First, let’s start with one moral to the story:
Don’t do boot camp style workout programs if you haven’t trained your way into them.
And for god’s sake, don’t jump into one right away if you haven’t been exercising!
On with the narrative:
Ann, my beloved, against all caution from her beloved, me, joined a boot-camp-style exercise program. Thank you Groupon for playing a part in all this. She hadn’t been on a regular exercise regimen for 6 months.
35 minutes of boot camping it sent her to the hospital for days. She’s still there as I write this, third day in with no immediate release date. Apparently some people die from this kind of extreme over exertion. (Rhabdomyolysis.)
In those 35 minutes she executed 80 push ups. Up from 0 in the last year. In those 35 minutes she was also pushed to other extremes.
The pain and immobilization in her arm and shoulder that showed up were concerning, yet nothing we couldn’t joke away. It was the blood in the urine that said, hey, maybe some medical attention might be in order.
At the hospital Ann insisted there was a greater life lesson in this, not just the easy one (stay the hell away from boot camp work outs!).
Here’s what it is: To voice her own needs.
She had told the gym instructor that she needed to go moderately. He didn’t quite hear it . . . and she didn’t bring it up again. She didn’t insist that he back off.Last night Zane and I stopped by the hospital. Simultaneously a sassy friend of Ann’s and her son stopped in. It was festive, it was fun, even the nurse was laughing. But only today did I learn it was too much for Ann.
So: She is vowing to give voice to her needs and desires!
Which is the Moral of the Story 2.0 . . .
PS: It’s too freakishly unusual to not share this on a site originally titled The World Is Freaky Beautiful:
Our friend Gil just received word today about Ann’s hospitalization — in a quick email — I didn’t even have time to name the affliction. At the time I couldn’t spell it. Now I can. Still can’t pronounce it though.
He called immediately and couldn’t get through to us. At some point he turned on the TV to watch an episode of House . . . and what do you think was the medical oddity they were diagnosing on House?
You got it, Rhabdomyolysis.
I’m telling you — you know this! — there’s simply no way to jam the frequency of connection in this realm. The Great Mystery delights in teasing us with these unexpected linkages.