Due to the quarantine, I feel like I’m getting fat. The gyms are closed, I’m indoors all day, and I’m eating to soothe myself.
So to make me feel better, I decided to take matters into my own hands (bad idea) and exercise.
I over did it…
I got excited.
I bought two pair of orthopedic (don’t judge me) running shoes and lost my damn mind.
I raced Happy up and down the hall.
I ran hills like I was a high school track star.
I even out sprinted parked cars and took home the gold medal.
My body looked at me like I was insane.
My Brain told my knee, “Oh, she forgot she is kicking fifty in the face. Knee, sit her little a$s down before she kills us!”
I’ve been in bed for a week.
Since I went temporarily insane, I’ve been resting, icing, elevating, and now “tiger balming” my left knee, my lower back and my IT band.
I think I’m in denial about getting older.
I remember when I use to be able to run.
I remember when I could stay up past 9pm.
I remember when I basked in the blissful and pain-free ignorance of youth.
When I was younger, I could eat sweets, drink alcohol and gorge myself on carbohydrates just to run it off in a few days.
Now, I can’t even run two steps without injuring myself or signing myself up for geriatrics. I feel like my body has turned against me but my will power is too proud to face reality. So now me and my body are in a street fight.
My body is kicking my A$S.
How the hell do I go to sleep well and wake up crippled? How?
My body has turned into a prude. She rejects EVERYTHING that’s supposed to bring me pleasure.
By the time the quarantine is over my muscles will have atrophied.
A snail will out run me.
And I’ll be bedridden for the rest of my natural born life.
So be it.
I guess I’ll move into my tub and eat Epson salt, slather tiger balm over my aging body and reminiscence about when I was young and pain free. Bitterly.#errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr