Wild Card Friday

Last night my lower back started to spasm a little, probably because it was unhappy sitting under the damp cold canopy of the Boy Scout arts and craft center at Durland Scout Reservation. Maybe it was the hard wooden benches. This morning, my upper back felt stiff as well. It's the last day of Boy Scout camp for both my son and husband, and thankgoodness the sun is already blistering. Steam seems to be rising from the wet grass and shrubs. I have a few things to do before I head to the gym, like finding out why I have an appt with a doctor I don't know. An message left on the answering machine tells me I have an appt this coming Monday so I call to find out why.

Ah, someone's made a mistake and put me in for an appointment with an internist, not my gynecologist. I ask if this is suppose to be a regular checkup because I don't quite remember, and she tells me it's a 6-mos breast exam. This is getting ridiculous. I'm a miniscule 36AAA and every mammogram I've ever had has been negative. I've been forced to undergo a biopsy because I have "dense" breast tissue and that was of course, negative. Now my annual mammograms are accompanied by ultrasound images. Even the nurses in the radiology department agree that I have an extremely low to non-existent risk. I promptly cancel the appointment.

I blame this on the Corporate Conglomerate that's inhaled most of the independent practices in my area. Because they're so large, mistakes in billing, appointments and who knows what else, seem to happen regularly. I'm unhappy that my Ob/Gyn and eye doc are part of this cabal. Luckily, my son's pediatrician and my internist aren't. 

I toy with the idea of doing another double cardio day. It would be the 3rd consecutive one this week. My lower back feels ok and my pinky toe is only slightly tingly so I punch in Interval 7 and peddle away. I've created an abbreviated playlist of only five songs (Angel with a Shotgun [The Cab], Knockout [Project Dirty], Hall of Fame [The Script], The Fighter [Gym Class Heroes], Set A Fire (Ryan Star], Now or Never [Outasight]) and I'm happy listening to this for my entire workout.

Doing well for my first session inspires me to punch in a second session. Most of the time I'm cruising at 190 Strides Per Minute (SPM) but I'm able to rev up to 300 SPMs for several seconds, then drop down to 188-195 for a few minutes, then kick up again. ZZ is peddling on a stationery bike in front of me. I see him glance back at me when I kick up the speed, my legs all but a blur. I don't like stationery bikes because I can't imagine sitting on my butt for 35 minutes at a clip (ouch!), and I don't feel as if it's honest cardio work because you're not actually moving or supporting your own body weight. I'm really happy with my mileage today so now I'm wondering what else to do. Abs is my filler exercise so I knock out a 100 sit ups on the flat bench, and another 100 crunches on the Ab Station before deciding what to do next.

I see Mo and chat with her for a few minutes. She's taking her old dog's passing very hard and I tell her that I understand completely. I had a special dog like that who was a part of my life for all the major events. And when she died, it was as if a hole opened up in the universe and sucked out all the light because the house was suddenly, unbearably quiet. The subsequent failure of the next two dogs in our house to replace my Best Dog was probably what lead me to have my son. Because I'd never thought about having a child before. And then he was born. Funny how things work out.

The Cage Stretch and kicks feel normal. I take the Mat Stretch slowly but everything feels normal so I do my entire routine. The gym is full of regulars like The Mayor, Nixon, ZZ, Skinny J, even the large couple who were here yesterday, she still on crutches. I'm surprised to see R because he's not usually here on Fridays until late. My clothes are drenched so I toss most of my gear back into the locker, fish out some band-aids and tape up my right hand. Today I leave my iPod and headphones on because I can't really hear the Nexersys anyway.

I start out with the Avatar Follow Me, Beginner Female and do 3 rounds. I'm getting better at this because my power is 110%, I've landed most of my combinations, managed to follow directions better and I'm not tired when it's over. Then I do 3 rounds of Avatar Sparring, Beginner Female. I don't actually remember to snap any photos until this ends. I'm also getting a bit better at this, noting that as I tire, my punching becomes more erratic and I sound the warning buzzer (You are Punching Too Hard) with more frequency. Still, I'm pleased with my 6 total rounds and head off to a nice hot shower afterwards.

The band-aids worked because my knuckles seem intact. The gym scale reads 107.6 and I'm a bit puzzled by that low reading. At home, my scale reads 106.0 lbs and gives me the surprise BF reading of 18.9%. I've never been able to dip below 19% until now, and this might just be a fluke reading. On the other hand, perhaps doing extra cardio is finally having the desired effect. I tally up my miles this week and it's a tad over 33. I'm happy.

Wild Card Workout:
35 min Interval 7 = 4.67 miles + 35 min Hill 6 = 3.97 miles  Grand Total = 8.64 miles Wahoo!
Flat Bench Twisting Sit Ups: 100
Ab Crunch Station: 100
Cage Stretch with BW Heel Dips and Side Kicks
Mat Stretch: I'm still babying my sciatica and lower back so again I don't roll forward on the horizontal split but all my other stretches feel normal.

Now all I have to worry about is filling the ghastly orange urine container this weekend with 24 hours worth, and bringing it back to the doc on Monday. It's way to big to be carting all over the place so I'm not doing this tomorrow.

We have plans for opening day at the NY Renaissance Faire, rain or shine. A few glasses of mead and maybe a pulled pork sandwich and I'll be happy, although I don't think anything compares to the sandwiches I've been packing for Cub Scout camp: ciabatta roll stuffed with smoked pulled pork, cheddar cheese, jalapeno jelly, bread & butter pickles, hot pressed in my old Toastmaster Sandwich Press. My husband calls it a faux Cubano. I don't care. It's Yum!