Why My Kitchen Should Have a Hose and a Drain in the Floor
This post was originally called "Just Don't Expect Me To Do Stairs." That was before I had to do so much more than stairs.
I worked out with my trainer last night for the first time in many weeks. I had told him a couple weeks ago that I was getting bored with my leg routine and wanted some new challenges. I felt like my knee was up for it. At the time, he talked to me about a workout he had in mind for me, but I needed to be "ready for it." I had no idea about all the new kinds of torture my trainer would be able to dream up for me.
I had no idea how a barfing child could complicate matters even further.
First, my trainer grabbed a step and a 10 lb. medicine ball. I had to start with my right foot on the step while holding the ball off to my left hip. Then I had to step up, pull my left knee up and at the same time bring the medicine ball across my body and above my head. My trainer had been telling me about the importance of compound movements like that and how it would help me with both strength and endurance.
The next set was straight squats with the heels of my feet on these squishy ball things to help with form. I had to hold a 15 lb. kettle ball out straight in front of me while squatting. The second set of these I had to hold for a count of three before coming back up. The last set? I had to hold for a count of five and he always makes me hold the last one of each set for a count of 10.
Killer.
Then it was wall sits for a minute at a time before tackling lunges. These weren't your ordinary lunges though. With a five lb weight in each hand, I had to lunge, go all the way down while lifting my arms straight out to shoulder height. He had me lunging my way across the gym and I was wondering how something that looks so simple can be so difficult. During the last set, I lunged down and didn't stop until my knee had touched the floor. My muscles simply quit on me. It was like they had a mind of their own and were screaming for mercy. I got back up though and finished the set strong. It helps when your trainer stands there and yells at you, "Get up!" on the last one. You kind of don't want to say no to the guy who can have a 30 minute conversation with you while doing non-stop pull-ups.
But the lunges weren't over. The next type of lunge was stationary while holding a 10 lb. medicine ball out in front of me and twisting my upper body in the direction of my front knee. I sucked it up through three sets although I really wanted to just lay down and whimper by this point.
We weren't done though.
Next came calf raises, leg extensions and leg curls. We did high reps for three sets, and then it was on to abs. When I was finished, an hour after the torture had begun, my trainer told me he was impressed. He said he doesn't know that many girls who can get through all of that. We checked my body fat percentage: 18.3% and BMI 19.9 and decided I was definitely on the right track.
I came home last night walking with a stagger, and I knew this morning was going to be rough. I had no idea.
I managed to get Big I up for school and out the door, but it was only thanks to a railing on either side of my stairwell that I was able to make it down the stairs without having to sit, scoot, boom, the way little kids do. I had plans to clean the house today but scrubbing the kitchen floor was not on my list of things to do. My mop broke, and since I can't kneel on my knees, mopping the floor is now a half hour of squatting and pain, and that's without having done the most intense leg workout ever the day before.
At 11:30, I got a call from Big I's school. She was in the nurse's office with a terrible stomach ache, nausea and a sore throat. I had to come get her immediately. You see, swine flu is in the next school district over from us. Four confirmed cases already, and an additional two pending but probable.
I had her home and resting comfortably within 15 minutes, with a warning from the school nurse that if she spiked a high fever, I had to take her to the doctor immediately. I was busy catching up on the phone with a friend who had called while Big I napped on the sofa. All of a sudden, there was this terrible noise, like a burp from the deep dark depths of hell and Big I came tearing out into the kitchen moaning. I started screaming for her to run as fast as she could when she stopped on a dime and let loose.
Barf on my kitchen island. Barf on my stools. Barf on my wall. Barf all over my tile floor. Barf under the table where Lil C was sitting peacefully eating her lunch.
"Oh my God! Don't move!" I screamed and hung up the phone. I should have known that barfing episodes like this don't come with just one round. I didn't want her to have to walk through the vomit to get to the bathroom, but when she started hurling again, I just told her to jump over it and get in the bathroom.
It was as I stood surveying the damage to my wall and floor (a good 10 ft trail of barf to the bathroom) that I strongly wished I would have remained working full time and let Mr. BBM stay at home with the girls full time. They usually barf at night and I am on kid duty while Mr. BBM cleans up the stuff. I can't stand cleaning up the stuff.
Meanwhile, Lil C continued to eat her lunch. How on Earth she managed that, I will never know. My stomach still threatens to reject my lunch if I even think about the puddle that was my kitchen floor two hours ago. I'll probably forgo eating the rest of the week thanks to that image and subsequent clean up.
As I cleaned up the puddles, I started dry heaving (excellent for already abused ab muscles); and my legs screamed out in pain from having to squat down.
It's now after 2:00. Big I says she's feeling a little better and is passed out on the sofa. I just finished bleaching the bathroom, and hand scrubbing the kitchen floor and have surrounded her with plastic bag lined buckets.
It took me over two hours to clean up two rooms and although I'm feeling horrible that she's so sick, I have to say that she looks rather peaceful right now, compared to the horrible burning feeling in my thighs and calves that is anything but peaceful.
Beer Pong in Suburbia
When I decided to move to this neighborhood, I knew it was a great family neighborhood and that the girls would have tons of friends. What I didn't know, was that I was moving onto a street with some of the coolest people on the planet.
Case in point: beer pong at a 1-year old's birthday party last night.
I'm not ashamed that I walked home last night proclaiming that my neighbor Jen and I are beer pong champions of the neighborhood. We didn't have a four game run to stay quiet about it, especially since we were the only female contenders and were playing all the guys from the neighborhood. I'm not even embarrassed that I announced to my neighbors who were just arriving home from the beach that they were missing a great party, "the best 1-year old birthday party I've been to EVAH."
Yes, that's a direct quote.
I will also admit that I am strongly considering having t-shirts made for me and my awesome beer pong partner. I will wear mine with pride.
No, I certainly didn't move here to have happy hour mojitos on the driveway down the street. I didn't move here because beer pong is one of this street's favorite past times. I consider all of this bonus.
Big. Time. Bonus.
Did I mention my partner and I had a four game winning streak?
Uh-huh, that's right.
How To Tell If You’ve Overdone It At The Gym
1. You lift your hand to brush your teeth and decide it would really just be easier to bring your mouth down to your hand level instead of the other way around. Who cares if your head is in the sink?
2. You see that your hair needs to be brushed, but figure that if Meg Ryan can still pull off the messy look, you can too.
3. Simply wiping off the counter is painful enough that it makes you whimper.
4. Turning the steering wheel in the car hurts, so you decide to drive home a different way so you can eliminate as many turns as possible.
5. Your first thought in the morning is that you can't wait to go to bed at night.
6. When you go to put your pajamas on at night, you decide it might just be easier to sleep in your clothes since raising your arms above shoulder height feels like people are ripping the insides of your arms apart.
7. You've decided that swinging your arms when walking is optional.
8. Little elbows pushing off of your chest reminds you of the time you got the massage from the crazy Russian lady who you thought would kill you before she solved any of your back problems.
9. You decide to make for dinner only meals that don't require you to retrieve anything from the upper cabinets.
10. You have ibuprofen as your breakfast.
How do you know you've overdone it?
It’s In There-17 Months Post ACL Surgery
I've been making a concentrated effort to spend more time at the dojo the past few weeks. I usually attend classes twice a week, but I've been adding an extra class here and there. I've been on the cusp of recovering all the kata and knew that the more I worked on it, the more cobwebs I'd be able to shake off.
This week, I've been at the dojo every night so far. Big I had ju-jutsu last night, so while she attended class downstairs, I went upstairs and ran through all of the kobudo kata. I think I have finally reached the point where I'm able to stop beating myself up mentally for putting kata on the back burner during my injury recovery. It's in there. It's really, finally, in there again.
I'm back to that familiar place where I'm falling asleep each night after running through a couple kata in my head. I'm talking about karate to Mr. BBM non-stop. I'm excited about how my bunkai is coming along. Despite the fact that a couple moves are still a little difficult for me (probably always will be), like the jump in the one tunfa kata and the kneel down in one of our open hand kata, I'm finally at the point where I've run through things enough times to know that my knee is holding up. It is no longer a stopping point, at least in kata (as long as my teachers are willing to accept the fact that I'm probably never going to be able to land on my left leg after that one jump). I'm even running on the treadmill now without swelling up.
The first couple weeks back were rough. I felt undeserving of the belt wrapped around my waist. I felt awkward and uncomfortable. It would have been really easy to throw in the towel. I won't deny that I thought about it while driving home after a few rough nights at the dojo. But I was determined to get back to my pre-injury state. I gradually accepted that I wouldn't be the same ever again; but I wanted to get as close as possible.
My knee is far from pre-injury state. It sometimes feels stiff and awful after a workout or a night at the dojo. When I stand up from sitting, sometimes I limp a bit. I can almost always tell you when it's going to rain; my knee is more accurate than the Weather Channel. But I feel like I am settling into the post-injury me and it's going ok. I've accepted the fact that I'm not going to ever be able to sit in seiza without terrible consequences. I think I'll probably always have some tendonitis that makes kneeling down uncomfortable. I'm probably always going to mind long car rides when I go to stand back up again. I will forever be extremely cautious with both of my knees; but I am slowly but surely putting the ACL ordeal behind me and getting back to doing the thing I love.
It's about time.
Not the Only Girl With a Trainer Problem
This morning I got a message from my regular trainer. He wanted to know why I was "cheating" on him and had an appointment scheduled with the guy who bear hugged me on Tuesday.
I never scheduled an appointment with him, but apparently the guy put me in his book for 10:30 a.m.
Um, no.
When I agreed to let him show me some exercises, it was casual, like if I'm here, cool. If not, whatever. I was planning on not being around. I didn't want to be bothered again.
I immediately left a message for my trainer, the bear hugger's boss, and told him to cancel my appointment. It wasn't until this evening, on the way home from the dojo, that we were finally able to talk.
I went through the blow by blow with him and when I got to the part where he grabbed me from behind? First there was silence and then there was a staccato "What? He did WHAT?" I reiterated how it had gone down and my trainer was very upset. Apparently this isn't the first time that a woman has complained about this particular trainer being pushy and "overly sexual."
I told my trainer I didn't want to make a huge deal about it. I don't want to feel uncomfortable coming to the gym and being around that trainer. I told him I was letting him know because if that guy does what he did to me to someone else, they might have a sexual harassment case on their hands. I just wanted to make him aware.
He cut me off. "Girl, you just keep coming and doing your thing. You have nothing to feel uncomfortable about! You let ME handle him. I'm going to handle him."
I asked him if he could put a note beside my name in the computer that says, "All trainers-Leave her the hell alone." He said he would take care of it. Knowing him, I know he will.
I'm getting a free work-out out of it with my trainer; and I trust that I won't be having any more awkward martial arts conversations at the gym.
I'm tempted to arrive with my nunchaku so if he gets anywhere near me, I can just start swinging to create my safe zone. Then again, he'd probably think they are cool and tell me he's a 9th degree black belt in "brass knuckles" or something. On second thought, I think I'll leave the nunchaku at home.
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