I have evidence that there are aliens, yes, real aliens from outer space, who are Y members. They only use the facility at night after the humans vacate. This is what I know:
They are very large. This is certain because in the morning the seats on the bikes in the spinning room are set as high up as they can go. That's about four and a half feet high. So these aliens, at least the ones that like to spin, must have really looooooooooong appendeges in order to reach the pedals. I assume they pedal with their "legs", but of that I'm not sure. In addition, it isn't unusual to find the squat shoulder pads sitting at about 6 feet, meaning our overnight guests could be well in excess of 7 feet tall. I've been in early and found the rack loaded with the heavy weights, so we know they are strong, too. PLUS - they always push the mats together outside the main door to the Fitness Center. These mats are sized for earthlings, after all. It's good to know that they are working on flexibility and abs, as much as they are on "cardio" and strength.
And I know they have hearts because two of the treadmills have been "out of order" for a couple of weeks now. I'm sure that these two units have been set up just for our nightime members. I tried both of them one morning, turned them on in turn (trying to find one for an earthgirl), and immediately the belt was going really fast and the heart attack monitor was going off. I think, in addition to having really long appendeges, that they "walk" really really fast. Their natural heart rate is way slower than ours are. Apparently just stepping on these two treadmills is enough to set off the alarms if you are human. Of course, I reported it, and nothing has been done, so there must be a reason. But I'm not deceived.
Lately it must be rutting season, or they've started up a boot camp, or something, because there is evidence that aliens have been cruising around in the parking lot at night. In the heat of whatever they are doing they exude some kind of tarry substance, leaving squiggly lines of this black, gooey material all over the asphalt. A "paving crew" has been in there the last few days, but I can't figure out why they would be there as early as 5:00 a.m. when it's not even light out. I think they're the FBI and that they are on to what's going on around here. I looked for Muldor but no luck. Sigh.
Most, if not all, of the aliens like the pool: they drink chlorinated water. I know this because their pee is blue. And they are all male, as evidenced from the fact that they leave the toilet seats up and they don't flush. Ask anyone who is there when the facility opens in the morning (for us humans).
So I believe there's a reason why the overnight "cleaning" staff are all big guys, and that our facility isn't open 24/7. Keep an eye open. There's a chance some of them might be there during "open" hours.....
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
S.L.B. Through the Lookin' Glass
Just like Alice, I thought. Here I was at the East Greenbush Y and everything was the same, except backwards. Or at least slightly twisted and a bit morphed.
Our pool was closed for maintenance last week, even though the dusty fish hanging from the ceiling are still there and no cleaner, I'm sure. I did the 15 highway miles to East Greenbush twice to go for a swim, and, unlike Maintenance 2009, at least a coyote didn't cross the road right in front of me on my way out, making me think: Where the f&*# am I!???
The layout is almost exactly like our gym but everything is a bit different. Very creepy. The weirdest part was that East Greenbush also had a Jack Off Joe, a Miss Middle of the Lane, and a Wonder Woman, only JoJ had a mustache, MMotheLane was fat, and WW was blonde. Same folks, only backwards. When Tweedledum and Tweedledee went at it in the locker room, complaining about who knows what, I realized I was definitely not in Kansas anymore.
The pool was green, not blue. And the water was salty, not tongue numbingly chlorinated. The lighting was subdued, not overlit (I look better in low light, FYI). The salty water was really gross. Made me think of pee. After 2 miles I half imagined I was at a beach (delerious, for sure) and looked forward to crapping out on the sand. Get this: they have a mop inside the door from the pool with instructions to clear your puddles if you didn't dry off before entering. Bite me, E.G.
I liked being anonymous. I wondered if they had a name for me. When Sharin' arrived I almost couldn't place her. The lifeguard starting hitting on her (she's gorgeous and buxom, unlike yours truly) giving her tips on how to improve her stroke. HEY: Take the highchair honey, she's more than you can handle. Safely.
So we're back in our own pool, the whirlpool is open, as is the sauna, and the gym, and we're getting back into the routine. The colors are right, all the equipment and lighting are as expected, the hot tub jets are as they should be. Sweet. I have to wonder if dreamt the whole thing. NOT. Nice to be back. I missed you guys.
Our pool was closed for maintenance last week, even though the dusty fish hanging from the ceiling are still there and no cleaner, I'm sure. I did the 15 highway miles to East Greenbush twice to go for a swim, and, unlike Maintenance 2009, at least a coyote didn't cross the road right in front of me on my way out, making me think: Where the f&*# am I!???
The layout is almost exactly like our gym but everything is a bit different. Very creepy. The weirdest part was that East Greenbush also had a Jack Off Joe, a Miss Middle of the Lane, and a Wonder Woman, only JoJ had a mustache, MMotheLane was fat, and WW was blonde. Same folks, only backwards. When Tweedledum and Tweedledee went at it in the locker room, complaining about who knows what, I realized I was definitely not in Kansas anymore.
The pool was green, not blue. And the water was salty, not tongue numbingly chlorinated. The lighting was subdued, not overlit (I look better in low light, FYI). The salty water was really gross. Made me think of pee. After 2 miles I half imagined I was at a beach (delerious, for sure) and looked forward to crapping out on the sand. Get this: they have a mop inside the door from the pool with instructions to clear your puddles if you didn't dry off before entering. Bite me, E.G.
I liked being anonymous. I wondered if they had a name for me. When Sharin' arrived I almost couldn't place her. The lifeguard starting hitting on her (she's gorgeous and buxom, unlike yours truly) giving her tips on how to improve her stroke. HEY: Take the highchair honey, she's more than you can handle. Safely.
So we're back in our own pool, the whirlpool is open, as is the sauna, and the gym, and we're getting back into the routine. The colors are right, all the equipment and lighting are as expected, the hot tub jets are as they should be. Sweet. I have to wonder if dreamt the whole thing. NOT. Nice to be back. I missed you guys.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Balance
There are two sure fire ways to lose your balance: giggling, and not giggling.
If I'm feeling way too serious about everything then I know that it's time to take a break during my exercise regime to make faces at Peanut while she's trying to stand still on one foot until we both start giggling and she falls over. 2 points.
Strength. Endurance. Speed. Flexibility. Balance. These are the goals, but balance is definitely something I need to work at. Before she fell over, Peanut and I were practicing balance exercises early last week. We did "trees" - on a windy day, for sure. Just trying not to fall over was pretty funny. I think I like stability balls for the same reason. If you lose your concentration it's easy to roll over. Guitar Man can kneel on the ball with his hands over his head. "BOO!" Hee hee.
Christening someone with their secret "pool name" is also good for a laugh. Sharin' and I had fun on yesterday talking about The Spitter. Every wheezy breath he takes sounds like "kgkgkgh" (stroke) "kgkgkgh" (stroke) "kgkgkgh" (stroke), then, when he gets to the wall he horks and blows and spits. NYC bus drivers took 3200 days of paid leave last year to heal from the workplace injury "being spit on by passengers". When I see The Spitter I am prepared to move as far away as possible, since now I know that being spit on is, according to the Transport Workers Union "...physically and psychologically traumatic". I'm guessing that just being grossed out probably doesn't hold up in court.
Diet and exercise. Work and play. Meditation and conversation. It's all about balance. Poobah says I have a good backstroke and looked like Esther Williams in the pool last week. But she had Balance. I remember her water skiing on a stack of pretty ladies - and she was still smiling! I think Little Bug is working too hard but she's opened a beautiful new store and I know it's going to be a success because even a cheapskate like me plans to go back and buy some really chic stuff. I wish her Balance, since I know she's stressed. Glad to see she is still finding time to swim, and to smile. Mental note to self: tell her she is loved and, next time I see her, try to make her giggle. She needs it worse than I do.
If I'm feeling way too serious about everything then I know that it's time to take a break during my exercise regime to make faces at Peanut while she's trying to stand still on one foot until we both start giggling and she falls over. 2 points.
Strength. Endurance. Speed. Flexibility. Balance. These are the goals, but balance is definitely something I need to work at. Before she fell over, Peanut and I were practicing balance exercises early last week. We did "trees" - on a windy day, for sure. Just trying not to fall over was pretty funny. I think I like stability balls for the same reason. If you lose your concentration it's easy to roll over. Guitar Man can kneel on the ball with his hands over his head. "BOO!" Hee hee.
Christening someone with their secret "pool name" is also good for a laugh. Sharin' and I had fun on yesterday talking about The Spitter. Every wheezy breath he takes sounds like "kgkgkgh" (stroke) "kgkgkgh" (stroke) "kgkgkgh" (stroke), then, when he gets to the wall he horks and blows and spits. NYC bus drivers took 3200 days of paid leave last year to heal from the workplace injury "being spit on by passengers". When I see The Spitter I am prepared to move as far away as possible, since now I know that being spit on is, according to the Transport Workers Union "...physically and psychologically traumatic". I'm guessing that just being grossed out probably doesn't hold up in court.
Diet and exercise. Work and play. Meditation and conversation. It's all about balance. Poobah says I have a good backstroke and looked like Esther Williams in the pool last week. But she had Balance. I remember her water skiing on a stack of pretty ladies - and she was still smiling! I think Little Bug is working too hard but she's opened a beautiful new store and I know it's going to be a success because even a cheapskate like me plans to go back and buy some really chic stuff. I wish her Balance, since I know she's stressed. Glad to see she is still finding time to swim, and to smile. Mental note to self: tell her she is loved and, next time I see her, try to make her giggle. She needs it worse than I do.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Being Refreshed
Stress can take over, if you let it. If you think I'm S.L.B. now imagine what I would be like if I didn't work out.
I am not normally the type of person who sets "personal goals", especially ones like "spend more time with family" or "quit drinking" or "be more patient" because I've tried these things and discovered I was more successful at "make more 'me' time" and "drink nicer wines" and "race around passing lane road hogs". Homer Simpson onced remarked "Can't do it? Don't try". I can live by that motto.
Pretty soon they will close off part of the Y so they can refinish the hardwood floors. That should smell nice. Anyway, I'm already anxious about it. Then the week after that they will close the pool. Argh! If I want to swim I'll have to go elsewhere. I went to the Beast Beangush pool a few times last year when they closed our pool. It's the same floorplan as our Y but the details are different. It's like a bad dream: you are walking through the place and you know where everything is but the reception desk is in a different location, the tiles are a different color, the pool water is green/not blue. At 5:00 a.m. driving down I90 I almost hit a coyote crossing the road. Where the f*** am I??? What am I doing out here?????????????? But I know at least when they re-open our pool that it will be CLEAN and clear and free of things like bandaids and gum, so that's a good thing. Let it go. Let it go.
If I get to wake up and get all the way to the Y in the morning without dealing with pesky husbands, tailgaiters, Hurly Burly, construction, and assholes cutting through the parking lot on a definite diagonal, I'm great. I can have a good workout and get through the day with grace and humor. But it seems more often than I care to admit these days I get zipped by the little things and feel I have this lingering need to be refreshed - to relax a bit more, enjoy the beautiful moonshadow as I drive down 155, even to be thankful for new compression shorts, and not let things get to me so easily. So I decided to set a few personal goals.
1. Draw up a Will, Living Will, Health Care Proxy, Power of Attorney. I'm not planning on popping off anytime soon but I made the appointment so I'll finally get this taken care of just in case I drop dead on the treadmill.
2. Figure out what to do with my parents in their old, old age if they decide to bless me with moving to Albany. Make up a portfolio to hand to them if they have any questions.
3. Stop letting the little things, like the awful foam soap in the showers, get me down. Focus on the long term goals, the big picture, like surviving your 18th birthday. Every year past that, as far as I'm concerned, is a gift.
It's Friday night. Second glass of Pinot Grigio. I feel happy doing this blog and taking the night off, without anyone around (including Pesky Husband). I feel relaxed. Refreshed. It was a good week at the gym and a good week and work. Let's see how things go next week.
I am not normally the type of person who sets "personal goals", especially ones like "spend more time with family" or "quit drinking" or "be more patient" because I've tried these things and discovered I was more successful at "make more 'me' time" and "drink nicer wines" and "race around passing lane road hogs". Homer Simpson onced remarked "Can't do it? Don't try". I can live by that motto.
Pretty soon they will close off part of the Y so they can refinish the hardwood floors. That should smell nice. Anyway, I'm already anxious about it. Then the week after that they will close the pool. Argh! If I want to swim I'll have to go elsewhere. I went to the Beast Beangush pool a few times last year when they closed our pool. It's the same floorplan as our Y but the details are different. It's like a bad dream: you are walking through the place and you know where everything is but the reception desk is in a different location, the tiles are a different color, the pool water is green/not blue. At 5:00 a.m. driving down I90 I almost hit a coyote crossing the road. Where the f*** am I??? What am I doing out here?????????????? But I know at least when they re-open our pool that it will be CLEAN and clear and free of things like bandaids and gum, so that's a good thing. Let it go. Let it go.
If I get to wake up and get all the way to the Y in the morning without dealing with pesky husbands, tailgaiters, Hurly Burly, construction, and assholes cutting through the parking lot on a definite diagonal, I'm great. I can have a good workout and get through the day with grace and humor. But it seems more often than I care to admit these days I get zipped by the little things and feel I have this lingering need to be refreshed - to relax a bit more, enjoy the beautiful moonshadow as I drive down 155, even to be thankful for new compression shorts, and not let things get to me so easily. So I decided to set a few personal goals.
1. Draw up a Will, Living Will, Health Care Proxy, Power of Attorney. I'm not planning on popping off anytime soon but I made the appointment so I'll finally get this taken care of just in case I drop dead on the treadmill.
2. Figure out what to do with my parents in their old, old age if they decide to bless me with moving to Albany. Make up a portfolio to hand to them if they have any questions.
3. Stop letting the little things, like the awful foam soap in the showers, get me down. Focus on the long term goals, the big picture, like surviving your 18th birthday. Every year past that, as far as I'm concerned, is a gift.
It's Friday night. Second glass of Pinot Grigio. I feel happy doing this blog and taking the night off, without anyone around (including Pesky Husband). I feel relaxed. Refreshed. It was a good week at the gym and a good week and work. Let's see how things go next week.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Elbow Room
The Littlest Mermaid is being elbowed out by Big Fat Ugly Man. We had fun rolling our eyes at each other when he hogged the best jet in the hot tub last week. He has been shunned.
When she was first at The Good Jet earlier this week he sat really really close to her so he could be the first to take it over when she vacated. Like anyone with a tailgater the best most fun tactic is to drive really really slow and take your left turn realllllly sloowwwwwwwww just to be annoying. I am proud to know The Littlest Mermaid sat there extra long and made him wait.
They were doing "maintenance" in the Ladies Locker Room on Monday so we all had to use the Children's Locker Room instead, complete with smaller lockers, smaller shower stalls, no makeup/hairdrying space except the sinks (conveniently located right next to the toilets so gawd forbid all that exercise made your system work for you and you need a bit of privacy). Puppy Sweet Cheeks took over five lockers for all her things. I think I have some competetion there. Anyway, the funniest part was 8 of us all trying do our makeup, dry our hair, and also make room for those that needed to wash their hands after using the loo in the space of two sinks, including Butch, who, by the way, appears to be female in all respects. We did fine except for blowing a fuse because we had more than two hair dryers running at the same time. What can we say? Sometimes the Y sucks.
The Children's Locker Room has a working scale, FYI. The new chintzy one that they put in the Women's Locker Room is a small, digital scale. Very nice. I weighed myself on it, went for a pee, then came back and weighed myself again and it appeared that I lost 4 ounces. That was satisfying. Except now the battery has already died after just one week. I made a bet with Cookie that within 3 weeks the stupid thing will get stolen. If you want to get in on the bet just let me know.
One of the best reasons for going to the gym early in the morning is Elbow Room. It's not as crowded as later in the morning ("don't these people have jobs"?, you might moan to yourself on those days that you aren't working or get to go to work late), or in the evening (and in the evening it's mostly dysfunctional crazy stressed out working folks and youngins posing and looking for pickups and they do look good, by the way), and bonus points: the toilets are clean. So you've got all this lovely space and some stinky guy decides to take up residence on the bench, or the bike, or the treadmill right next to you when there are many others they could have chosen instead. Grrrrrrrrrrr. Chill out, S.L.B. - everyone needs elbow room to do their thing, including me.
Which is why I left my weekend company to their own devices and ventured forth for a workout both Saturday and Sunday instead of playing hostess, hoping they would all have showered and eaten and had some privacy so I could come back home and eat right away because I Am Starved and then we can just get on with the day. Except that they hadn't showered, or eaten. They Slept In. My cat, Bob, is obviously not doing his job of howling at the top of the stairs the way he does normally. I smooched him and explained the situation and suggested he scratch at some doors tomorrow morning.
We can all get along as long as we know when to make a little room for others in our lives, and when to put our elbows out. Right now I've got my elbows out and company went to the movies and I get some privacy and a chance to do a blog. Life is good.
When she was first at The Good Jet earlier this week he sat really really close to her so he could be the first to take it over when she vacated. Like anyone with a tailgater the best most fun tactic is to drive really really slow and take your left turn realllllly sloowwwwwwwww just to be annoying. I am proud to know The Littlest Mermaid sat there extra long and made him wait.
They were doing "maintenance" in the Ladies Locker Room on Monday so we all had to use the Children's Locker Room instead, complete with smaller lockers, smaller shower stalls, no makeup/hairdrying space except the sinks (conveniently located right next to the toilets so gawd forbid all that exercise made your system work for you and you need a bit of privacy). Puppy Sweet Cheeks took over five lockers for all her things. I think I have some competetion there. Anyway, the funniest part was 8 of us all trying do our makeup, dry our hair, and also make room for those that needed to wash their hands after using the loo in the space of two sinks, including Butch, who, by the way, appears to be female in all respects. We did fine except for blowing a fuse because we had more than two hair dryers running at the same time. What can we say? Sometimes the Y sucks.
The Children's Locker Room has a working scale, FYI. The new chintzy one that they put in the Women's Locker Room is a small, digital scale. Very nice. I weighed myself on it, went for a pee, then came back and weighed myself again and it appeared that I lost 4 ounces. That was satisfying. Except now the battery has already died after just one week. I made a bet with Cookie that within 3 weeks the stupid thing will get stolen. If you want to get in on the bet just let me know.
One of the best reasons for going to the gym early in the morning is Elbow Room. It's not as crowded as later in the morning ("don't these people have jobs"?, you might moan to yourself on those days that you aren't working or get to go to work late), or in the evening (and in the evening it's mostly dysfunctional crazy stressed out working folks and youngins posing and looking for pickups and they do look good, by the way), and bonus points: the toilets are clean. So you've got all this lovely space and some stinky guy decides to take up residence on the bench, or the bike, or the treadmill right next to you when there are many others they could have chosen instead. Grrrrrrrrrrr. Chill out, S.L.B. - everyone needs elbow room to do their thing, including me.
Which is why I left my weekend company to their own devices and ventured forth for a workout both Saturday and Sunday instead of playing hostess, hoping they would all have showered and eaten and had some privacy so I could come back home and eat right away because I Am Starved and then we can just get on with the day. Except that they hadn't showered, or eaten. They Slept In. My cat, Bob, is obviously not doing his job of howling at the top of the stairs the way he does normally. I smooched him and explained the situation and suggested he scratch at some doors tomorrow morning.
We can all get along as long as we know when to make a little room for others in our lives, and when to put our elbows out. Right now I've got my elbows out and company went to the movies and I get some privacy and a chance to do a blog. Life is good.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Weighing In
A woman's weight is a very personal thing. No one would dare ask you, it seems, except if you are thin. NOTE: Like everyone else, even I am going to lie about my weight.
There was a public librarian in Iowa who was fired from her job a few weeks ago because she wouldn't reveal her weight and height for a new city ID card. They insisted they needed this data in case there was an "emergency where they needed this information to identify her". Whatever the hell kind of freakin' emergency do they think will happen at a little public library in the middle of nowhere??? More power to you, girl. I think even if she HAD filled out the form she likely would have lied about her weight anyway. Stupid bureaucrats.
When I went to the doctor a few weeks ago she put me on the scale, fully clothed, with shoes, and recorded my weight in my file. Then she made me take my shoes OFF to measure my height. I said NO FAIR you have to reweigh me, which she did. I made her change her data. I watched just to make sure.
The scale in the ladies locker room has been fussy the past couple of weeks. On Monday (after two days of eating) I got on and shifted the counterbalance up a pound, one more, two, three, SEVEN!? YIPES. NO WAY. I checked and sure enough it didn't balance at zero. I reported it and found out later that in fact it was busted and is going to be replaced, hopefully with a scale that isn't as chintzy as the old one. I was thinking of all those really really really fat women that had been dieting like crazy and working out every day only to discover their weight was going up and up and up. Do they work out more or give up entirely? I guess they will have to weigh their options.
I've seen women so obsessed that they weigh themselves before and after their workout. Did anyone see the laminated signs on the fitness equipment upstairs that read "Single Set Users Have the Right Away". They finally changed the signs but not before many of us more alert gym junkies had a good laugh. Anyway, we may need the same kind of sign on the scale in the ladies locker room.
One big guy told me after a spinning class a while back that he had weighed in at work as part of a Weight Watchers program only to find out he had gained 7 pounds in the past year. In April I gained 5 pounds in one week on vacation. Have I lost it yet? I'll never tell.
If you've lost weight - way to go! - if not (and you're trying), you may have a way to go, but don't give up. Welcome to the Y. Now go away. Uh, I mean, have a nice day!
There was a public librarian in Iowa who was fired from her job a few weeks ago because she wouldn't reveal her weight and height for a new city ID card. They insisted they needed this data in case there was an "emergency where they needed this information to identify her". Whatever the hell kind of freakin' emergency do they think will happen at a little public library in the middle of nowhere??? More power to you, girl. I think even if she HAD filled out the form she likely would have lied about her weight anyway. Stupid bureaucrats.
When I went to the doctor a few weeks ago she put me on the scale, fully clothed, with shoes, and recorded my weight in my file. Then she made me take my shoes OFF to measure my height. I said NO FAIR you have to reweigh me, which she did. I made her change her data. I watched just to make sure.
The scale in the ladies locker room has been fussy the past couple of weeks. On Monday (after two days of eating) I got on and shifted the counterbalance up a pound, one more, two, three, SEVEN!? YIPES. NO WAY. I checked and sure enough it didn't balance at zero. I reported it and found out later that in fact it was busted and is going to be replaced, hopefully with a scale that isn't as chintzy as the old one. I was thinking of all those really really really fat women that had been dieting like crazy and working out every day only to discover their weight was going up and up and up. Do they work out more or give up entirely? I guess they will have to weigh their options.
I've seen women so obsessed that they weigh themselves before and after their workout. Did anyone see the laminated signs on the fitness equipment upstairs that read "Single Set Users Have the Right Away". They finally changed the signs but not before many of us more alert gym junkies had a good laugh. Anyway, we may need the same kind of sign on the scale in the ladies locker room.
One big guy told me after a spinning class a while back that he had weighed in at work as part of a Weight Watchers program only to find out he had gained 7 pounds in the past year. In April I gained 5 pounds in one week on vacation. Have I lost it yet? I'll never tell.
If you've lost weight - way to go! - if not (and you're trying), you may have a way to go, but don't give up. Welcome to the Y. Now go away. Uh, I mean, have a nice day!
Friday, July 30, 2010
Pressure
Keep pushing. Go a little further, lift a little more, go a bit faster, but don't give up until it hurts, which is most of the time.
This time it's my back. I have no idea what I did to it - probably something stupid like trying to pick up my beer when I should have had the help get it for me. But do I stop working out? Not a chance. I go for a massage. The lady I've been seeing knows just where to find the sore spots, the ones that she pushes at that make me flinch and she says "sorry sorry" then keeps at it until it actually feels better. Worth every penny. No pressure.
I told my doctor that I can swim the first mile just fine, then it starts to hurt. Her advice: Stop after one mile. That will be a $20 co-pay, please. Squeeze. I tell myself I just have to change my workout for awhile, maybe take out a second mortgage.
"Push" the spinning instructor shouts out, "PUSH". I sit up front in the coat closet they call the spinning room. Bike #2. My bike. Anyway, I can't see anyone except three other people. After class yesterday Spinning Instructor told me that half the class just putzed along. I suggested maybe they were out of shape, hurting, half asleep (we start at 5:30, FYI), or hungover, and I know about the hangover workouts. Today I swam my mile and just did some mat work. It was great - nice and easy - relax, relax. It was tempting to just crap out with a juice box and ask the lady in the fitness center for Story Time, but maybe that would be pushing my luck.
I had a general physical on Wednesday. Everything was good - except my blood pressure, that is, so I'll have to make some changes. Meditation, deep breathing, less salt. One of the recommendations I read was to eat an ounce of 70% chocolate a day. So I will force myself to do this too - I'm sure it won't be easy. FYI it goes great with beer and pretzels. The pressure is on.
This time it's my back. I have no idea what I did to it - probably something stupid like trying to pick up my beer when I should have had the help get it for me. But do I stop working out? Not a chance. I go for a massage. The lady I've been seeing knows just where to find the sore spots, the ones that she pushes at that make me flinch and she says "sorry sorry" then keeps at it until it actually feels better. Worth every penny. No pressure.
I told my doctor that I can swim the first mile just fine, then it starts to hurt. Her advice: Stop after one mile. That will be a $20 co-pay, please. Squeeze. I tell myself I just have to change my workout for awhile, maybe take out a second mortgage.
"Push" the spinning instructor shouts out, "PUSH". I sit up front in the coat closet they call the spinning room. Bike #2. My bike. Anyway, I can't see anyone except three other people. After class yesterday Spinning Instructor told me that half the class just putzed along. I suggested maybe they were out of shape, hurting, half asleep (we start at 5:30, FYI), or hungover, and I know about the hangover workouts. Today I swam my mile and just did some mat work. It was great - nice and easy - relax, relax. It was tempting to just crap out with a juice box and ask the lady in the fitness center for Story Time, but maybe that would be pushing my luck.
I had a general physical on Wednesday. Everything was good - except my blood pressure, that is, so I'll have to make some changes. Meditation, deep breathing, less salt. One of the recommendations I read was to eat an ounce of 70% chocolate a day. So I will force myself to do this too - I'm sure it won't be easy. FYI it goes great with beer and pretzels. The pressure is on.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
