catheroominations

Matte and I got a Nintendo Wii last week, and ever since, he is kicking my ass all over the living room playing tennis. I always considered myself a coordinated person until we got this little white box with the wireless controllers. I canNOT for the life of me beat these computerized people on the other side of the court. And if I decide to clone myself and play both players on my doubles team, I flail about and miss nearly every ball. Because, hello! I am ONE person. I can’t be two places at once. But Matte can, and now he has reached PRO status while I remain in the ranks of spastic, haphazard players who appear to be swatting at a swarm of bees.

Oh goodie! Another thing he is better than me at. (Wow. Check out that grammar!)

I am better at refraining from the Wii playing than Matte is. Which might also be to blame for my poor performance. Or is it the other way around? Do I not partake of the Wii as often as Matte does because of the extreme suckage I display? Or mayhaps it is my tennis elbow keeping me away? I think I should at least win “Most likely to look like a person really playing tennis” or something because I hit that ball SO hard (although it lobs every time). And I use my backhand when necessary, which I guess is not really necessary with the smart remote, but makes me feel so much cooler when I do it. Especially when I use two hands. Sometimes an involuntary Monica Seles-esque grunt will emit from my throat. And I even yell at the judge’s calls like John McEnroe used to. Matte just nonchalantly flicks his wrist this way and that and wins match after match, as I lay on the couch, post-match, huffing and puffing, wiping my brow with a towel and drinking Gatorade.

Oh, and my Mii (the animated character I created as me in Wii land) is so much cuter than Matte’s. She has freckles and braids, and a vacant look in her eyes like she doesn’t know what her name is. But his has devil horns. They’re actually eyebrows that he nudged up his forehead until they reached the top of his head. And he has a goatee. He looks like a satanic Backstreet Boy.

But if Nintendo comes out with a game where you clean the house? I could obliterate Matte at that one. Not that he doesn’t clean. He does. But he’s the first to admit that I clean better, faster, and more thoroughly than he does. (I have been known to dust the swords belonging to the action figures.) I just hope he never opens that one closet where I’ve hidden everything.

This morning I got up at o’dark thirty to do a trial workout with Team in Training. I haven’t had any flare-ups of my psoriatic arthritis for a couple of years, and I think I am done with ingrown toenails so now I really want to try and do a half marathon. Joining Team in Training (abbreviated as TNT, rather than tea-eye-tea for obvious reasons) will allow me to train correctly for a race, while raising money for Leukemia and Lymphoma research. Today was the first long run of the winter season, so I thought I’d check it out.

The captains separated everyone into groups and we had our choice of how far we wanted to run and what interval we wanted to do. I chose to run three miles, doing the run two minutes, walk one minute interval since I’m just getting back into the running thing. I aligned myself with some women who also looked new, and would hopefully not smoke me on the trail. I was able to keep an even pace, and talk during the running portions. When the three miles were over, I thought “that wasn’t so bad.” So, my race on Thanksgiving should be a piece of cake, since it’s just a 5K.

While we were on our run, one of the mentors was telling me how to avoid that second day soreness. She recommended ice baths. GAH! To me, a soak in the tub should be relaxing, warm, and comforting. But I will try anything if it means I can avoid the inability to sit down like a normal person. So when I got home, I put on my bathing suit, a sweatshirt and a scarf and ran the cold water into the bathtub. I went to the freezer and pulled out the tray of cubes from the ice maker. Daphne came into the bathroom, as she usually does int he mornings, when I am getting ready. She was sniffing around, looking for spiders to kill, and thought there might be one hiding the the bathtub. So, just like every other day, she jumped into the tub to investigate.

Poor Daph instantly tried to jump back out, but unable to grasp hold to anything with her claws, she was slipping and sliding and splashing water everywhere. She managed to fling herself out of the chilly water and make spastic puddles on the bathroom floor while making her tasmanian devilesque exit. I was howling with laughter and Matte could hear it, but didn’t know what had me going, until he saw the rabid and pissed off kitty fly into the living room.

The ice bath wasn’t so bad, actually. Yes, it was freezing, but it was also hilarious. Me in the tub bundled up in a sweatshirt, drinking a cup of hot cinnamon tea, while shivering and reading the Johnny-Depp-as-Sweeney-Todd cover story inEntertainment Weekly.

I think the frigid dip in the tub was less traumatic for me than it was for Daphne. But at least her muscles won’t be sore either.

I have only one more week of boot camp, and then a long break until the next session begins in late January. I don’t like such a long break, so I might have to join another boot camp group for the few weeks we’re off. I don’t want to erase everything I am doing now. Besides, I’m kind of addicted to it. I even miss it on the weekends. I am one sick individual, yes.

My hamstring is much better after days of sitting on bags of frozen peas and taking it (relatively) easy. Earlier this week, we broke into teams, based on athletic ability. We did what they call Indian relays, where runners are in a single file line, and the person in the back runs to the front of the line, jogs a few strides, and then the runner in the back goes to the front, and so on. (It seemed only fair to keep the hobblers together.) Team Gimp consisted of Shin Splint, Tweaked Back, Bad Knee, and Pulled Hamstring. But we’re all well now. Today I even ran around the grassy knoll twice. That’s TWO times! Running! OMG, y’all! And one of the trainers complimented me on my push-ups today. I was once taught to try and touch my nose to the floor when doing a push-up, so I drop pretty low. So what if I do them on my knees? I got a gold star for my form, so there.

But the best thing about this boot camp? They do Happy Hour. It’s not officially sanctioned by the boot camp organizers (oh, and it’s not at 6 a.m. of course), but if we get big enough beers, we could count hammer curls. That’s my kind of exercise!