It’s not been pretty, but I think I can officially claim that I’m back in the workout grove. (Ish.)
Remember a million years ago when Zack and I got our barefoot shoes and we were going to revolutionize our lives and do the Couch-2-5K and all that? Well, Zack revolutionized his life. I did day 1 and then almost died every time I had to walk for the next two weeks.
At first, I thought I was the world’s biggest wuss. I was dying as a result of our run and Zack was not. It’s not like he’s got any experience running in these stupid barefoot shoes, you know? So I thought that (for once!) we were going to be EVEN STEVEN. I thought we were going to have a learning curve that we could straighten out together! It was going to rule. Until it didn’t rule. And then it was THE WORST. I knew my calves were weak sauce but GAH. I didn’t even know the pain that could be felt on the backside of one’s legs. I know now.
After 2 weeks passed and the pain, especially in my left calf, was not going away, I decided that there was something bad wrong. Clearly a.) I was dealing with some sort of an injury, as evidenced by the sharp shooting pains, and b.) I was doin’ it wrong.
Apparently, barefoot running’s constant preaching about abandoning the heel-strike does not (NOT) mean that you should pretend you are a ballerina running the first day of C-2-5K en pointe.
This photo does not depict proper barefoot running body mechanics.
I’ve been using my 5fingers since then, but mostly only to take Scout on walks and/or embarrass myself in social situations. Neither of those activities hurt my calves.
But then, over the weekend, everything changed. Zack bought us tickets to Hawaii. We’re going in August (and our house won’t be empty, robbers, so back off) to celebrate my graduation from nursing school. Going to Hawaii in August means that I need to come to grips with reality and finally deal with the fact that the only way I’m ever going to look like an airbrushed movie star supermodel (I have realistic expectations) is if I, you know, actually DO SOMETHING ACTIVE. And wearing the 5fingers around the house and being like, “AREN’T THESE WEIRD?” isn’t exactly melting off the pounds, you know?
So yesterday, I did some yoga in the hottest room in our house. Today, I took Scout for a walk, and I ran a little bit. I probably just ran about 1/2 a mile of the 2 mile walk (which I completed in 26 minutes, so we were booking it when we were walking, I am totally 90 years old and a power-walker, shutup) and my calves aren’t screaming bloody murder! I assume the reason my calves don’t hate me right now is because I didn’t run the entire half-mile on my tippy-toes like I did last time. That probably helped. Anyway. If you’re counting, that’s TWO DAYS IN A ROW. Practically a HABIT. If I can just keep this up for the next 90-or-so days, I’m TOTALLY going to look like one of those 19 year old babes trying out for SYTYCD this season. TOTALLY.
Dude I would not stand next to you in a bikini in public for any amount of money, I don’t know what you’re worried about
…besides me robbing your house.
…. That comment could be interpreted a number of ways.
As in: Sarah, you’d look so horrid in a bikini that I wouldn’t stand next to you so as to not risk being associated with you and your terrible, bikini-clad self.
Or: Sarah, if you were in a bikini, I wouldn’t stand next to you because the radiant light reflecting off of your brilliantly white, never-been-tanned, practically-translucent abdominal region could very well cause permanent damage
Or: Sarah, if I were wearing a bikini in public, I wouldn’t stand next to you. Which only leads me to believe that you don’t trust me, which must be because Boo has told you about my amazing wedgie-giving skillz. Please know, I put those to rest years ago. Your bikini bottom placement is safe with me.
Or: If you’re THAT white, the combined glare from our torsos would blind a large percentage of the population within three miles of the event, and that is clearly a public health risk, so Frable would stab us.
Or: My self-esteem could not survive the blow of having to compare my bikini-clad appearance to your bikini-clad appearance, and I would become a hermit and live in the mountains, fed by ravens.
Or: (and this hurts me to admit) my current bikini is so mind-poppingly ugly that I couldn’t in good conscience subject you to it. Brain damage is permanent.
Or: There is no such thing as a recovered wedgie ninja. They do not reform. They wait.
To prevent any future strife or heart ache, let me point out an error that, if it becomes known to Zack, would most definitely send him into a shame spiral. A house (residence) is burglarized not robbed. If residents happen to occupy said home during a burglary then it is referred to as a home invasion. You are now learned.
That’s the whole point, dude. My house is going to be OCCUPIED. So don’t rob me. Booyah. But yeah, yeah. The burglars should stay away, too. OR ELSE.
Good luck, but be careful. I nearly got a stress fracture in one or both feet, 2nd or 3rd metatarsal: http://www.andybox.com/?p=5995
Dang, Andy. You’re an animal. I don’t think I’m going to be in danger of suffering a stress fracture, as that’s the kind of injury people get from doing too much too quick. I tend to suffer the kind of injuries that people get for doing too little, and doing that too little very rarely, to boot. Which is to say that I run, and then I am sore for a very long time. Such as I am now. My hamstrings are SINGING today. (Although, I do believe that’s mostly from the yoga.)
I keep complaining about swimsuit season and ventured into the spanx swim wear that should have mushed up all my fat and made my boobs fabulous. Alas, it also flattened them out. Then I took it off and I exploded like a can of biscuits. So instead of working out, I’m practicing the ancient art form of body binding.
Amanda, your can of biscuits analogy made me spit-laugh in my nursing manager’s (my preceptor) office. Then it made him laugh and ask why I was laughing so hard. Then I had to read your comment to him.
And that’s how I found myself saying the word “boobs” in front of my management preceptor today.
And that was *almost* as fun as it was to explain what Spanx are to him.
All I’m sayin’ is that you totally rocked a bikini I only ever had the nerve to wear on an island off the coast of Spain (where NO ONE knew me). Oh, and, when I went to comment here….it was still logged in as you (took me a whole two minutes to figure out why your photo was sitting here next to MY comment area). I opted to logout before doing any damage. Your lovely photo is gone now. You’re welcome.
Apparently, short strides are where it’s at, or something? http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/06/08/are-we-built-to-run-barefoot/