It's, sing it with me now, A Whole Neeeewwwww Woooooorrrrlllld
Seriously, it was super weird to not have anywhere in particular to be today. Even better is my girl child was barfing her brains out last night and had to stay home today and I didn't have to call in! I mean, that's not a good thing (believe me, she's a shitty barfer just like her youngest brother), but you get my drift. The last time this stupid stomach thing went around our house I had to leave work early one day to pick her vomiting self up from school and call off sick the next day when she spewed all over the kitchen floor. Calling in makes me feel terrible. It probably shouldn't, because shit happens, but it feels like failure. And since I'm the type who will go to work unless I'm bleeding from the neck, I've been on the receiving end of lots of sick calls. They make me feel everything from sympathy to deep panic depending on the situation and I never want to make anyone feel that way.
So I am pretty happy to be back at the hospital. There's things I'd forgotten that came rushing back (in a good way), I learned some stuff about the new technology, and I got my computer access so I can be useful while I learn on the job. The only thing that sucked about this last week was this fucking awful cold/plague thing that I've been fighting since Sunday. I feel better today, and I'm only lightly drugged, but I still can't draw a full deep breath without feeling gurgling in my chest. Combined with a couple of sleepless nights and barf catching? Makes me a hot mess.
I went to the box this morning to do the final Open workout. After last week's superfantastic awesome fitness extravaganza (seriously, I worked out at least once every day) this week was more like supersucktastic shitty lifeless blob seminar. I was barely making it through the day most of the week and coughing like a fucking emphysematic octagenarian. I was so high on cold medicine that I began to feel slightly detached from reality. Sort of like my head was stuffed full of wool. To make a long painful story short? I finished the WOD, but it was a bloodbath. I hyperventilated. I cried. I felt alternately like I was going to puke or pass out or both. I more or less showed the weakest, shittiest side of myself to my fellow CrossFitters. And yet, oddly, they didn't run away screaming. In fact, they stayed and talked me through it, cheered me on, assured me I could do it, and then made sure I did. It took me more than 47 minutes to complete a WOD that others did in 20 minutes, or 15 minutes...or 10. I would run a marathon tomorrow if it meant I never had to do that WOD again.
Runners often say that running is the only sport where the cheers are the loudest for those that finish last. That isn't true. CrossFitters will gather around the last man or woman standing and cheer until they're done. They will do extra squats or burpees so that person isn't doing it alone. It's a powerful thing.
On to the menu!
Such as it is, since I didn't photograph everything and most of it is pretty damn boring as we need to go to the grocery store so I was mostly just eating whatever was around.
Lunch today. Damn I want those pickled carrots!! Next time.
Morning snack today
Afternoon snack today. Chestnuts, not scallops!
Cafeteria dinner Thursday. Why are mixed vegetables always so shitty?
Dinner tonight. Carne asada with guac and some fresh fruit.
We actually had avocados in the house that all came ripe at exactly the same time on the day we wanted to use them!! I need to go buy a lottery ticket ASAP. I swear I took a picture of my breakfast yesterday, but there is nothing in my phone. I had eggs, coffee, and blackberries. I might make myself a shamrock shake tonight with the lone remaining avocado. Even if I just put it in the freezer for later. Otherwise that whore thing will turn by 8pm tonight and be totally useless.
I am not an emotional person by nature. Dramatic, yes. Emotional? No. In fact I am often accused of being cold, distant, and overly analytical. That's sort of my baseline. For some reason it's athletics that make me emotional. During a Ragnar two years ago I was approaching the end of a very hard leg and the song I ran my first ever for-real-no-stopping mile to popped up on my playlist. And I cried like a child. Last year during the Open I shed my first tears at CrossFit, and this year I've shed a few more. Maybe when my heart rate gets above 85 I can't keep my shit together anymore? Aside from my husband I think the people I run with and the people I lift with have seen a wider range of emotion from me than my family of origin. I didn't even cry when my kids were born. I'm probably just defective.
I really wish I could breath through my nose.