Another day, another injury. This time, I hurt my leg (my left, always the left) going down an escalator.
Went to step down, and…TWANG went something in my quads. Took it relatively easy, the next day it seemed fine.
The day after (or was it that same day?) was walking down the stairs at work.
I don’t understand, how in heck am I hurting myself by simply walking down some stairs??
Today, I attempted to go to the gym while JJ went rockclimbing. My leg had been…well, I could feel it every now and then, it didn’t pull up as quickly as it had the first time. First couple of steps on the elliptical, and I knew. This workout was a no go. Workouts for the rest of the week will be a no go. Even riding, if I have to push down fairly hard I can feel it twinge a little bit.
I admit it. I cried. I. Am. So. Frustrated. I’m sick of being injured. I’m sick of being held back. I’m sick of not running when I want to. I’m sick of not being able to just get the f*#! on with it and f*&$ing exercise without something stopping me every few weeks.
I just can’t do it anymore. And of course we haven’t been grocery shopping for a couple of weeks, so I haven’t been able to cook dinners, make lunch or even bring snacks to work so my food/diet is out of whack. I can’t exercise.
Yes, I made it below 60kg (woohoo!) but…there’s more to it than that. Working out was a thing I had that I could do, for an hour or so all I thought about was what I was doing. Everything else fell to the wayside, I was focused completely on finishing my reps, trying to absolutely push myself. You simply don’t have the energy to worry about other things when you’re sweating and struggling and your muscles ache! And seeing as I don’t have a social life, that was kind of…my substitute for that, I guess.
The injury means that I don’t have that at the moment, and won’t for probably a week or so. It just sucks.
Then JJ called to ask what had happened, and would I join them for dinner at Pizza by the Metre? Ah, no. I can’t eat a hugely calorific meal considering the fact that I didn’t get to the gym. I don’t give a flying f*#& if it’s delicious, I can’t eat it right now. No, I just can’t, I don’t have the calories spare. Okay, sound judgemental and wary then, I don’t give a f*&*.
He seems to forget that I’m not him. I can’t eat whatever I want and not see the consequences. I can cut my calories right back and watch the weight creep slowwwwwly off, and watch it fly back on should I slip up for a few days. Yes, I’ve lost a lot of weight, but I still have a lot of work to do. I’m flabby and untoned, my legs are a disgrace, and I need to lose more. And I simply don’t know how to do it without the gym (the toning, I mean) and it makes me want to cry that I’ve got another pointless setback.