Lots has been going on around here, yet nothing has been going on around here. How is it that so little can happen when so much is going on? Baffling, I say. Baffling. There's so much I need to tell you all!
I need to tell you all that my job is crazy time-consuming right now, but that I love it. Which means I need to tell you that I'm embarrassed to admit that I love a job that has to do with taxes. This would then lead into me telling you that my job is a really a problem-solving job that involves taxes as opposed to a tax job that has a few problems to solve on the side. See, there's a huge difference between a problem-solving tax-time job and tax-time problem-solving job. It's like having ice cream with just a little chocolate syrup as opposed to dish of chocolate syrup with only a dollop of ice cream.
I just totally compared my tax job to ice cream. Wow.
I have lots to say. Eventually, I want to document the nitty gritty details of the Houston Marathon. It was a great experience and I want to make sure I remember it. Today (tonight, actually) I don't have the gumption and/or drive to write it up, so the entire documentation of said Houston Marathon will need to wait.
What will not wait, however, is a full-on recap of something that happened a few weeks before the marathon, and how I was riding that dreaded teeter-totter o' injury. (It's March now, so we'll spice up the internet with an obnoxious display of o'thises and o'thats.)
Two weeks before marathon day, I developed a calf-strain. It was a day just like today, only it was a stressful day. We had made a huge purchase and I was having buckets o' stress about this purchase. (See... I need to tell you about this purchase too!) I jumped up to go grab something, when out of nowhere, a giant shark bit my calf! It was an inner-shark really, more like a calf knot shark that went on strike and yelled "NO MORE." That calf bite stopped me in my tracks. I was on the couch for a day or two.
I'm prone to calf issues. I try to frequent a deep tissue massage at least once a month to keep the calf issues to a minimum. But as luck would have it, I was stressed, the body was feeling "off", and the calf-shark decided to bite.
Now, remember up above? Where I said I was already stressed? With buckets o' stress? Yes, I was stressed, and having a calf strain two weeks before a marathon adds oceans o' stress... or at least an English Channel o'stress.
So what did I do? Did I panic and cry and complain? Yes, but just a little bit. After I had thrown a minor pity-party, I brought out my big-gun injury treatment procedures and began to relax. What are these big-gun treatments o' injury procedures? Here they are... in x amount of steps. (Where x is the number that I end up with when I'm finished.)
Step One: Don't panic. Panic does not help the body recover. Relax, grab some movies, sit around and chill. And I do mean chill. No cross-training, no nothing. Chill. And if it's March then o' chill. (After a few days of chill, then you can start the cross-training.)
Step Two: Send blood to the injury. This involves going to the freezer for that blood you set aside a few weeks back – you know, that blood you were hoping to inject for extra umph a few days before the day o' the race – and injecting that blood directly into the site o' the injury.
Totally kidding, of course. Like I have syringes and whatnot at my disposal for doing stuff like this. As if.
For reals, though, send some blood to the injury. Injury treatment is all about tricking the body. You need to trick that body of yours into sending all the blood it can to the injured area. The more blood in the area, the quicker the body will heal. Some people say this can be accomplished with some metaphysical bull-honkey – you know, where you imagine little tiny blood-cell men, marching straight to the injury with swords, salves and syringes. But this is not the trickery I mean. The trickery I'm talking about is temperature shock. That is, get the area as hot as you can stand it, then get it as cold as you can stand it.
On the first day o' injury, apply cold. Do not apply heat. After a day or two, switch it up with some hot-cold-hot-cold action, and make sure you listen to that Katy Perry hot then yer cold, PMSing like a bee-otch tune while you do it. (Note: Always, always, ALWAYS, end on cold. I don't know why, I just always do. ALWAYS.)
The calfs and ankles are my spots o' trouble. Therefore, you'll find me doing the hot-cold-hot-cold ritual the minute I feel something isn't right. For example, during the last couple of days, my left calf has been acting up. And when the calf acts up, it pulls on the achilles. The achilles is not something you mess with, like, ever, so the minute I full an uncomfortable o' yankery, the feet and calves go a soaking.
Usually, I fill one side of my sink with water o' hot-as-hades, and dump a bag of ice with cold water in the other. Then I soak in the hot for 5-10 minutes, switch it to ice-bath for 5-10 and repeat – always, always, ALWAYS ending on cold. (Just trust me on the ALWAYS part, it works.)
Here's the cool part about this little ritual o' mine: after you finish, you can feel all sorts of extra blood pumping it's way to the injury. That area has been shocked with temperature, and the body panics by sending blood. It's totally terrific. You should try it some time. If you're lucky like me, you can get a Yahoo to join. And if you're really lucky, he'll protect you with a fully-automatic lego-assault rifle.
Step Two Point Five: Sterilize the sink.
Step Three: Take some ibuprofen. For ibuprofen is the nectar of the gods. And if you believe in only one God, it's proof that He loves us.
Step Four: Find a way to laugh. It ain't the end of the world and it will get better. In the mean time, lighten up and make fun of something, like yourself. For laughter will forever (and ever and ever) be the best of medicines.
Step Five: If you can't find anything to laugh at, get yourself a pound cake and a jar of Nutella.