I don't know if I really agree with the often quoted saying, "We all die alone." I guess I concede that the moment when your heart stops beating, no one else joins you in that activity, unless you're in some sychronized suicide pact with a group of apocalyptic lunatics who believe the end of the world is coming at 12 a.m., EST, on December 22, 2012. From a religious or spiritual perspective, if you're a believer, there is a point when that essence that makes me Me and you You leaves our body and floats off into the afterlife or into a holding tank awaiting the next step, be it reincarnation or ascension into heaven--or descension into hell. But if you listen to the stories, even at that point, you're not alone. There's a light or some angel types or your Grandpa Frank to guide you to the next step.
I can't comment one way or the other. I've never died before, that I know of anyway, but I think the originator and the countless repeaters of"we all die alone" are a sad group of folks. Sure, I get that lots of hearts stop beating with no one around to notice. And that is sad. But hopefully, the majority of us will take our last breath surrounded by people who love us. And though their hearts will continue to beat after ours stop, that doesn't mean we died alone.
Why all the death talk? I have to take my sweet old dog, Sally, to be put to sleep soon. I thought I was going to have to do it Monday when I came home from work and she couldn't move her back legs anymore. I carried her into the backyard and let her lay in the grass and I talked to her and petted her and cried my friggin' eyes out. I had no idea how I was going to do what needed to be done. I couldn't imagine sitting with her at the vet's office, watching her die. This sweet dog who I saved from death almost 14 years earlier when I adopted her the very day she was scheduled to be put down, as the big red "X" on the index card hanging from her cage indicated. I just didn't have it in me, and I frantically scanned my mental rolodex for anyone I could ask to handle it for me. I wanted to hand her off and pretend that she was going to doggy day care, and then she just wouldn't come home. My ex was not able to help, except that he did in a way by telling me I needed to stay with her when it happens. I think he said " It's about time you grew up."
And he was right. How could I send my sweet Sallybear off with someone else, or worse, drop her at the vet's office alone? I couldn't. As hard as I know it will be to stand there and pet her while she drifts off to sleep, I will be there when she takes her last breath and her heart stops beating. She will not die alone.
I'm not sure why my first instinct was to reach out to someone else to do that for me, or with me. I guess more than anything, I didn't want to go through it alone. For some reason, I don't have enough faith in myself and in what I'm capable of that doing things alone is terrifying. I think it's human nature to want to share your life and your love, and your pain, too, with someone else, and at times like these, a blinding spotlight shines on the fact that I've lost that person who I shared everything with. He's still in my life, and I know he would have gone with me if he didn't live in a completely different city and all. But he does, so I have to be strong, all by myself.
Much like the morning that I got up and found that snake lurking in my bedroom closet, I'm faced with a choice: go run for help, or find what I need inside myself. Well, the only running I'm going to be doing from now on is what I need to get ready for my Mudder. I killed a snake in my closet, and I can sit with my sweet puppy and be the last face she sees in this world so she knows she is not alone.
Monday night, she seemed to be resting comfortably, so I decided to wait until the morning to take her, but then the morning came, and she was walking again. Not steadily, and not easily, but she was doing it. It was almost as if she knew what was going to happen, and she wasn't ready. So I've decided to keep a close eye on her and take her when I feel it's time. I don't want her to suffer, but I don't want to be hasty, either. When she's ready to go, I'll be ready to take her.
I'm not sure if this was the kind of the thing the Mudder people thought training for their race would prepare me for. But it's just one more step in the journey to becoming a strong person. I don't want to be the girl that runs to others when she's scared of something; I want to be the girl other people run to.
Speaking of Muddering, it's rest and stretch week on P90x. Yawn. I hate yoga, have I mentioned that? I'm not feeling it. I don't like it. I am ready to be working on my pushups again. But follow the plan, I must. I was going to hit the streets and get some good runs in this week, but we're in hell down here in Houston--it's in the 100s this week. Brutally hot. I think at those temperatures, the pavement actually burns the tread right off your shoes. And I just got really cute new shoes. The ones I buy from New Balance (I have to get this one kind bc I have feet that are as wide as they are long and I overpronate) are in orange this year. And the Mudder colors are orange and black. A good sign, I must say. So I'm not risking melting my new shoes or suffering a heat stroke. Guess I'm stuck with yoga. Did I mention I hate yoga?
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Day 15--I have a girl crush on JLo, and I'm really bad at Zumba.
She's just beautiful, the most beautiful woman in the world, according to People magazine anyway. I know some people don't like her, but I think she's lovely. I have been growing my hair out for several years, and the longest layers have almost made it to my waist. For awhile, Miley Cyrus was my hair idol, but now that's she's crazy and sleazy, I've switched to JLo. Her hair is amazing. Plus, she can dance and sing, and she seems really nice to all those losers on American Idol. Her "Dance Again" song is both my ringtone and my text notification. The really cute part when Pitbull says "Uh...Yes" when he's doing his little rap thing. Anyway, she's my girl crush.
So imagine my surprise when the girl teaching Zumba at the gym on Saturday looked like her younger sister. And man, could she dance! I love, love, love to dance, but I'm by no means good at it. I can't drop anything or pop anything or lock anything. I watch a lot of So You Think You Can Dance but I can tell you it doesn't come to you by osmosis. No matter how close you sit to the T.V.
I was trying really hard to move like JLo's Lil Sis, but my goodness, it was not happening. I have to get through group fitness classes like Zumba and my other favorite, Soul Grooves, by not acknowledging my own presence in the class. I do this by not making eye contact with myself in the mirror. I have to pretend I'm moving just like those gifted instructors on stage or I I'd die of embarrassment and skulk out of the gym. I know, I know...no one in there is judging; everyone's there to get a good workout, yada yada, blah, blah, blah. Still, I judge. I judge the ridiculously uncoordinated idiot in the mirror wearing exactly what I wore to the gym that day. She even looks like me, but Lord, that can't be how I dance, is it? No eye contact!!! Keep focused on J.Lo's Lil Sis...you move just like her. You could be her! Well, if your hips could do that and if you were 15 years younger and gorgeous.
Still, I love the class, and I'm planning to keep doing my P90X in the mornings and hitting the gym for some extra cardio at night, including Zumba. Maybe I'll actually get better. I have about four months. They work much faster dancing magic on Dancing with the Stars. I mean, some of those clowns dance like they can't even hear the music. I know I'm better off than that. That Mudder won't know what hit it when I come dancing on through. Hahahaha. Had to laugh out loud at that one. I know I'll make it across that finish line, but probably because I'm strapped to a stretcher. The dancing will have to wait until I regain the feeling in my legs.
So for now, I'm going to work on the strength to dance like no one's watching. (Hopefully, no one is!). And to make J.Lo proud.
So imagine my surprise when the girl teaching Zumba at the gym on Saturday looked like her younger sister. And man, could she dance! I love, love, love to dance, but I'm by no means good at it. I can't drop anything or pop anything or lock anything. I watch a lot of So You Think You Can Dance but I can tell you it doesn't come to you by osmosis. No matter how close you sit to the T.V.
I was trying really hard to move like JLo's Lil Sis, but my goodness, it was not happening. I have to get through group fitness classes like Zumba and my other favorite, Soul Grooves, by not acknowledging my own presence in the class. I do this by not making eye contact with myself in the mirror. I have to pretend I'm moving just like those gifted instructors on stage or I I'd die of embarrassment and skulk out of the gym. I know, I know...no one in there is judging; everyone's there to get a good workout, yada yada, blah, blah, blah. Still, I judge. I judge the ridiculously uncoordinated idiot in the mirror wearing exactly what I wore to the gym that day. She even looks like me, but Lord, that can't be how I dance, is it? No eye contact!!! Keep focused on J.Lo's Lil Sis...you move just like her. You could be her! Well, if your hips could do that and if you were 15 years younger and gorgeous.
Still, I love the class, and I'm planning to keep doing my P90X in the mornings and hitting the gym for some extra cardio at night, including Zumba. Maybe I'll actually get better. I have about four months. They work much faster dancing magic on Dancing with the Stars. I mean, some of those clowns dance like they can't even hear the music. I know I'm better off than that. That Mudder won't know what hit it when I come dancing on through. Hahahaha. Had to laugh out loud at that one. I know I'll make it across that finish line, but probably because I'm strapped to a stretcher. The dancing will have to wait until I regain the feeling in my legs.
So for now, I'm going to work on the strength to dance like no one's watching. (Hopefully, no one is!). And to make J.Lo proud.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Day 14--You can go back again. Also, I had a Mudder dream.
I used to be a member of Lifetime Fitness. Charter member of our local one, in fact. And it was a life-saver when I got laid off back in '09. I spent most of my free time there because I didn't have much else to do. The economy was in the toilet (was?) and there were no jobs to be found, so I got up and 5:00 and hit the 5:15 a.m. spin class three times a week, and then when I dropped my kiddo off at school, I'd ride my bike up there and stay for 2 or 3 more classes. I loved it there. And then my world kinda got turned upside down when my ex moved out and I had to get a full-time job again, and I didn't feel right about sticking my kid in the gym's day care after being in school all day and with sitters all afternoon. So I quit. But I've really missed it.
Last weekend when I hibernated in my house with very little human contact unless you count Jason Stackhouse on True Blood, I decided I needed to find something to do on the weekends when my kiddo is gone. I'm not much for alone-time, but I couldn't really think of anything I like to do that doesn't involve my friends or my kid, something I'd feel comfortable doing on my own. Aside from shopping. I'd do that all day every day if I could spend someone else's money. But obviously, there's limits to how much shopping one can do. Well, unless you're a Kardashian.
And then I remembered the gym. I couldn't really get in trouble there. Well, not the same kind I'd get into at Target, for sure. And it'd just be more Mudder training. Perfect! I called them right up today and signed back up, and we went after work to get our pictures taken and get our paperwork. We're officially back!!
Whoever said you can't go back again never quit and rejoined Lifetime Fitness. Because they let me right back in and sent me home with $300 worth of MyLT bucks so I can get massages and go to boot camp and have personal training sessions. They welcomed me (and my monthly membership fee) back with open arms. Who needs a boy in your life when your gym treats you so well. Right? Yeah...I know...it's not even the same. I'd much rather have the boy. Oh well. Maybe that's what they meant when they said you can't go back again. They probably weren't talking about renewing your gym membership. Well, there were some cute boys there, too, which might come in handy when I finish this Mudder and am ready to rejoin the dating world.
Who am I kidding? I swear I could do 5 Mudders and probably still won't be ready to rejoin the dating world!! Probably bc I'd be dead, but assuming I survive, I can't imagine being ready for that in just 4 months. Stupid stupid heart just won't cooperate with my carefully planned schedule for healing. Hurry up, stupid stupid heart!
Speaking of the Mudder, I had a dream last night that we were already finished, and my TMP won some award for being a BadA$$ runner, and the guys hired him or something to train people on how to run. He was showing some lady how to run without dragging her left foot behind her. I was impressed. Of course, I already know he's a BadA$$. But I was mad because they'd run out of orange headbands just before we got done. And that's really why I am doing all this work--who doesn't want a neon orange headband to wear around town?? There better be plenty of headbands left when I crawl across that finish line, or I'm cracking skulls.
I don't remember what tomorrow is on P90X, but I'm pretty sore from arms and shoulders today. I upped my weight so that I was lifting more than the chick on the video. That's a good sign, right? I still struggle with triceps dips, but jeez, who doesn't? Besides the Guy Who Can't Stop Talking. He can do them one-legged and one-armed balancing upside down on a chair suspended from a pull-up bar. But also, his arms are the size of trees.
Tonight, I hope to have good dreams. Finishing the Mudder in my dream was pretty cool. But I wasn't muddy. Maybe that's why I didn't get a headband.
Last weekend when I hibernated in my house with very little human contact unless you count Jason Stackhouse on True Blood, I decided I needed to find something to do on the weekends when my kiddo is gone. I'm not much for alone-time, but I couldn't really think of anything I like to do that doesn't involve my friends or my kid, something I'd feel comfortable doing on my own. Aside from shopping. I'd do that all day every day if I could spend someone else's money. But obviously, there's limits to how much shopping one can do. Well, unless you're a Kardashian.
And then I remembered the gym. I couldn't really get in trouble there. Well, not the same kind I'd get into at Target, for sure. And it'd just be more Mudder training. Perfect! I called them right up today and signed back up, and we went after work to get our pictures taken and get our paperwork. We're officially back!!
Whoever said you can't go back again never quit and rejoined Lifetime Fitness. Because they let me right back in and sent me home with $300 worth of MyLT bucks so I can get massages and go to boot camp and have personal training sessions. They welcomed me (and my monthly membership fee) back with open arms. Who needs a boy in your life when your gym treats you so well. Right? Yeah...I know...it's not even the same. I'd much rather have the boy. Oh well. Maybe that's what they meant when they said you can't go back again. They probably weren't talking about renewing your gym membership. Well, there were some cute boys there, too, which might come in handy when I finish this Mudder and am ready to rejoin the dating world.
Who am I kidding? I swear I could do 5 Mudders and probably still won't be ready to rejoin the dating world!! Probably bc I'd be dead, but assuming I survive, I can't imagine being ready for that in just 4 months. Stupid stupid heart just won't cooperate with my carefully planned schedule for healing. Hurry up, stupid stupid heart!
Speaking of the Mudder, I had a dream last night that we were already finished, and my TMP won some award for being a BadA$$ runner, and the guys hired him or something to train people on how to run. He was showing some lady how to run without dragging her left foot behind her. I was impressed. Of course, I already know he's a BadA$$. But I was mad because they'd run out of orange headbands just before we got done. And that's really why I am doing all this work--who doesn't want a neon orange headband to wear around town?? There better be plenty of headbands left when I crawl across that finish line, or I'm cracking skulls.
I don't remember what tomorrow is on P90X, but I'm pretty sore from arms and shoulders today. I upped my weight so that I was lifting more than the chick on the video. That's a good sign, right? I still struggle with triceps dips, but jeez, who doesn't? Besides the Guy Who Can't Stop Talking. He can do them one-legged and one-armed balancing upside down on a chair suspended from a pull-up bar. But also, his arms are the size of trees.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Day 13--Sunday Bloody Sunday
I have had no human interaction today, with the exception of the leather-faced Target customer service lady who looks like Magda from "Something About Mary" and the cashier I bought cat food, grapes, and frozen dinners from. And the cashier just handed me my receipt and said "have a nice day" so I don't think that really counted. I have, of course, talked to my sweet dad because it is Father's Day. And someone at a call center in India who understood my frustration with the fact that the electronic gift cards I bought Friday won't make it to the recipients by their birthday tomorrow because they're still "being processed." Seriously? Just hit "send!!" Why does that take so long??? I could have gone to the store, bought the gift cards, mailed them, and the birthday boy and girl could have received and spent them by now. Sheesh. Understood my frustration, my a$$. To apologize for my inconvenience, they're emailing me a $10 electronic gift card, which should arrive within 5-7 business days. Thanks?
Why all the alone time? My kiddo is out of town, and I didn't want to bug any of my buddies who were no doubt celebrating Father's Day with their husbands and dads, so I picked up the 4th season of True Blood. And I watched all 12 episodes in 24 hours. I don't think I've ever felt more like a hermit. And there was so much blood. Not exactly an uplifting show, True Blood. And really, does everyone have to be something other than human? Vampire, Werewolf, Were-Panther (???), Fairy, Shape-Shifter, Witch, Medium...am I leaving out any mythical creature? Poor Jason Stackhouse is the only human left on the show. After the final episode was over (a let-down in my humble opinion), I decided I'd better get up and salvage the rest of the weekend, so I did some housework (fun!) and work-work (even more fun!), and grocery shopped (more fun than housework and work-work!). But at least I was out of my bed and hadn't witnessed any bloody death scenes in a few hours.
Speaking of bloody death scenes...Mudder Training. Today's stretch day on P90X, so I decided I'd get a run in. My Tough Mudder Partner (TMP) told me I need to do two 15 mile runs in the month before the race. Is that all? Holy crap. I made the mistake of looking up the race course online and discovered that there are a few really long run stretches. I assumed we'd run a mile or two, do an obstacle or two, run a mile or two, do another obstacle or two, and so on and so forth. But no, they're all clumped up at the beginning and the end. SO in addition to getting strong enough to scale walls, climb ropes, crawl through mud under barbed wire, and run through live electrically charged snakes hanging from the sky, I have to train for another half marathon. Holy crap.
Did I mention HOLY CRAP?! I really do think I might die. But at least it won't be at the fangs of a vampire. And at least my name's not Sookie.
Why all the alone time? My kiddo is out of town, and I didn't want to bug any of my buddies who were no doubt celebrating Father's Day with their husbands and dads, so I picked up the 4th season of True Blood. And I watched all 12 episodes in 24 hours. I don't think I've ever felt more like a hermit. And there was so much blood. Not exactly an uplifting show, True Blood. And really, does everyone have to be something other than human? Vampire, Werewolf, Were-Panther (???), Fairy, Shape-Shifter, Witch, Medium...am I leaving out any mythical creature? Poor Jason Stackhouse is the only human left on the show. After the final episode was over (a let-down in my humble opinion), I decided I'd better get up and salvage the rest of the weekend, so I did some housework (fun!) and work-work (even more fun!), and grocery shopped (more fun than housework and work-work!). But at least I was out of my bed and hadn't witnessed any bloody death scenes in a few hours.
Speaking of bloody death scenes...Mudder Training. Today's stretch day on P90X, so I decided I'd get a run in. My Tough Mudder Partner (TMP) told me I need to do two 15 mile runs in the month before the race. Is that all? Holy crap. I made the mistake of looking up the race course online and discovered that there are a few really long run stretches. I assumed we'd run a mile or two, do an obstacle or two, run a mile or two, do another obstacle or two, and so on and so forth. But no, they're all clumped up at the beginning and the end. SO in addition to getting strong enough to scale walls, climb ropes, crawl through mud under barbed wire, and run through live electrically charged snakes hanging from the sky, I have to train for another half marathon. Holy crap.
Did I mention HOLY CRAP?! I really do think I might die. But at least it won't be at the fangs of a vampire. And at least my name's not Sookie.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Day 12--Could you love a leper? How about a zombie?
Because seriously, this cancer medicine is eating big holes in my face. And I stopped using it 6 days ago. Imagine what it'd be like if I hadn't. My legs probably would've exploded, and my whole face would have rotted right off. So I am sporting very stylish band-aids all over my face again--bigger than the ones I had to wear after my biopsies. I'm not supposed to cover them up but no way am I going to subject the public to this. I mean, it's stomach-turning. I'd rather people stare because of the band-aids than vomit because of the leprosy. Glad I made a pact with myself that I'm not even going to think about dating until after I finish the Mudder in October. For lots of reasons, but now especially because I'd hate to show up looking like I'm in Stage 1 of the Zombie Virus. Not a lot of guys want to take a chance that their date might decompose as the night progressed or decide to snack on their brain for dessert. Surely this mess will heal up by October, right?
Speaking of healing by October, I took a couple of huge emotional steps this weekend--like monumental, enormous, gargantuan (no one really uses that word much...it looks weird written down), really big! I was a pretty big mess on Saturday, and I'm not just talking about my zombie face-craters. Taking some advice from a member of Team Angie, I kinda went out on a limb, pretty far out on a limb. It was a little scary, but I was already pretty unhappy, so nothing to lose, right? Inched my way out there till I was about ready to fall off, and the limb snapped, and I came crashing down--hard--to the ground. The fall knocked some serious sense into me--it jarred me out of my little chick-flick fantasy world, where every love story has a happy ending. Some love stories just end. Like mine did. I finally got it, and and I'm finally ready to move on. Well, as soon as I finish my race and my face no longer looks like that dude's from Poltergeist...the one who eats the maggot-filled fried chicken and ends up picking all the skin of his skull.
Okay, back to business...I'm a week and a day into P90x and the only day I skipped was YogaX. Pretty good work, I'd say. 11 more weeks to go. Yesterday was all the craziness with the push-ups and pull-ups, and I still suck eggs at that one, but I tried. The Guy Who Can't Seem to Stop Talking said that the folks in the class with him couldn't do any pull-ups or push-ups when they started, either. Excited to see if he's right and I'm a pull-up/push-up maniac in 11 more weeks. Today was plyometrics, and I actually like that one. Bring on the sore muscles!!
I should get bonus Bad A$$ness points for spending the rest of the afternoon and the next two days climbing around on the roof of a mall in the Houston heat. Let's see how many Mudders can hang for that!!! So today, I'm working for the strength not to pass out and die from heat stroke. Let's hope I don't die!
Speaking of healing by October, I took a couple of huge emotional steps this weekend--like monumental, enormous, gargantuan (no one really uses that word much...it looks weird written down), really big! I was a pretty big mess on Saturday, and I'm not just talking about my zombie face-craters. Taking some advice from a member of Team Angie, I kinda went out on a limb, pretty far out on a limb. It was a little scary, but I was already pretty unhappy, so nothing to lose, right? Inched my way out there till I was about ready to fall off, and the limb snapped, and I came crashing down--hard--to the ground. The fall knocked some serious sense into me--it jarred me out of my little chick-flick fantasy world, where every love story has a happy ending. Some love stories just end. Like mine did. I finally got it, and and I'm finally ready to move on. Well, as soon as I finish my race and my face no longer looks like that dude's from Poltergeist...the one who eats the maggot-filled fried chicken and ends up picking all the skin of his skull.
Okay, back to business...I'm a week and a day into P90x and the only day I skipped was YogaX. Pretty good work, I'd say. 11 more weeks to go. Yesterday was all the craziness with the push-ups and pull-ups, and I still suck eggs at that one, but I tried. The Guy Who Can't Seem to Stop Talking said that the folks in the class with him couldn't do any pull-ups or push-ups when they started, either. Excited to see if he's right and I'm a pull-up/push-up maniac in 11 more weeks. Today was plyometrics, and I actually like that one. Bring on the sore muscles!!
I should get bonus Bad A$$ness points for spending the rest of the afternoon and the next two days climbing around on the roof of a mall in the Houston heat. Let's see how many Mudders can hang for that!!! So today, I'm working for the strength not to pass out and die from heat stroke. Let's hope I don't die!
Friday, June 8, 2012
Day 11--Snakes in my Mudder Focking closet!!
Bonus points for mixing our temporary Tough Mudder team name (Bad A$$ Mudder Fockers) with Samuel L. Jackson's famous quote from Snakes on a Plane to describe how my day started.
So on the schedule for today was Legs and Back!...wait a minute, more drama to share from yesterday. Almost forgot to tell my skin-cancer-medicine-freaky-side-effect story.
My calves, ankles, and feet have been pretty swollen all week, and yesterday, they got really bad. To the point where I thought slicing them open would give me some relief from the pressure. Wracked my brain trying to figure out what could be causing it (too much salt? not enough water? a few extra diet Sprites--I don't drink soda; only water, and booze--too much good home cooking thanks to Mom and Dad), and it finally hit me that I started using this skin cancer medicine on Monday. Maybe a side effect? The only other time anything like this ever happened to me was from drinking blue drinks. My friend and I got into a bottle of cheap blue margarita wine on one Sunday when we couldn't make real margaritas because down here in Texas, apparently God and the state legislature don't think we should drink on Sundays so the liquor stores are closed, and we both ended up all puffy-legged after a few drinks. Convinced we were going to have an embolism and die, we called the company, and they refunded our money after we shipped them the remaining blue stuff for testing. It's never happened since.
Well, when I Googled the side effects from this medicine--holy moly!! Let me just say, I'd rather deal with the skin cancer. I called my dermatologist and told his staff I would not be using it anymore--he'll have to cut the cancer off my face. Give me scars anytime over Parkinson's Disease (yep, one of the reported side effects). Anyway, by the time I got home last night (and no, I wasn't wearing 6 inch heels yesterday), they were swollen to the maximum swellage point. It looked like my thighs were attached below my knees, and the only thing recognizable about my feet was the pretty coral toenail polish at the ends of the the puffy sausages that used to be my toes. It really was painful. I am not a Willy Wonka fan (shoot me--I know. I don't like "Say Anything" either), but I remembered that bratty gum-chewing girl from the movie and how she got all blue and puffy and eventually popped, and I wondered if I'd wake up the next morning with popped legs. Not wanting to take any chances, when I got into bed, I propped them up on some big pillows and iced them down with bags of frozen veggies.
Why is any of that important? Because I couldn't do YogaX last night, and it wasn't because I fundamentally hate Yoga and was trying to get out of it. It really felt like my legs could literally pop at any minute. But the icing and elevation worked, and, thankfully, they were back to normal this morning.
So I got up and did Legs and Back!, which I liked very much, btw. It's hard for sure, but I've always had strong legs (love, love, love spin class), so I don't mind squats and lunges. And when I was all done, I walked into my closet, still wearing my shoes, and there was a snake coiled up next to my closet door frame.
It was small (I'm trying to upload the pic), but I thought it was a copperhead because we'll found those in our backyard, so I had to decide whether I wanted to run next door and wake up my neighbor Bill to come kill it and risk it slithering away with my daughter and her friend sleeping in the next room or if I was just going to man up and kill it myself. All about the strong stuff these days, I fetched a shovel from the garage and cut the little snake's head off, in a few places, just to be safe. It really is creepy that they keep moving, headless.
My daughter was impressed ("Cool! Can I keep the head?"), and I have to say I was, too. That I didn't jump around and scream like the girly-girl I usually am and just got the shovel and took care of business. "You don't know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have." Is that a sign that maybe I'm actually believing my own hype and I'm getting a little bit strong?? I do have this in the proper perspective...it was a tiny snake that didn't really mean any harm to me or my loved ones. It wasn't all hissy and scary and about to strike. So I don't mean to overly-dramatize it. But the part of the story that makes me feel like I'm making some progress in my quest for emotional and physical Bad A$$ness is that I didn't depend on anyone else and just did what needed to be done. Go, me.
Since I already got my strong on today, I'm not really working for anything special. Just going to enjoy the rest of my Friday and the weekend knowing I'm a tiny-dead-snake-bit closer to Bad A$$ness.
So on the schedule for today was Legs and Back!...wait a minute, more drama to share from yesterday. Almost forgot to tell my skin-cancer-medicine-freaky-side-effect story.
My calves, ankles, and feet have been pretty swollen all week, and yesterday, they got really bad. To the point where I thought slicing them open would give me some relief from the pressure. Wracked my brain trying to figure out what could be causing it (too much salt? not enough water? a few extra diet Sprites--I don't drink soda; only water, and booze--too much good home cooking thanks to Mom and Dad), and it finally hit me that I started using this skin cancer medicine on Monday. Maybe a side effect? The only other time anything like this ever happened to me was from drinking blue drinks. My friend and I got into a bottle of cheap blue margarita wine on one Sunday when we couldn't make real margaritas because down here in Texas, apparently God and the state legislature don't think we should drink on Sundays so the liquor stores are closed, and we both ended up all puffy-legged after a few drinks. Convinced we were going to have an embolism and die, we called the company, and they refunded our money after we shipped them the remaining blue stuff for testing. It's never happened since.
Well, when I Googled the side effects from this medicine--holy moly!! Let me just say, I'd rather deal with the skin cancer. I called my dermatologist and told his staff I would not be using it anymore--he'll have to cut the cancer off my face. Give me scars anytime over Parkinson's Disease (yep, one of the reported side effects). Anyway, by the time I got home last night (and no, I wasn't wearing 6 inch heels yesterday), they were swollen to the maximum swellage point. It looked like my thighs were attached below my knees, and the only thing recognizable about my feet was the pretty coral toenail polish at the ends of the the puffy sausages that used to be my toes. It really was painful. I am not a Willy Wonka fan (shoot me--I know. I don't like "Say Anything" either), but I remembered that bratty gum-chewing girl from the movie and how she got all blue and puffy and eventually popped, and I wondered if I'd wake up the next morning with popped legs. Not wanting to take any chances, when I got into bed, I propped them up on some big pillows and iced them down with bags of frozen veggies.
Why is any of that important? Because I couldn't do YogaX last night, and it wasn't because I fundamentally hate Yoga and was trying to get out of it. It really felt like my legs could literally pop at any minute. But the icing and elevation worked, and, thankfully, they were back to normal this morning.
So I got up and did Legs and Back!, which I liked very much, btw. It's hard for sure, but I've always had strong legs (love, love, love spin class), so I don't mind squats and lunges. And when I was all done, I walked into my closet, still wearing my shoes, and there was a snake coiled up next to my closet door frame.
It was small (I'm trying to upload the pic), but I thought it was a copperhead because we'll found those in our backyard, so I had to decide whether I wanted to run next door and wake up my neighbor Bill to come kill it and risk it slithering away with my daughter and her friend sleeping in the next room or if I was just going to man up and kill it myself. All about the strong stuff these days, I fetched a shovel from the garage and cut the little snake's head off, in a few places, just to be safe. It really is creepy that they keep moving, headless.
Since I already got my strong on today, I'm not really working for anything special. Just going to enjoy the rest of my Friday and the weekend knowing I'm a tiny-dead-snake-bit closer to Bad A$$ness.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Day 10--I'm sore practically everywhere, but my feet hurt worst of all
Wore my supertall blue shoes to work today and decided it was a perfect day to trek through the tunnels to pick up my favorite chicken wrap for lunch. Usually, my choice of footwear doesn't deter me from choosing a spot for lunch, but these are the tallest ones I own at a full 6 inch heel and a 2 inch platform. Not sure how far I went distance-wise, but it was a 15-minute walk roundtrip, and it felt like I was walking on my tippy toes the whole time. Got back to my office and sat down and realized a forgot a napkin, so I had to walk back to the kitchen for one. I considered going without but I'm wearing white pants today, and I'm sloppy by nature, so to eat lunch in white pants with no napkin was just begging to wear my lunch all day. So I tippy-toed back to my desk with a napkin and sat down just in time to decide I had to use the restroom. Another trip out on the stilts. But I'm finally back in my chair, and I might just have to go barefoot the rest of the day.
Okay, on to to the spots that are sore for reasons other than those caused by my fashion choices. Let's see, today was Shoulders! Arms! & Ab Ripper! Made it through 2 of the 3 (a full hour) before I had to stop and get ready for work. I guess I get to do Ab Ripper! after I eat supper. That'll be fun.
And I hate to sound like a freak, but I actually really liked the Shoulders! Arms! workout today. I was using the same weight the chick was using, and the only time I didn't keep up with the Guy Who Can't Seem to Stop Talking (I think his name is Tony) and the team was when they did dips using a chair. I had a little stepladder and very wisely predicted that if I put my weight on one of the steps, it would collapse onto itself and I'd collapse onto the floor. Quick mental survey of the other chairs in my house yielded no appropriate substitutes, and I made a note to go buy a chair that I could use. So I took a little break.
I must have done okay, though, because everything from my shoulder blades to my forearms hurts, and then my quads, hamstrings, calves, and rear are still sore from plyometrics yesterday, along with the added unexpected benefit of a very sore core. It hurt just trying to sit up higher in my bed last night (and coughing right now--ouch!). Chest and back are still sore from Monday's push-up/pull-up assault. I'm running out of things to wear out.
Was supposed to get a run in tonight since today wasn't cardio, and because it's apparently National Running Day (who knew? My TMP, that's who! Thanks Trey!) and I already clicked "like" on a National Running Day picture on Facebook, which supposedly signified my promise to run today. BUT (yes, an excuse is coming...wait for it...) it's my folks' last night visiting before they head back home tomorrow, so we're going to go eat and hang out. Run will have to wait another day.
Aside from being able to feel my heartbeat in my feet, I am digging the soreness. Let's see what happens after my already-sore abs get ripped apart tonight. I may be singing a different tune. But for now, I kinda like this P90X stuff.
Today I'm working for the strength to deal with all the responsibilities of being a single mom again after my sweet folks leave tomorrow. They've been visiting for two weeks and have been wonderful, like they always are. They make my life so easy, and we love having them here. We're going to miss them!!
Okay, on to to the spots that are sore for reasons other than those caused by my fashion choices. Let's see, today was Shoulders! Arms! & Ab Ripper! Made it through 2 of the 3 (a full hour) before I had to stop and get ready for work. I guess I get to do Ab Ripper! after I eat supper. That'll be fun.
And I hate to sound like a freak, but I actually really liked the Shoulders! Arms! workout today. I was using the same weight the chick was using, and the only time I didn't keep up with the Guy Who Can't Seem to Stop Talking (I think his name is Tony) and the team was when they did dips using a chair. I had a little stepladder and very wisely predicted that if I put my weight on one of the steps, it would collapse onto itself and I'd collapse onto the floor. Quick mental survey of the other chairs in my house yielded no appropriate substitutes, and I made a note to go buy a chair that I could use. So I took a little break.
I must have done okay, though, because everything from my shoulder blades to my forearms hurts, and then my quads, hamstrings, calves, and rear are still sore from plyometrics yesterday, along with the added unexpected benefit of a very sore core. It hurt just trying to sit up higher in my bed last night (and coughing right now--ouch!). Chest and back are still sore from Monday's push-up/pull-up assault. I'm running out of things to wear out.
Was supposed to get a run in tonight since today wasn't cardio, and because it's apparently National Running Day (who knew? My TMP, that's who! Thanks Trey!) and I already clicked "like" on a National Running Day picture on Facebook, which supposedly signified my promise to run today. BUT (yes, an excuse is coming...wait for it...) it's my folks' last night visiting before they head back home tomorrow, so we're going to go eat and hang out. Run will have to wait another day.
Aside from being able to feel my heartbeat in my feet, I am digging the soreness. Let's see what happens after my already-sore abs get ripped apart tonight. I may be singing a different tune. But for now, I kinda like this P90X stuff.
Today I'm working for the strength to deal with all the responsibilities of being a single mom again after my sweet folks leave tomorrow. They've been visiting for two weeks and have been wonderful, like they always are. They make my life so easy, and we love having them here. We're going to miss them!!
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Day 9--why does that guy have a band-aid on his artificial leg?
I'm not being insensitive. I was just really focused on why the dude in P90X who has an artificial leg had a band-aid on it. At first when the Guy Who Can't Seem to Stop Talking said something about the dude in the front only having one leg, I thought he was joking, but then I focused in and noticed it was definitely kinda shiny and didn't have leg hair but that's when I was perplexed by the band-aid. Any ideas?
Okay, so I did the first day of P90X yesterday, and I didn't die but it was only because I couldn't do most of what they were doing. It was almost entirely push-ups (20 different variations) and pull-ups (the same). So I did what I could, and I could definitely feel it today, but I need a LOT of work on upper body. I will not make it across one rung of the monkey-bars-from-hell in the Tough Mudder in my current (weak) state. Not sure when upper body comes back in the rotation--I think I do it once a week for the first three weeks. Hopefully, next Monday will be better.
Today was Plyometrics and you know, it wasn't terrible . Sure, I wasn't jumping as high as those folks, not even as high as the guy with the band-aided artificial leg, but I was jumping. I didn't stop except during designated water breaks. Well, wait a minute, I did get a little sidetracked when he hit the sporty section towards the end. We were supposed to pitch and catch an imaginary ball, and then shoot baskets and then do some footbally drill thingie, and because I've never been sporty (ie, coordinated), it took me awhile to get my bearings on that one. Brought back bad memories from middle school P.E. class. But overall, pretty decent attempt, I think.
I really like getting it done first thing in the morning. Even though I was far from perfect, it made me feel a little bit strong when I started out the day feeling pretty weak. I woke up at 4 a.m. because one of my dogs was barking at nothing in particular, and I couldn't go back to sleep. Really with the alarm set for just about an hour later, what would have been the point anyway? Laying there, alone, waiting for the sun to rise, all you can really do is think. And sometimes thoughts can make you feel like you haven't made any real progress. You think you should be farther along in your journey than you are. And the fact that you're not, that you're still where you are, makes you wonder if you'll ever get there. Makes you question if you even want to get there.
Sometimes you can't control your thoughts. But you can control whether you get your butt out of bed and do something that isn't fun, doesn't come easy, makes you hurt, gets you stronger. And when you're done it won't matter if you're still where you are. You know you'll get there when you're ready.
Who knows why that guy had a band-aid on a leg that couldn't bleed...I can't imagine what it must be like to get used to living without one of your limbs. And this guy was doing more than just adapting. He was kicking some serious butt. With one original leg. I'm sure his journey, emotional and physical, to get to where he is today from whatever it was that caused him to lose his leg, was a long one. I'm sure he laid in bed in the early morning hours before the sun rose and wondered whether he'd ever feel like a whole person again. And I know without knowing a single other thing about this guy with the band-aid on his artificial leg that at some point he was ready.
Today I'm working on the strength to quit beating myself up for not being ready yet. It's called a journey for a reason. Just have to get up today and make today great. And not worry about where I'll be tomorrow. It may take 4 months or 4 years or forever, but I just have to keep going and eventually, I'll get there.
Okay, so I did the first day of P90X yesterday, and I didn't die but it was only because I couldn't do most of what they were doing. It was almost entirely push-ups (20 different variations) and pull-ups (the same). So I did what I could, and I could definitely feel it today, but I need a LOT of work on upper body. I will not make it across one rung of the monkey-bars-from-hell in the Tough Mudder in my current (weak) state. Not sure when upper body comes back in the rotation--I think I do it once a week for the first three weeks. Hopefully, next Monday will be better.
Today was Plyometrics and you know, it wasn't terrible . Sure, I wasn't jumping as high as those folks, not even as high as the guy with the band-aided artificial leg, but I was jumping. I didn't stop except during designated water breaks. Well, wait a minute, I did get a little sidetracked when he hit the sporty section towards the end. We were supposed to pitch and catch an imaginary ball, and then shoot baskets and then do some footbally drill thingie, and because I've never been sporty (ie, coordinated), it took me awhile to get my bearings on that one. Brought back bad memories from middle school P.E. class. But overall, pretty decent attempt, I think.
I really like getting it done first thing in the morning. Even though I was far from perfect, it made me feel a little bit strong when I started out the day feeling pretty weak. I woke up at 4 a.m. because one of my dogs was barking at nothing in particular, and I couldn't go back to sleep. Really with the alarm set for just about an hour later, what would have been the point anyway? Laying there, alone, waiting for the sun to rise, all you can really do is think. And sometimes thoughts can make you feel like you haven't made any real progress. You think you should be farther along in your journey than you are. And the fact that you're not, that you're still where you are, makes you wonder if you'll ever get there. Makes you question if you even want to get there.
Sometimes you can't control your thoughts. But you can control whether you get your butt out of bed and do something that isn't fun, doesn't come easy, makes you hurt, gets you stronger. And when you're done it won't matter if you're still where you are. You know you'll get there when you're ready.
Who knows why that guy had a band-aid on a leg that couldn't bleed...I can't imagine what it must be like to get used to living without one of your limbs. And this guy was doing more than just adapting. He was kicking some serious butt. With one original leg. I'm sure his journey, emotional and physical, to get to where he is today from whatever it was that caused him to lose his leg, was a long one. I'm sure he laid in bed in the early morning hours before the sun rose and wondered whether he'd ever feel like a whole person again. And I know without knowing a single other thing about this guy with the band-aid on his artificial leg that at some point he was ready.
Today I'm working on the strength to quit beating myself up for not being ready yet. It's called a journey for a reason. Just have to get up today and make today great. And not worry about where I'll be tomorrow. It may take 4 months or 4 years or forever, but I just have to keep going and eventually, I'll get there.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Day 8--another pull-up bar construction rant, with photos!
This is a family program, I suppose, so I can't really tell you how completely and totally frustrated and exasperated and irritated I was yesterday trying to put together this "easy to assemble! no drilling required!" pull-up bar from hell.
For the record, I admit I'm HORRIBLE about reading directions that come with stuff that needs to be assembled. If I can't figure it out just by looking at it, it's just not going to get put together until a male friend or relative can get talked into do it for me. Sorry ladies, I know I'm supposed to be all girl-power-we-can-do-anything-boys-can-do but really, do y'all put stuff together in your houses or do you make some guy do it for you? Or better--hire someone? Yeah, I thought so.
HOW-EV-ER...this stupid Pull-Up-Bar-From-Hell came with one little photographic diagram with teeny tiny arrows pointing to itty bitty parts and I guess someone less averse to following assembly instructions might have taken the time to study it carefully and lay out all the parts and match them up, etc., etc., blah, blah, blah.
But I didn't. I just grabbed the biggest two pieces and shoved them together to make the longest bar part. And then the picture showed these two curvy bits that screw into the longest bar part, and I managed to get one on right but apparently got distracted --SQUIRREL!!!--and instead of a second curvy bit, I stuck a straight short deal on. I have pictures to share...let's see if I can figure out how to upload them.
Anyway, had to unscrew the straight short deal from the longest bar part and attach the second curvy bit, but I failed to notice that the curvy bits had one finished edged and one capped edge (the reason for which I learned two steps from now...), so I had to unscrew the second upside-down curvy bit and re-attach it rightside up.
Meanwhile, the background music playing for my construction project was my daughter's current YouTube infatuation: that little British boy whose brother, Charlie, bit his finger, set to some weird music. "Ow, Charlie" [synthesizer beat for one, two, three, four] "Charlie bit me" [one, two, three, four] "Oww! Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow!" [one, two, three, four...]. Looking back, perhaps some calming ocean sounds or Yanni would have been better than that. I am guessing anything would have been better than that.
Okay, got both curvy bits on and then realized some other handle thingies have to be popped into the unfinished edges of the curvy bits (see, told you I figured out later why the edges were not both finished!) before the curvy bits can get screwed into the longest bar part. So yes, I had to unscrew both curvy bits AGAIN so I could pop the stupid handle thingies in and then screw them both back in.
Did I mention the screws look identical but are actually two different sizes? Ask me how I figured that out. Yep, because after spending what felt like days using this munchkin-sized screwdriver wrenchy tool thing to tighten up this screw bolt whatever, I couldn't figure out why it wasn't coming out the other end so I could put the little nut there. Ah, genius, because it's NOT FRIGGIN' LONG ENOUGH. Unscrew that one, put in the right one. Let's move on.
Two more handle looking deals, but only one screw left. Guess I don't need those for anything. [tossing handle looking deals aside].
So according to the packaging, this "easy to assemble!! no drilling required!!" pull-up bar pops right into your door frame with nothing required in your door frame to stabilize it. Except of course they gave me this little piece of aluminum with one pointy side that I was supposed to drive, by sheer force I guess since the screwdriver wrenchy tool was no help, into the frame of the door.
Luckily, my dad has been visiting, so I called him in to help with the wedging because it just wasn't happening. (Why, do you ask, did I not ask him for help with the Pull-Up-Bar-From-Hell? Because he broke his hand and is in a cast or I certainly would have!) Well, it wasn't happening for my dad either, and because he doesn't not know the meaning of the phrase "give up" he pounded on that stupid little arrow thing with a hammer until he managed to scrape a mess of dark grey paint off the wall above my closet door. Hard-of-hearing in addition to stubborn, my mom and I both hollered at him to stop and he kept right on hammering. And stripping paint. The pointy piece eventually broke, so my dad had to stop. Praise the Lord the thing was made in China otherwise we might still be there watching him trying to wrestle it into the door frame. Not much of a stabilizer if it can't handle a 30 minute hammer attack, so I opted to go without (as if there was a choice).
Popped the thing into the door frame, and IT WORKED!! Jumped up to grab it and hang, and I DIDN'T FALL ON MY REAR! Attempted a pull-up, unassisted, and COULDN'T MOVE AN INCH!! Oh well, that's for another day.
Today, I put something together, pretty much all by myself. And even though I wanted to kill the makers of the stupid thing, putting it together all by myself didn't kill me.
The hard part's over...on to Day1 of P90x...to be continued...
For the record, I admit I'm HORRIBLE about reading directions that come with stuff that needs to be assembled. If I can't figure it out just by looking at it, it's just not going to get put together until a male friend or relative can get talked into do it for me. Sorry ladies, I know I'm supposed to be all girl-power-we-can-do-anything-boys-can-do but really, do y'all put stuff together in your houses or do you make some guy do it for you? Or better--hire someone? Yeah, I thought so.
 |
| Yes, I know I didn't make my bed today |
But I didn't. I just grabbed the biggest two pieces and shoved them together to make the longest bar part. And then the picture showed these two curvy bits that screw into the longest bar part, and I managed to get one on right but apparently got distracted --SQUIRREL!!!--and instead of a second curvy bit, I stuck a straight short deal on. I have pictures to share...let's see if I can figure out how to upload them.
 |
| I really should have made my bed |
Meanwhile, the background music playing for my construction project was my daughter's current YouTube infatuation: that little British boy whose brother, Charlie, bit his finger, set to some weird music. "Ow, Charlie" [synthesizer beat for one, two, three, four] "Charlie bit me" [one, two, three, four] "Oww! Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow!" [one, two, three, four...]. Looking back, perhaps some calming ocean sounds or Yanni would have been better than that. I am guessing anything would have been better than that.
Okay, got both curvy bits on and then realized some other handle thingies have to be popped into the unfinished edges of the curvy bits (see, told you I figured out later why the edges were not both finished!) before the curvy bits can get screwed into the longest bar part. So yes, I had to unscrew both curvy bits AGAIN so I could pop the stupid handle thingies in and then screw them both back in.
Did I mention the screws look identical but are actually two different sizes? Ask me how I figured that out. Yep, because after spending what felt like days using this munchkin-sized screwdriver wrenchy tool thing to tighten up this screw bolt whatever, I couldn't figure out why it wasn't coming out the other end so I could put the little nut there. Ah, genius, because it's NOT FRIGGIN' LONG ENOUGH. Unscrew that one, put in the right one. Let's move on.
Two more handle looking deals, but only one screw left. Guess I don't need those for anything. [tossing handle looking deals aside].
So according to the packaging, this "easy to assemble!! no drilling required!!" pull-up bar pops right into your door frame with nothing required in your door frame to stabilize it. Except of course they gave me this little piece of aluminum with one pointy side that I was supposed to drive, by sheer force I guess since the screwdriver wrenchy tool was no help, into the frame of the door.
 |
| Blurry shot, but there's paint definitely missing! |
 |
| TA-DA!!! |
Today, I put something together, pretty much all by myself. And even though I wanted to kill the makers of the stupid thing, putting it together all by myself didn't kill me.
The hard part's over...on to Day1 of P90x...to be continued...
Friday, June 1, 2012
Day 7--no one told me I would need a drill.
I don't do instruction manuals. I can't even put things together from Ikea, and those never require power tools. Beyond an Allen wrench, I'm screwed. (But not screw-driven. Get it? A play on words about tools? Ah, well, anyway...) And that's when it really sucks to be a single mom and not be able to yell, "Honey, can you please..."
So yeah, I am NOT installing, with drills and screws and stuff, this ridiculous and very non-nifty pull-up bar onto any of my door frames. Seriously??? Even if I knew how. I was swindled.
I guess I'm taking a trip to Academy to look for the bar I thought I bought--the Nifty Pull-Up Bar from the Video. And starting P90X in the morning.
On an unrelated note, does anyone want to buy a never-used pull-up bar?
Okay, okay, let's see...strength I'm working on today...to not get too frustrated by the power-tool-required-pull-up-bars-of-the-world. I have a way to go on that one. I'm pretty frustrated right now. But that's at least one more day that I didn't die.
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