Biscuits, Gravy and Blood Blisters

A day that starts out with biscuits and gravy is never a good day.  I know this, and yet 3-4 times a year, I start the day out with them anyway.  I certainly never have them at home, and if I’m out somewhere for breakfast, I never order them, but when your complimentary “continental breakfast” puts them right in front of you, I almost never walk away.

So predictably I felt heavy and leaden all day, but that’s because after I downed those, I ate a bagel, and a big, sugary glass of orange juice.  And on the way back to Austin, had a giant Reece’s Peanut Butter Cup.  I HATE THE WAY I EAT WHEN I’M ON THE ROAD!  What is the matter with me?

The balls of my feet were not quite as shredded as I had feared; I got home around 3:00, took a several- hours nap (driving 600 miles is exhausting), and then walked when I woke up, around 6:30.  It was a dull and perfunctory walk (biscuits and gravy have very long tentacles), but I did it.  Hot, humid, uninspired, but I did it. And though it felt okay while I was doing it, once I took the shoes off, my feet were very sore.  And when I woke up this morning, blood blisters had formed on the balls of both feet, physical reproof of my barefoot treadmill adventure two nights ago.

Tonight I went to a friend’s at 5:30 – she lives only ½ a mile away, so I walked there, and left at close to 9:00 to complete the rest of the five.  I still feel sluggish and gross, but with extra-thick socks, my sore, blistery feet were a non-issue.  Oh, and working out in the gym on Friday night?  It was disgusting.  Floor-to-ceiling mirrors on all sides. Seeing myself that upclose and personal made me vow to start working on the rest of me.  Yes, my legs are getting strong and skinny, and the rest of me is vanishing somewhat, but it’s not keeping pace with the legs.  July  1, which is next Sunday, marks the halfway point of my journey.  This second half will be a good opportunity to add in some upper body and abs work.

I’ve got to tell you a great story a client told me on Saturday.  In February, his 81-year-old mother, who takes dance class three times a week, was practicing “grapevining” down the stairs, IN HEELS, and fell.  She broke a small bone in her neck, which laid her up for a few months, but she’s back and raring to go.  She’s trying to figure out a tactful way to break up with the 88-year-old guy she’s been dating, because he just got put on oxygen, and nursing an old geezer to his grave is just not happening for her.  Life is long, and I love that she’s still living it to the fullest.  Let’s all follow her example, shall we?