It’s been nearly two months since my last post.
Cycling 22 miles to Coney Island was pretty much a mic drop as far as this blog and my fitness life are concerned so I’m okay with the dramatic hiatus.
I am certain that questions of my whereabouts crowded web forums in similar style to chatter about Tupac’s disappearance. That is unless you follow me on Instagram. From my millennial-esque oversharing, you know exactly where I was. (#ButWhereisTupacREALLY?)
I was in Washington last week and saw my old orthopedist. Ahh first loves! (I lived in DC for nearly 6 years before moving to New York.) I’ve become the sort of traveler who packs her MRI next to her travel toothbrush so I was ready to go when he had a last minute opening.
Sunset in DC from Union Station. Union Station > Penn Station
After my first race (the Broad Street 10 miler) I wound up with a hairline fracture. Without much fanfare, I found a doctor who took my insurance… and then quickly fell in love with him. He actually solved my ailment immediately! He prescribed orthotics and physical therapy and eventually my ankles were back in business. After all the rigmarole, this time around I was excited to return to someone who had proven he knows what’s up.
I received a cortisone shot. After 5 months with no change to my ankle, my doctor (the second one) suggested a cortisone shot.
This wasn’t a surprise, he mentioned it as an option a few months ago should the pain persist, which it did. Currently, I’m of the belief that any action is better than the months of inaction, so nervously I agreed. I can be a little finicky at the doctor’s office. I never refuse treatment or cry or make a scene. But I’ll make about 20 nervous jokes in the span of 4 minutes all of which are directly related to my fear.
So while I’m learning how to ride a bike, I’m also you know, doing other things.
My office is on the same block as Barry’s Bootcamp but since I pay 1.5 million human dollars a month for Equinox, I hadn’t been. I kept hearing that Barry’s is the absolute best body-improving, calorie-depleting workout. So you know, sold. I wanted to try it.
I signed up and went right after work. I entered the studio and gave $34 to a man with a 40 pack and arms the size of Malm 6-drawer Ikea dresser.
Barry’s Bootcamp Check-In Guy