Gulp of (not so) fresh....water?

Today all day at work I was starving, and I think I ate everything in sight. I could've eaten a horse, but we don't keep those around the office. BUT I felt so disgusting when I got home.

Solution? 2 hours at the gym. Well...maybe 2 hours. Some elliptical, some weights, some more elliptical and then a few laps topped off with a little yoga when I got home.

I didn't think the pool would be crowded at 9:30, but it was so, I hung out in the hot tub (I'd only do that if it was empty and luckily it was!) After about 15 minutes, a lane opened, so I grabbed it. It was me and 3 guys about my age in the pool. They weren't hard core- no swim caps or goggles. They didn't even swim 2 consecutive laps.

I could tell they were watching me. I look like I'm legit because I do wear a swim cap and goggles. I let them think what they want, but if they watch me too long, they'll figure out I'm not headed for the Olympics anytime soon.

I ignored the boys and kept swimming. They went into the sauna and I could tell they were still watching me through the steamy glass. I pulled out the big guns- the butterfly. (Let's be clear... I'm going for tough workout b/c I felt disgusting, I'm not trying to show off for these guys....please, I'm wearing a 1 piece swimsuit and a swim cap. I'm sure my mascara was all over my face and I looked utterly adorable).

Anyway, I do my lap of the butterfly towards the sauna, making sure to pull out of the water like all the really cool pictures of the awesome swimmers. I saw one of the guys in the sauna come stand at the glass as if he'd never seen anyone do the butterfly as gracefully as me (uh...yeah Hayley....that's it).

I could see a wave in front of me carving out a path for me as I made my way to the other end. There was the wall...one last stroke...come up for air....OH NO, the wave had hit the wall and it came crashing straight into my mouth. I coughed up a TON of water but then I still had about a pint lodged in my windpipe. Great finale. Now they all know you're not awesome.

I played it off with an easy breaststroke back...ya know, just in case I died from choking on water, I'd die doing an easy stroke. Needless to say, that was my last lap of the night.

More to Live For

Last night I went to a film festival where they showed "More to Live For" that was held in honor of a coworker's 18-month old baby niece, Winslet.

Winslet was born premature at 4 pounds, 8 ounces, was resuscitated in the delivery room, was critically ill with only 33% of the blood volume she should have had, and her vital organs were shutting down. She fought her way back to health during a seven week stay in the NICU, but there was one major lingering problem — Winslet was not making blood. After months of blood tests, dozens of transfusions, three bone marrow biopsies, and consulting with leading hematologists around the world, doctors were at a loss for a diagnosis and now refer to her condition as Winslet’s Disease.

Winslet's only chance for a cure was a life-saving bone marrow transplant. She was lucky — doctors quickly found a 6/6 match from the National Marrow Donor Program cord blood bank. Winslet endured eight days of around-the-clock intensive chemotherapy in preparation for her bone marrow transplant, which took place February 3, 2011. After 54 days in Medical City Dallas, Winslet faces two years of recovery before it will be known if the transplant was a success. 


The documentary "More to Live For" is shown by a non-profit called Love Hope Strength, which is an international, music-centric cancer charity dedicated to saving lives, one concert at a time. Right now, they're raising funds to build cancer centers around the world (Peru, Nepal, Tanzania...), build awareness of global cancer needs, and build an international bone marrow registry.
  
Before I saw this documentary last night, I really didn't know much about bone marrow transplants. I didn't realize there are thousands of people waiting to find a match today. I thought bone marrow donors had to be from the patient's family and there wasn't a need to "join a registry" because (thank the Lord) everyone in my family is healthy. Heck, I actually didn't know there was a registry.  

James Chippendale, the co-founder of Love Hope Strength, was blessed to find his match- a German man who has never left his small village outside of Berlin. A complete stranger on the other side of the world gave his bone marrow to save the life of a stranger- no questions asked. That's the way this world should be.
James was at the film screening last night and he was describing how he was laying on his death bed, losing a battle with leukemia, when he found his match. Once he began recovering, he had to transition back into the real world. He said there was a pre-cancer James and a post-cancer James and everything in life was completely different. He said, "All of a sudden, I didn't understand why this person was yelling at the traffic, and that person was honking...." He is so grateful to be alive, he doesn't let the petty stressors get to him- why should anyone!?

I joined the bone marrow registry after the movie. All it took was a simple 10 second cotton swab in my cheek and I could be someone's match. They can't get that swab to a lab fast enough- I want to get the call NOW that I can save someone. Isn't that so cool that we can save lives just with the blood that's pumping through our veins?! It doesn't get much cooler than that. 

Arachnophobia

I'm not a very "phobic" person. I used to be claustrophobic as a child. I was DEATHLY afraid of elevators- particularly the idea of getting stuck in an elevator. I could only ride alone in a glass elevator, and even then, I didn't trust that strangers watching me panic inside a stuck elevator would have the heart to help me.

But this blog post isn't about the claustrophobia I've grown out of- it's about the arachnophobia I'll NEVER grow out of.

I hate spiders. They have more legs, and probably more eyes, than I do. Most of them can outrun me too (ha). Well...today I was walking down the hall and something fell from the ceiling down my shirt. Eh...surely it's just dust, right? It's never just dust.

I made it about 50 yards to my BFF's desk:
"OMG...something fell down my shirt!"

"What was it?"

"I don't know"....I look...*GASP* "A spider!"

No kidding, she jumped at least 3 feet back from me!

Suddenly people looked at me more like a leper in that moment than they did when I had a cough last week. I had a spider in my shirt and I had no intention of reaching in it to get it out or stripping in front of my coworkers!

I would have loved to scream, but I heard with tarantulas, it's better to stay calm because they attack when they sense fear. I know this dime-sized spider wasn't a tarantula, but I wasn't sure if the rules applied across the board, and I'm at work...gotta maintain a sense of professionalism so the VP of Marketing doesn't see you running down the hall tearing your shirt off to get a spider out. I don't really see a promotion coming from that scenario (at least not in my line of work).

I drug my 2 nearest female coworkers to the bathroom with me...I couldn't face this beast alone. I was shaking and starting to sweat. The 2 bathroom stalls in the closest bathroom were full. We went into the executive suite...I was ready to pop into my boss' office (luckily he wasn't in there) and dig the spider out there, but we made it another 30 yards to the bathroom where I ripped off my jacket and shook out my shirt. The spider plopped on the ground and in true girl-fashion we sprung back. I threw a paper towel on the floor over it but it ran. My brave coworker stomped it with her stiletto several times till it was unrecognizable.

I'm safe. I survived, and I feel like I did so with professional poise. Now I'm just wearing turtlenecks to work!