It’s time to wish a belated happy 6-month-aversary to Cuckoolemon!
Happy 6 Months, Cuckoolemon!
The first blog post went up on my birthday, May 14. I figured the Facebook birthday attention would be a great built-in audience for sharing this little project.
Since then I have had a blast writing this blog. As of today, I’ve published 33 posts. To celebrate, I wanted to share a few of my favorites from the last six months.
Hello from freezing New York City.
When it gets cold my whole life approach is threatened. My posture gets worse as I shrink into myself to huddle for warmth. I am the frozen hunchback of the Upper West Side. (I photoshopped an example but it’s too aesthetically displeasing to share.)
That’s not a reason to give up. Don’t turn your apartment into a hermitage of slack. Get out there. While everyone else is hibernating and putting on their winter weight, get awesome triceps. (Fact: Triceps are the muscle that make you think: “OW OW” when you look at an arm.)
Here are some ideas on how to make the cold weather work for your workout:
After the exciting incident at the radiology center I was eager to hear what the doctor would say about my ankle. When I went to his offices (in the depths of the east side: Hello, First Avenue) he was all too chipper in telling me “nothing is wrong on the MRI!!!” The doctor went on to explain his theory that the cause of my discomfort is a stretched nerve. What? Evidently that is a thing. You can stretch a nerve. (I did when sliding down rocks post-Canyoning.)
I like to say I have an a lot of untapped athletic potential. I am usually joking when I say it but I definitely (and secretly) believe its true. For most, athletic glory days occur in the era of high school and college sports. Not me.
I was an active kid, but I wasn’t involved in competitive sports (save for my almost-yearly victory in the backstroke at camp swim meets). I like to think if I applied myself I could cut it as an athlete, not pro-ball, but that I could hold my own.
Have you ever seen my wingspan?
I am an eagle!
Some of you reading this may be aware I sprained my ankle texting and walking last year. Please put that thought aside.
Junior year of high school, my lab partner told me he met my dad the night before at the gym. I was mortified. Like any high school student, I was not keen on my school world mixing unsupervised with my family world. Evidently Jason (the lab partner) had put too much weight on a barbell and my dad helped him lower the weight without crushing himself. They got to talking and made the connection that I was my dad’s daughter.
I learned my dad is “that guy” at the gym: Mister Chatty. He sparks a conversation with everyone, and while he does workout, the gym is a social experience.
This got me thinking about the personas you see at the gym. There are some classic ones that I’ve noticed over the years: