Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Working It Out . . .

Normally when I make a large decision, I study the pros and cons, I weigh the costs, and I research as much information as I can before deciding which alternative is the most appropriate.  But, two weeks ago, I thought it would be better to just dive right into this one before I could talk myself out of it . . .

I renewed my gym membership and immediately charged $1000 worth of personal trainer sessions on my credit card.  Now, those that know me best would be shocked to hear that I did this for a few reasons:  1.) I am a huge cheapskate and would never think about making such a large purchase without more forethought, 2.) Exercise has got to be in the Top 3 list of things I hate to do in this world, and 3.) I really dislike sweating.

But, since I started feeling better last month, I quickly realized that while my foot felt better, my overall health and stamina was still less than stellar.  Plus, with less than four months until the next surgery, I realized that I need to lose some serious weight and to strengthen my upper body in preparation for crutches again.  So, with such a hefty goal to achieve and a small window to achieve it in, I figured I needed a professional to help mold and shape me (literally).

What was most amusing during the sales pitch was the series of questions I was asked so that I could be matched with "my perfect trainer".  It went a little something like this:

"How long ago did you have surgery?"
"5 months ago."
"How long can you stand?"
"Comfortably?  About 20 minutes."
"Can you run yet?"
"Uh, no."
"Can you do any high impact?"
"No, I can't do any running or jumping yet."
"Can you do stairs?"
"Well, yes, but I am pretty slow; I wouldn't exactly classify that as a calorie burning activity."
"OK, we're gonna work on your upper body!"

So, after two weeks of being paired with Andrew, all he does is yell, "Crutches ain't got nothing on you!" to keep me motivated.  It's quite funny, actually!  He is determined to get me strong enough for the next surgery and to drop the poundage.  So far, he is succeeding; I am already down 7 pounds.  Although, today was a bit of a challenge as my foot was really swollen and stinging (um yeah, I am thinking it may be a stress fracture or another new ailment) . . . he ordered me to call the doctor tomorrow.  Let's hope the doc proves me wrong; I've got a vacation coming on Friday that includes hiking and biking in the mountain air!

Sunday, June 27, 2010

The Pursuit Continues . . .

This is my newest and most expensive shoe purchase . . . tragic, isn't it?  These little ladies don't have any glittery sparkle or faux jewels, no peep toes to show off my lovely french pedicure, or even a colorful fabric bow!  After three weeks of desperately searching all over Manhattan for a decent (and affordable) pair of athletic shoes--accompanied by a bucket of tears from a multitude of painful attempts at shoving the swollen "ham hock" into shoe after shoe after shoe--I finally resorted to an online search for a shoe store that could offer custom fittings.

I finally found the Running Company today and visited their East Side store.  After explaining to them all the procedures that I have had, how much artificial hardware is now co-existing alongside my bone structure, and how my left foot is an entirely different size than my right foot, I had managed to get an active audience out of nearly the entire store's staff.  There were a lot of ooh's and aah's (and "Wows!"). . . what can I say?  I'm a small-time celebrity these days (or more simply said:  an aspiring carnie).

After all that, we tried on a few pairs before settling on this bright blue pair (OK, granted the grey trim creates a nice complement to the jewel tone).  One hundred thirty dollars later and I am the proud owner of a pair of running shoes that I can actually fit my foot into . . . not a pair that I truly wanted or that is comfortable for that matter (there's never really been such a thing as a comfortable pair of shoes in my lifetime, just varying degrees of discomfort.)

Sadly, the pursuit of pretty (and comfortable) shoes continues . . .