Achy Breaky Parts

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May 20, 2016 by phicks2012

Have you ever been so sore your aches have aches? I can remember a few times in my life when I felt that way, and they tend to stick in the memory like bits of caramel stick to the teeth.

Once when I was probably twelve or thirteen, my mother and a friend’s mother picked us up from summer camp and took us on a whirlwind tour of every tourist attraction in the North Georgia, North Carolina and Tennessee Mountains. If there was a bear in a cage on the side of the road, or a souvenir stand we had to stop, and in fact my mother misread one sign and wanted to stop at a Litter Barrel ;-). We went to Ruby Falls, and Lookout Mountain, and Gatlinburg, and Maggie Valley, and every other place imaginable, and we walked, and climbed, and trudged, and explored until, by the time we returned home, just the mere IDEA of moving again for a few days was anathema. The first night home I actually wet the bed — and I hadn’t done that even as a small child — because I was so exhausted I dreamed I got up and walked to the bathroom rather than actually doing it. 😉

Once, years later, I went on a very, VERY long hike with my boyfriend at the time, and by the time we reached the end point I made the mistake of sitting down on a low rock and couldn’t manage to stand up again without assistance. That night, sleeping on the ground in a tent, my muscles were so sore and cramping that he had to help me get up and stagger out into the woods to answer nature’s call. Embarrassing, but hey, at least I didn’t wet my sleeping bag, right?

So in March and April of this year (2016) I participated in a marathon two-rental unit prep that pretty much lasted thirty-two days. Moving furniture, cleaning, scrubbing, painting, bending, stooping, heavy lifting, sanding, sawing, screwing (the craftsman kind), hammering, climbing and descending ladders, hanging blinds, balancing on the edges of bathtubs while clutching shower rods, sweeping, prying, hiking through building supply stores, loading, unloading, and learning to breathe sheet rock dust, and having my helper bail on me. On the final day, I hit the wall — figuratively, of course, because I was trying very hard not to hit any of the newly repaired and repainted walls, believe me!!

By that point, it was an effort just to lower my aching self into a chair, and getting out of one again was an Olympian feat. Between pulled muscles that had had no chance to heal, cramping muscles, and basic aching and sore muscles, all I really wanted to do was to jump (assuming I had the energy to “jump”) into a hot tub, soak for a day or two until pruning-up promised to become irreversible, rub myself with lotion (or Bengay), don a soft nightgown or lounging pajamas, crawl into my Lazy-Boy, and refuse to come out again for a week — excepions being made only for necessary trips to the privy (not going to make THAT mistake again), for Nuclear War, or for the Zombie Appocalypse.

Nukes and Zombies not withstanding though, I’ve found that it is extremely difficult to manage even a SINGLE do-nothing day, because people (or your cat) will nearly ALWAYS remind you of things you promised to do, or that you need to do, and will only rarely comprehend a need (even eloquently stated) for sloth. Still, I’m convinced that it can at least theoretically be managed, and I was determined!!!

Did I succeed? Of COURSE not! What alternate universe are you living in?

Still, I did manage to form a close personal attachment to a heating pad, to product test Aleve and Bengay and Thermospas, to watch “Ant Man” on Demand, and to create a semi-permanent indentation in a Lazy Boy. Not bad.