I have always envisioned Mother Nature to be a soft and welcoming character. In my mind, she has long flowing hair colored like marigolds, eyes the shade of the Mediterranean, wears a beautiful gown of the softest moss, and tops the entire ensemble with a crown of ivy and lilies. She's enchanting, just wants you to love her earth and the beautiful things she surrounds us with.
That was before this week.
My vision has changed. Gone is the vision of a delicate earth mother. I have learned that Mother Nature is a wicked harpy that sleeps in black swamps, smells like rotted tree stump, and has dead dandelions for hair. She is the most vicious and vile creature. I would much rather spend time with Father Time as Mother Nature has scorned me for life. Sidenote- I never told anyone this, but growing up I always thought that Father Time and Mother Nature were married.
It all happened on Wednesday. Jen and decided that rather than go to the gym, we should go for a nice walk, as it was 80 degrees out. Fortunately for us, we live directly on Lake Michigan and decided on a 3-mile loop that included 1.5 miles along the shore of this lovely Great Lake. Sounds fine and dandy to me. Until I actually start walking in the sand. Holy Crap! Walking in sand is tough work! My experience with the sand includes either beaching myself to get a tan, drinking mojitos on the beach, enjoying sand castles, or a combo platter of tanning myself while drinking mojitos while breaking to kick children's sand castles over. Never, and I mean NEVER, has exercise ever been incorporated into my trifecta of drinking, tanning and making kids cry. But Wednesday was different, and I actually walked, quite briskly, on the sand.
Damn you, Mother Nature!! This beach is no longer my playplace. It is your own homemade Stair Climber! You duped me! I hate Stair Climbers, they are the epitome of hell in my exercise world, I would rather use Hell Machine than ever use a Stair Climber. But walking on your beach that I loved so much felt just like the worst piece of Aerobic equipment ever manufactured. And you had the nerve to make your shores long and plentiful, meaning I had to walk 1.5 miles to get off of the sand. Terrible!
However, walking in the sand paled in comparison to the task that faced me when I wanted to get off of the beach. The beach is down a large slope from where are homes are. There are few clear-cut paths to safely get up and down. The path that we ended up at was misery. It was as if some doofy contractor haphazardly dumped a truck-full of concrete down a hill side, then threw large rocks into it for traction. Staring it up at it, I knew what competitors on Nickelodeon Guts felt when they faced the Agrocrag. It was terrifying, and miserable. I had to stop twice on the way up to catch my breath, aka make sure my heart has not exploded yet. I was grateful to be walking with an RN, and hoped and prayed Jen had portable defibrillators tucked into her yoga pants. But I made it, and swore at Mother Nature the whole way home.
Apparently wretched Mother Nature does not like to be sworn at, because she sought further revenge on me that day. As it was beautiful out, Jen, Tiff and I declared the day to be Margarita Wednesday, or as Tiff says, "DrunkDay," instead of the usual Wednesday Hump Day. So we filled up a baby pool with water, threw it in our blacktop driveway, put on our bathing suits and started drinking Margaritas. I am not sure whether the site of three suburban military housewives sitting on a driveway by a baby pool in their bathing suits while drinking margaritas at 11:30 a.m. is awesome or pathetic. I vote for it being wonderful, perhaps because we are planning to do it again next Wednesday. Nonetheless, I have never burnt in my life in this Midwestern sun. Sure, throw me in Mexico and I crisp, but not in the Midwestern. But Old Lady Nature decided she was going to get back at me for cursing at her all day, by frying the tops of my shoulders and the tops of my legs to a nice bright red shade. Okay, so maybe it was the margaritas that made me forget to use sunscreen or the fact that my doctor forgot to tell me my new meds increase my sun sensitivity. But I highly doubt that, I truly think it was wenchy Mother Nature getting back.
And it continues, because I have not been able to work out these past two days. I attempted to go yesterday, but the constricting elastic of a sports bra on my tender shoulders literally brought me to tears. I went to Target instead. And today I actually made it to the gym, but a few minutes on that elliptical with my burnt legs was miserable, absolutely miserable. Then I tried to lift. HA- good luck doing a shoulder press with a sunburn.
I was at the gym for a total of 8 minutes. This includes locker room time. Pathetic. So I learned a hard lesson- never mess with Mother Nature. She is pretty intense with her natural workouts with the sandy beaches, hillsides and Agrocrags. If you accept her challenges, do not swear at her as she is a vengeful and vindictive old broad. Next time I hang out with Father Time, I will be sure to ask him what he did to Mother Nature to make her like this.
Clearly Mother Nature is a scorned woman full of revenge.