Today was supposed to be my day off.
Instead of forcing myself to sleep in (I call eight o’clock “sleeping in”), I was rudely awoken by my big girl cat and her symphony of noisiness. She was grabbing and scratching anything she could get her paws on in an all too successful effort to wake me up.
Shower shoes. *Scratch-scratch-scratch*
The clothes hamper. *Scratch-scratch-scratch*
A bra. *Scratch-scratch-scratch*
The extension cord. *Scratch-scratch-scratch*
Deciding that it wouldn’t be very much fun to potentially have my home burned down by a cat mauled wire, I swiftly sat up in bed and scolded her. End result: I woke up. It was barely 6 a.m.
Perhaps sleeping in was never meant to be. I had to drive my mother to an early morning appointment anyway, so I figured it was best that I went ahead and started getting dressed. Tucking Chi away in his carrier, I headed out into the overcast gloom of the day. It’s been amazingly autumnal here in the desert, which means dropping temps and dramatically decreased risk of death by heat stroke. I am all about it.
After the appointment, I was able to grab a breakfast burrito and a large iced latte on the way home. Ice lattes are life: Only for me, this is quite a literal statement, as I’m not entirely certain that my heart would continue beating without the steady stream of caffeine I supply it with. Scarfing down my food (and I do mean scarfing—I was famished by then), I settled into my favorite chair to watch a few shows on tv. Of course, it was hard to sit through more than an hour because I really don’t prefer to watch television. Before long, it was time to find something else to do.
As much as I had planned to laze about playing video games today, there was a pang of guilt whenever I thought of it. Though I haven’t allowed myself to take a day off in several weeks, it was hard to sit idly by while there were so many things that needed doing. Even after going over my CV in search of errors (One of the most annoying being a mind boggling misspelling of the word ‘specialty’—How did spellcheck let that one fall through the cracks??), I still felt unproductive.
I desperately wanted a chance to turn my mind off and do nothing in particular, yet I was anxious to tick things off of my to-do list. One “to-do” was something I’d been putting off for awhile now: exercise. In the back of my mind I knew I needed to make time to workout today. My “break” was starting to turn into a lunar year, and after my little stunt yesterday (eating a very delicious slice of carrot cake and an equally delicious Oreo waffle cone from Sonic on the same day), I knew it was time to get back in the trenches. And with the weather so wonderfully cool, I’d been wanting to spend more time outdoors.
That’s when it hit me: I should go outside and rollerblade.
Now, keep in mind, I haven’t strapped rollerblades to my feet since I lived in California. So, it’s been about six years now. But even then, it was a hot mess. Once upon a time I was a rollerblade champion—no lie. My skating was seriously better than my walking. Most of my free time was spent
playing mercilessly crushing the neighborhood boys in riotous games of roller hockey. Eventually, I traded interest in rollerblading for interest in the boys themselves (lol), and that was the end of that.
Years later, the desire to pick up rollerblading again struck me with a vengeance. After looking up a pair of adult sized rollerblades and sufficiently gagging at the price, I took to thrift stores in search for a decent pair. One day, my thrifting prayers were answered by a beat up $15 pair of Mongoose blades. To be honest, I’m not even sure they were adult size, but at least they fit. Boy, was I excited to test those babies out at the park! I was just certain that it’d be like riding a bike. Just strap ‘em on and go!
…Yeah, I went alright. I ate cement the very first time I tried them out. One minute I was cruising down the sidewalk. The very next minute, my front wheel got caught on the uneven pavement and down I went. It was humiliating—humiliating, I tell you! All the children—swinging like monkeys on the jungle gym, mind you—were laughing at me.
Okay, so they actually weren’t. In fact, they probably didn’t even notice the “oversized child” (I’m that short) shrieking as she face planted herself into the walkway. BUT I feel as though they should have laughed at my misfortune because I totally would have as a child. I was the worst.
Never, ever, ever did I think I’d see the day that rollerblades were my nemesis. Look at them. Don’t they look positively evil? 👹
There was a definite dryness in my mouth and soul crushing fear in my heart as I pulled these wretched things from my closet. What if I fell again? What if I sprained my ankle? What if a neighbor heard me squeal as I went rolling into the bushes? What if I scraped the skin off my palms and knees? What if my real life became a scene from those medical alert commercials I accidentally laugh at from time to time? “Help! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!”
It’s no big deal, I thought to myself as I struggled to push a socked foot into the first rollerblade. You were good at this once, so you can be good again. It’ll be easy. Just avoid the cracks in the pavement. Don’t worry. Hmm. Famous last words. I should have known this was going to be a disaster when it took me five minutes to wrestle the stupid things onto my feet. Then I couldn’t stand up from the chair, so I slid onto the floor like some spineless blob. Then, I still couldn’t stand up! You should have seen me. Arms and legs splayed in all directions like a starfish. Hardly ladylike.
Somehow, someway, I was able to clutch onto the armchair for dear life and drag myself upright. Wobbly and knock-kneed, I rotated my arms like propellers in hopes of catching enough air to roll myself towards the patio door. Everything about the situation screamed, “ABORT! ABORT!” But did I listen? No. I proceeded to head to the backyard with the ridiculous notion that I’d be okay rollerblading in the backyard because then I’d be able to flail and fall in private. How encouraging.
It would be a miracle if I was out there ten minutes. First of all, the back patio does not have enough unobstructed pavement to be turning it into a roller rink for the rollerblading impaired. Whenever I wasn’t timidly clinging onto the sides of the house like a clam to a pier, I was narrowly avoiding collisions with an inconveniently placed wind chime, table, or bbq grill.
Besides that, my lower back started to hurt like no one’s business. I could scarcely roll a foot or two before doubling over in excruciating pain. Truth be told, I’ve had back problems since childhood, but it’s never been an issue while skating, so I was quite shocked. I tried to “roll through the pain”, but my back eventually got the better of me, sending me hobbling and bobbling back into the house with my tail tucked between my legs.
Dissatisfied with my attempt, I hopped on the treadmill for awhile before spending the remainder of the hour pummeling the reflex bag. It’s been about nine or ten months since I was last able to use the reflex bag, so it was nice to have it back in working order again.
You see, the adjustment knob came up missing shortly after I moved in, rendering it unusable. It’s so peculiar because I know it was in the gym before the man came to put the treadmill back together. I saw it the morning he came, but never saw it again once he left. I’m fully convinced that he picked it up and used it to assemble the treadmill (which would NOT be right), but I don’t have proof of this, so it’s not as though I’m pointing fingers or anything…
👉🏽👉🏽👉🏽 He totally did it.👈🏽👈🏽👈🏽
Luckily (or embarrassingly—you tell me), I’ve watched every single (original series) MacGyver episode at least twice, so I was able to poke around in my tool box and shove a completely unrelated adjustment knob into the screw hole. It worked! Now I can take all of my frustrations out on a purely innocent bulb of questionable material (What is in those things?).
All in all, I had a pretty interesting day. I’m still hunched over and grimacing from the sharp pain that periodically emanates from my lower back, BUT on the upside, I’m back on the workout wagon.
And for the record, I didn’t fall. Great success!
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