OUCH!

So, now I'm on this stupid elliptical machine for 95% of my life. I'm determine to just smile sweetly at my trainer, from now on. No more whining. No more sarcasm. No more extra sit ups due to my "bad attitude". Whatever.

I'm sticking to my diet, and exercises routine. I've hardly strayed. (Hardly) And it shows. My midsection has mostly disappeared. My arms jiggle less. My legs look strong. I'm happy. I'm also looking forward to a break. There is a three day weekend coming up, and that means that it's mini vacation time! PLUS since it's a short week, that means that I get to miss out on one workout session....and not get in trouble for it! It's a win-win.

So, on Friday, I have a little zip in my step. (unbeknownst to my trainer, I'm going to a big BBQ on Sunday! I've been doing so good on my diet, that I've already decided that I am going to eat and drink whatever I want to on Sunday. Damn the consequences! I want some spare ribs and corn on the cob!) So, all that stand between me and gluttony is this last workout session.

I hop off the elliptical machine, and head over to the light weights. Tyrese stops me, and says, "Nope, we're doing something different today."

GULP!

He leads me to the weight room. THE WEIGHT ROOM. The room where all the guys hang out and sweat to music. The room that smells like sweat, farts, and sneakers. (ugh!) The room where you really need to know what you are doing, because everyone will be watching you.

Thinking of this, give me heartburn.

We head to the leg press. You lay on this contraption, and lift a bar and weights with your legs. Sounds easy, right? Maybe fun?
Not so much.

I wrangle myself into position. (I sneak a peek at my crotch to make sure that my pants haven't split. Good news.) Tyrese puts the weights on the bar, and tells me to slowly lift it up, using only the balls of my feet.

It's heavy.

It makes me feel like I have to fart. (Great, now I have to worry about crapping my pants in addition to not letting these weight crash into me. Damn you, protein drink!!)

He tells me to do 15 reps. I pump them out, the last few were done very slowly. I start to climb out of the machine, and Tyrese stops me.

"Um...going somewhere? You still have 4 more sets"

Dammit.

I slowly pump my legs up, completing the sets. And holding in the fart. My legs are shaking from doing both at the same time.

Again, I start to roll out of the torture device.

Again, he stops me.

AARRGGG!

He tells me to reposition my feet, this time lifting the weights with my heels.

THIS BURNS.

I can't hold the fart in and cry, so I give up and silently squeak the fart out.

I finish four more sets of this torture.

Again, I reposition my feet, and do 5 more sets. And 5 more. And 5 more. I've been on my back for almost a whole hour. (actually, this is probably the most time I've spent on my back this whole month. **wink**Ask Mr. Hummingbird.**wink** )

When Tyrese finally lets me up, I'm near death. (At least, that's how I feel.) I whimper on the treadmill for my cool down. Tyrese follows, and says,"You did an extra hard session today, since you will not be in until Wednesday. Good job."

I wanted to shank him.

I mutter a goodbye, and leave. I'm happy that I won't be back for a few days. And happy because I'm also thinking of corn on the cob. *sigh*

The next morning, I can't get up. At first, I just think that I just must be extra tired. I roll my body out of the bed, and crumple straight to the floor.

WTH?

My legs don't work. At all.

I crawl to the bathtub, and put the hottest water that I can stand. I soak in it for 45 minutes. My legs feel a little better, but I still cannot walk unassisted. I make myself walk as much as I can, hoping to loosen my legs. The backs of my legs are still as tight as ever. I rub Ben-Gay on them. I rub Icy-Hot. I soak in the tub again. I take a fistful of aspirin. Nothing seems to help. The rest of my day is just as miserable.

Sunday comes, and I still cannot walk. I have to cancel on the BBQ. (wah!) I'm starting to think that somehow, I did some real damage. Somehow, I pulled something important or at least ripped something important. I make Mr. Hummingbird go out and get me set of crutches. ($24) So, now my legs and my armpits hurt.
Perfect.
Once the idea is planted in my head, my body starts to fall apart. I imagine that I tore my ACL. (even though it's the back of my legs that hurt, this is still plausible in my mind.) I imagine that I pulled my hamstring. (a little bit more logical) I imagine that I have some sort of stress fracture from that damn elliptical machine. I take another fistful of painkillers, (if you are a cop or are married to a cop, I allegedly took those painkillers. Allegedly.) and try to decide what to do. It has been close to 48 hours since I was last able to walk. And my mind is working overtime. I decide to head to the ER. ($50)
After waiting in the lobby for three hours, I realize that I chose poorly. No one was taking me seriously. I gimped around on my crutches, among people who had serious injuries. No wonder no one took me seriously. When I finally got in with the doctor, let's call him Dr. Asshat, he quickly dismissed my injury. Dr. Asshat told me to have a glass of wine and take some asprin. WTH? REALLY?
I'm so glad that Dr. Asshat wasn't seeing me for any serious injuires. I limped home in the wee hours of the morning.
I awoke Monday extra groggy. I heaved my body out of bed, ignoring the pain. I walked up and down my hallway for an hour. With each step, my leg was loosening up. As soon as I sat down for more than 15 minutes, it would tighten back up. Again, I walked up and down my hallway, just to get to where I was before. That's all I did, all day. I only sat down for less than 10 minutes at a time. And again, I allegedly took a fistful of pain meds.
Tuesday morning was rough, but easier than the last three days. I didn't use the crutches today. (my armpits just couldn't take it anymore) I walked around (slowly). I saw my regular doctor ($10) who took xrays. Since I didn't need the crutches anymore, my doctor just told me that it was probably nothing. His nurse called me later in the day, to confirm that the test all pointed to "nothing".
Wednesday at the gym, Tyrese asked me how my weekend was.
I told him, glaring at him. I didn't leave out anything. I spewed pure hatred.
"huh, that's too bad. Why didn't you call me?"
Long weekend. I was doubtful that I would be able to get ahold of him.
"I would have told you to pedal on the recumbent bike for 10 minutes, and that would have loosened you right up. Next time, just hop on the bike."

AAARRRRRGGGGGGGG!!!!!!

I glared at him, and silently cursed him and his future children.