Working out / blogging has been sitting in the backseat lately while we deal with other things. Gary’s dad is still in the hospital and we’re trying to stay positive so I’ll just say that this whole ordeal is positively awful. Everyone in the family is feeling the strain of it and we need to remember that we’re all in this together but we are all dealing with it differently. We’ve got to be there for each other and respect each other.
My tattoo is still healing and as I’m completely paranoid that one day I’ll wake up and it will all wash off, I’ve been very careful about not doing anything to hurt it. There are lots of different opinions about the best aftercare regimen, so I’m sticking with what my shop gave me. Every once in a while I freak out like “IS IT SUPPOSED TO DO THAT?” so I look online and I see a bunch of people saying, “yeah, that’s normal” and I see a bunch of people saying, “good lord, human, what have you done wrong? that shouldn’t happen!”. After weeding through all the blustering advice, it sort of comes down to common sense: you’ve just been stabbed several thousand times with a tiny needle, so what you’ve got is one sexy open wound. Keep it clean & let it heal.
So wait, what about working out? A quick google search of what to do if you want to work out with a fresh tattoo brings about another spectrum of opinions. The first week I really avoided running outside because WHAT WILL HAPPEN IF I SWEAT and OH, GOD, NOT THE SUN, ANYTHING BUT THE SUN, but I’ve since come to my senses. Again, it’s an open wound – don’t do anything you wouldn’t do with any other kind of wound. Don’t wear a tight sports bra with the strap digging into your brand new backpiece, and take it easy with anything requiring you to stretch and twist the skin of your tattoo. Don’t roll around on a sweaty gross yoga mat. Keep it clean, let it heal.
We’re healing up quite nicely, those scabby flakes are falling off (scabby flakes… zombie breakfast cereal?) and it looks freaking amazing. Although… my geocaching friends who have seen it don’t want to log it. Seriously, it’s ok, it’s meant to be logged. LOG ME. PLEASE.
I did a run last week, and worked out to a video on Monday. (oh my goodness, my thighs. MY THIGHS) It’s a video with a warmup, cool down, and four 15-20 minute workouts. I planned to do all four, but I got through two and my legs said, “ok, that’s enough of that.” Last night I went for a run on the treadmill; figured it was a good way to get a run in and stay out of the heat and the sun. I did the same routine: 3 minute run, 2 minute walk. I ran at 4 or 4.2 mph and walked between 2 and 2.6 mph. When I started the fourth run interval… how do I put this nicely… well, I can’t. I choked on snot and nearly threw up. It was as hilarious as it was disgusting. I finished the interval and called it a day. Can’t beat that for a ridiculous day…
until today, when I tore my favorite dress on a stupid piece of wire at Shop-Rite and I can’t buy another one because they don’t make them anymore. grr.