Ouch

January 25, 2010

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I have a back issue. At the ripe old age of 39 (for several more months thankyouverymuch) I have a degenerating disc between my L4 and L5 vertebrae. There is nothing surgically that can be done – it is a gift from the genetics fairy – but, as an added bonus, I have a fairly unstable and unsupported lower back that does benefit from a regular course of pilates.

For a couple of years I was pretty diligent about it. Although, once a year I’d fall off the exercise wagon and get lazy and, lo, there’d be a back blow out the likes of which are biblical in pain proportion. Almost three weeks ago I had yet another blow out. While sitting in my car at the grocery store as I was turning to look over my right shoulder to back out of the parking space. And it was spectacular.

There are many, many things that go into dealing with a back injury. No, I said that wrong . There are many, many humiliating things that go into dealing with a back injury. And these things (along with the sheer excrutiating pain) are now my permanent reminder that I will never, never stop going to pilates ever again.

But right now? I’d just like to get to physical therapy. Seriously. I’m so excited to go I can’t stand it. (Though I will tell you my pedicure is ATROCIOUS since I can’t really get around anywhere and doing it myself kind of isn’t an option right now. I hope they can forgive me for a week.) I’ve never looked so forward to exercise in my whole life. And I’ve now also realized that, thanks to the latest food information, I’m also really quite motivated to raise the bar a bit on my health level. I’ve declared 2010 The Year of Abs, Ass and Arms. Oh, and heart. I need to get some cardio work going up in here tout suite.

For those of you who have followed my mom’s story you know of her medical challenges. (She’s totally fine by the way and kicking much as in the research protocol she’s involved in.) Well, here’s one for you. At the age of 63 my 5-foot-one-half-inch, cancer-beating, chemo-taking, powerhouse of a mom is working out right alongside professional football players and RUNNING THE COMBINE. And holding her own.

WTF is MY excuse?!

Right.

You don’t get one either.

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