New Week, New Posts, & Some Realizations

Where does the time go?? I just recently asked how I could get five more hours in between about 5 and 10pm. Wouldn’t you enjoy that? More time to work out, more time to stretch, more time to pole dance? Of course you want that! Make it happen, science!

Last week was a blur. A lazy blur. But, I’m back on the wagon. Getting those workouts in (using Fitocracy..it’s like dog shaming but with exercise), trying to write (see? Here I am!), and just generally being a cooler me. In order to be that cooler me, I have to realize and accept that waiting until Sunday to do things is the same as saying, eff it, I’m not gonna do it. I could be queen of the procrastination club if I could make it to meetings…maybe next week.

Remember Second Saturdays? Where I go get a massage? A deep tissue massage? I did at least do that. I have a lovely bruise on my ass to show for it. Hopefully, as I continue to stretch, things will continue to loosen up and I won’t be putting myself through this torture of trying to break up 5 year old scar tissue for nothing. My desire for deep tissue massage, oddly enough, goes along with why I shouldn’t partner stretch. In partner stretching, I’ll just do my best to keep relaxing into whatever stretch my partner is pushing me into (except splits) which ultimately leads to me over-stretching and not being able to walk for a couple days. Massage is the same. The masseuse is in there just digging away with her elbows and I just do my best to breathe through it. She’s the first person who has even come close to making me want to wave the white flag. Did I let her go too far? Possibly. I think she might have moved a rib, but that’s why I have a chiropractor. After she was done and we were chatting, she told me that she was starting to wonder if I was still alive because most people would have been crying out in pain when she was as deep as she was.  Yeah, well. I’m tough. Or stupid. Take your pick.

I have another post coming shortly after this one all about pole, hooray!  You’ll need to be familiar with Star Trek and the Borg, so get on over to Wikipedia and start studying so you’re not left out!

Speaking of pole, someone needs to get on the ball. A mere 3.5 weeks until the showcase and I’ve knocked out a staggering 30 seconds of my personal routine. And I still have another 90 seconds of the group routine to choreograph. I must be crazy. Yep, that’s a definite. I think the rest of this week will just fly on by in its usual inconsiderate way. And speaking of which still, I’m out of time. Grrrr.  Have a great day!!

QotD: Recess!

What was your favorite game to play at recess in grade school? 
Submitted by Elisheva Chana.

Ahh, recess.  That special time of day when, right after lunch, we were encouraged to go run around like maniacs.  I swear it's a miracle in and of itself that no one ever got sick, but I digress.

Back in the day, we played a game called Release.  I suppose it's just like Tag.  One person is "it" and tries to go around tagging people.  If you got tagged, you went to the "jail", which was a huge tree.  I honestly don't remember how you got to be "not it" anymore, but if someone who wasn't "it" got to the tree without getting tagged, he or she would scream "RELEASE!" at the top of his/her lungs and everyone in jail got to go run around some more.

At this moment, I stand about five foot one and weigh in at about 125 or so.  Then, I'm sure I was no more than four foot seven and nowhere near 100 pounds.  I was small for my age, but boy was I quick.  One particular afternoon during a rousing game of Release, I was running for the jail to release my buddies.  I suppose that I turned my head for a second to see if anyone was on my tail.  That split second caused me over a week of pain.  As I turned to look forward, directly in front of me, also not looking and running hard, was Christine Patterson.  Where I was small for my age, Christine was equally as tall for her age.  This is fifth grade I'm talking about here and the girl was already pushing 6 feet.  There wasn't enough time for either of us to stop or change direction and he result was a head-on collision.

Christine got off easy with the knee of her jeans ripped.  I, on the other hand, ended up with a bruised kneecap.  Don't think for a moment that a child doesn't know the meaning of excruciating pain, because I did.  For the rest of that day (and that week), I walked around with one leg straight because it hurt so bad to bend it.  The one time it was FORCED to bend was the day it happened on the bus ride home.  Our principal got on every bus to make sure everyone was okay.  My seatmate didn't understand what happened and thought I was just being a baby and took it upon herself to force my leg into a bent position.  I'm pretty sure I almost passed out.  I made it home though, and good ole Gram fixed it up for me.

Endnote:  No Release! for me for a little while after the incident.

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