Friday, April 09, 2010

Wheelchair bound, I swear to jeebus.

Leo and I are headed out to the Royals game tomorrow night, so we can visit a bunch of our friends that we know who work at a bar at the stadium. (Oh, and to watch the Royals play the Red Sox, too, of course! Der...) I'm excited, but I'm also a little worried. Do they rent wheelchairs at the stadium, like they do at Disneyland for people that hurt themselves in the park?

See, we started seeing our new physical trainers last week. My trainer seems like she's being relatively easy on me when we're working together at the gym. We'll do something kinda hard, but then we'll do something that's relatively less hard for me (like work my lats or triceps, or something...), and it throws me off. It puts me into a comfortable rhythm of OH MY GOD THIS IS SO FUCKING HARD!!!/Ahhh...this is awesome...my back is so strong RAWR/HOLY FUCK, I HATE LUNGES, AND PLUS DOING THEM WHILE HOLDING A 25 POUND WEIGHT YOU MUST BE JOKING!!!/Good deal, bench presses...welcome back, I missed you a lil' bit/etc, etc...

And then I'm done, and I get to go home.

Last week, I had to stand up slowly the day after my workout, because I was afraid I would tear some muscle in my stomach area if I got up too fast and tried to stand straight. Yesterday, my hamstrings hurt so bad, I told the Twin I was worried someone might ask me if I developed MS recently. Today, my trainer focussed more on my biceps and triceps and shoulder area. I'm pretty sure that by this time tomorrow, I won't be able to move my arms above hip level. I'll have to hunch over and eat all my food like I'm in a fucking pie-eating contest!

(Mmmm...piiieee...)

Leo and I are working on not complaining about our pain. It's hard for me, because I'm an expressive person. I don't hold back much, usually. And while I don't mind a simple, "Ow! FUCK, my legs hurt!" now and then when he's getting up or sitting down, it's when he launches into full-on Man Cold style complaining about the soreness that gets me a bit peeved. Dude...it's called working out for a reason. It's not like you're going in to the gym to play with some puppies and kittens for an hour. (OMG, how fun would THAT be, though? :D) So if I complain less, I'm hoping it'll rub off on him a bit. And to be fair, he has been better about it so far, so I'm hopeful for the future.

But as for the immediate future, I'm just hopeful that some Advil and alcohol will help ease the pain. Because ooooowwwww. ::sobs quietly::

2 comments:

faithstwin said...

It's official: I am starting the petition to go to God and tell Him working out officially needs to change from intensive heart pumping activity to playing with puppies and kitties. (We should throw hamsters, lion, tiger and bear cubs and dolphins in for those who might not like puppies and kitties...)

Who's with me!?

Faith said...

I absolutely think that I burn more calories just trying to restrain myself from squeezing puppies to death when I'm around them. So I think its a good idea, dammit.