Sungold, Superathlete

Jock kitteh from I Can Has Cheezburger?

So I’ve decided I need to take a yoga class to help deal with some of my remaining symptoms – the fatigue and freaky muscle tension. My university’s employee gym offers yoga classes for a very affordable membership price. This morning I hauled my sedentary butt to the gym for their mandatory pre-membership fitness test. Luckily the testing didn’t include that nasty ritual humiliation, pull ups, which I couldn’t even do as a kid. I just had to let my fat be calipered, take a pulmonary function test, and ride a stationary bike. All easy peasy.

But then I collided with something I hadn’t done since 1979: push-ups. Seriously. It’s been 30 years. I was asked to do a minute’s worth of push-ups, followed by another minute of crunches. All I could think was: You’ve got to be fucking kidding. Of course, that’s not what I said to the nice young exercise physiologist. Instead, I warned her that I might not be able to do a single push-up. Humiliation predicted is humiliation half-averted.

And then – to my amazement and amusement – the Sloth God intervened, or maybe just sheer cussedness. I did 34 push ups (yes, girly ones, but still!) and 36 crunches. When I got my fitness assessment, both of those measures came back as “excellent.” Cardiovascular fitness was “good,” despite being sick all winter. Lung function, cholesterol, BMI – all fabulous. On paper you’d mistake me for a jock. Except for the minor fact that I haven’t exercised since last fall, and even then it was only my seven-minute bike ride to work.

So why does this super-athlete want to curl up in the corner like a pair of stinky old socks? I am beyond kaput – too tired to grade, too tired to blog intelligently. I managed to get a sunburn today while collecting take-home exams, and I’m fried inside and out.

Don’t worry if blogging is a bit slow the next few days. Once I’ve recovered from my athletic feats, I’ve got to tackle end-of-quarter grading. I promise I’m still basically on the path to recovery – even if I’m not quite ready to give Mia Hamm a run for it. (Yeah, I know she’s old by now, but so am I!)

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