Tag Archives: Health

I apologize in advance

This post is going to get bad.

There is nothing worse than reading someone’s “woe is me” BS, complaining that the world is out the get them. Confirmation bias. No one lives their lives without anything mildly coincidental and bad happening to them, so get over it.

That being said, after years of struggling with the concept of long-distance running (yet still being a pretty good athlete throughout school), I finally found something that works. No shame, it’s Couch to 5k. The app that I downloaded tells me I’ve done a good job when I’m running…and damn, I pretend not to care but THANKS, APP WOMAN. I appreciate the support.

So I went out last week, ready to start this program. I ran all the way around the neighbourhood, discovering streets I didn’t know existed.

Look at me! I’m awesome! I’m running like someone who is 21 and thin and strong should be able to! My lungs aren’t burning and I don’t feel like my head is going to implode!

And then I fell.

…pretty badly

544136_10151643219261474_908510909_n

Featuring another mark on my knee from that time I wiped out on the Civic Centre stairs…last month.

And on top of that, my body was completely confused and decided to give me low blood sugar-like symptoms, so I had to sit on the sidewalk and call someone to come get me.

Welp.

The good news is that it didn’t stop me. I sewed up my pants (yes, that bad) and went back out a few days later.

Go me.

Advertisements

The Highs and Lows of the Gym

With Old Navy’s recent sale on spandex capris, I thought I’d finally hit the gym after buying my pass in January. I know. Shut up.

The gym at my school is an odd one, because it’s tiny and it’s a solid half an half of students and old, rich people who live in the surrounding old, rich community.

There are even a section of treadmills labelled with imperial measurements.
(For those of you who don’t know, Canada switched to metric in the 70s, so those who went to elementary school a long time ago still usually use imperial. Including my parents. Yes, mom, there are 100cm in a metre. I wrote it down for you. It’s on the fridge.)

I’ve made some slight observations.

Good: Old people don’t check you out while you work out.
Bad: I think.

Good: I’ve realized that the elliptical is a magical machine that doesn’t make my knees want to crumble into dust when I use it.
Bad: Have you ever tried looking coordinated on an elliptical?

Good: I climbed the lovingly called “stairs of death” back up to campus without losing my breath after the gym.
Bad: The stairs of death exist.

Good: The new spandex capris and a cute t-shirt aren’t too shabby.
Bad: They are now covered in sweat forever.

So there you are. My adventures at this weird thing that humans go to as a supplement for our lazy-ass lives of leisure so we don’t die of cardiac arrest at 28 while reaching for that last slice of cheesecake.

Necessary disclaimer: Not me.

Necessary disclaimer: Not me.

Concerts and Disappointment

Last night, I attended a concert I’ve been looking forward to for a while. I got the tickets for my boyfriend’s birthday in September, and I’ve had the days booked off work for a few weeks.

This was my first standing-room-only concert at a small downtown bar in ages, and my very first 19+ one. In high school, you couldn’t keep me away from these places, but somehow, for some reason, I just stopped going. The only concerts I’ve attended in the last few years have been in seated, big, corporate venues that sell $20 beers. It was supposed to be kind of a “yeah I’m still awesome and I go out and stuff” kind of thing.

I was super-excited to post an awesome post about the band and include pictures and whatnot…

Things never go as planned, do they? First of all, for some reason, I didn’t take many pictures. I think I took two…on my iPhone.

I began the night thinking everything was going swimmingly. Instead of doing the whole high school thing where you line up at noon so you can stand at the front (and get your ribs crushed) just so you can be slightly closer to the lead singer, we left late. We got there as soon as the opening band started. Pretty good timing. I bought us both beers (this being an extension of the aforementioned birthday present, of course!) and we found a spot pretty close to the front.

As the night went on, we successfully fought back against the rage-inducing idiot girls with no spatial awareness, drunk middle-aged women who were too short to actually see (and insisted on bouncing around, trying to find a good spot), and the people who insist on getting pushing their way through the packed crowd to get them and their 9 friends beers every 20 minutes.

When the main band hit the stage, I had kind of started to go downhill. It was hot, stuffy, and those dumbass girls were beginning to get to me. Come to think of it, the last thing I’d eaten was hours ago…I hadn’t had anything to drink except for the beer…
And then I had to get out. That telltale ringing in my ears was starting. I pushed my way through disgruntled concert-watchers during a lull in the playing, and managed to make it to the washroom. I don’t know why I always run to the washroom, but aside from the concrete stoop outside and the floor, there was no where else to sit. I barely made it, thank god there wasn’t a line. It was one of those old-fashioned washrooms with lids on the toilet seat, thank god, so voila, instant fainting chair.

It was my blood sugar, again. I know these symptoms so well. Unfortunately, this happened in one of the worst locations. I was alone…in a disgusting stall in a dirty, stuffy club, trying not to pass out. I couldn’t get any water or anything to eat, nor could I lay on the cool floor. The last two times this happened when I wasn’t at home, I fainted. Both times were in labs in high school and university, the second time was thankfully on a hospital bed in the nursing lab. (I really couldn’t have chosen a better major for being prone to this).

I heard my favourite song of the band muffled through the walls while I was trying to stay conscious in the bathroom. After a few minutes, the question was: could I I get up or not? How horrible would it be to faint in the bathroom at a concert? Would people steal my stuff? How long would I be out before someone would get security? How would they find my boyfriend? Oh god, what if I land in a puddle of this unknown liquid on the ground?

I managed to get it together, get my coat on, and walk up the street to the pizza place.

The best part of the night was definitely getting in a fight afterwards about why I left the concert entirely. I don’t know, see above?

I have learned a few things: Never overestimate your seemingly young and healthy body. It will screw you over at the worst of times.
Never assume your loving friends and family will understand what it feels like to have a low blood sugar attack in a place like this. Clearly, that’s an overestimation.
Always sneak in lifesavers in your purse.
You are old now, don’t try anymore.

Disappointment is something I’m getting used to.

Anyway, here’s that picture:

20111125-000225.jpg