Just Because I Could, Doesn’t Mean I Should

I wish this was some super sexy posting about doing unmentionable things with unsuitable guys, but alas, it only relates to the gym . . heavy sigh.  I headed out on Wednesday night to what was previously my regular bootcamp.  Haven’t been in a while . . .well more than a while . . .it’s been 4 months since I tore all the ligaments in my wrist at a dragonboat event back in April.   The recovery has been, well . . .long.   Usually I would have spent most of my summer racing dragonboat and kayaking, both activities that have been completely derailed by the torn ligaments thing.  But I’ve been hiking and running so I thought I’d still be in pretty good shape, which only proves how easy it is to lie to yourself if you really want to.  I should have known. 

I love my bootcamp – it starts hard and the only options are harder and freaking ridiculous.  They basically tell you at the beginning of every session that this class is designed for people already fit, who want to challenge themselves and cross train, and that if you don’t think you can keep up, well leaving is a pretty good option. Some people actually bail at that point.  But I used to be a regular, so I was confident – hahahaha!!!  

The first few stations went ok, then I hit the first push up/plank.  I thought my wrist was, well, good enough.  Nope.  Apparently planks or push ups were just out of the question for this girl – the wrist still wouldn’t support me.  Damn.   But our ever-so-helpful drill sergeant had a great suggestion.  Not “don’t do it” or “here’s an easier version” – oh no.  Her suggestion was to pass me a set of 12lb hand weights and suggest that if my wrist couldn’t take the flexion, I should do the push ups off the freaking weights.   That’s right, balance on the weights and then do push ups.  That girl is a barrel of laughs.  And no, this is not a live action shot  – I’m a blonde.

**Disclaimer - this is not me, it's just what I was doing.
 
So with this helpful advice, I made it around the circuit.  And because it was my first night back, it seemed like a great time to push it pretty hard – after all, I needed the workout.  Honestly, what was I thinking????   Just because I could do it, doesn’t mean I should do it. 
 
Thursday morning my alarm went off at an indecent hour  – it’s usually the only indecent thing going on in my house . . but I digress. In my feeble attempt to reach for the alarm and slam it into oblivion I realized that getting out of bed was going to be a bit of a challenge.  Even my fingers hurt (those freaking hand weights).  Oh well, I had great faith that a hot shower would help.  And it did, for at least 31/2 minutes.   Then the pain set in again.  Dammmmm, it was going to be a long day.   I managed to hobble through my day, walking really slow and not going to far.  And if I dropped something off my desk – well what the heck, it could just stay on the floor till tomorrow.  Who was really going to care.   I crawled up the stairs to bed on Thursday night firmly convinced (against everything I know for a fact) that I’d feel better in the morning.   Once again, the human capacity to lie to ourselves is simply staggering. 
 
Friday morning dawned in a haze of pain.  There was not a single muscle in my body that didn’t hurt. And I don’t mean a little “owie”.  I mean some serious, bone deep pain.   The only way out of bed was to roll onto the floor and then try to get upright.  The hot shower therapy helped briefly, and as long as I stayed in motion it was only painful, not desperate.  But luck was not on my side. I had a full day meeting on Friday that meant I would be sitting for about 8 hours, with a few breaks.  Torture.   I discovered that it is extremely unseemly to groan out loud every time you get up from the boardroom table.   People stare .  And wonder.   And if you try to explain, well they just look at you . . . .oddly.   With the help of a few dozen Advil I made it through another day, thankful to lurch home and assume a prone position on the couch, not to rise until Saturday, when hopefully the worst will be past.
 
And here I lie, laptop in my lap, typing sideways because any other upright position hurts like a bitch.  My right hip feels like someone whacked me with a hammer, my obliques won’t allow me any sideways action and my thighs – well lets just say that anything that falls on the floor is going to have to stay there unless it’s light enough for my Swiffer to pick it up.   I’ve tried Advil and, laterally, liberal doses of a fairly decent Argentinian Malbec,but no love, it still hurts like a beast.  The only good news – it’s Saturday tomorrow and I don’t have to go anywhere or do anything.  I”m thinking a nice gentle Hatha yoga class.  Or maybe just don’t get out of bed at all.  And that’s the best option I’ve heard all week.   
 
Thank God it’s Friday –  and I’m horizontal.
 
It’s not really a music video, but its’ so damn good I had to post it.  Here is the “trailer” for Butch Walker’s brandie new record, The Spade, out, to my considerable excitement, now.   The man is pure genius (and can even make a porn-stache look hot).  Love Butch.
 
 
 
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