Last Saturday, Nashville hosted the Country Music Marathon and half-marathon. I’d planned to have a marathon of my own to catch up on my backlog of reading. Instead, I went to a street fair on Saturday and did yard work yesterday, as my aching body will attest.
Hubby suggested a bike ride first thing Sunday morning, which I thought was a bad idea with all of the new roofs going up in the neighborhood. New roofs equal random nails, equal flat tires in my book, but I couldn’t convince him. Following our ride we had four intact tires, so I missed the call on that one.
After one loop through the subdivision, detouring into each and every cul-de-sac (bet you already guessed I wasn’t the lead bike), we got close enough to our house that I made a break for it. My thighs were burning and my bottom ached. Now, I tap dance about six hours a week so you’d think my legs wouldn’t hurt after a little bike ride, but they screamed with pain.
When I said that was it for me, Hubby stowed the bikes and decided to wash and wax my car. I fled inside, did some housework and prepared lunch. Okay, I moved the bread to the island, got the mayo and mustard and some ham from the fridge and put it on the counter, but it was lunch. Oh, and I found some chips too.
After lunch, Mr. Energy said he was going to work in the yard. My intention had been to make a dent in the hundreds, now thousands, of blogs I’m behind in reading, but I was overcome with guilt and meandered outside to help.
I found my work gloves, which he’d gotten dirty when he couldn’t find his. I’d had them for years and they still looked like new, but that’s another story. We decided to pull up some bushes—he shoveled up the roots and I pulled. Then, I trimmed the dead parts off of several stands of monkey grass as I thinned it. We put out what mulch we had on hand—only a few bags.
While he was gone to get more mulch I got cleaned up. Mulch is too heavy for me to pick up and reasoned if I’d already showered he wouldn’t expect me to help. Heck, he was surprised when I helped in the first place. The yard is his domain. I stick to potted plants and window boxes which, if I’m completely honest, he plants for me more often than not. I do water (unless I can tell he’s beaten me to it which is about 80% of the time).
This morning I was so sore I could barely roll over to get out of bed. Everything hurts. Everything. I finally found the floor, did enough stretches to function, and crawled up the stairs to write my blog post though even my fingers are sore. I said everything! I brought an ice pack with me and now I’ve moved to heat.
I’ve got to loosen my body up before tap class in a few hours. Only twelve studio rehearsals before our recital!
Any ideas?
~Kay
