New Year’s Resolutions? Oh, Yeah, Those…

It’s been nearly six months since New Year’s… and in typical INTJ fashion, I have not forgotten about those pesky Resolutions.

1. Lose inches. 
   Since committing to a strict diet about a month ago, I have already lost about 10 pounds, and continue to shed weight by the week.  I can finally fit back into the clothes I wore when I first interviewed in the big city; in fact, they’re actually a bit large now.  Logging everything I eat in a public online profile has made me accountable for my nutrition decisions; knowing that anyone and everyone will know that I had six Oreos for dinner makes me think twice about eating garbage.

   I’m most proud of how I’ve stepped up my fitness routine, however.  Realizing that I averaged just two taekwondo classes per week during my first year and a half with my school, I made a vow in February to start attending every class I could, only skipping when I absolutely had to work late and couldn’t make it back home in time.  As part of that, I even go to class on Saturdays now.  The extra practice is paying off: at the last promotion test, Master Song commented that I had improved since the last time he saw me!  Last but not least, joining the New York Road Runners made my goal of running the NYC Marathon a lot more tangible and real, and incorporating running into my life has probably been my favorite accomplishment so far this year.

If You Make Fun Of My Plastic Trophy, I Will Kick Your Ass, Too

As of last week, I’ve been doing taekwondo for two years. I really like my school because we’ve had great instructors who push us hard, but in a friendly and often less-structured way. Generally, I have a lot of fun at practice, even when we’re working through brutal drills. Some of the other chains are a lot stricter, with more military-style classes, and very firm start and end times. I realize that’s probably a better system, especially when you’re learning dangerous techniques, but since taekwondo is more “hobby” than “life” for me, I think my dojang is the perfect fit.

During these past 730 days, as I worked my way up from horrifically out-of-shape white belt (seriously, for my trial lesson, I was unable to do one sit-up) to red-belt-with-stripe-and-promotion tape (my brown belt test is this Friday), I refused all invitations to attend tournament events. A tournament represented a wildly unpredictable day of fighting overly-committed people who were more than willing to sacrifice their body (and mine) for a prefab plastic trophy. I knew that I’d be putting myself at risk for serious ankle injuries (or, more devastating to me, a broken wrist), so I stayed far, far away.

However, it was announced about a week and a half ago that if we expected to get our black belts, we HAD to attend at least one tournament. As the days wore on that week, “one” became “two to three” and, by Friday, “three to five.” I made the mistake of mentioning that I wasn’t planning on going to the upcoming event, at which point I was promptly recommended, and handed a registration form. I saw no way out, so I decided to give it a shot.

All These Visits To Woodside, And I Still Can’t Pronounce “Slainte”

Carolyn’s in New York!  Hurrah!

We celebrated her first night back in the big city with delicious cheeseburgers and pints of Smithwick’s at Donovan’s in Woodside.  It was a delicious meal, evidenced by how quickly I inhaled my burger, and I was reminded as I drained my beer how much better Smithwick’s tastes when it’s poured right from the keg.  After dinner, we walked past her old apartment and through Doughboy Park, and rode the 7 train back to Jackson Heights.

Yay!