Negative, Ghost Rider, the pattern is full.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Three weeks ago I sat down and wrote a really awesome, well-thought out (and I like to think inspirational) blog. I then spent a week successfully navigating my mission with fantastic results.
Sunday two weeks ago - I crashed. Total engine failure. Mechanical in nature. I was reaching down to pull up my big girl pants that morning and my back decided to go on strike. I felt a hideous pain in my lower spine and held myself up on the bathroom counter as my legs took a quick coffee break. Reserve forces were scrambled as I headed for maintenance on the living room floor.
I spent the following week working half my scheduled hours, icing and heating, and trying to convince my ground crew that they really are capable of things like emptying and filling the dishwasher and watering the cats. The mechanic called it a strained muscle. Mucho ibuprofen. Muscle relaxer at bedtime. Rest.
Rest? Never mind that whole single mom, full time employee, full time student with a research proposal to finish by the end of the month thing. What is this mystical rest of which you speak?
A week ago, the pain had wandered its way to the right side of my lower back and spread to my hip (you might remember said hip from many fabulous blogs 2 years ago). Along with the hip flare-up came radiating pain down my leg which really no positioning makes more comfortable. What fun! Mechanic says strained back and hip muscle. Mucho ibuprofen. Muscle relaxer at bedtime. Physical therapy. Rest.
In the mean time, my mission was grounded. Called on account of rain. Loss of funding. As I wallowed in self-pity I medicated with Doritos and Diet Pepsi. Taco Bell. Chocolate bars. Sloth. No, not cooked fuzzy sloth, the kind that finds you laying in front of the tv at every possible opportunity.
But as the scale begins to laugh at me again, my chins shift unnaturally, and my equator grows ever wider, I realize the need to re-commit myself to the mission statements I made three weeks ago. Counting calories hurts no more than not counting them. I have my mechanic's permission to take easy test flights, though no Leslie right now.
So as the Spark goal calendar ticks over to a new week, so, too, do I. Let's go strafe the tower.