Not the Wisest Advice

How I Broke My Butt; A Femoral Neck Stress Fracture Story

Posted by Kristina Cersey — 3 Comments

Disclaimer, I’m on painkillers.

I had just finished my first sprint triathlon. You know, the one that I’ve been talking about for months now. It had been hard work, training for the triathlon, but it was fun—in a masochistic sort of way—and kind of addictive. So when it was over I wanted to keep up my momentum. Keep training. Keep moving forward. I signed up to play fall singles tennis. I was making plans to run a Ragnar race with some friends in the spring, and I registered for a local 5K race. Of course, I was still swimming, cycling and running whenever I could too. I was riding my post-tri high.

One crisp Tuesday morning I woke up before the sun to squeeze in a morning run. My neighborhood isn’t very big. I’d been running a route that was about 2.8 miles, which wasn’t quite as far as I’d like, but it got me home in time to get the kids ready for school. The temperature was perfect and the sun was just beginning to crest over the horizon as I started at a brisk pace. I was pushing myself to get just a little faster because my 5K was only a few days away and I was determined to place in the top 3 for my age division. Medals were my new drug and I needed more.

I followed the twists and turns of my neighborhood’s streets, going up and down and around streets, paths, and cul-de-sacs. The earbuds in my ears played that month’s book club selection, the audiobook version of Catch Me If You Can—a little ironic, in hindsight. My neon Niked steps pounded the pavement as Frank Abagnale eluded the FBI yet again. I picked up speed going down a particularly steep hill, and I felt a twinge of pain in my left hip, but I didn’t think much of it. The pain wasn’t severe and I suspected it was just a pulled muscle. I continued my run and finished in 24:35, an average pace of 8:31/mi. Though not as good as I hoped, it was one of my faster times.

When I got home the pain in my hip still bothered me a little, but there was no time to worry about it. My day was cram-packed with chauffeuring kids, chores around the house and errands to run. That evening I was invited to play tennis with a group of friends. I was the worst tennis player of the group, but I wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity to improve my game, so I accepted the invitation and even offered to host at my neighborhood’s courts. Trying to ignore the pain, I played very poorly for a couple of hours before I decided to sit out.

The next morning the pain was still there and I was walking with a slight limp, but it wasn’t something I was worried about. I knew running was probably not the best idea, so I went swimming and cycling instead. 14 laps in the pool and 10.7 miles on the bike later and my hip didn’t feel any worse, but it didn’t feel any better either. I knew I should probably take it easy so that I would feel well enough to run my 5K, so the next day I only swam laps and the following day I didn’t train at all.

The night before the 5K The Hubster and I went out on a date. He became a little concerned when he noticed I was lifting my left leg with my hands to get out of the car. “It’s just a little muscle weakness. It’s fine as soon as I stand up.” I said.

“Do you think you should be running a 5K tomorrow if you can’t even raise your leg out of the car?” he asked.

“Of course! It’ll be fine. I already paid to run this race and I’m pretty sure I can win a medal. Don’t worry.”

“Okay, but if you run this race in the morning, you better be willing to accept the consequences. I don’t know what’s wrong with your leg, but I’d say there’s a good chance you won’t be able to walk for a few days afterwards.” The Hubster said while we waited for our pizza at Mellow Mushroom.

“Nonsense! I’ll be fine. Besides, winning a medal will be worth a few days of soreness.”

The following morning The Hubster the kiddos, and I all piled in the van and headed to the Baptist church a few miles down the street where the race was being hosted. My hip was still bothering me, but I could walk without much of a limp, so I figured running would be fine. Besides, it was only 3 short miles and I planned to get it over with quickly.

Fri
29 ^th

Bathroom Stuff Review

Posted by Kristina Cersey — Comments Off

Stanky Stuff

Since we are talking about “brands” of stuff this week, I thought I’d review a few items in my bathroom. In fact, what brought this thought on was disgust with something in my bathroom this morning. I know, this could be so many things! But it was actually something you wouldn’t expect to be disgusting. So obviously, the first review is less than stellar.

Have you ever encountered a drunk baby? No, I certainly hope not because the very idea is outrageous! But can you imagine what a drunk baby might smell like? Just think about a thick fog of white baby powder mixed with noxious, undulating alcohol fumes around a poor, sweet infant. It’s just repugnant, is it not? So why on earth would I want to spray something that made me think of this atrocity on my hair and then expose others to it by going out in public? I do not want to do this. Yet, as I sit here typing, my nose is afflicted by this very acrid smell. What is the source? Dove Hair Therapy, Style + Care, Strength & Shine, Extra Hold Hairspray. Aside from having the longest name ever, it also wins the stinkiest ever hairspray prize. Even the smallest amount of this hairspray will make your hair smell like an extremely elderly lady who’s lost her sense of smell, and has applied copious amounts of perfume under the assumption she is covering the stench of her abscessing corpulence, but without realizing she is only adding funk to fetor.

So, you might be asking yourself why I have applied this pungent vulgarity to my head today? The simple answer, my dear friend, is that I was too lazy to go downstairs and get my other hairspray.

Aside from the stank, I have not found its “hold” to be either Extra or Strong, and any Shine that it induces is very short-lived. So, in my opinion, this Hair Therapy needs some serious therapy of its own. I will not be using it again! (Unless, of course, I forget to take my other hairspray upstairs.)

Can’t Keep Your Hands off Your Face

Next up is something I love!

Wed
27 ^th

What’s Your Brand of Brainwash?

Posted by Kristina Cersey — Comments Off

There’s a lot of talk going around. You know, political talk and whatnot. People are sharing their views on candidates, issues and beliefs. We are in that extra sensitive time of every quadrennium when you might get punched in the face for sharing what’s on your mind. Which is why I’m not going to share my political opinions here. The Hubster and I already argue enough about politics at home, so my cup is full on that front. No, instead I’m mostly going to talk about some generalities that have been stewing in my brain of late.

Growing up as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I remember being told on occasion by “friends” that I was brainwashed by Mormonism. Of course as a teenager, if anyone came within a stone’s throw a comet flying by Jupiter of insulting me then I would become as defensive as, well, a teenage girl. So if someone even insinuated that I was brainwashed by my religion, I would quickly snap at them like a rabid dog, and sometimes I’d even go the extra mile and do things in direct opposition to my beliefs just to prove my brain was still dirty and not at all washed. But as an adult, I now realize that I am brainwashed. And you know what? So are you.

Thu
17 ^th

4 Ways to Up Your Awesomeness Factor

Posted by Kristina Cersey — Comments Off

For as long as I can remember I’ve been pretty insecure. I don’t want this post to be a pity party because pity parties are stupid. But in order for me to make my point, you need to know that most days there are moments, or sometimes hours, when I have a hard time liking what I see in the mirror. I’ve had people roll their eyes when I say things like this and mutter something akin to, “You were a model, what’s not to like?” But we wear our self-perceptions more prominently than our own skin sometimes. So when I think I’m anything short of awesome on the inside, I’m not satisfied with what I see on the outside either. Maybe you can relate?

So, what can be done about our faulty self-perceptions that we might think aren’t faulty, but they really are faulty, like extra salty faulty? Well, I’m not an expert, but since you asked, here is my advice to you, and me. Ready? Here it comes…

Category