Pass the Painkillers, Pa; Mamma Done Thrown Out 'Er Back Agin
There's no excuse really, I'm just an idiot.
This past week, I've been beating on my body. I may have mentioned before, I have a belt test coming up next month (green with a brown stripe) and after my last test, I have a better understanding of what is expected of me. Knowing full well that I could still pass the test if it was... well, now--right now. As I sip my Peach Orange juice and sit pretzel style in my rolley chair. I could totally kick some ass now--I'd prefer to be really well prepared.
I held back on the last test because I wasn't sure I'd make it through the full two hours without like, passing out or crying. I did. But I hurt like a.... thing that hurts a lot afterward. THIS TIME, I will be in better shape! I will do pushups like someone other than a chick with limited upper body strength. I will jumping jack my heart out over and over and over again and still have the energy to yell louder than the 11-year-old boogers whose laziness caused the repeat of the damn jumping jacks. My forms will be beautiful! My combinations will be perfect righty AND lefty! I WILL BE READY!
So, with the vacation tingles completely absent (last week my motivation was lacking from vacation reminiscence) I started spending my evenings on the treadmill. Even after karate.
Until last night.
Why?? WHY, you ask?!
Because, I have no respect for my body. I did something stupid (which we will not discuss) and aggravated a pre-existing muscle pain to the point where I couldn't... so much... move my neck without tremendous amounts of seering, blinding pain. And I did this stupid thing right before I left work. Never has the .25 mile walk to the T been so difficult. Not even on first boot day last Fall. Not even after I sprained my knee. Not even... the day I put glass shards in my shoes to see if I truly did have thick-soled hobit feet.
But I walked through the pain, wincing every time I had to look both ways before crossing the street. I got on the train and sat sideways for an hour so I wouldn't hurt myself more. I carried my bags in my hands, half-dragging them on the ground all the way to the car. And once I got in the car, I damn near passed out. That's when Nell called and I explained my condition. SHE said I should see a doctor but what you people don't seem to understand is, The Doctor... takes my blood. And I don't appreciate that.
Instead, I went home, took 3 Ibuprofens, wrapped myself in my electric blanket and propped a heating pad (actually, one of those microwavable giant cloth tea bags that smell nummy) under the middle of my back and sat there sweating for a good hour and a half. After that, I could move a little. I used that opportunity to take two more Ibuprofens and reheat my giant tea bag.
I didn't, so much, get on the treadmill. Or stuff envelopes. Or pay bills. And I had just read all about how to do kip ups and so desperately wanted to try them last night. sigh. Now I'll never be Jackie Chan.
I'm still super sore this morning, though, and frankly, I'm not looking forward to the travel aspect of working. Commuter train seats are so uncomfortable (and yet somehow, I can always fall asleep on them). I'm thinking I'll bring Mr. Bottle O'Ibuprofen with me and redose all day. If I'm lucky, I'll morph into Molly Ringwald's sister in Sixteen Candles and spend the day acting like an idiot and embarassing my coworkers.
giggle.
This past week, I've been beating on my body. I may have mentioned before, I have a belt test coming up next month (green with a brown stripe) and after my last test, I have a better understanding of what is expected of me. Knowing full well that I could still pass the test if it was... well, now--right now. As I sip my Peach Orange juice and sit pretzel style in my rolley chair. I could totally kick some ass now--I'd prefer to be really well prepared.
I held back on the last test because I wasn't sure I'd make it through the full two hours without like, passing out or crying. I did. But I hurt like a.... thing that hurts a lot afterward. THIS TIME, I will be in better shape! I will do pushups like someone other than a chick with limited upper body strength. I will jumping jack my heart out over and over and over again and still have the energy to yell louder than the 11-year-old boogers whose laziness caused the repeat of the damn jumping jacks. My forms will be beautiful! My combinations will be perfect righty AND lefty! I WILL BE READY!
So, with the vacation tingles completely absent (last week my motivation was lacking from vacation reminiscence) I started spending my evenings on the treadmill. Even after karate.
Until last night.
Why?? WHY, you ask?!
Because, I have no respect for my body. I did something stupid (which we will not discuss) and aggravated a pre-existing muscle pain to the point where I couldn't... so much... move my neck without tremendous amounts of seering, blinding pain. And I did this stupid thing right before I left work. Never has the .25 mile walk to the T been so difficult. Not even on first boot day last Fall. Not even after I sprained my knee. Not even... the day I put glass shards in my shoes to see if I truly did have thick-soled hobit feet.
But I walked through the pain, wincing every time I had to look both ways before crossing the street. I got on the train and sat sideways for an hour so I wouldn't hurt myself more. I carried my bags in my hands, half-dragging them on the ground all the way to the car. And once I got in the car, I damn near passed out. That's when Nell called and I explained my condition. SHE said I should see a doctor but what you people don't seem to understand is, The Doctor... takes my blood. And I don't appreciate that.
Instead, I went home, took 3 Ibuprofens, wrapped myself in my electric blanket and propped a heating pad (actually, one of those microwavable giant cloth tea bags that smell nummy) under the middle of my back and sat there sweating for a good hour and a half. After that, I could move a little. I used that opportunity to take two more Ibuprofens and reheat my giant tea bag.
I didn't, so much, get on the treadmill. Or stuff envelopes. Or pay bills. And I had just read all about how to do kip ups and so desperately wanted to try them last night. sigh. Now I'll never be Jackie Chan.
I'm still super sore this morning, though, and frankly, I'm not looking forward to the travel aspect of working. Commuter train seats are so uncomfortable (and yet somehow, I can always fall asleep on them). I'm thinking I'll bring Mr. Bottle O'Ibuprofen with me and redose all day. If I'm lucky, I'll morph into Molly Ringwald's sister in Sixteen Candles and spend the day acting like an idiot and embarassing my coworkers.
giggle.
posted by Wendy @ 6:55 AM
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