Suck Fest 2009

So by now everyone knows I fractured two toes. I have been forced to tell what happened pretty much every day since it happened. First it was the friends and family I called immediately after it happened and then its the trickling of co-workers as they notice me hobbling around campus.

I love how most people just assume that I was doing something fun and athletic like hiking or running. I hate breaking the news to them that I was simply walking to fast and bumped into the door.

What most people don't completely grasp is how horribly devastating this is for me. Just three weeks ago I got a kick in the butt from my scale and was back strong working out and eating well. I was running and doing yoga 2 days a week, lifting weight and really watching my food. I made a trip to the farmers market and bought a bunch of fresh fruits and vegetables and couldn't wait to eat them. I was so excited one night I planned to have squash, asparagus and spinach for dinner. I am quite positive that I lost a good 3 lbs in that kick start period.

So Sunday morning in the ER I lay in the hospital bed waiting for the doctor to tell me my x-ray results. Trying to be positive I told myself, "its only dislocated, I'll be better in a few days and back to my routine." Then when the doctor came in and broke the news to me, my demeanor completely changed. I began plotting what my next fattening meal would be. Why should I even try losing weight, I can't workout for a month. My plan was to go to McDonald's once I left the hospital and get a sausage biscuit and hash browns. Cooler heads prevailed and I instead did my regular Sunday morning Trader Joe's run and came home and had a sensible breakfast.

I was proud of me. I inspired myself. I was the shit! I could do this, broken toe or not!! I'm fucking hot and 40 damnnit!!

So I emailed my trainer to find out what I could do. I figured I could ride the bike, do upper body weights and eat super super healthy. I had this whole thing figured out. I began to fantasize about how hot I was gonna be in the next weeks. How I would get a gold star at my Weight Watchers meeting when I shared how I was determined to stay on track regardless of my current disability. I was unstoppable!

Monday I was a super star. Stayed within my daily points. Only ate really healthy food. Tuesday was the same but Tuesday I was excited. I didn't have class so now I could go to the gym. I went to the gym ready to go, visualizing the hot molten me that would emerge. I sat on the stationary bike and my heart dropped.

It literally dropped. I couldn't get my heart rate up to save my life. When I regularly work out, my heart rate is anywhere between 145 and 150. Anything below that I know I need to kick it up. I took that stupid bike to level 15. My legs were burning. I was going about 95 to 100 RPE and my heart rate would not get above 120. I was so hurt. Where was my endorphin rush? My joy diminished. I officially hated that gym.

Here we are on Friday and I haven't been back. Instead I drank and ate like a damn fool while watching the Laker game last night. I really have to get this together because I have 4 to 6 weeks of this and I can't afford to have my scale curse me out again.