The Sound of Silence

So I got a couple of emails asking why there has been a black hole of silence in my blog.
I think it's better that I simply report the conversation I had this past weekend:

Brain:     Dudes, we need a blog episode and I'm too tired to think of anything

              remotely interesting to say.

Rest of Body:

Rest of Body: 

Rest of Body:  

Rest of Body: 

Brain:      Stomach? No comment from you?

Stomach: Not available, still enjoying the pumpkin pie and whipped cream

                swimming pool down here!

Brain:     Um, Immune System? 

Immune system:  Sorry, a little busy here planning a raid on the out of control Rave

                          that the germs have going on behind the eyes.

Brain:

Brain:

Brain:  Uh, hey, Germs! Do you have a few minutes?

Germs: We're not funny.

Tis the Season

So my weekends are booking up as companies and people are organizing their seasonal, end of year parties.  As Kelly pointed out, nothing says the Holidays like a belly dancer!
This luckily coincides with the slowdown of the school semester so that I have more time for practicing, performing and choreographing, not to mention a little sewing to tweak the fit on costumes  (although admittedly my sewing skills are perhaps on the Frankensteinian level.)

And right on schedule, the semester just peaking with loads of projects, exams, grading, and presentations, dancing, workshops, and rehearsals, my sullen immune system senses the impending slow down at work with the advent of the holiday season.

Immune System:   so, uh, hey, how are you feeling, Throat?

Throat             :  What? What are you --- oh, no, I think...I think I feel sore!

Immune System :  No way!  And how are you feeling, Metabolism?

Metabolism       : Actually, I feel sort of elevated, but not in a good way...
                          Do we have a fever?

Immune System:  Hmmmm, don't know.  Hey, eyes, how are you today?

Eyes                : Wait a minute, we feel raw and bloodshot!  What's going on?
                          I think we are being invaded by microbes!

Immune System:  Well, how about that?  Maybe I should do something about those germs, Maybe I should get off my over-worked-taken-for-granted butt and maybe help you all out One More Time!  Well, I'll certainly take it under advisement-  once I have finished this delightful glass of champagne.

Rest of Body     :  This is SO wrong!!  You rotter!  Brain, Help!!

Immune System : Tsk, Tsk, looks like Mr. Stress has momentarily stepped out. MWHAHAHA!

Stomach           : Um, FYI guys, I have heard that lots of barbecue is good for a fever...

 .

Drum Roll Please......

BOTH ears are up!

Speaking of Milestones

Mile Marker : five months

So I'm now five months into this and I finally hit a significant milestone: this was the first day that I noticed a difference in my efforts with Paul.  I wasn't floundering & confused.  I was actually focused and working!


It feels totally weird to have Paul who is sporting a new IceMan haircut like Steve McQueen's in The Great Escape, talking about "plates" and I know what those are.  They are not actually called wheels even though they look exactly like wheels and nothing like plates, at least not the plates at my house.

So anyway, after repeatedly shoving the Pink Prowler that Paul kindly continued to enhance by adding two wheels of weight after each run, I bent over panting against the table legs waiting for the sickening sucking sensation to leave my legs.

Paul:       You have a new PR!

Brain:      Prowler Run?

Stomach: Pork Rinds!

Paul :      Personal Record!  You have pushed over 2 1/2 times your weight!

Me:

Me:

Me:

So there it is: a sense of accomplishment not based solely on the fact that I survived intact.


.

Paul decides I need to go another round with the Lacrosse Balls

TMI

So Paul had me on my back on the floor with my legs up against the wall.  The task was to see how far I could reach to each side with each leg to stretch some technical term muscle/ligament in order to make my squats amazing and powerful! I had slid my legs down the wall and was now actively trying to push them farther apart.  Aforementioned tendon now felt like a steel cable tearing through my flesh.

Me:  Um, this is as far as my legs will go given the current state of my physical human body.

Paul:  Well, I could stand here, like this, and then push down on your legs to get more stretch.

He faces the wall, straddling my torso. As he begins to lean forward, his butt begins a journey out toward my face.   And I realize those loose shorts are about to cross the event (line of sight) horizon.

I squeeze my eyes tightly shut as Paul's baggy shorts hover over my face.

Paul: Ok, I'm going to reach down to push on your legs.

ME:  !!!
ME:  Auughhh!

Paul:

Paul:

Paul:

Paul: Ok, or maybe not.

in delicto flagrante

Paul:  Can u change ur appt from 3:00 to 2:30?
Me  : In class giving test hang on
Paul: Ok
Me  : Ok think so. will drive fast.
Paul: ok will b w Mr. J
Me  : ok
Paul: thnx 4 b flexible w time
Me  : no worries

So while this seems like a pretty innocuous text exchange, the text-versation actually occurred while I was in a classroom watching my students wring out cerebral sweat onto an exam.  One of my students came up with a question while I was typing and I actually said with my own human flesh lips, "hang on a sec."

This comment made my student's eyes bulge because my class is like an airplane: the use of electronic devices is not permitted while the plane is in motion.  Unauthorized use of a cell phone or iPod interferes with the successful navigation of the class.  Students must keep them off until I turn off the Fasten Seat Belt sign.  And yet, there I was, blatantly texting while the students struggled with stem-changing verbs.

So I confessed the shamefulness of my behavior to Paul.

Paul (and I am paraphrasing):  Well, everyone is hypocritical.  After all, look at me with the health diet!  And yet, I am a serious cookie monster.
Me:
Me:
Me:   This is SO true!

So then I thought, there is no point to being a measly hypocrite:

From now on, I will Be Brazen!

  

Point-CounterPoint

Paul: I've thought about blogging my perspective on our training sessions, you know.

Me :   Oh really?  You see them differently from the way I do?  I think I portray them pretty accurately.  And I try to see my efforts from your point of view too:  like the
          burning building thing.

Paul: Ha, ha, yeah.  Anyway, when I thought about what I was going to blog,
         I couldn't think of a way to describe it that was, well, like not, well,
         that wasn't like kinda mean or anything.

Me  :

Me  :

Me  :

Me  :

Paul : Um...wait a minute...

Election Day Results

Raising the Bar

So Mr. J. has me working on crunches and butt squeezy things. Then I get up and see that we are heading over to the metal frame where Paul has me do the oxen yoke bar lifts.  I'm thinking, ok, I have done these before.
But Mr. J has placed a metal bar at the bottom of the frame.
I stare at Mr. J, confused.
He then says, Today you are going to do a (technical term technical term) lift.   While I don't recognize the name, my brain makes a huge leap and accurately translates this into DeadLift.

My entire body breaks into a sweat, and I struggle to understand Mr. J's instructions. This is hard for my brain to do because my low back is letting out a constant wailing scream that rivals a fire engine:

Mr. J.: Ok, you are going to push your ass back and keep your chest up and reach for the bar.
Lower Back: Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!

Mr. J.: And then fnslkeopnmr vsdlfjvpso jalk  oiseurjksf whelrjp lker.
Brain: What? What? I can't hear anything?!
Lower Back: Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!

Mr. J. : Ok, give it a try.

With the Lower Back in full banshee mode, my hands damp with sweat, and my brain completely bailing and heading out for a drink, I stick my butt back, pushing down into the floor against the outside of my feet and keeping my chest up.  I grip the bar, take a deep breath, brace, and push my hips forward.

And stagger backwards, nearly falling.

Mr J. has given me a new bar that I will call the Smurf bar.  Although it appears to be a heavy steel bar, it is once again one of his illusions: it is like one of the aluminum edge tubes on a hang-glider, weighing basically nothing.

My whole body is silent.

My brain, slightly tipsy on an adrenaline Martini, says: Well, looks like Someone at the Body Party deserves to wear the Cone of Shame!

Lower back (sniffling): well, it could have been really heavy!

Mr. J.: Ok, well, now that the drama is over, let's try a little weight.

So although the lower back whimpered about how the Rest of Body may be sorry, it held up very well and even got the hang of it as we went up in increments to something bordering actual effort.

Mr. J. is still working the street magic.

Just how sleep-deprived am I?

So driving home today I thought, 'I need to blog about my Tuesday training with Paul and then I need to blog about my Thursday training with Mr. J.'

And then my Brain thought: the way I am traded back and forth, I should refer to them as Mr. P and Mr. J.

Brain: In fact, I can think of them as my PJs. Ha ha ha!

Brain: Wait, even better, it's like a P & J sandwich!

Ha Ha Ha!

Rest of body:
Rest of body:
Rest of body:
Rest of body:

Rest of body: We need more sleep.