But that didn’t matter yesterday when I joined in on a pickup game of ultimate frisbee at 7th & Lombard yesterday afternoon. My sister who was in town for the weekend loves playing ultimate so we found a group online made up mostly of Jefferson med students. I wasn’t really intent on playing because unlike my sister, I stink donkey doo @ it. But I finally jumped in when they needed another person. I managed to catch most of the passes to me, but my fellow teammates were graciously patient and kind with my lackluster throwing abilities. Ultimate players are a great bunch. Ultra-friendly, competitive–but not aggressively so, quick to shrug off a botched play no matter who’s at fault. All games, even tournaments, are self-officiated–no referees or instant replays–anyone can call a foul and usually it’s the person who committed the foul who’s the first to speak up.

Anyway, I got a great workout sprinting up & down the field and covering a gal who could run with a mean quickness. Everyone was so friendly and I rarely get a chance to play team sports, so I’m sure I’ll be back there tossing the disc badly sometime soon.

Just started working out in the last week — I walk a couple of miles each day, but my body is devoid of muscle. Like most things, gyms are more expensive in the city than in the ‘burbs — it’s over twice as much and no basketball/racquetball court/swimming pool like at L.A. Fitness or Bally’s. Still, it’s convenient, and I have to pass it every day, so if I don’t go it’s like it’s taunting me.

Unless you’ve been under a rock, you’ve noticed the temps have neared sauna proportions the past couple days. I realize it’s probably not a great time to revive my outdoor fitness regime, but my flabby ass is in dire need of some exercise. I figured I’d avoid the heat tonight and instead head out for a run in the morning, though I’m not much of a morning workout person. Oh, what flawed logic that would turn out to be. So at 8:30, I’m chipper, motivated, and anticipating the commencement of my running routine. By 8:40, all that enthusiasm had been drained out of my entire being by the heat. I much prefer the heat to cold, but Holy Bananas! I forced myself to keep chugging along but I must have looked haggard and in pain, like someone that’s been lost in the desert for weeks, cause I sure felt that way. So I’ll try an hour earlier tomorrow and see if that makes a difference. If not, I may have to rethink the outdoor running thing and just suck it up and join a gym.

I must say, if you like to run outside, I think Kelly Drive is one of the best places in the city to do it. I always get extra bursts of energy enjoying all the lush greenery and views of the Schuylkill. When I approached the Girard Avenue bridge today, going west, (probably my favorite spot because it frames the river and the tree-lined running path so picturesquely), I half expected Curly from Oklahoma to emerge from around the corner and belt out “Oh What a Beautiful Morning.” Corny, yea, but it kept my sweaty mess moving along a mite bit longer.

I am still adjusting to the strange sensation of being present at my new gym, attempting to exert myself in the service of physical fitness.

My process of adjustment was not aided this past weekend, by:

Something I never thought I’d see. A man jumping rope….in hiking boots.

Something I hope never to hear again. “Pure Imagination”….the dance mix.

This is NOT my world. And yet, I must continue to persevere as the clutzy interloper I am.

Image source: Failure Magazine.

Back when my cash stores were a little less paltry, one of my annual indulgences was an international trip to a faraway land where I could learn about another culture, fumble my way through ordering an entrée in the local tongue, and meet great people, those native to the country and fellow travelers alike. My travels have taken me on cross-country road trips through Ireland and Corsica, jungle and scuba escapades in Belize and Thailand, and backpacking the Inca Trail to Macchu Picchu, among others.

Because of this love for visiting distant locales and my personal interest in supporting area entrepreneurs, I was excited to learn of a local venture, Terramar Adventures, which organizes off-beat activities for those of you looking for something a little more exotic than a weekend at the shore. Brothers Carl and Jonathan Ewald are Terramar’s co-founders who have taken their own life experiences in trekking across the globe, scuba diving, international marathons and other extreme sports and transformed it into a business that focuses around being active, discovering the world, and connecting with people. They ask you to write in about your unconventional dream destinations and activities and investigate turning it into a reality. Check out their schedule of events–upcoming local excursions include a scuba trip to Dutch Springs here in PA. Membership entitles you to discounts on adventure tours and activities and access to a community of thrill-seeking travelers. More details at www.terramaradv.com.

Story Credit: Thanks to Al for passing on Terramar’s website to Metroblog.

I’ll admit it: I need to get in shape. Walking to work and back has been a good start, but I’m thinking that it’s time to contemplate the dreaded spectre of me at a gym. I know a couple closest to me, and I’ve even called one of them for a rate quote. But I don’t know what to compare that quote against, to figure out what’s a fair price for Philadelphia fitness. There also may be other Rittenhouse-square-region gyms that I don’t know about and should have in my list of options.

So help me out! Let me know who you like, who you don’t, why it matters, what it costs. My shrinking waistline (and wallet!) will thank you.

Image: clipartheaven.

Okay: I never expected to see this city named in a newspaper story about finding the G-spot:

She left us with this easy-to-remember geographic analogy: If the vagina is the Amtrak’s Northeast corridor, which starts in Washington, tell your man to stop shooting straight for Springfield, Mass., and try spending more time in Philly.

In the Inky, no less.

This year, I decided not to have any New Year’s resolutions because I never stick with them and end up feeling depressed on New Year’s Eve when I think of all of the unused potential the year had had. So, instead of allowing myself to feel sorry for myself, this year, I decided to actually do something, rather than resolve to do it. Therefore, I have taken up wall climbing, a feat I have enjoyed in other years but haven’t made the time to stick to it. In my January efforts, I have only been wall climbing once (however, I did go on Dec. 30th as well). I’m pumped and have stuck to a very non-rigorous workout routine when I’m not wall climbing. So, my question for all of you is, how can you build up arm strength - without looking like a steroid-pumping wrestler? I have some restrictions. While pulling my weight in wall climbing isn’t bad, my ability to do push-ups is so so. This is because I interviewed a guy at a boxing club. The man was acting in an independent horror flick, which was being filmed at the club. There was a punching bag on the set and I tested it out. Having only thrown Karate punches that my dad taught me, I did not know how to properly hit a punching bag without slightly injuring my wrist. In any case, if you have any suggestions, let me know.

“Who wants to live in Jersey? It’s a goddamn Communist country; you have to pay to get out.”

So we’re at the MetBlog Meet-Up, watching Chris (also Kariyanine) consume his eight vodka and cranberry type concoctions at the New Wave at 3rd and Catherine. And he starts spouting off about Jersey. I thought the quote at the top of this entry was good enough to write down so it’s been sitting in my journal, waiting for the opportune moment to drop the quote in a casual entry here on the MetBlog. This is that entry…

Cory (my partner of choice) and I are in Mississippi, enjoying the vast amounts of nothing that there is to do down here. At the moment, we’re watching Futurama on [adult swim]. Fry ended up apartment hunting and found several amazing “deals” including a delish adventure in undersea living. Then, of course, he spies an ad that says “Suspiciously Awesome Apartment”. Of course they go looking, and the discussion is as follows:

Fry: “So…what’s the catch?”
Landlord: “Oh, there’s no catch. It’s just we’re technically in New Jersey.”

Which brings us back to…

For any of the guys or girls that are interested in playing competitive roller hockey, there is a phenomenal outdoor hockey league that runs year-round on Wednesday nights. The CT Hockey League is based out of Palmer playground at Comley Road and Thornton Avenue in the Northeast (just across from the Philadelphia Flyers Skate Zone).

The league almost died after its most-recent season, as the number of players began dwindling. Right now there are four teams, which means its dedicated core can play on for at least one more season. And yes — in case you were wondering — I am among those that play.

Both whole teams and individuals are welcome to come check it out. There isn’t really a whole lot you need for it. The players are competitive but inexperienced and looking to learn. They pay about $40 for 10 games plus the playoffs (best of three series)…unheard of among organized roller hockey leagues. Fees go to pay a set of referees, so nobody makes money off the league except those that serve as officials.

I know this is short notice for tonight, but — barring rain or snow — I will be out there tonight and every Wednesday. You can come ask for me personally, or for Chris, who runs the league. If anyone would like details about this league, or would like to see about signing up for it, shoot me an e-mail.