It's that time again, boys and girls, for hitting the gym to attempt to make the ol' bod have a shape other than "round".
Today was bike day. Not the killer distance day, just a shade over 3 miles. Enough to sweat, but not enough to prevent functioning for the remainder of the day.
That was the plan.
Unfortunately, my hormones had another devious design in mind.
While it is customary to sweat while exercising, are you aware that a "female power surge" also known as a "hot flash" can make a normal day at the gym a true exercise event?
Yep, it can.
So I'm wondering, did the power surge of a menopausal hot flash add to the workout's overall effect or did it simply punish me needlessly as I prayed for the fans above me in the gym to work a little harder to keep me from bursting into flames?
I was reasonably sure when I hit the 2.5 mile mark on the hill setting that I was about to experience spontaneously combustion. Of course, that would have been something for the folks on the other apparatuses in the gym. They might wonder if that was some new feature of the equipment or simply say to themselves, "Gee, that fat chick might burn a while... maybe I should run down to Publix and grab some marshmallows, Hershey bars and graham crackers." Since they are all thin already, they can afford the extra calories from making the smores.
At one point, just prior to reaching today's chosen mileage, I was reasonably sure that should I indeed explode into a conflagration of flaming glory that I would not actually reach the goal and my tombstone would forever after read "she couldn't cut the mustard".
Which is worse? Missing the workout goal or becoming a human torch?
There are issues with both items.
Thankfully, the power surge of hormonal imbalance faded about the time I was walking out to the van to suck down the water I had forgotten to bring inside. Water after exercise always tastes best to me when I feel I have "earned" the right to drink it. If I have been wimpy, it's not near as refreshing.
I have also begun to contemplate how this "extra" heat could be used in a effective manner.
Why doesn't some bright individual figure out a way to bank that heat so in the winter when I am freezing to death I'd be able to break open a lifesaving "hot flash" pack and warm up my Popsicle-like frame. That kind of study should be worth at least as much money as the kind people who studied cow flatulence received!! After all, women's issues and health circumstances are not mere hysteria!!
Anyway, I guess it's time to hit the showers. When you offend yourself with the aroma floating about you like Pigpen's cloud of dirt, then it's time to grab the bath gel and scrub off the stench.
Here's to you women, big and little and all sizes in between who continue to persevere at the gym, on the sidewalk, in your home and all over the world. May you have both the fortitude and the flame retardant DNA to carry on your chosen exercise regimen.
May 23, 2012
May 20, 2012
Creaking, cracking and croakings of doom
Joints in the body should not make this kind of noise. Ever.
Who decided it was a good idea to have your joints announce your arrival before you step into the room? Whomever it is deserves a good, swift kick. . . if only I could lift my leg that high.
Sleep has become somewhat of a memory. Even if I appear to BE sleeping, it isn't the restful sleep of youth, but rather the fitful exhaustion of someone who hasn't had a good night's sleep in a while. Pain medication that is OTC can only do so much. The stuff that really helps kick the pain is too habit forming to take for any length of time and I don't want to be a junkie hooked on it just to get a nap.
I remember back in the days of running without pain and walking all over the place without worrying when I might need to stop for a long winter's nap even in the midst of summer. The memories of going to bed at night and not having my sleep interrupted by pain in my shoulder, back, legs and ankles... ah, the halcyon days of youth.
I am not old by any fair measure... birthday candles, attitude, personal belief... but according to my joints, I am ancient and decrepit.
When did it become fashionable to be old before one' time?
During the night, I arose to heed the call of Mother Nature. This isn't an unusual proceeding. Drinking lots of water does that to you. That isn't any big deal and it certainly prevents changing sheets in the middle of the night. What I am not a fan of is the joint protest that occurs as a bonus to trying to stagger around the dog in the dark to get to the bathroom without falling into the hamper.
Last night, it was as if there was simply no position available in which I could sleep both restfully and without pain.
No side was an option. Sadness.
I know I need to see a specialist and I'm getting that appointment made this week. Hopefully, they can shed some light on why I am hurting 24-7 without much relief. I don't know of anyone I hate enough to wish this kind of pain on them.
*SIGH*
But regardless of how I may be feeling, I am making a conscious choice to keep my attitude above the fray. No one wants to truly know how someone is feeling when they say "How are you?". They are simply making polite conversation, not asking for a rundown of your medical chart.
There are few people to whom I truly share how I feel. It's not about being a martyr, but rather about understanding that EVERYONE deals with something that is a relentless part of their life that hounds them morning, noon and night. That is part of life. No one gets a free pass.
The occasional evening of restful sleep is a pretty good reward. It doesn't come often, but when it does... I immerse myself in the memory of its silken goodness for days to come. It's like bathing the frayed nerves in the blissfully cool and healing waters of Eden. All is made new for a time and season.
I'm not a big fan of dying, but I know when that time comes, it will usher in the blessing of healing for my aching body. That will be a relief.
Time to finish getting ready for church. It is such a blessing to enjoy the Spirit of the Lord and be renewed to face the challenges of the coming week.
Who decided it was a good idea to have your joints announce your arrival before you step into the room? Whomever it is deserves a good, swift kick. . . if only I could lift my leg that high.
Sleep has become somewhat of a memory. Even if I appear to BE sleeping, it isn't the restful sleep of youth, but rather the fitful exhaustion of someone who hasn't had a good night's sleep in a while. Pain medication that is OTC can only do so much. The stuff that really helps kick the pain is too habit forming to take for any length of time and I don't want to be a junkie hooked on it just to get a nap.
I remember back in the days of running without pain and walking all over the place without worrying when I might need to stop for a long winter's nap even in the midst of summer. The memories of going to bed at night and not having my sleep interrupted by pain in my shoulder, back, legs and ankles... ah, the halcyon days of youth.
I am not old by any fair measure... birthday candles, attitude, personal belief... but according to my joints, I am ancient and decrepit.
When did it become fashionable to be old before one' time?
During the night, I arose to heed the call of Mother Nature. This isn't an unusual proceeding. Drinking lots of water does that to you. That isn't any big deal and it certainly prevents changing sheets in the middle of the night. What I am not a fan of is the joint protest that occurs as a bonus to trying to stagger around the dog in the dark to get to the bathroom without falling into the hamper.
Last night, it was as if there was simply no position available in which I could sleep both restfully and without pain.
No side was an option. Sadness.
I know I need to see a specialist and I'm getting that appointment made this week. Hopefully, they can shed some light on why I am hurting 24-7 without much relief. I don't know of anyone I hate enough to wish this kind of pain on them.
*SIGH*
But regardless of how I may be feeling, I am making a conscious choice to keep my attitude above the fray. No one wants to truly know how someone is feeling when they say "How are you?". They are simply making polite conversation, not asking for a rundown of your medical chart.
There are few people to whom I truly share how I feel. It's not about being a martyr, but rather about understanding that EVERYONE deals with something that is a relentless part of their life that hounds them morning, noon and night. That is part of life. No one gets a free pass.
The occasional evening of restful sleep is a pretty good reward. It doesn't come often, but when it does... I immerse myself in the memory of its silken goodness for days to come. It's like bathing the frayed nerves in the blissfully cool and healing waters of Eden. All is made new for a time and season.
I'm not a big fan of dying, but I know when that time comes, it will usher in the blessing of healing for my aching body. That will be a relief.
Time to finish getting ready for church. It is such a blessing to enjoy the Spirit of the Lord and be renewed to face the challenges of the coming week.
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