I've been out sick for the past few days with a sinus infection. And I have to tell you that my brilliant self on the first two days thought maybe working out would help excrete things other than the gallons of sweat I already unload during each session. After two days of that I stayed in bed/couch for 3 consecutive days. Brilliance comes after a couple of setbacks. I learn, just not swiftly.
Today, on my first day to recovery, (I deem it that, even though no one from a medical background has had even a glimpse of me) I sauntered into the gym like I'd never left and grunted through 40 mins of stairs, 3.2 miles; and 40 mins of weight training. I went extra because my trainer was there training someone else, and I know it makes his skin crawl to see me doing so well without him. Neener, neener.
I then raced home, and since the word of the day is swift, I swiftly showered, dressed and went to, well, LUNCH. I had a brothy spinach and mushroom soup and blackened salmon on a salad.
After returning home I took one look at my, how do I say this nicely, Rubenesque dog. I know that sounds so wrong (you picture red lipstick on him don't you?) Okay he's fat. I'm thinking let's get the whole family in shape. I pull out the leash, change clothes and out the front door we go.
He's so excited, his Kim Kardashian butt is wagging and we're heading down the street. I have my trusty baseball bat perched upon my left shoulder, just begging for a stray dog to challenge me and lard-butt. I only smacked myself in the back of the head three times before realizing a safer position for the bat might be to rest at my side.
So we strolled along at a good pace until something I never saw coming -- happened; I fell. I have no idea what happened. I was walking along singing skip to the loo my darlin and suddenly I'm staring at pavement; and my knee, my knee is screaming. I feel compelled to mention at this point I may have had 1-3/4 glasses of wine at lunch, but I'm pretty sure there was some uneven pavement. My $150 distressed Calvin Klein jeans have got to be worth at least $200 now. And my knee with fresh road rash, has to be, well, priceless.
After a carefully thought-out stint on the ground, I rose with dignity and moved on. Lard-butt actually enjoyed the reprieve. You know your dog is out shape when he continues to stop at the door of any random car parked on the street with the hope in his eyes that you may open "said" door for him to climb into and drive home.
We made it through a 40 minute walk with no threats from terrorist dogs, or UPS trucks (Lard-butt loves to chase UPS trucks - not sure what they ever did to him). I'm home now and I can't quit thinking about that Brooke Shields commercial from the 70s or 80s. "Nothing comes between me and my Calvin Kleins." I got news for ya. They break quicker than a condom.
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