I’m realizing that there comes a point when suddenly in the battle against your body the tables turn. You no longer have the upper hand that lets you do whatever you want, eat whatever you want and be completely neglectful without consequences. There comes a point when that all ends, and your body announces that it’s payback time. For me, that time is now. And paybacks are hell.
After being out of the gym for several weeks, I stormed back in and hit the weights with the enthusiasm reserved for killing snakes. My brain, that seems to be lagging about 20 years behind my chronological age, really didn’t see a problem with this strategy to make up those missed workouts with an extra effort now. I think it will take me about 20 years to recover, thank you very much. My body has let me know, in no uncertain terms, who is in control, and, yes, my brain is stupid.
I had soreness that rendered me just short of paraplegic status. By the time I got home from the gym on the second day, I was completely incapable of simple tasks requiring any participation from my muscles, like undressing. There is a horrifying moment when you realize you may be trapped in your sports bra because your triceps are too sore to pull it back over your head.
I found myself in my bathroom wondering if this situation warranted a 911 call, except I’d have to face some paramedic with the Jaws of Life or a volunteer fireman with an axe. That seemed extreme. Asking the nice Bangladeshi man who was mowing my yard to help me also seemed to peg out the Scale of Inappropriateness. I considered finding some scissors and just cutting myself out, but I paid $20 for that sports bra! There had to be another, more affordable answer! I thought about just showering in it. Kill two birds with one stone: I’m clean, the sports bra is clean. Of course, I’d then just be stuck in a clean and now dripping wet sports bra and that didn’t seem to be an improvement in my situation.
I ended up taking a couple of Advil and reverting back to the Lamaze Breathing I was taught to manage the pain of childbirth to finally get it off. I think I also learned my lesson that, at my age, it is NOT better to look good than to feel good!