From the desk of the infrequent blogger

Wow, I really should not have gone back to boot camp the third day in a row. My elbow/tricep blew up. It got super strained and swollen. I've had my share of sore muscles before, but never any swelling. For the better part of last weekend I could not bend my right arm high enough to reach my face without excruciating pain. I needed help with the most basic of things: dressing myself, putting my hair back, preparing food. It's better now, but I need to pay better attention to my limits from now on. I'm not as young and resilient as I used to be. I hate pushups and pushups hate me.



Oh, Russell. Ira's lunch bag was left on a chair when we were out and this meatball here took prime opportunity to tear it up. I don't blame him, not every dog can be a proper lady like Heylove. We came home to find the bag's food containers strewn about, the shredded bag, a guilty looking Rusty and a very scared Heylove cowering in her crate.



Not to worry, we got a new lunch bag and Rusty wrote this letter of apology. I slipped it into the new bag for Ira to find at school. We all agree that it's hard to be mad at a Boston who can pen such a graceful note.



We took a little trip to Big Sur for some nature times. I am excited to sit down and edit our pictures, which I'll do first chance I get. I kind of love packing for trips. I typically make these little lists to plan out clothes. This is the one I made for Big Sur. Ira saw mine and made his own which included three things: a drawing of cowboy boots and some words about a jungle and one to-do, "play Ninjago weth [sic] Dad."

Beat camp

I joined a stupid boot camp class and had my first stupid work out sesh last night. It was so hard and I even crammed for it! I knew it was going to be difficult, so in preparation, I started a little bit of weight training a couple of weeks before, which I now see as a mere pittance. I thought it might help me ease into the weights or whatever was in store for me at boot camp. I mean, I had a rough idea of what I'd get. I have seen a couple of boot camps in my life, but never participated. You know, the random boot camps you see at parks or whatever. There are people doing their crunches or jumping jacks and I have seen these sweating, breathless people and thought to myself, "Psssht. I have done a lot of bike riding and 30 Day Shreds. I could totally jump into this boot camp and own it." I was so very, very wrong.

The work out started mild enough with two minutes of squats. At this point, I'm thinking, I will be the star student. My quads bulked up pretty nice when I was bike riding and I still have some strong muscles there. Squats are my best party trick. I did them. I was great! Yes, and not so humble about it. No, don't worry. I was humbled so hard by this class in the end. Suddenly, after my squats victory I was then pummeled by push ups, knocked out by kettle bells and fatigued by a very cruel and torturous thing they called the finisher. The finisher was several short bursts of really terrible things that I only see my Crossfit-obsessed friends post about on Facebook. I won't bore you with those details because we all have a Crossfit friend in our news feed and you don't want to hear any more about burpies and power jacks more than I do right now.

I finished it (poorly) and immediately felt like I was going to throw up. I have never felt like this after exercising and I thought I have done some fitness in my days. Having been so exhausted from those push ups (I was the last one done by over two minutes), my arms turned to jelly and I could not lift them. I stood staring at my water bottle trying to remember what it was like 45 minutes ago when I could lift the bottle to my lips without it feeling like it weighed 25 lbs. After I got home, I began peeling my work out clothes off but got stuck trying to wiggle out of my shirts. I completely lacked the strength to take them off at all. I was nearly in tears trying to not only figure out a way to get out of my clothes properly, but how I would even be able to wash my hair. To make a pretty boring story short, I got out of my clothes and my hair got washed.

Today I'm in the office sitting at my desk, carefully weighing and selecting my actions. I dropped a pen, but if I reach to get it, I will collapse in a sore pile of bones. I want to put my hair in a bun, but if I reach for my head I will cry in agony. Nah. Not worth it. I'll just sit here and try not to feel too bad for myself.


I'm totally going back there tonight.