So at a recent doctor visit, I inquired about my foot pain.
I was informed that what I had was in fact a stress fracture.
This physician was completely baffled:
“but you? Are not an athlete.”
Say What?
I may not be riding a fancy bike around France but…
I have been working out with regularity and intensity since I was 21.
And friends?
That! Was a long time ago.
And I AM A MOTHER OF TWO SMALL CHILDREN
I AM an athlete!
As defined by Webster’s:
1.a person trained to compete in sports or exercises involving physical strength, speed, or endurance
Mommy Jock
…inclusive of all activities and orchestrated plots surrounding child rearing,
raising and corraling papooses for their own personal safety,
and any white lies necessary to attain a moment parental sanity.
OMG… and that is my picture right there beside the first definition…
that webster is smart Dude.
2. a person who has a natural aptitude for physical activities –OKAY so this one is not me…but the first one is TOTALLY me.
“Not an athlete?” I say/ask.
“Dr. Ambien…take a trip through my morning…
Then we will talk”
The morning starts with a crazed sprint to the toddler bedroom…
Because #2 has awakened with a blood curdling scream…
surely indicating the Body Snatchers have arrived.
Discovering, as she signs “EAT”, she is merely ravenous and wants a “nana”.
Then the upper body workout…
Grab the little one… 31 pounds.
I cannot put her down until the entire breakfast is prepared…
With the single free arm…
But I try …
Several times.
Dead lifts now complete.
Sweat dots my brow…my forearms bulging beneath your night shirt
Overhead Press
Twenty eight toe touches before 8 a.m.
to pick up random toys and wayward sausage bites.
11 overhead presses…
to the cheers of a happy toddler.
Long jump over spilt milk…
approximate 23 inch gain.
Near perfect yoga triangle pose…
to retrieve fallen cell phone…
phone knocked off gyrating washer.
Mommy Triangle
Ab crunches while holding #2,
fighting to put on socks…
for the third time.
Approximate count= 32.
Wrestled 4 year old to the ground…
in a victorious retrieval of stolen candy.
As IF …
I could not hear the crinkly wrapper in her little paws.
Stairclimber…14 stairs 6 times. Mostly to retrieve Puppy!
Which Tenny repeatedly threw overboard.
Calf raises to retrieve toxic cleanser from top shelf.
10 squats to remove PipSqueak green marker from kitchen floor and refrigerator.
11 yard dash to avert errant toddler from busy road…
In clogs…
And yes, I know I should know be wearing Asics Gels for sprinting but…
I was in MY driveway.
Leg and glut raises climbing over carseats to secure all children…
And procure missing sippy mug of now congealed milk substance.
Seriously….
I am SOOOO an athlete.
Dr. Ambien’s recommendation:
Take it easy…
Stay off your feet…
And wear sensible footwear.
Right…that is happenin’
Why don’t you just tell me to stop drinking wine…
and then kill me.
