5:05am and wide awake again. I think I may start trying to do the elliptical. I hate to drive to the center just to ellipticize for 20-30 minutes but I’m going to have to do something to use up some energy and calories so I can quit waking so early with nothing to do. The exploding head would probably blow off some energy but it’s so much messier.
You know, it’s fairly easy to find an argument on Google for whatever you wish to find permission to do, so I did use the elliptical at Killer’s on Friday for 20 minutes. I actually did it for about 10 minutes, with a rest every other minute because I have, indeed, lost that much fitness in five weeks and had to stop and breathe every other minute. We will not dwell on that. I balanced on my heel with no pressure on the forefoot and it didn’t hurt. I haven’t tried again; I don’t want to screw anything up even though, as I said, it didn’t hurt – I’ve been burned by the Injury Fairy so many times in the past 15 months that right now I’m gun shy. However, from what I could find on The Great Oracle Google, it’s OK to do the elliptical if I’m stabilized in the boot. Now I shall consult the other two Great Oracles, you, my two faithful followers of my world-famous blog. Should I do the elliptical or not?
Remember, the safety of my family, the animals and my foot lie in your hands. No pressure.
Meanwhile back at the Zoo, waiting for the Shrine to heat up, I let Murphy out. Hubs said, don’t forget Murphy. I said, it’s 5:15 in the morning and it’s cold and rainy, he won’t last five minutes out there before he’s scratching on the door. On the way out to the gym hub’s final words: just don’t forget Murphy.
So, of course, I did and now he is not in the yard. dammit. It’s 35 degrees and raining lightly and I’m out on the deck in the darkness (I tell you, I hear shuffling. Do snakes shuffle? Maybe it’s a fox. Rabid racoon? I know it’s not Murphy because his collar jingles.) yelling softly (and how stupid is that? can you even yell + softly? Isn’t that just talking?) MURPHY MURPHY but no response. I’ve had no coffee. I really really do not want to go down the steps of the deck and hobble around the yard in the dark, in my sock feet sans boot, stepping on razor sharp edges of hickory nut shells which the squirrels constantly drop from the tress, littering the path. I go to the kitchen door and stand in the carport MURPHY! MURPHY! and the damn cat scoots out the door and under the car.
I do not have my boot on and I’ve had no coffee. I’d intended to get a cup of coffee and then get ready for the day. Now I don’t have time to get my boot on because if the damn cat gets under the deck the story is over and I’ll be crawling in rainy drizzly cold wetness in the dark where snakes might live and that’s going to happen exactly: never. I try to peer under the car to see if I can grab her, but I can’t see anything. Oh, wait, it’s FIVE EFFING O-DARK-THIRTY IN THE MORNING and it’s pitch black outside in the dark rainy morning in which I’ve had no coffee. Plus I can’t bend all the way over because then my forefoot bends *ouch* so I’m kind of hunched like some crabby old cat lady whispering dammit Chunk! I hobble back into the house and grab the broom, meanwhile trying to intimidate Mo enough that he won’t go near the open door, which is open in the useless hope the damn cat will run from under the car back in through the open door and into the house. Plus, intimidating Mo is like candy from a baby, there’s no need and it’s mean so now I feel bad.
I swipe the broom under the car and she scoots out … and directly around the corner to the front porch which is freeking dark as night because it IS night. I hobble after her in my sock feet on the pebbly surface of the carport *ouch* *ouch* *ouch*. I can’t see her on the black hole of a porch so I hobble back into the house and around to the front door and turn on the porch light. Scurrying like a crab I return to see the damn. cat. scoot back under the damn car.
!@!#$!!! &^%$!! *&(*&&^!!!! and @#$%!!! I mutter as I sling the broom under the car, swiping wildly. Where is the damn cat??
Oh, I see. There she is, so cute and fluffy, sitting in the kitchen doorway watching me attack nothing under the car.
“Whatcha doing, mom?”
Look at that sweet innocent face, taking good care of her baby to show me how it should be done.
Then I drove around the block twice trying to find the dog. I gave up and went home only to find Murphy right there in front of our house, peeing on the neighbor’s bushes. Tucked tail, ears down, he runs into the back yard and onto the deck. OH, look, here I am! Right where I should be!
I’m going to have to do something to use up some energy and calories so I can quit waking so early, forced to be responsible before I’ve had coffee. The exploding head would probably blow off some energy but it’s so much messier.