Yes, dear readers. I’m the turkey.
Because I was so close to making it to the 30-day milestone for my fitness challenge. But now I’m done (well, for a couple of days/weeks/years).
I’m not sure I can do justice to describing the pain my back has been in since Tuesday morning. Why, you ask? Well, you see… I sort of… well… I….
Pushed things a little too far with Bob and I.
Sort of like Apple with their commercials lately.
It happened like this: I tried to “sprint.”
Now, you might find this surprising, but people who have had their hips semi-recently replaced should probably* not do sprint workouts. But the problem is, a sprint workout was prescribed on Day 26 of our fitness challenge. To be specific, 3 rounds of 400-meter sprints, 2 rounds of 200-meter sprints and 3 rounds of 100-meter sprints.
And Bob and Olivia do not back down from what’s on our fitness challenge list.
Because we like to check boxes. We like to give ourselves gold stars. We like to say, “$%&@ Yes! Today, we accomplished something. Today, we finished the pre-defined workout that was written out in our goal-tracking journal.”
Unfortunately, when I walked into physical therapy on Tuesday afternoon, doing my best impression of Quasimodo, I don’t think my therapist understood the importance of this commitment.
If I remember accurately, the reaction to the news that I’d injured myself while attempting a sprint workout went something like this:
I like to think that this reaction was out of love, and not that I’m an idiot, but I fear the latter.
I wanted to explain that it wasn’t my fault. I imagined myself saying, “you see, I had no control. It’s just that when I looked at this workout plan… I heard the faint melody of Van Halen’s ‘Right Now’ begin to slowly build. My tomorrow was today. The Nike slogan ‘Just Do It,’ flashed before my eyes. Guns ‘N Roses’ ‘Welcome to the Jungle’ screamed through my ears and it became clear what I had to do.”
But the unimpressed look in my therapist’s eyes indicated that this was probably not the time to share this information.
So I went for the safe option and just confessed to being stupid. Here’s how I remember the conversation going:
Therapist: LIV, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING???!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Me: The workout was on my list. I had to do it.
Therapist: ARE YOU INSANE?!!!!!!
In reality, I received a very measured, respectful and thorough explanation of how my reconstructed hip was not yet ready for the demands of sprinting. An activity that requires a great deal more power than what Bob and I currently possess.
Net-net, I can’t walk very well now. Because my back made up for the power inadequacies by pulling the $*%# out of itself.
So now I have to wait it out for a while.
I guess I’ll punish myself with some pumpkin pie. Who wouldn’t, right?
** Just dark ink