Dig Deeper

image courtesy of learnsomethingtoday.com

I’ve recently joined a gym and started on that exercise regimen – ya know the one where you have a trainer and their sole reason for living is to make you hurt as much as possible.  Oh, and laugh when the sweat gets in your eyes?  Yeah…that’s my life now.

This morning I went to see my trainer after a rousing 15 minute bike ride.  This trainer is female and my second trainer.  My first was a male and I named him Torquemada.  He used to say things to me like “Dig Deeper.”  “Dig Deeper.”  One day I replied, “You tell me to dig deeper once more and I swear to you you’ll be speaking soprano tomorrow morning.”  Dig Deeper.  Gahhhhh.  Anyway, now I have this lovely lil teensy weensy young thing I could flip over my shoulder she’s so tiny.  She may be tiny but she’s sure strong.  She makes those exercises look like a piece of cake — then I try them and know that I can actually feel all my internal organs shifting as I heft that 10 lb dumbbell from my head crisscross to my opposite leg and back again.  Ack.

Her favorite phrase is “Five More”.  Today we worked on my core.  Now I used to think a core was something that came out of an apple.  Today I discovered a core is that part of me internally that screams and  burns right about the time she starts hollering “Five More.”  That’s my core.  My core is like a volcano — if I have to do five more all my magma is gonna come bursting through my bedrock and ruin that gym.

Me and my bright ideas.  After that grueling workout, I was lying (laying?) on the floor mat, draining the rest of my water.  My trainer looked down at me, sweetly smiled and said, “Same time next Monday?”  I wanted to rip out her throat but I was in the midst of flopping around the floor with a leg cramp. I hate it when that happens and I look stupid in front of all the buff girls working out with their weights.   My trainer just keeps smiling and eats it all up….sigh…

So Long and Thanks for All the Fish

pic courtesy of http://www.ronneantarcticexplorers.com/penguins.htm

Thursday was my final session of physical therapy for my back.  I knew I wanted to do a blog about these folks but I have jokingly referred to them in the past – there’s of course Agador Spartacus (Paul), Officer Sam (Samantha), and my precious little Chunky Monkey (Steve) or I sometimes call him a cuter James Belushi.  Quick note to Steve:  Chunky Monkey is not meant in a mean way – on the contrary it is a compliment.  Why you may ask?  Because Steve has the most amazing personality and such a sense of humor and he’s silly and compassionate all at the same time — he can be an imp – and that’s close to chimp and well, he has this adorable little tummy on him (I know he’s gonna get teased about this – sorry swee’pea!) and my Devoted Spouse also has a little tummy and well, I just Looooove men with little tummies – so Chunky Monkey is a term of endearment. I just love the stuffin’ outta you, Steve.    Whew – got that one explained.  Now you all know why I call Paul Agador – it’s coz he reminds me of the actor Hank Azaria (although he just doesn’t see it)  and he’s just cute as the dickens (“clench those butt cheeks, Linda”)  (“kiss my butt cheeks, Agador”)      And  Sam is Officer Sam coz she really read me the riot act one day when I had overdone the activity and I could just envision her in the police outfit with the handcuffs (whoa up – don’t go down fantasy road) – but she cracked the whip on my activities is what I’m trying to say.  She is the sweetest lady around.

Anyway – these folks have gotten me through the painful rehab of a dislocated shoulder and then the painful rehab of a broken back and all told I’ve spent 9 months with them.  They became like family to me.  We laughed and we cried – okay I’m the one who cried.  Steve and Paul were always nice enough to say it was the lights up in the ceiling that were too strong and made my eyes water.  Simply said, I couldn’t have made it through this personal injury hell of mine without the tenderness and kindness of these folks – and that includes those who helped me with my exercises, Lori, and Kristen who always made sure I didn’t bang my head on anything or break any of their equipment.

So because I know my 6 faithful readers expect something at least slightly humorous from me I’ve decided to give all of you some of the wisdom I’ve gained from these past 9 months of physical therapy.  In fact I’ve made you a little list.

1.  Please bathe before you go to PT – they will make you exercise and to start out smelling bad and then sweat while exercising is just plain cruel and these people don’t get paid nearly enough to sniff your stinky body.  Shower first.  Drowning yourself in perfume is not the solution.

2.  The night before you go to PT kindly refrain from eating beans or any cruciferous vegetable, whether or not you have eaten a bottle of Beano prior to your meal -  trust me don’t eat anything that will cause your body to go into severe Toot-mode prior to your appointment.  These folks twist you, pull on your limbs, put your legs over your head at times, and contort your body in all kinds of positions that just begs to push out air — and when your PT is telling you to clench your butt cheeks, he’s talking about general muscles while you may be thinking I’m clenching and if you only knew why…   Trust me – no chili the night before – ever!  And no breakfast burritos either!

3.  Don’t b*tch at your exercise coach when she tells you to do 3 reps of 10 each.  Yes, it seems like torture and yes, it IS torture at times, but it will help you.  I’m just thankful my Drill Sergeant there (Carol) never told me to “drop and give her twenty” because there were times I felt she might do just that!

4.  Don’t think for one minute you can tell them you did your 3 reps of 10 when you’ve only finished 2 reps of 10 because these people are flippin’ psychic – they KNOW what and how much you are doing.  It’s creepy.  I learned early to add one or two more times on the bar or a few more leg pushes just to keep them happy — 5 minutes on the bike?   I always gave at least 6 if not more.  So there!  I did my work.  But they cruelly always turned the tv on to Regis and Kelly and the rest of us had to exercise while looking at the ripped arms of Kelly Ripa (who actually should be force-fed in my opinion and made to always wear long sleeves).  Talk about incentive.

5.  When they give you exercises on a nicely printed sheet of paper to take home and perform – do that — take the paper home, study it, and do the exercises.  Don’t wad it up and play ball with your dog.  He will get the exercise; not you.  Although there were times I looked at the paper and WANTED to wad it up, I never did.  Nope – I DID those exercises and I’m STILL doing them (I hate the new bridges Sam, whine, whine).  I sound like somebody’s mother when I say this and I can’t believe I’m going to say it anyway:  This is for your own good – so follow through!

6.  Don’t push them; don’t tease them; don’t piss them off.  These are highly trained individuals and they can put your limbs where you will never find them again – do everything they tell you and do it with a smile on your face.

7.  Always bring them something good to eat – they may live a healthy life-style but we ALL know an occasional blueberry muffin is good for the soul.

That’s my list and I’m stickin’ to it.  If you ever find yourself in my neck of the woods and you need physical therapy these are the folks to see – my friends at OrthoAdvantage - and now to introduce the team themselves:

Hank Azaria look-alike Paul

Officer Sam

Chunky Monkey/James Belushi but he lost the mustache YAY

So, that was my team – and I love them all dearly for their wonderful treatment of me.  I’m going to go do some exercises now and then eat some yogurt – oh joy, the life of a recovering broken backaholic is just one fun thing after another.  BTW if you don’t understand the title of this posting (and I’m really disappointed in those of you who don’t get it), go Google Douglas Adams coz you’re obviously not an enlightened fan of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

How to go Postal at the Gym…or Tell Me to Suck it in Once More & You’ll Be Looking Up From Under the Treadmill

Criminy, I told my 6 faithful readers I wouldn’t be blogging much due to my school schedule and where am I?  In front of my laptop writing a blog post.  It’s a sickness I tell you – I have to write – I wish this “sickness” spilled over into my school life because there is some writing due over there and I’m obviously not getting to it.

Why you might ask am I doing this post instead of reading a scholarly (zzzzz) book on intertestamental Judaism and the New Testament?  Why, you might ask, am I not finding it absolutely riveting that early Jewish people in Palestine made their homes out of rock or stone (I’ll huff and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow…no wait that’s the wrong story)?  Because I’m just not in the mood.  I am convinced there is a direct correlation between how much homework I have and how many blog posts I write; the more homework, the more postings.

What I really want to discuss is a little blurb I saw in our paper this morning.  Now this isn’t a small-town local type of paper; it’s a city-wide newspaper that’s supposed to give us national as well as local news.  It actually misses the mark a good portion of the time and it’s waaaay too expensive, but I still get one every day and I’m getting off track here.  Back to the blurb I saw.

This morning’s Lifestyle section had what they thought was a great tip for ladies who wanted to look good. It’s not original to the paper, thank goodness; I’d hate to think they actually had writers this awful, but they inserted this invaluable piece of physiological information into my reading material nonetheless.  It’s so amazing I simply have to quote it verbatim:

“You will look like you have a flat (or at least, flatter) belly if you stand up straight.  When you hunch down, your belly pushes out.  While you’re at it, pull your abdominals in, giving even more of an illusion of flat belly at the time, and creating more of a flat belly in the future by tightening your core.”

To say I almost spit out the cottage cheese I was gagging down at the time I read this would be an understatement.   Someone out there thinks they have come up with a good idea that no woman over the age of 18 has ever considered before:  pull in your stomach.  Oh holey moley Batman, what man said this – if I could find him I’d slap him.

Why do I think a man came up with that?  Because the other day while I was working out at my physical therapy session, one of my therapists (the ultra slim, cute as a button Agador) walked by and with a big smile on his precious face announced to me, “Linda pull in those abdominals!”  Little sh*t – I HAD them pulled in and if I had sucked my stomach in any further it would have blown out my butt.  Oh yeah, at the same time he says to me “Tighten those butt cheeks!”  So I’m pulling in my abdominals and tightening my butt cheeks and my body was so incensed with this double whammy that I got a spasm in the back of my left thigh.  I thought all my internal organs had rearranged as I let my butt cheeks droop again and let out my tummy because I swear to you something inside moved. I prayed, Lord let his abs fail him at the worst possible time please and may he lose his butt and go bald.  Okay I was just kidding about the prayer – but I was sorely tempted.

Hold in your belly and stand up straight – those are fighting words buddy.  Feel free to kiss my tightly clenched butt cheeks.

To Walk or Not to Walk; That is the Question

There’s a skirmish going on at our house.  In my continuing quest for weight loss and better health, I have enlisted the aid of Devoted Spouse.  He is the first one up in the morning taking care of trusty canine companion’s outdoor needs.  It occurred to me since EmmaLou takes a morning jaunt around the neighborhood with Devoted Spouse, I should join them.  What better way to ensure good health than a nice dose of exercise? 

The problem is the two of them do the neighborhood at an ungodly hour of the morning — well before 6 am.  I am of the mind that no one should be out and about before the sun comes up unless there is a pretty good reason, such as a donut run.  Strolling the neighborhood should wait for sunlight.  Otherwise, how will you be able to critique your neighbors’ lawn care, trash habits, what’s in their parked cars, or even peek in their windows?

Each evening Devoted Spouse gently reminds me that I have expressed a desire to join he and EmmaLou on their morning walk.  I always reply in the affirmative.  That’s the easy part.  The difficulty comes in the morning when it’s actually time for me to get out of the comfy bed and step into the jogging shoes.  Several times Devoted Spouse has tried to coax me out of my nice cocoon only to have me growl at him that I don’t want to get up.  Then he gets an earful later when I discover he’s actually gone on the walk without me.  Loving hubby that he is, he patiently explains how hard he tried to get me to awaken before he left without me. 

I have come to a realization that there is a fundamental difference between my early morning habits and those of Devoted Spouse and trusty canine companion.  Both of them eagerly greet the morning. They are the proverbial “bright-eyed and bushy-tailed” duo.  I, on the other hand, greet the morning reluctantly and with much grogginess, not needing much of a reason to turn over and grab a few more winks.  Given these differences, perhaps I should give up on the first early morning walk of the day and simply take EmmaLou with me later on.  That would be the simple solution.

It’s actually more fun to skirmish.