MY DAY FROM HELL AND A LITTLE BIT OF DANNYLAND ...

SO, in an effort to keep my promise to myself to be good to myself I have begun exercising and eating very VERY good.  My co-worker, a 26 year old attorney who is also a brick house of a girl is my very own personal trainer and trust me ... SHE'S GOOD.  So, after telling her that I have been going to the gym and doing half an hour on the treadmill and half an hour on the elliptical she rolls her eyes. 

"WHAT?" I say.

Trainer:  "I'd kill myself if I had to do an hour of cardio.  It's okay but it's not VERY EFFECTIVE."

Me:  "So ... what should I be doing?"

Trainer:  "I'll give you a program."

She begins writing exercises down on a piece of paper.  Squats, lunges with the use of weights, burpees, jumping jacks, and mountain climbers.  She gives me time and reps and does the exercise for me, then makes me do them so she can be sure I am doing them correctly. 

So I get home that night.  I change into my workout clothes and I do the exercises.  I made it to two reps but could not continue because my thighs were so wobbly I couldn't go on.  I felt guilty I didn't do three sets but honestly ... I couldn't.  I'm old.  I'm not saying I could never do it, I'm just saying I need time to warm up to it and build my endurance up.  I'M COMMITTED.

The next morning I woke up feeling sore.  But when I went DOWNSTAIRS to make my coffee I thought MOTHER OF GOD My thighs!!!!  My Thighs!!!  

When I got to work I report to her and tell her what I did and how I felt.  Surprisingly, she gave me high fives and props and stated that she was very proud of me (blush).  She then instructed me to make sure I walked or did the treadmill so that my muscles will loosen up a bit.

That night after work my plan was to hit the gym and do exactly what she said.  That was until DUM DUM DUM .... the HELL part ...

I work in the "Big City" and because of that there is always something going on downtown.  Today there was "a suspicious package" near Pershing Square.  ALL TRAFFIC WAS STOPPED.  NO CARS and POLICE EVERYWHERE .  I have a bus to catch at Pershing Square where ALL THE EXCITEMENT IS.  This means that (a) I am NOT getting home tonight or (b) I will be getting home VERY LATE.  But, as it turned out, by the time I left the office everything was back to normal, traffic was running as usual and all the buses were on time ... ALL EXCEPT MINE.  THE MONTEBELLO BUS LINE (YES I'M NAMING THEM).  Not ONE fucken bus came!  Not the Express line (which is the line I take) nor the 40 which is the bus the gente ride and which stops eight hundred and fifty times before it gets to my destination.  My bus mate Corina and I are waiting, waiting, waiting and finally we realize that this fucken bus isn't going to show up.  So Corina spots a guy that rides our bus and tells me "go ask him if he's seen the 40?"  So I go up to him ..."excuse me, have you seen the 40?"  He said "No.  No 40 at all." 

The Guy:  "Tell you what" he says "let's take the subway to Union Station, we can take the Gold Line to East L.A. and then catch the 40.  My car is parked at the Civic Center in Montebello and when we get there I'll give you girls a ride to your cars." 

Me:  "Sounds good to me" I say so off we go.

Now, the Pershing Square subway station isn't bad if you're leaving with all the working folk at 5 pm.  If you're leaving at 7:30 pm at night that is when all the crazies and crack heads come out.  Thank God we had a big tall man with us.  We walk to the subway, take the escalator all the way down, and then Corina attempts to buy a ticket.  She is unsuccessful and all the while she is trying to by a ticket a crazy man is taunting her and lecturing her about crazy people stealing money and then he has the nerve to ask her for a dollar.  I tell her to forget the ticket, we'll get her into the subway.  Like in the movies, we sneak her past the guardrails and off we go.  Our train arrived immediately and we got on.  We got  to Union Station a few minutes later and made our way to the departing tunnels.  As fate would have it, and considering that my thighs are in excruciating pain, the Gold Line is up a flight of FORTY STAIRS, NO ESCALATOR, MY THIGHS, MY THIGHS, OH MY GOD MY THIGHS.  We got onto the Gold Line.  About 15 minutes later we arrived at Atlantic Blvd.  We now we have to walk a block to the bus stop to catch the 40.  By this time Corina is getting  antsy.  She decides to call her sister to pick us up.  We are now in a race to see who arrives first, her sister or the bus.  The bus got there first.  The guy and I get on the bus and leave Corina to wait for her sister.  I tried to convince her to come with us but she was adamant.  As I take a seat I see that Corina's sister has arrived and Corina is getting in her car.  I feel better.  At least I know she is safe and will not be getting kidnapped and chopped up into tiny little pieces.  It is now another five to seven minutes to the Civic Center.  The bus stops and the guy and I walk to his car.  He drives me to my car and it is now 8 pm.  I feel like I've been traversing the entire City of Los Angeles for three hours.  NOT TO MENTION MY ACHING THIGHS that are killing me with each step .   

Exhausted and starving I call Danny and tell him what is going on.  I ask him "Is there any food at home?"  "No" he says "But I'll go get something."  THANK GOD I say to myself.  When I finally get to my car it is little after 8:00 pm. 

I get to the gate of my complex and I've lost my remote so I have to get OUT OF THE CAR, go over to the key pad (my thighs remember) and punch in the super secret number that the association DOESN'T LET ANYONE HAVE and then the gate opens and I have to run back to my car WITH MY ACHING THIGHS.  FINALLY, FINALLY, I am walking through the door.  I am hungry and exhausted.  I kiss my husband and I say "Did you get food?"  You know what he says?  Are you ready? ....

"I was waiting for you to get here first." 

 

What I learned tonight:

 

1.  Disasters will ALWAYS ALWAYS happen on a Friday night;

2.  ALWAYS ALWAYS get your own food; and

3.  THANK GOD you don't have to utilize public transportation like the poor
     people who don't have cars.