A rite of passage… (of sorts!)

So, I’ve passed another milestone…a dubious one but a milestone nonetheless.

I’ve officially broken my first bone.  Don’t all go congratulating me all at once, it’s not an achievement I ever wanted to achieve.

And it’s literally a pain.

So how did it happen?

It happened when I was trying to be responsible during my pole dancing class.  Quite ironically, I was trying to prevent an injury at the time.   The heel of my shoe had broken so I decided to go barefoot- so that I didn’t twist my ankle.  We were learning a routine and one of the moves was to kick up into a hand/elbow stand.  It was all going well until my bum got over my head.  And then it turned into the leaning tower of pisa…  that then came crashing down.  So normally, when wearing shoes, the shoes take the impact, and I sort of land with a giggle and a thud.  This time, it was more of a crunch.  Rather than landing on the hard plastic of a shoe, I landed on my not so hard (and apparently not so sturdy) big toe.


To my credit, I didn’t panic or cry (at the time) or freak out.  I sort of tried to just walk it off and keep going.  And then I looked down and realised that something wasn’t right.   My toe looked a bit crooked and it felt a bit sore.  But still I tried to keep going.  I didn’t make a fuss, I did what I could for the rest of class all the while realising something wasn’t quite right.  And I thought I was fine…. Until I left class and was walking down the stairs….. Holy mother of batman!  I was in pain.  And it only got worse….and worse…until I started crying real tears on Elizabeth St.  Real tears of actual pain as I limped down the street.  Oy.

Of course the first thing I did when I got home, poured myself a large glass of red wine.  The second thing was to reheat the lamb for dinner.  I was in so much pain, The Runner had to make the mash.  In fact,  I’ve been told to stay off my feet completely- including cooking.  This is the one bit of advice, I haven’t followed 100%, although it hurts to stand up and move around.

So I’m on the couch with my foot iced, elevated and wrapped..  I did the grown up thing, and went to the Doctor, who sent me for x rays.  It was not good news.  You know it’s bad when the radiographer tells you it’s broken before she even leaves the booth.  And she shook her head, and then looked at me with pity.  Unfortunately, the Doctor had the same look right before he asked me if I had private health cover and prescribed me slightly stronger pain killers.  I think he was surprised that I was generally in a good mood and smiling- except for my limp.  I think the Doctor was trying not to let on that really, I’ve done some damage to myself.   He did use words like “hospital” and “surgery” and “crutches” and asked me if I had eaten yet.  Weird, I probably should have paid a bit more attention before he gave me the name of the orthopaedic surgeon, wrapped my toes and sent me on my way.

Yikes.  I’m going to see the orthopaedic surgeon in the morning.  Just those two words together strike fear in my heart—well, only really when it has to do with me.  And I have to be honest, no one who I’ve spoken to so far has really allayed my fears.  I could be in for a long hobbly road ahead… in the meantime, here are my glamour shots…

Feb 2015 240 Feb 2015 241

Wish me luck!


What (or who) is your nemesis?

The Runner has one. I have one. Superman has one. I’m sure everyone has one. And that’s a nemesis.

In Greek Mythology, Nemesis was the Goddess of Revenge, she’s the one that brings “sorrow to mortals” (according to Wikipedia which doesn’t lie). Nemesis also believed that “no one should ever have too much good, and she had always cursed those who were blessed with countless gifts.” Sure, we’ll go with that. It kind of makes me feel better about myself.

My nemesis, (at least in the world of Pole Dancing, my sport) is the Candy. It’s a move that I’ve struggled with for years… YEARS! All the other girls make it look so simple and so easy- just throw your legs over your head and smile– hooray! Too easy!!

Nope, sorry, not me. That move taunts me, much like Nemesis taunted Narcissus. Yup, she was the one who led him to the pool where he drowned staring at his own reflection– she was soooo mean. Much like my Candy. I hate it, every week it’s a reminder of why I will never be really really good at pole. Because every week, we practice it and every week I fail. Annoying and frustrating and yes, it’s my archenemy. But I’m determined- and one week in the near future, I will conquer it– or possibly die trying.


This week also features The Runner’s nemesis (and no, it’s not Valentine’s Day). It’s the triathlon in Huskisson aka Husky Long Course. This is the 3rd time he’s doing it and hopefully it will be the year he beats it…..Because frankly, I’m not sure that it could be any worse than the previous two years he’s done it.

Last year was so bad, he came second in a competition for who had the worst race. Second! Which means that not only did he have a horrible race, but he didn’t win a prize for having the worst race, which really just adds insult to injury….and by injury, I mean an actual injury…. two years in a row!

The first year he did it, he pulled his hamstring, and had to limp his way out of the race. Last year, he lost his watch during the swim and then rode through a pothole at 50km/hr and came off his bike and wound up in the first aid tent after the race. Ouch! Every other race he’s done has been flawless- or at least relatively drama free…. It’s just something about the race in Husky that’s, well, trouble.

So, understandably I’m a bit nervous for him. Unlike my nemesis, which realistically is only hurting my ego, I’ll be waiting and watching on Sunday morning with baited breath hoping that The Runner finishes the race and makes it through in one piece and not broken and bruised.

There’s nothing better than beating your nemesis once and for all, and I really think that this could be the year he does it. I’ll let you know how it goes but keep your fingers crossed…. maybe once he conquers this race, I’ll finally get my Candy sorted!

A girl can only dream…..


P.S I found a great blog that pretty much sums up how I feel about pole….

http://pole-dancing-adventures.blogspot.com.au/2012/01/my-kryptonite.html (oh yes, this would be my other nemesis move– don’t even get me started on this one!)

Back to reality, back to the gym- ugh!

So there are definitely people in the world who love exercising- The Runner, for example, and there are definitely people who definitely hate it- mostly the morbidly obese future Biggest Loser contestants, and then there are people like me. People who hate to do anything that feels like exercise but who are vain. Vanity is a very powerful motivator, as are pants that fit. So this week, I’ve gotten back into my exercise routine- or at least I’m attempting to.

After 8 weeks of eating ice cream, cookies, cake, cheese, and every other tasty thing I could get my grubby mitts on, time, calories and super premium ice cream have caught up with me– or was it the two thanksgiving dinners?

Whatever it is the vain side of me has decided to fight back against the side of me that thought making toasted cheese sandwiches using triple cream Brie was a great idea (it was actually an excellent idea in my defense- very tasty, very oozy, very fatty) and today I make my return to the gym. Or at least that’s the plan.

Earlier this week I got back on the pole, with three pole dancing classes in two days. Pole dancing is a great form of exercise that doesn’t actually feel like exercise. Great music, dancing, high heels, doesn’t feel like hard work until you’re out of breath and trying to figure out whether your arms are actually strong enough to hold you while you are holding onto the pole upside down with your legs in a V. Judge if you must, but any form of fitness that forces you to pull your bum over your head using your arms and core muscles and then hang there can’t be all bad! Talk about rude awakenings, I can barely lift my arms today- they were struggling to lift an extra three kilos of bum and stomach in the classes, not pretty. Not pretty at all.

Today, after work, it’s back to the real gym- planning a Dance Jam class (slightly overweight girls with no rhythm jumping around to Ricky Martin- it will be fun, I’ll fit right in) and maybe some weights afterwards. Yeah, right.

In truth, I’d love an excuse not to go to the gym, it’s a nice, friendly place with great people but too much like hard work. I’ll be lucky if i make the class when really I’d love to go for drinks followed by ice creams after work but the vain me has put the brakes on that idea.

The Runner, after coming back from his 3rd 5am cycling session this week, pointed out that I should set a goal for myself that way the gym won’t seem like such a chore….. This from a man who rides his bike 80 km in the mornings before work for fun. (How is that fun???) And don’t get me started on how he exercises two or three times a day most days. This is the kind of bad idea that people who love to exercise think is great! Clearly, I am supportive but I do think he’s crazy- or Mental Man as one of our friends call him.

Hmmm, my goal is not to wind up on the biggest loser and not give up eating ice cream- oh and to button my pants – unfortunately it looks like exercise could be the only way forward. If anyone has a better idea, please let me know! Until then, see you at the gym so!