Long story short, that is my poo in your cornea. Wait, no. I meant to say that the three runless weeks are the result of either SI joint dysfunction, or a sacral stress fracture, or a knife wound with exit/entry points in both hips, or low-back gonorrhea. Some notable events of the injured time:
1. Desperately going to a chiropractor who began by asking me if I had ever aligned my chakra. Being ignorant of sanskrit pronunciation, I wasn't sure what Shakira had to do with anything, but my hips were lying profusely so I did not immediately bolt out of the office.
|Girl, my base chakra is only like this because the pool is cold.|
Next, he got me prone on a table that had hooks and levers, looking like it came directly from a turn-of-the-century insane asylum. He proceeded to hold both hands out in front of his body with the palms facing the floor. "Sweet!" I thought. "Impromptu macarena!" He then looked intensely at his right hand, and moved it tentatively. His left hand followed suit, with his concentrated stare shifting sides as well. Finally, his brow relaxed as he nodded and smiled, moving with renewed, lusting confidence towards the right side of my low back.
Upon realizing that his right-left routine was a kid-tested, mother-approved method to determine which side was which, I did not share his enthusiastic spinelust. Seeing my life flash before my eyes (primarily images of loved ones, children's cereal, and self-serve frozen yogurt), I scadoodled out of there with an urgent limp, past both an indoor mood tree AND a motivation poster of a smiling puppy.
He accepted Visa.
2. The day before an interview, I wore my one pair of nice pants for a presentation. Getting out of the car that evening, I heard a loud riiiip. It both sounded and looked like there was a tear in the space-time continuum, with the wormhole opening directly over my crotch.
So, of course, I went to the interview in those pants. And because I don't know how to sew, the whole time we were talking, I was refreshingly aware of the breeze in my undercarriage. I actually thought the interview went great! That is, I thought it went great until I visited the bathroom 2 minutes later. My pit stains had a deep end.
|"Strong enough for a man" MY ASS.|
3. Corn-maze! Which is also what I call the toilet plumbing in my apartment.
|"You're an ass." "No, you're an ass."|
Anyway, after sucking-it-up, I realized that the time off from running was actually a chance to get stronger with quality time on the elliptical. I have a love-hate relationship with the elliptical, similar to how a self-aware sado-masochist has a love-hate relationship with vice-grips. [Side note: the Self-Aware Sado-Masochists is the name of a popular new band comprised of law students who say they are going to work 90 hours-a-week at a big firm, but only for a few years. Their safe word is "Rationalizing Depression." They realize it should be a single word for maximum efficiency, but doubling-up allows them to bill an extra 0.002 hours. DOLLA DOLLA BILLZ Y'ALL]
The workouts involve stepping on the machine, putting my head down, and grunting like a wild boar giving birth to a four-foot-wide pineapple. So basically just imagine the debate stylings of Newt Gingrich. I would ask you to imagine Rick Perry's debate style, but any temporary comic relief would be offset by your brain imploding like the Death Star. After those debates, I still think the best Republican ticket would be Poor Minority-Seeking Missile/Palin 2012. For some reason, I think Ms. Palin would be that campaign's weak link in the primaries.
Elliptical PRO's: Heart rate can get incredibly, floor-pukingly high (as in over 195). After a workout, the gym floor often looks like a Jackson Pollack painting composed using only bodily fluids. Definitely builds strength. And mental toughness/insanity. Also tones those tough-to-reach places for the end of bikini season.
|Taking it to DA STREETZ.|
I will get back to you on how it transfers to the road, which should be tomorrow! The back is feeling amazing, and I am so excited to rebuild. My guess is that, done right, the elliptical can operate a lot like cross country skiing and create a monster engine. However, in my case, that engine will support a chassis made out balsa wood and delicate flower petals. The goal is to run as close as possible to a 4-min mile next track season (before heading to my job in......COLORADO. Wooohooo!), and I can't wait to start down the path toward that goal.
Thanks so much for reading, and for everything else. The last few weeks were a bit frustrating at times, and the people in my life (both in person and online) made the time off bearable. Also, spending time with the most beautiful, perfect girl in the world helps recovery too.
/vomits on own keyboard, so you don't have to
//seriously though, she's the freaking best, in every way
///looks into your disgusted, hateful eyes
////shamefully vomits again for you
You guys are awesome!