So today the morning sun watched me shoving that upside down metal table across the parking lot, Paul thoughtfully having added an additional tens pounds. Run, run, run! And then when I stopped, acck! There's that weird vampire sensation of my life draining away. Paul says this a result of lactic acid doing something involving technical terms, but I prefer to believe there is a alchemy lab somewhere in the back of the building collecting all the life-energy that table saps away (distinct possibility this idea is influenced by the fact that I am re-reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows.)
The fact that a mere 4 (four) (cuatro) back & forth runs left me without generalized heart/lung coordination makes me cranky. I can get through a 30-40 minute dance set with a damp glow and a smile (well, ok, and perhaps a swath of perspiration at my lower back if the restaurant is stuffy.) Of course, I am not playing 20 pound zills.
The shoulder trouble is (besides painful) irritating in that it is an obstacle in my transformation from pipe-cleaner to, well, robust pipe-cleaner. There really isn't an exercise that doesn't in some way require movement in the shoulder area. Most of the time it doesn't bother me, but when it tweaks it's like accidentally touching a hot burner on a stove: there's a knee-jerk auuughhh. I would prefer that my auugghhs were churned out by doing something a tad more labor-intensive than writhing.
Paul seems cheery about what I see as my snail's pace progress (my perspective is admittedly influenced by the fact I am surrounded by cool looking women doing pull-ups and lifts using impressive large wheels of weight and shouting auuggggh.) I keep thinking if my shoulder were ok, I might could do more; but now, after having my cells squeeze out half their mitochondria during the table push exercise, I think I need to be a more patient snail.
So afterward I drove over to see Lynn who fitted my costumes and came up with ideas for over-hauling some of my favorites. All the stuff I thought would be complicated construction she thinks of as a fantastic creative challenge. She had finished putting slits in my double-layer glitter skirts and fitted my Starfish costume bra.
Hanging out with a creative lady who adores my sparkly stuff can't help but be cheering.
Pensamiento para hoy: it's all about balance
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| more like 4 ounces |
The shoulder trouble is (besides painful) irritating in that it is an obstacle in my transformation from pipe-cleaner to, well, robust pipe-cleaner. There really isn't an exercise that doesn't in some way require movement in the shoulder area. Most of the time it doesn't bother me, but when it tweaks it's like accidentally touching a hot burner on a stove: there's a knee-jerk auuughhh. I would prefer that my auugghhs were churned out by doing something a tad more labor-intensive than writhing.
Paul seems cheery about what I see as my snail's pace progress (my perspective is admittedly influenced by the fact I am surrounded by cool looking women doing pull-ups and lifts using impressive large wheels of weight and shouting auuggggh.) I keep thinking if my shoulder were ok, I might could do more; but now, after having my cells squeeze out half their mitochondria during the table push exercise, I think I need to be a more patient snail.
Hanging out with a creative lady who adores my sparkly stuff can't help but be cheering.
Pensamiento para hoy: it's all about balance
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