Wednesday, December 4, 2013

The McRib is… Broke. Or maybe just sore.

So Hubbins and I have joined a gym near our house.


I know I know… "It's a waste of money", "you have a free gym at work", "are you actually going to use it?!" blah blah blah. I know.

And I don't care. Neener neener!
Buuuut. 1) We got a stupid good deal on it and paid less than ½ of what we would have if the membership hadn't been through his job. 2) Paying for a year-long gym membership IS motivating, because I don't want to just watch our money disappear. 3) I honestly just hate going in the middle of the day at work.

So anywho. The gym we joined is faaantastic. It's shiny and pretty and has a pool and it brings all the happies to the yard. Or beefcakes to the weight room. Or fatties to the lifting area (like me! =D ).

As a pseudo-segue, have I told you guys how ridiculously skilled I am at hurting myself? No seriously. I managed to dislocate my knee in my sleep. In. My. Sleep. I truly am a master, and I don't even mean to be. That's how good I am.

So anyway, I managed to hurt my rib in quite the mysterious fashion on Saturday night/Sunday morning. I don't know how, I don't know what I did, all I know is I woke up with excruciating pain in my rib in a very localized spot. Then I'd move and it was gone. Then I'd move and it'd come back. In the last few days since, it's generally fine, but it still hurts depending on certain moves.

Naturally, I saw this as an excuse not to go to the gym. But I'm torn, right? I need to go to the gym. In some deep recess of my body, I want to go to the gym. Buuuut Rib. RIB! My little riblet! It's wounded! I can't go hurt it more!

Unfortunately my mom (albeit wonderful) is incredibly unsympathetic with her torn knee and need to walk half-marathons. Thanks for the support, WOMAN. (My mom's my bestie. I love her hard, don't let her convince you otherwise) She was all, "GO TO THE GYM. GO. YOU'RE ALREADY THERE. JUST GO.", and I was all "I CAN BE HERE ANYTIME I WANT! I LIVE A MILE AND A HALF DOWN THE ROAD!". Sadly, moms know best (even when you're old and married) and I went inside.

I skipped on Monday, but after my pseudo argument and fake whining with my mom, I dragged myself and my wounded Ribbie inside the gym. I did the treadmill for a brisk 22-ish minutes and felt pretty good with that. Tonight I'm going to try to go again after I pick up a prescription, and do some leg workouts. Word around the mama is that leg stuff shouldn't hurt Riblet more, but who knows. Mom may be preparing me for my doom and I don't even know.

Wish me luck tonight friends, as Ribbles and I attempt the gym even though I want to whine and lay on the couch drinking chai and staring at our Christmas tree. (Yeah that's up, it's been up since Saturday)

How are you all doing? Meet any new goals lately?? Fall off the wagon? 
Mysteriously hurt your body in the middle of the night?

<3
A Redhead

2 comments:

  1. Mom is good....Mom is wise.....

    I've still been dealing with Hammy, believe it or not. And yes, the torn baby bovine is still not completely healed. The doctor started to say something about not healing as fast as you get older but, oddly, she stopped talking as my fist approached....

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    Replies
    1. HA. "Torn baby bovine"….

      The doctor sounds wise. ;)

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