Vanity got the best of me, when I was asked by one of the top-ranked women's match racing skippers in the world to join her team for Mayor's Cup. Had I been thinking straight, and not so top-heavy from flattery, I might have said 'no': a practical answer for a 40-(mumble-mumble)-year-old who hasn't been to the gym in two months and coincidentally has a titanium ass. But I said 'yes' (guffaw-gush-blush-golly-gee) and find myself now packed and ready to head to Long Beach at 5am tomorrow ... On an empty stomach. Parched. Gnawing on my lips and bubblegum and craving anything solid. Trying to get 'to weight' I have been slogging along on the eliptical trainer and treadmill at the Y, jogging with the (puzzled) dog, dieting, drinking lemon water and have banished salt in any shape or form. As a result I've dropped four lbs but mostly from hunching violently over in pain due to calf and thigh cramps. Seriously: I am NOT a runner.But I'm excited. In a masochistic, challenged kind of way. I place little goals in front of myself: 'Tomorrow I can eat again', 'Thursday we have the night off so I can pack my body in ice in the bathtub at the hotel', 'Saturday I can have a drink', 'Sunday this will be a-l-l behind me'. For better or for worse.
For news and results click here - look for skipper Sandy Hayes.
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