Bev Vincent

Starting to get into gear for World Horror. I leave on Wednesday afternoon for a 10-hour nonstop flight into Heathrow. On a 777, so I’m hoping the in-flight entertainment system is in full gear. If not, I’ll have my Kindle loaded up with lots of reading options. I don’t usually sleep very well on flights, but I’m going to give it a shot. Otherwise Thursday is going to be a very long day.

We went to see The 39 Steps at the Alley Theater this weekend. The play is fairly faithful to the Hitchcock movie (which diverges greatly from the Buchan novel), but it’s played very much for laughs. It has a minimal stage set (the same packing trunks are used for a train, a car, various beds and other sundry props, for example), and only four actors. One plays the main character, Richard Hannay, the typical Hitchcock wrongly accused man who races across the country trying to stay one step ahead of the police while determined to prove his innocence. One female actress plays three different roles, and the other two actors, misleadlingly called Man #1 and Man #2, play a host of other characters, not all of them male. There’s a Monty Python/Benny Hill/Carol Burnett aspect to the play. At moments, the two “Men” play as many as four characters. In one instance they switch hats and rotate around to signify the other character. Another time, they play at the edge of the stage and execute a kind of sleight of body, marching off stage, quickly changing clothes before marching back on in another guise, repeating this several times in a matter of seconds or minutes. It’s all very clever. Some of the stage gags are hilarious. In a Scottish moor scene, every time the (portable) door opens, huge gusts of pretend wind come roaring into the house and the actors all behave as if they’re about to be blown away. They jostle and joggle while seated on the “train” and respond to the brakes in the “car.” For a couple of “wide shots,” the players are replaced by stick figures silhouetted on a rear-projection screen, with plenty of sight gags, including a cameo by the Loch Ness Monster. The actors must have been exhausted after this tour de force performance. The names of several Hitchcock movies are woven into the script, and the soundtrack contains many recognizable themes from the master’s movies.

I finished Chuck Hogan’s Devils in Exile this weekend. It’s about an ex-Iraq vet who’s having a hard time readjusting to life in Boston. The only job he can get is as a parking lot attendant, where he is discovered after he fights off some would-be robbers, almost killing one in the process. He is enlisted by a guy who has made it his mission to eradicate the big drug dealers in the city. They execute well-planned interventions, where the drugs are destroyed and the money confiscated. Readers familiar with Hogan’s previous book, Prince of Thieves, may notice that common element. There is also a love story of sorts, and overlap with a DEA agent who resents that someone else is doing his job. Everything is not as it seems, though–is it ever? A very good crime novel.

We also finished A Vintage Caper by Peter Mayle. The opposite side of the coin in terms of capers. Light-hearted and devoted to descriptions of France, French meals and wine. My wife guessed the book’s outcome just before it was announced. I came up with a neat twist, but that didn’t prove to be the case. We’re moving on to Corduroy Mansion by Alexander McCall Smith, and I am going to give Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter a spin.

Alas, Jeff and Jordan started falling farther and farther behind on Amazing Race and finally had their luck run out. I was rooting for them, but the detectives seem the team to beat now that they’ve figured out a winning game plan. Of course, one false move (like dashing off to the wrong town) could be the end of any team.

I watched Undercover Boss after the Super Bowl and thought it was an interesting concept. However, it suffers from the same problems as a lot of reality shows of this type. The first few minutes essentially reveal the entire episode, and what isn’t covered there is previewed before commercial breaks. Then things are reiterated two or three times along the way in case you happened not to be paying attention. This show in particular is in a real repetitive rut–once you’ve seen an episode or two, there’s not really much point in watching another. There’s going to be the sentimental story, the sob story, the motivational story and the bad-employee story. And it’s all too staged. How can you manage a two-camera interview, with intercut reaction shots, and expect it to seem unrehearsed?

Lost viewers take note: this week’s episode runs 66 minutes, so if you’re relying on the DVR, adjust your end time accordingly!

I did a lot of revamping of the story that I mentioned last week, the one lying fallow until a set of submission guidelines appeared in my INBOX that fit it. The biggest change required was to get a second character on screen sooner, so I had to untie the knot and loop it together differently, making sure I didn’t introduce any continuity errors in the process. I should have written it that way in the first place, I now realize, so I think it is a much stronger story than before. I also got four other stories back into submission on Saturday.

Not everyone can pull off the cowboy hat look. Joe Don Baker did it well in the BBC miniseries Edge of Darkness that we watched last weekend, and Timothy Olyphant does it well in the new FX series Justified. It’s based on something by Elmore Leonard, but I don’t think I’ve read the source material. Olyphant plays a US Marshall who is transferred from Miami to Kentucky after a questionable shooting in the opening moments of the first episode. Talk about getting a show off to a bang start. Olyphant walks up to this creep, who is eating lunch on a deck at a posh restaurant, and informs him that the 24 hours he gave him to get out of town have just about expired. He has five minutes to head for the airport. Classic deadline scenario, which amps up the tension as the countdown plays out. Kentucky just happens to be where he grew up, so there are plenty of landmines for him, including his ex-wife and a father he has spoken to in some time. The show has something of a Burn Notice vibe (Michael Weston is stuck in Miami and has to deal with old girlfriends and family and both characters are cold blooded killers when necessary). Definitely a show I’m going to keep track of.

It’s going down to near freezing here tonight on the first day of spring. It’s raining hard, filling the ditches. The rainwater is covered with yellow “slime,” the pine tree pollen that has been covering everything the past week or so and trigging everyone’s allergies. Weird, weird weather.

I’m really glad I cancelled my British Airways flights for World Horror. The strike began at midnight Friday and who knows what the cascade effect is going to be over the next several days?

I first went to see my current family doctor back in the late 1980s. I did a face plant in the sidewalk from my bicycle, got 18 stitches at the ER, and went to the clinic near my apartment for wound care and to have the stitches removed eventually. I probably went back to the same clinic a couple of times after that, but then they dropped off our insurance plan, so I went elsewhere for a while. Once the plan changed again and they were re-implemented, I went back. After my appointment yesterday, the doctor set aside my file, pulled up a stool and says he wants to test my memory. “Had you ever heard of me before you first came to see me?” he asked. I outlined my history with him, but I hadn’t heard of him before that. “I’ll give you a clue,” he said. “It.”  

The pieces come together–sort of. The local paper ran an article about my Edgar nomination recently. Turns out my doctor used to practice in Orono, Maine back in the late 1970s and he was Stephen King’s physician. King named a minor character after him in It. “I’m in the back of the book,” he says. “Page 1000 and something.” It’s a fairly unique name, so I looked it up this morning and there he is, giving baby Mike Hanlon a tetanus shot. Small world, eh?

There hasn’t been all that much to blog about lately. We went out to an Irish pub on Wednesday evening for a couple of beers to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. A Guinness rep was there handing out trinkets and free beers.

Last night I watched the return of Flashforward. It’s an interesting enough show, but I feel disconnected from it. I couldn’t tell you any of the characters’ names, for example. I think Dominic Monaghan’s character is emerging as one of the most interesting. He doesn’t respond to bluffs or bluster, that’s for sure, and his actions during the first blackout and at the end of last night’s episode were surprising to say the least. I’m sticking with the show, but I find myself doing other things while it’s on, too, like working the jigsaw or browsing through a book. It’s not at all like Lost, where I barely look away from the screen the whole time it’s on.

We’ve had some nice warm weather for the past week or so. Cool in the evenings, but not as cold as it’s supposed to be this weekend, dropping back into the 30s.

I’m slowly getting everything lined up for World Horror next week. Weeks of build-up and I’m afraid the whole thing will be over in a flash.

I like receiving submission guidelines that allow me to dig out a story that’s been lying fallow for a while. That happened today. I have this 5000 word caper that I wrote on spec a few years ago that I could never figure out what to do with. A set of interesting guidelines landed in my INBOX today that suit it just about perfectly. I’ll have to reread it, of course, and maybe tinker with it a little, but not much. Of course, I also received two rejection letters this week. One claimed (via a checklist) that, though the story was well written, it wasn’t atmospheric enough.

Have to take my car in for its 25,000 mile overhaul tomorrow. Not bad for a 5-year old vehicle, though. I fill the tank with gas once a month, whether it needs it or not.

Contrary to what I said in my Storytellers Unplugged essay, “The Book Launch,” I did in fact remember to wear something green today. I wasn’t entirely sure — I had to confirm it with my wife. I thought for a while that it might have been beige or brown but she reassured me that it is, indeed, green.

I spent a week or so in Ireland back in the early 90s wandering from coast to coast on an aimless yet enjoyable journey to nowhere. One of my favorite anecdotes from that trip was about seeing posters and ads like the one featured here. After reading dense fine print on bottles in America about all the ways alcohol can ruin your health, seeing a beer ad like this was refreshing.

I wonder if last night’s NCIS was another back door pilot for CGIS, the coast guard analog. Probably not, because of the paucity of CGIS investigators. It was good seeing Diane Neal (of Law & Order) go head to head with Gibbs and survive the ordeal. I think she makes a better foil for him than the lawyer who has popped up from time to time this season.

One week from today and I’m off to World Horror. Can’t wait — I’m looking forward to seeing lots of people I haven’t seen in years, and quite a good number who I know only from online encounters. Four days hardly seems long enough, but I’m going to make the most of it. I certainly expect to have a few Guinness or whatever other good British beer is available, and I’ve already booked in for a curry dinner with some colleagues. Good times.

Last night’s Lost had a lot to live up to, coming as it did after last week’s stellar episode, Dr. Linus, and before next week’s hotly anticipated episode focusing on Richard Alpert. It was good. It had some important developments. It had a few surprises. However, I didn’t come away from it as hopped up as I did from Dr. Linus. Anyhow, more behind the cut.

As expected, the episode title was a double play, meaning both to reconnoiter and to con again. We see Sawyer playing out a familiar scene, a repeat of the one from the long con episode, except this time his target is onto his game. Faster than you can say Lafleur, the cops come rushing in, including Detective Miles Straum. Lo and behold, Sawyer/Ford isn’t just an informer–he’s a detective, too. Okay, now, hang on a minute. Let’s think back a bit to the beginning of the season. Wouldn’t a cop be expected to react a little differently to a woman wearing handcuffs by herself in an elevator after an international flight? He didn’t seem very police-y that day. Hmmm. Maybe he just wasn’t in the mood after his (presumably disappointing) trip to Australia. Maybe he didn’t figure he could take her without his gun.

So, who does Zoe resemble more: Kate or Tina Fey? Actually, she’s Sheila Kelley from L.A. Law, and looking mighty fine as a damsel in distress. I am intrigued by the way Flocke seems to answer every question asked of him truthfully. I don’t think I’ve heard him tell a direct lie. In fact, telling the truth seems to be contagious. Flocke asks Sawyer what happened on Hydra and he tells him. However, telling the truth doesn’t mean there isn’t deception, because there are certain crucial details people aren’t telling. In other words, they aren’t volunteering information if they aren’t asked specific questions.

It seems like a lot of people in the sideways world are living on a cuisine of microwave TV dinners. We get another mirror shot, this time of Sawyer smashing his fist into one. Charlie’s brother Liam staggers into the police station looking for his brother and gets blown off. And, hey, there’s Charlotte, the unboring archeologist who can’t shake off her habit of digging into people’s past.

I wonder if Flocke’s story of a crazy mother is meant to tell us more than it did — other than being a warning to Kate about Aaron’s mother. A piece in the jigsaw puzzle of who Jacob and MiB really are?

Question: What’s in the locked cabinet on the sub? People are speculating that it might be Desmond. Seriously?

Anyhow, a decent but unexceptional episode–but I predict greatness for next week.

I received my Stoker nomination certificate in yesterday’s mail. Shortly it will be hanging on the wall next to its mate from five years ago and the new Edgar nomination certificate, which is almost as large as the two Stoker nomination certificates combined.

I was also contacted by the president of the Houston Writers Guild. Apparently they want to make me an honorary lifetime member of their guild, of which I am not currently a member. A nice honor. Alas, their meetings are held about fifty miles from where I live, so it’s a long haul.

I don’t often post links to YouTube, but this one made me laugh several times and is topical: Christopher Walken in an SNL sketch about the census.

Good episode of Law & Order last night. A slight departure from the usual format, with the arrest taking place in the opening minutes, the trial done before the half hour, and the rest of the episode taken up with a judicial overturning of the conviction, a potential reversal and other legal maneuverings involving Cutter’s former law school professor who now works for an innocence project. I thought for sure McCoy was going to fire Cutter in the last 30 seconds, but he seems to have actually dodged that bullet.

House was the only other new show last night. The computer imaging of the patient’s memories was a fascinating bit of science fiction. The best part of the episode was the chess match between House and Wilson over the furnishings in their new loft.

Read another few chapters of Chuck Hogan’s Devils in Exile. Still not sure exactly where it’s going but I’m along for the ride.

Started working in earnest on my next Cemetery Dance column, which is due shortly after I get back from Brighton. The bulk of the column is going to be the interview with the Italian translator, which requires a fair amount of editing, but I have the other usual matters to include as well. I only managed four laps of the pool (back-and-forth) at noon today. At least I managed to outpace the elderly woman with the flutter board in the next lane. It’s going to take a while to get better at this, I can tell.

Tonight: Lost. Of course. Sawyer goes on a recon. Or is it a re-con, as in “to con again?”

I had no trouble getting up at my usual time this morning, even with the time change, but I feel draggy today. I should be back on schedule just in time to go to England and mess myself up all over again.

I was browsing through the Houston Chronicle yesterday and when I got to the section devoted to news from our area I found…a picture of me! The interview that appeared online a few weeks ago was abridged for the print edition, and they used a different photo from the one that ran online, too.

I got a lot of things done this weekend. My to-do list is basically au courant for the first time in a while.  I finished a short story yesterday, did several editing passes and got it out the door. I don’t usually submit things that soon after completing the first draft, but I had no other choice in this case. I also wrote my Storytellers Unplugged essay for this Wednesday on the subject of book launches. While looking something up to add color to the essay, I discovered this little factoid: Apparently the creator of the show Castle told Nathan Fillion that if you say his character’s name fast, it sounds like “Rick Asshole.”

The weather was really nice this weekend. We had a nice outdoor mid-afternoon supper by the riverwalk on Saturday, and I worked in the office with the window open all day yesterday. Another thing I did was cancel my British Airways flight for World Horror and rebook on Continental because of the very real possibility that a cabin crew strike would disrupt my travel. I didn’t want to have to spend the weekend at the con worrying about whether I was going to be able to get back home or not. The new flights cost a little bit more than the original, but it was worth it to make the change, I think.

Scifi Guy posted a nice, extensive review of Evolve late last week. In addition to providing a nice synopsis of my story, he says, ” Sometimes creepy, this is a solidly told crime story.” The picture at the right is, obviously, the cover of the forthcoming anthology Best New Zombie Tales, Vol. 1, which features my story “Groundwood,” which previously appeared in a Wrong World DVD eBook.

This weekend, I finished Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman and started Devils in Exile by Chuck Hogan. I have no idea what the Hogan novel is going to be about. The publisher sent me a copy without me requesting it, and I haven’t read the dust jacket material.  So far it features a guy freshly back from Iraq who is having trouble readjusting to normal life.

We finished watching the BBC series Edge of Darkness this weekend. There was a recent U.S. feature remake starring Mel Gibson that I haven’t seen–and probably won’t. This one won all sorts of awards at the time (1986), and co-stars Joe Don Baker as a congenially shifty CIA agent. A Yorkshire DI’s daughter is killed in front of him in what at first appears to be a mistake. However, subsequent investigation reveals that daughter was part of a group called Gaia that had infiltrated a company involved in the reprocessing of nuclear waste. Politicians, MI5, the CIA and other intelligence agencies get involved, and it’s never clear who is playing on what side and how information is being channeled from one group to another. Lots of twists and turns, and as an added dimension, DI Craven’s deceased daughter keeps talking to him. Not exactly a ghost, but sort of. And Joe Don Baker is delightful.

We also watched an IFC movie called Birdwatchers, about the Guarani Indians of Brazil. A group of them decide to follow their leader off the reservation and set up a new compound on the side of the road near a farm, land the leader claims is where their ancestors are buried. Of course, the farmer isn’t happy to have this group of squatters on the fringe of his property and he assigns a man to act as a “scarecrow” to make sure they stay off his land. I’m not sure what sin this guy committed to be given such a dismal task, living in a little trailer with no running water by himself. Boredom among the young people has led to suicides, both on and off the reservation. One boy has dreams that are interpreted as visions, so he is in training to become a shaman, which is also a pretty sucky job since he can’t eat meat or be with women. It’s not clear that their lives are appreciably different off the reservation. There is no wild game to hunt, they have to carry water from a distant river, and they aren’t inclined to take most of the work that is offered to them that might have made their dreary lives a little better.

Jeff and Jordan were the beneficiaries of a whopping dose of good luck on The Amazing Race. They were well behind everyone else from the start of the leg, and had an extra task to perform, but they didn’t show any signs they could make up the time. However, the U-turn the two cops threw at Joe and Heidi was their salvation. Joe and Heidi were in second place, but they absolutely could not figure out how to decode the Morse message, so they ended up not completing the task and were eliminated. I have no idea how they came up with the guesses they did, but they weren’t even close.

I’m making progress with my new exercise regime. Yesterday I managed five laps of the pool (up from three), and today I knocked a minute off the time for my aerobics training.

I had a brilliant idea about the story I’m trying to get written. As usual, it happened when I was in the shower. Did I mention it was a brilliant idea. The brilliant part is that everything I’d written so far was leading up to this revelation–I just hadn’t realized it. I just hope I can pull it off, because it will now require a delicate touch. It was easier before I knew what I was alluding to.

It’s not every day you get an e-mail from Scott Turow. Yesterday was one of those days. Neat.

The Heroes proved that they’re a bunch of morons on Survivor this week. Here is their choice to evict: A guy with a full splint on his leg or someone who doesn’t. They could easily lose James tomorrow and be down an extra person or lose another challenge because all James can do is set in a chair and yell until he goes hoarse. Duh.

A guest star can elevate a mediocre show. This week it was Lena Olin on Law & Order: SVU.  She was so ambiguous that for a long time I entertained the idea that she had committed the murders and waited until after her client died to pin it on him.

Some British Airways employees announced their intention to go on strike this month. Great. Looks like it won’t mess with my departure but phase two might strand me in England. Blech. I hope they get it sorted out between now and then. I hate having to worry about travel plans when I’m trying to enjoy myself.

Here are the details about the When the Night Comes Down launch, stolen shamelessly from Bill Breedlove’s blog: “From 10pm-Midnight, [Bill] will be hosting the launch party in Bar Rogue.  Free booze and the opportunity to meet and chat with NIGHT authors Joseph D’Lacey and Bev Vincent and also Free Booze.”

So, daylight savings time. If we’re saving it, where do we put it? Except we’re actually losing it this weekend, not saving it.

What did they expect? There’s an article on the CBC website today about an Air Canada flight from Vancouver to Montreal that was delayed a couple of weeks ago. Not necessarily big news. The reason for the delay? Technical problems? Nope. Weather? Nope. Crew delay? Nope. The passengers refused to get on board the plane. The gold medal Olympic hockey was still playing in the departure lounge! Travelers ignored the boarding instructions from the airline staff, though the article did not say how long this went on.

I received the page proofs of Best New Zombie Tales Volume 1 overnight. This morning I reread my story and found a few glitches, one of which was pretty bad — my first person narrator changes names! His name is only mentioned twice, on the first page and near the end, but it’s not the same. Geez. I must have been asleep at the switch that day. I’ll probably read it through a couple of more times before giving it my blessing.

In other writing news, I received my first ever paycheck for a poem, so I guess I can now claim to be a professional poet (hah!), and I turned in my review of Black Hills to Dead Reckonings. There’s no guarantee it’ll make the issue, though. I suggested it to the editors when it seemed like they might not be able to get review copies of all the works they had slated for the issue, so it’ll only go in if there’s room. (Actually, I just now, as I was writing this paragraph, received a message from ST Joshi saying that he was sure they would want to run it. Yay!

Here’s another interesting mirror event from Lost that someone else pointed out to me. On and off the island, Ben opens gas cannisters in his father’s presence, but with much different results!

Didn’t NCIS do the “guy has two wives” story once before? Seems to me they did. Good Ducky subplot which grew to the extent that the actual murder story sort of petered out at the end. New suspect, funny scene at his car, snag  him, instant confession. Criminal Minds was off its game this week, I thought.  Everyone seemed sort of bored. Or maybe it was just me that was bored. I was working on a jigsaw puzzle and it didn’t hold my attention.

Survivor tonight: Russell vs. Boston Rob and another injured player.

We’re skipping spring and going straight into summer. Not exactly, but we’ve been flirting with 80° days this week, though the evenings are cool.

I’m getting back into my exercise regimen after two months off. Hit the elliptical today to do my standard 400 calorie / 3 mile workout. Before I took a break it used to take me 32 minutes to hit those marks. Today it took 35 minutes. Guess it’ll take a while to break these old legs back in again.

If last night’s episode of Lost was a Dark Tower novel, it would have the subtitle “Redemption.”

In my opinion, Michael Emerson deserves an Emmy nomination for his performance last night. We’ve often speculated that Ben might redeem himself at some point, turn it around and become one of the good guys. Though there are enough episodes left for me not to leap to that conclusion about how things will turn out, at least for now he’s on the good side.  He finally collapses under the enormity of his mistakes, is forgiven, and makes the right choice. Rather than follow someone who promises him more empty power, he joins a group where he becomes just one of the minions. “Can I help?” he asks Sun.  He’s been metaphorically digging his grave for a long time, and now that he has actually done it, he’s a changed man.

Off the island, Dr. Linus redeems himself, too. He still covets power, but he wants to use it for the benefit of others. He has a simple, unassuming life, but he lovingly cares for his father and he is altruistic about his students.  Is it possible that the sideways-flashes represent what happens to the characters if they accept what the island offers them — to have their wishes fulfilled. Perhaps the high concept wishes (e.g., Hurley: I don’t want to be cursed any more) translates into mundane, normal outcomes (e.g., Hurley: I’m the luckiest guy alive). Something to consider.

We now know or feel more confident about some earlier assumptions. Richard probably was on the Black Rock, though whether as a slave or a slaver remains to be seen. The candidates are candidates to replace Jacob (Hurley gets my vote, though the show will probably pick Jack). Having the Nikki/Paolo subplot thread into play again was marvelous–especially the parting shot of Miles fondling a diamond. One other terrific piece of mirrored elements was Hurley recalling the scene where he got some Arzt on his shirt (didn’t come out for days) and then having Arzt bitching about getting formaldehyde (i.e. embalming fluid) on his shirt (you know when that stuff comes out? never!)

Jack makes a joke: “Wanna try another stick,” he says to Alpert with a grin after the fuse burns out. He’s now fully a Man of Faith, isn’t he? A true believer.

And what did Hurley say when he woke up? Cheese carrots? Cheese curds?

The episode was so good I think I might watch it again tonight.

I wonder how many takes it took for them to nail the showtune scene on How I Met Your Mother last night. It was one of those montages where the actors essentially stay put and a lot of backdrops and props glide into place around them, only to be replaced a line or two later by something else. It was very slickly done, and who knew the main character had a decent singing voice?

I wonder how people are reacting to Stacy Keach and John Amos’s appearance on Two and a Half Men. I haven’t heard anything one way or the other. Keach (formerly Mike Hammer and any number of other tough guys) plays Chelsea’s father who is now in a loving relationship with his old Navy buddy. They were each married for approximately 40 years before striking up together. I know it’s probably terribly un-PC, but they crack me up. That show always does in general, even if it’s inappropriate humor.

I also laughed hard at the “one ring” episode of The Big Bang Theory. Just when you think Leonard’s breaking away from geekdom, something like this trinket sucks him back in again. And kudos to Penny for punching Sheldon in the nose.

And House was back again, too. And Castle. Both welcome returns.

I discovered this morning that if I completely ignore the internet except for a brief check of important e-mail I can get a lot more done in my writing session. Duh. I made about six editing passes through a revamped short story before sending it off to a receptive editor. He solicited a story for a forthcoming anthology but the previous one I sent him was too similar to one he’d already accepted. This new submission had been out for 10 months. I queried the market as to its status last month and received no reply so this morning I withdrew it from them (second time this year I’ve withdrawn a work!) and brushed it up for the new market. Mostly tinkering with word choice and tightening up some of the language. Knocked a hundred words from it in the process.

I am probably going to ache tomorrow and/or the day after. For the past two months I’ve been off my exercise regimen and today I got back at it. Except I decided to try something different — swim laps. I’ve never been a strong swimmer, and I have rarely done any exercise that works on my upper body, so I was probably a sight to behold as I struggled up and down the length of the pool three times (in each direction). I think I’ll alternate using the elliptical trainer MWF and the pool on Tuesday/Thursday to see how that goes. I was whipped after swimming, though, and my heart rate never gets that high doing aerobics on the elliptical.