Girding for Epicnicity

So the planned trip to Frontier-cum-Rich-People's-Haven, and all the outdoorsy stuff I want to do then, has given me some impetus in going to the Zumba class at the Y today. I think I am the biggest spaz of all time in the class. I'm a little gawky for all the booty shaking, so I geek out, with jumping and big arm motions and whatever. I kind of can't help but make fun of myself in the name of getting a better workout. But Denise, Regina, Mark and all the gang from Tacoma aren't there to appreciate it. Two years later and I can't let go of my old Y.

Which reminds me, I spent a girls' weekend a few weeks ago with some of the gals from my old Y. We all drank a bunch of wine, "enjoyed" the blustery weather and ate at the Ocean Crest, which was really, really good. I shared an appetizer of lobster fingerlings on crostini and had a seafood alfredo-type pasta, which I totally couldn't finish. When Lindley tried to help me by taking a bite, I saw her go for noodles, and I said, "No! Take the lobster!" I mean, I'm value-minded. It about kills me to not be able to eat all the lobster. I eat that about once a decade.

But all that creamy pasta with underwater creatures composed almost wholly of cholesterol does terrible, awful things to the body. Especially when washed down with ungodly amounts of Pinot Noir. Not the sort of things that get one in shape to do what the mountain biking community call epic rides.

Not that I'm planning on an epic ride in Steamboat. Maybe half of one. But there are trails to be ridden, by horse, by bike, by foot. It's a shame not to hit as absolutely many as possible, especially if the reason is because they are kicking my tuchus.

So of course, the only option is shaping up. Forgoing my annoyance at the Hoquiam Y for not being what my old Y was — a community full of cool people with their arms open and, although the parking lot was often crowded, never quite as bad as the Hoquiam Y in terms of crowding in and out of the Y. I think it helped that the Morgan Family Y isn't afraid to use the gym for classes, so they weren't limited to 30 people. I also liked the fact that Denise, Mark and Regina taught classes that weren't trademarked. But there you are. Zumba was okay, I guess.

I am also getting healthy by eating well. For dinner the other night, Ray and I roasted a heap of veggies. We did beets with a little olive oil, salt and pepper — six of them — and yams, with orange juice, a little vegetable oil and some nutmeg, ginger, cinnamon and something else. I didn't put cardamom in but that would have been awesome. I sprinkled a little brown sugar on it at the end. It was like a sweet potato pie but not as unhealthy. We also had asparagus and salmon. Talk about healthy. The beets had an interesting side effect. I now know what happens when Barbie goes to the bathroom. Anthocyanins. A miracle of nature. You're welcome. Eat about two whole beets and enjoy the show.

I expect once the (dreadful, awful, wretched, miserable, galling) weather stops being rainy, hail-y and bitterly chilly I'll get Ray to hit the Capitol Forest and do some trails. Prepare our quads and sensitive little heinies for what lies ahead. Which is epic, or near-epic, stuff.

So the road to epicnicity, it begins with pink pee and Zumba.