I went running yesterday morning, for the first time in about two months. It was finally cool enough (though still humid as all get out) to even consider it, i.e. it wasn't already in the 90s at 6am. I didn't take Zeus with me, to his great dismay, but I figured that since I hadn't been running in so long, I really didn't need the distraction of trying to keep a 90lb dog in line while keeping a decent pace. He barked and whined as I left, but I ended up being glad that I'd left him at home because there were no less than 6 loose dogs that I saw during my run. I would have had to stop, or at least drop to a walk, every time we'd encountered one of these strays.

But I did manage to do two miles without puking, which was nice. I wasn't sure I'd even be able to do that much after being out of it for so long. The weather's finally becoming reasonable again though, so I'm going to try and get back into my rhythm.

The next amazing thing of the day was that I actually packed up the laptop and went down to the library and did some acual writing. Scary. That's the first writing I've done in... a long time. I'm reviving a story that I'd put aside last fall and seeing if I can't work out some of the major flaws it had.

I made it to the gym in the afternoon, and did a heavy legs workout--and I mean heavy. I pushed on every exercise and made some goals I'd been shooting for. I can now squat my bodyweight, and my leg press is up to 360lbs. That's four plates on either side of the rack, folks. ;-) Of course I hurt like blazes this morning, but it's that good, solid, muscle ache of accomplishment. It's gotten to where if I don't have some sort of ache the next day, I don't feel like I worked out hard enough.

I plan on taking Zeus for a walk this morning, partly to make up for abandoning him yesterday, and mostly to work the kinks and the lactic acid out of my legs.

Cool thing happened yesterday while I was working out. The gym I go to is associated with a Tae Kwon Do school (it's actually "Northside Gym and Martial Arts.) I'd talked to the owner (and the head isntructor of the school) a while back, asking him if he ever taught any "soft style" martial arts, i.e. jujitsu, judo, hapkido. (Note: Soft style does not mean it's nicer or easier. It just means that the art employs moves that use the opponent's energy--throws, locks, takedowns--as opposed to just kicks and punches.) He'd told me that he didn't have anything like that, but he'd let me know if he heard of anyone who trained in those styles in the area. Well yesterday he came up to me and told me that he was sponsoring a seminar taught by a guy who's a master in Gracie Jujitsu and I was more than welcome to come.

So my evening was spent in a search for my judo gi and black belt. I found the uniform fairly quickly, but the black belt proved more elusive. I've always hated the phrase, "It's always in the last place you look." Well of course it's the last place you look. It's not like you're going to keep looking after you've found it. It would portray the irony much better to say, "It's always in the last possible place it could be." And this time it was. I searched the "guest" room thoroughly, pulled all of the boxes out of the closet and went through them. Found my combat boots, but no black belt. Then I went into the office and went into that closet. Found the missing attachments for my vacuum cleaner, the missing cups for my fencing jacket (as well as the fencing jacket itself), and a vial of Tiger Balm ointment. No black belt. Next I attacked the library. Found my sleeping bags, a stethoscope, and a fanny pack with a hidden holster sewn inside. No black belt. Okay, by this point I was wondering where else there was to look. I wandered back into the living room and spied the linen/junk closet. And there, on the second shelf, was a box with every belt I'd ever had--white through black. There were actually two black belts in the box, both brand new; I'd given my old one away last summer to someone I felt deserved it. So the rest of the evening was spent trying to work the newness out of the belt.

See, this time it really was in the last possible place to look.