I'm a frequent flyer now at SPI. I should ask for the special club, with drinks and music while I wait for Dr. Spears!
Yes, it's been another month and I'm back in the room waiting for Dr. Spears. I brought my laptop and start to work. I figure this will keep my mind off of the dreaded "nutrition" talk and, I'm hoping I look busy so Spears will just send my right out to the torture pit, which is why I am here anyway.
So, Spears heads in and gets back up to speed on my foot. Not my speedy foot anymore, that is. We chatter and he reaches for the foot and starts poking at it. No way, I mean for many a visit, this did not happen. I'll take the nutrition speech over this any day. Pieter bounds in during the foot poking. Spears asks him how it's going (why do I feel like I'm not in the room). Pieter says, well, it's going, but slow. Ok, I just got thrown under the bus by the Dutchman! He must have bionic hearing from the torture room and realized Spears had not yet asked me about my nutrition. I give Pieter my best bad ass Jersey girl stare.
Seems now I have some issue with some muscles around the bone. The ask me to spread my toes. I try. You try it. It's not that easy. The pinky does not move. Spears seems excited about his new discovery. See? he says to Pieter. The jabber on in their physical therapy kind of speaking in tongues thing and I look at my Pinky toe. I mean, what the hell do you need your Pinky toe for anyway. I look at Pieter -- just cut it off, I don't need it. It doesn't work.
Off to the torture chamber with me.
Here we are at the table and Pieter starts demonstrating my continued lack of ability to move my pinky toe. Look at this, he tells the Riff Raff in the room...I'm a science experiment now. Pieter says, I don't do this a lot, but I'm going to massage your foot. I'm thinking, ok, it's the least you can do for throwing me in the grease with the doc and mocking my Pinky.
Next, more humiliation. This is going to seem silly, but we need to work on it. He tells me to spread my toes and hold my Pinky out there and resist the pressure he will apply. I think he's joking. He's not. I try to do it and I can't. Come On he says in that deep gutteral voice. I try again, nothing. I want to try a judo kick right about now. Again. Pieter urges. Now that is ridiculous. I glare at him...we both bust out laughing. It is pathetic I say.
Toes do need exercise apparently. We Pinky get skinny now with all this work?
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
3 for 3; 4 for ....???
Sometimes it's all about the numbers. 6-8 weeks, 2 miles, 2 days, 3 miles, 3 days! Grumpy, Happy and Skinny! (that's 3!)
I don't know how many people remember Schoolhouse Rock; but it was awesome. There's a song, "3, it's a magic number!" It' true. My son and I used to listen to that song over and over; now he's nine, which is three times three, so, he's not interested in schoolhouse rock.
Two weeks ago, Pieter released me to run 3 miles, 3 days, not consecutively. Sounds simple, huh?
Well, of course, LB, every the loyal friend and running mate, met me for the big add on. I could not believe how winded and out of shape I was. LB, I said, I am really out of shape (mind you, I have been going to the gym and pool running). Yes, he says dryly, you are. That's what I love about LB, pure honesty, no bull.
Anyway, I get the 3 for 3 in. Then, I have to go on a one day business trip -- up and back to Colorado Springs. I make a huge error and ditch my running shoes in the car at the airport. Hours later, my foot is blowing up and I regret it. Next, the flight is delayed and I can only get to Denver for the night (supposedly). However, the plane arrives and when we get to Denver, I bust out like it's the Congress Avenue Mile, except I have my shoes in my hands, and my one foot and my ham of another foot are zooming toward the gate. Once again, I realize how out of shape I am.
3 miles climbs to 4, then the body breaks down. Too much driving, too much stress. Will I ever get to B-town. I feel the weight and slugishness climbing. The trainer at my gym needs to meet James Gandolfini...one more blow off and you should be at Strailes. I mean, give me a break, are you trying to make money or what?
After the visit with the matriach, new shoes, form analysis, a trainer who can't seem to get up at 5:30 and small skirmish in Kurundi: I'm moving on...4 miles, 3 times this week...Whatev....
I don't know how many people remember Schoolhouse Rock; but it was awesome. There's a song, "3, it's a magic number!" It' true. My son and I used to listen to that song over and over; now he's nine, which is three times three, so, he's not interested in schoolhouse rock.
Two weeks ago, Pieter released me to run 3 miles, 3 days, not consecutively. Sounds simple, huh?
Well, of course, LB, every the loyal friend and running mate, met me for the big add on. I could not believe how winded and out of shape I was. LB, I said, I am really out of shape (mind you, I have been going to the gym and pool running). Yes, he says dryly, you are. That's what I love about LB, pure honesty, no bull.
Anyway, I get the 3 for 3 in. Then, I have to go on a one day business trip -- up and back to Colorado Springs. I make a huge error and ditch my running shoes in the car at the airport. Hours later, my foot is blowing up and I regret it. Next, the flight is delayed and I can only get to Denver for the night (supposedly). However, the plane arrives and when we get to Denver, I bust out like it's the Congress Avenue Mile, except I have my shoes in my hands, and my one foot and my ham of another foot are zooming toward the gate. Once again, I realize how out of shape I am.
3 miles climbs to 4, then the body breaks down. Too much driving, too much stress. Will I ever get to B-town. I feel the weight and slugishness climbing. The trainer at my gym needs to meet James Gandolfini...one more blow off and you should be at Strailes. I mean, give me a break, are you trying to make money or what?
After the visit with the matriach, new shoes, form analysis, a trainer who can't seem to get up at 5:30 and small skirmish in Kurundi: I'm moving on...4 miles, 3 times this week...Whatev....
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