I haven’t been getting to run on the treadmill this week.
Yes, I know, I know, at one time in my life – hell, for a good chunk of my life so far – I would have embraced any excuse that prevented me from exercising, especially running.
(As a total aside, one of my all time movie scenes is from The Big Easy, when Dennis Quaid gets his cop cousins to “arrest” Ellen Barkin while she’s out jogging and bring her to a family party. Ellen is in her jogging shorts and sports bra, all sweaty in the New Orleans humidity and his mother looks her up and down, drawling “did he get you out of the bathtub, sugar?” Ellen says, “No, I was running.” And the mother, played by New Orleans native, Grace Zabriskie, gives her this LOOK and repeats “Running.” It’s a brilliant moment, how much incomprehension and pity for the dumb yankee Grace packs into one word.)
At any rate, I messed up my back a teensy bit – I think I compressed my sacrum and pinched a nerve while sea kayaking on the Bioluminescent Bay (still totally worth it) – and my in-house physician (David) says it would be better for me not to run for a few days. I have to admit he’s right. Running usually loosens up my back, but after doing a very low-key run on Monday, my lower back tightened up so much I couldn’t bend over. Which, I’m pretty sure, is a Bad Sign.
(I was also instructed not to wear heels of any sort, but that’s just too painful to discuss.)
(I’m clearly feeling quite parenthetical today.)
So he’s been treating me and that helps a bunch. But it’s interesting to note how much I miss my morning workout. No running. No weight-lifting. It’s not like I’m ahead of schedule without it either. I get up at the same time, but apparently I just blog more slowly or something.
Maybe I can run tomorrow.