhance your strategically placed tribal tattoos. I yawn at the idea of bouncing quarters off of your perfectly rounded behind. Finally, when your friend, Mr. Black T-shirt, mentioned several times that you are single, I hardly batted an eyelash.

Puh-lease Mr. White T-shirt. When I am out and about in San Francisco with my near and dear girlfriends, you are the last thing on my mind.

Sincerely yours,
The Fierce Runner

hooker heels

Dear Miss Hooker Heels,
I know we're not at the gym. We're at a sporting event. It's a men's volleyball game and team USA is playing against China. I love volleyball. Especially indoor volleyball. Especially men's indoor volleyball. I'm an island girl and volleyball is an island sport. We take our volleyball seriously. Volleyball games are where we sport shorts, zoris, and the like. It's where we yell until our voices crack and jump up and scream and such.

So please, Miss Hooker Heels, can you explain to me what's up with the hooker heels? Did you not get the notice that there are no trix to be played tonight? It's volleyball night, for fuck's sake! Aren't you afraid that you're going to fall off the bleachers in those hooker heels? I swear I was holding my breath as you were making your way to your seats because I was afraid the point of your heel was going to get stuck and well, you'd fall and keep me from enjoying the game. Also, should you decide to wear a barely-there hooker skirt to match your hooker heels, could you at least (1) wear underwear (2) sit with your legs crossed (3) not sit behind me? Call me crazy, but I much prefer watching the game without having to worry about accidentally turing around and catching a glimpse of your hoo-ha.

It's not funny Miss Hooker Heels. Seriously. I'm not laughing.

So the next time you decide to sport your tricked out gear, feel free. But please leave that shit off my court and go back to your usual corner. Thanks!

Sincerely,
The Fierce Runner

the wonder twins

Dear Wonder Twins,

It's the new year and I declare that a new positive outlook for 2009 is in order. With that, I wanted to let you know that I applaud your efforts to take yoga. It's not as simple and zen-like as you were expecting, is it? It's okay though. It took me at least a year to get used to the class. But I'm glad that you two are conquering your resolutions together.

The first class is always tough. But stick with it. Even if you have to stop and rest half way through while the rest of us are twisted in some variation of a one-legged downward dog, just stick with it. One day you'll make it to that twisted variation. Until then, just do your best. Rest when you need to. And take every liberty to laugh at the rest of us suffering through the wheel pose.

Cheers and kudos Wonder Twins!

Sincerely,

The Fierce Runner

Mr. Schwing

Dear Mr. Schwing,

It's been a long time since I've had to write one of these letters. Sincerest apologies. My fitness goals have been misplaced and I've been focusing more on my own development in the gym, that I completely forgot that there is a plethora of people that I've been meaning to "observe" if you will.

In truth, I'm rather embarrassed that I'm even writing this letter because it proves that (1) I was looking and (2) I totally noticed it. Unfortunately, I can no longer allow my embarrassment to silence me. It is imperative that I say something, so here it goes...

Mr. Schwing, it's winter and it's cold. Really cold. In fact, this winter in the bay area is much colder than it has been in the past few years. Apparently, when men get cold, things start to "point." I'm not hating, I'm simply stating a natural, biological fact. It isn't your fault that when you get cold, you "point." In fact, "point" all you want. However, I would prefer that you did the "pointing" with your finger and not other parts of your body. Um, do you get what I'm saying, Mr. Schwing?

I understand that you must me a runner of sorts and are attached to running tights. I get it. But it's cold outside and again, you "point." To the point that not only I notice, but I'm sure others notice too. Mind you, I'm only pointing this out (no pun intended) for your own health and safety. Perhaps you may need to wear protective gear or even loose shorts to keep the "pointing" from being so noticeable. I don't know. You figure it out.

But please Mr. Schwing, be mindful of how cold it is and how much you "point" in the cold weather. I'd hate to be doing some random WOD and accidently let go of a 35# kettlebell and find that it landed on your "pointer" and caused unsustainable injuries. You hear what I'm saying, Mr. Schwing?

Thank you very much. See you at the gym. I hope it's warmer for your sake.

Sincerely,

The Fierce Runner

ya hear me, Manang Cell Phone?

Dear Manang Cell Phone,

It saddens me that I have to write to you yet again. Though absolutely normal coming from you, your behavior in today's class was completely unacceptable. It's completely inappropriate to answer your f--king cell phone when the class is trying to do a one-legged tree pose. Ya hear me, Manang Cell Phone?! COMPLETELY INAPPROPRIATE! Granted, I do know better than to expect good behavior from you. Shame on me for coming back to the 8am class. I've had so much fun not having you in the evening class that the sound of your cell phone was a total rude reminder of why yoga is better at night.

Be warned, Manang Cell Phone! I had an extensive conversation with Professora Yoga today and she agrees with me - that you are rude, disrespectful and must be stopped! Shame on you Manang! I'll have you know that Professora will be meeting with you very soon to exchange some strong words. Should your cell phone antics continue, Professora has granted me special permission to throw you out of class. Did you hear me Manang?! I have been officially promoted from yoga student to yoga bouncer. Meaning, I get to throw your old, sorry ass out of class the next time you answer your damn cell phone! Don't tempt me Manang, because I'll do it. I'll throw out an old bitch. I don't care. I've had it up to my eyeballs with your shit! This is war Manang, WAR! Consider yourself warned!

Yours Truly,
The Fierce Runner

p.s. PLEASE stop wearing those low-rise pants to class. I don't care what your teenage granddaughter tells you. They don't go well on a 100 year-old woman. As Whitney says, "Crack is whack!" But crack is even worse when it's old and spoiled!

Sir Steroids

Dear Sir Steroids,

It must suck to be you.

Yours Truly,
The Fierce Runner

oh those gym characters!

I recently started this thing where I write letters to those crazy people at the gym. Though some of you may have thought I was was just joking around, I just wanted to let you know that I'm not the only one who notices those crazy gym characters! Enjoy this story. Lazy clickers, you know the protocol!


The 10 people you'll find in any gym
Posted: Oct 2nd 2007 1:43PM by Chris Sparling

Step in any gym in any city in any state in this entire country and you're sure to find the same people. Of course not the exact same people, but the same types of people. Though their accents may differ when they yell their rep count out loud and their music selection may vary as it blares through their oversized headphones, these same people seem to magically appear in every gym throughout the nation. Some of them work out hard, some don't work out at all, and some do exercises so bizarre that it's clearly not safe to be within a fifty-foot radius of them. Who are the people in your neighborhood gym? Pretty much the same as those in everyone else's.

1. The Gamma Radiation Victim – While they aren't green (yet), these guys are so large that they look like they could either live forever or die any second. Their clothes fit them like paint and their veins practically form roadmaps on their arms and legs. Fortunately for them, if they ever get lost on the way to their steroid dealer's house, they can use their bodies like a AAA Trip-Tic. These are also the same guys that you should never ask to spot you, because if you are struggling to bang out your last rep with what you believe to be a respectable amount of weight, they will simply lift it off you with one hand ... and then beat up your dad with the other.

2. Thomas Edison – Stay the hell away from this guy or girl, or else you're bound to get hurt. There's truly nothing scarier in the gym than the people who feel the need to invent their own exercises. As you and everyone else go about your daily grind, these people are rolling around on a physio-ball while balancing a soft-spoken Peruvian child on their head. A common explanation for the purpose of their whacked-out maneuvers is that this new exercise is great for working their 'core.' The truth? It doesn't work their core at all. In fact, it doesn't work anything...except to bring utter chaos into a weight room. Get these people on a treadmill and that's when things really get dangerous.

3. Sparkle Motion – Remember the girls in college who used to get dressed to the hilt for an 8:00am class? Well, ten years later these same ladies are still going for cosmetic gold, primping and teasing their early morning glamour for a pre-work trip to the gym. The hair, the nails, the matching pink running shoes/zip-up sweatshirt ensemble, and even the unabashedly applied glitter lipstick...all at 5:30 in the goddamn morning. Most people with even an iota of sanity are still asleep at this hour. These glimmering gals, however, are already into their fourth cup of iced coffee and forty-third minute on the elliptical machine by this time.

4. The 'A Bit Too Personal' Trainer – Signing-up for a gym membership in itself can be a rather daunting process for some people. When you factor in a personal training session with someone who feels the need to tell you about all of their life problems, things can quickly go from uneasy to downright weird. "That's it...one more...good...you can do it....good........my mother died from advance stage syphilis." Uh...what? Who needs to hear that? And how is that possibly motivating? I may be wrong, but I don't recall a single scene in Rocky where Mickey told Rocky that the reason why his skin looks so healthy is because he refuses to poop after 8:30 at night.

5. Bob the Builder – Fancy health clubs may be the only place where this guy doesn't show up, but for the rest of us whose annual gym memberships cost less than the price of a new Nissan Maxima, this unfashionably coarse fellow is a staple (Puns, kids. That's what they're called.). Sometimes it's a pair of work boots and jeans, other times it's a pair of overalls, and on some occasions it's a line of clothing seemingly purchased from the Paul Bunyon collection on QVC. How do these people work out in all those layers? The grunge epoch may have ended in the late nineties, but flannel somehow managed to survive thanks to carpenters whose parents clearly never made them put on their 'play clothes' after school.

6. The Unworthy Screamer – Although it is true that the huge guys do sometimes yell while they work out, it is most times the mostly-fat-but-partially-muscled guy who feels the need to grunt and groan at the top of his lungs each time he curls a thirty-five pound dumbbell. Even worse, when it turns out that the dying moose sounds you hear emanating from the far corner turn out to be the Herculean cries of a one hundred and fifty pound man wearing Puma sweats and a Riptide headband, banging out his last two reps of triceps extensions. Feel that burn, you annoying S.O.B.

7. The Teen Titan – Obesity rates for youths and teens are at an all time high, which is why you see less and less fat kids getting picked on today (fat is the new skinny, or at least it would seem). So, to see any teenage kids in the gym is, in and of itself, a good thing. Problems usually arise when a group of four of five teenage boys collectively decide to dive head first into a workout regimen that would make Ronnie Coleman sleep in. Their form is all out of whack and they do their best to shove around as much weight as their barely post-pubescent bodies possibly can. All goes to hell once a 45 pound plate slides off the side of the bar during an attempt at a one rep max bench press and the other side comes crashing down onto their spleen. Even worse is when they use far too much weight on the cable crossovers and end up being violently yanked backwards like Sweetchuck in Police Academy 2.

8. The Doctor of Style – Look, we all think it's very impressive that you work at a hospital. You're clearly a very intelligent and noble person. And, depending on your particular occupation, it's likely that you probably make some serious money, too. But, is it still necessary to wear your powder blue scrubs to the gym? These people work all day long in these draw-string pants and v-neck shirts...don't they want to change out of them? They may be comfortable and they may "breathe," but that's still no excuse for wearing your work clothes in public. Do the world a favor and pick-up a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, will you please?

9. Scarface – Though he's not a cocaine drug kingpin, this guy is still to blame for leaving the weight room looking like the backroom of a bakery. Despite the fact that the signs clearly say that "Weightlifting Chalk is Not Allowed," this dusty fellow claps his hands together with pride before each set, leaving everything and everyone around him covered in a layer of white powder. Only making things worse is the industrial size weightlifting belt this guy straps around the waistband of his ultra-tight spandex shorts, essentially forcing everyone in the gym to 'say hello to his little friend.'

10. The Senator – Treating each visit to the gym like a stop on a campaign trail, these types want to talk to you and everyone else about utter and complete nonsense. They never, ever shut up. Ever. Even while you attempt to finish your last five minutes of an hour run on the treadmill, or even worse, as you labor through your last set of squats, this person will find that to be the most opportune time to ask you how your family is doing, or how your job is going, or if you know a good place to buy deck stain. Your best attempts at ignoring them or hint dropping for them to leave you alone are about as effective as using gasoline to put out a fire. Maybe these people really should run for office.

Don't believe that these people are at your gym? Try looking around the next time you go and you'll see them. All of them. But, if for some reason you have trouble identifying one of them from this list, well, I hate to break it to you, but that person might be you.

to GI Gym Guy

Dear GI Gym Guy,

I greatly apologize for ignoring you while you were talking to me. I didn't realize that the woman you brought to the gym was your sister. Though you were clearly facing me, I thought you were talking to her from across the room. Please know it's not in my nature to completely brush people off. In fact, I'm a very friendly person once you get to know me...

Which leads me to my next point. GI Gym Guy, you don't know me. Clearly, I don't know you. Did it ever occur to you that there is a reason for this? I'm sure that the exotic women who surround the military base you're usually stationed at (1) look like me and (2) flock to you like white on rice. However, this is California - not the random third world country you happen to be stationed at. When I go to the gym, I'm actually there to work out, and not "keep you motivated," as you mentioned. Your random cat calls while I'm hard at work doing squats, lunges and yoga stretches does not interest me whatsoever. In fact, it sparks the urge to kick you in the balls - a random act of vengeance I am more than happy to do. However, knowing you, you'd actually see that as foreplay.

Please GI Gym Guy, when at the gym, I kindly suggest you pay attention to your own workout.

Yours Truly,
The Fierce Runner

to mr. moaner

Dear Mr. Moaner,

I'm so glad to see that you've taken the plunge and decided to take yoga despite being only one of perhaps three men in the class. It's always refreshing to see a man take on the class, and take it so seriously as you do.

Yoga is definitely an expression of the body and mind. It's a place where you can let yourself go and indulge in the various poses the instructor puts you in. Granted, I've talked to Professora Yoga and though she won't outright admit it, I'm pretty sure some of the things we do in that class is for her own personal amusement. Hence, why one needs a great sense of humor in yoga. Ahem, back to my point Mr. Moaner.

When Professora Yoga says to make noises when you breath, I'm not sure she means make orgasmic noises. Granted, I'm not one to judge or figure out one's yoga experience. I have no idea and have no interest in knowing what goes on in your mind as you come out of your downward dog. However, do you think you could pipe your moaning down a little bit? I try not to pay attention to others in class and try my best to simply zone out. However, my zones have been broken lately by your loud moaning and grunting.

I know what you're thinking Mr. Moaner: "Hey, it's my class too, bitch!" And you're right. It is your class too. However, when your obnoxiously loud faux orgasmic moans interfere with me reaching my state of zen, then we have a problem. I'm not asking you to stop moaning. Moan all you want. But please, Mr. Moaner, pipe it down just a tad bit. I'll let you reach your state of zen as long as you allow me to reach mine. Thank you!

Yours Truly,
The Fierce Runner

to Manang Cell Phone

Dear Manang Cell Phone,

I applaud your efforts in getting healthy by showing up to every single yoga class I happen to participate it. It is, after all, a public class that is open to anyone who is a paying member of Bally's. Seeing a woman of your generation actually puts a warm feeling inside my heart and inspires me. You make me think to myself, "Wow. When I'm 100 years old, I can still drive, go to yoga, own a cell phone, and exercise the pleasure of answering my cell phone at my leisure - even in the middle of yoga."

Besides, who cares about everyone else's concentration level? Who cares that everyone gives you dirty looks when your cell phone rings at full blast during every single class? Who cares that you let your phone ring 2-3-4 times before you answer it? Who cares that you carry a full-on conversation with whoever called in the middle of yoga class? Who cares that the lovely folks at Bally's have posted signs all over the room clearly stating to "Please keep cell phones and all other electronic devices OFF during class. Thank you."

Who cares? Definitely not you, Manang Cell Phone. At 100 years old, you've earned the right to bother everyone else in class with your obnoxious conversations. You've earned the right to disrespect the instructor and her way of teaching. You've earned the right to try to deny all 100 years of your existence by showing up to class with your hair and makeup all done up, sporting your extra-low rise spandex pants because you think that's what the kids are wearing these days, showing off your gold sparkly jewelry hanging from your body, and trotting in with your designer gym bag that happens to hold your extra-expensive cell phone. You've earned it, Manag Cell Phone. Anyone who has lived through both world wars has earned it:)

One day, when I'm 100 years old, I hope to be as clueless and obnoxious as you.

Yours Truly,
The Fierce Runner