This post is lonely. So lonely. Hungering for some juicy stats. A route. Some mileage. Just one measly time. And the music – where has all the music gone?
Dang. They still hurt.
So after two sessions of pinching, squeezing, and other tactics better left to measuring the ripeness of fruit (that, last time I checked, doesn’t have nerve endings), I am Still. Not. Better.*
I’m trying to be good about it. Take this time to write more, call old friends, try new recipes (you know, new hot dishes from Whole Foods). But, I’m getting restless. And hoping this will soon end. And growing nervous that I’ll be weak and unconditioned for game day.
Time is all I need. Time and patience. Time, patience and pointy, three-inch patent leather Manolo Blahnik Mary Janes. (Black. Size 8.5.) I’m just saying. In case anyone
with deep pockets wants to cheer me up.
Jayla is doing really well. She is working on sitting up and has started eating some solid foods. She was fitted for her first pair of braces so she’ll be off and running in no time. One piece of advice for Miss Jayla: start slow, you don’t want to end up like me!
[*Side Note: I totally recommend The Boston Bodyworker for your sports injuries/aches and pains – the massages are totally loosening up my muscles. We’re just not there yet.]