Do Not Give Me Percoset!

Hello yet AGAIN! It's been a crazy two weeks, so here's your update.

The training is going great - I haven't slacked on the mileage, but it is getting HARD. Really hard. I'm officially out of my comfort zone. Last Sunday, I ran 7 miles in 1:24, which is a 12 min/mile pace. I'll take it, because it gets me past the half marathon finish line in under 3 hours.

But - it's the longest distance I've ever run in one fell swoop, and my body is saying stuff to me like "WTF?? You trying to kill me heah? I ain't no superman!" and "if you make me run, I'm going to make you crawl the next day". Surprisingly, there's been NO back pain in all this running. It probably helps that I sort of shuffle-run. It's really low impact.

Things have been really busy in the past 2 weeks. The Albany Pro Musica concert went great, and my little solo came off pretty well. That's saying a lot, since I am hypercritical of my singing. But I couldn't find a whole lot to hate about it, and it was well received, so a qualified and humble yay for me.

Wanna hear the latest "I'm geriatric and my body is falling apart" drama? Last Wednesday night, the 21st, I took my lovely fat dog out for a walk. She's 9 years old, a Husky/shepherd mix, and weighs close to 90 lbs. She's a biggun. She's very placid and sweet, but when she sees chipmunks, she bolts like a firecracker shoved up Speedy Gonzalez' butt. I'm usually pretty good about bracing myself and getting her back under control, but she caught me by surprise that night. Thursday morning I woke up with my shoulder pretty sore. I shrugged (ooo bad pun) it off and went about my business. Friday morning I woke up, and I couldn't lift my arm at all. That's not so good. I had a hard time styling my hair in the morning, what with the blowdryer and flat iron requiring 2 hands for operation and whatnot. So, in the interests of vanity, I booked an appointment to see a doc in my practice later that afternoon. She took a look, and said that I was presenting with the classic symptoms of a torn rotator cuff. But she wanted another opinion, so she pulled in the attending, who took a look at my sloping shoulder and said, "you need to go to the ER for x-rays. I think you have a dislocated shoulder".

Oh joy.

So I went. Great. Fat ladies screaming and people sneezing Ebola all over me for 2 hours in the waiting room while I waited to be seen. Once I got past triage, they examined me and gave me a percoset because "we're gonna twist your arm around in ways that will make you scream to take your xrays".

People. I should not have percoset. In fact, there should be a sign around my neck at all times saying, "This is Deirdre. 1) don't play Yanni around her, and 2) don't give her percoset".

When it first started to kick in, I sat there on the gurney, next to my lovely and charming fiance, giggling at *air*. Air, people. The way the bed sheet was wrinkled on the gurney was endlessly hilarious to me. The radiology tech asked me to put my things on a chair and I doubled over laughing. DO NOT GIVE ME PERCOSET.

I posted this observation to my facebook wall whilst under the influence:
"I think my fiance just told me this is all of my fault because I got the zombie feeling for eating my own hand. Or maybe the Percoset told me that. I get cindried"

DO NOT GIVE ME PERCOSET.

I also posted this little gem:
"I love Emily. I got through the ER in about 4 hours. 2 hours waiting, 2 for treatmet. My fiance came just as they brought me in. He said kits of funny things about zombies. They gave me percoset because they had to twist my arm around to take xrays. I giggled so much when it first started working that the fat lady with the giant sore on her face told me to shut up. I'm waitnf for the percoset to wear off so I can kick Mark's snarky ass."

DO NOT GIVE ME PERCOSET.

So. There you go. You all know what not to give me, right? It turned out that nothing was broken or dislocated. We're back to the torn rotator cuff theory. I feel ten thousand times better - and pretty much have full use of the arm back.

Best thing of all? It didn't impact my running at all. I did seven miles the following Sunday, 3 miles Monday, and 4 miles yesterday. Tonight is cross training - no rowing for me! The eight mile run is Saturday - I'm dreading it a little.

Here's your daily fun link. Stephen Hawking says "don't talk to aliens"
As my friend Jack says, "The average person who's been watching "V" or has seen "Independence Day" would probably give you the same advice. Seriously, this guy's supposed to be brilliant?"