ajaelee

[ajaelee]

My last real post — which was also my first — was three years ago. (The second post was really a Yelp review, so it doesn’t count.)

I said I was goin to get disciplined about my postural restoration PT and implied I would start running soon and start writing about my running.

I did the middle thing but not the first or, obviously, the last.

Until yesterday. I submitted my first blog to be published on Medium. I’m not sure how this works, but seems like it has

To go to an “editor” to publish it. So I guess I guess it’ll be up, what, tomorrow? I’m a few days? Stay tuned.

[ajaelee]

22-hour road trip, one real meal, one restaurant to choose. We chose wisely: The Fig Tree Restaurant.

Unpretentious but elegant, professional but warmly personal, cozy but private. The food? About as close to perfect as one could hope.

Free advice: Ask to be served by Edward. Ask when you make the reservation. Wait for him if you have to. Because you want Edward to just choose your meal for you.

We always ask our servers what their favorites are. Usually, they point to the most expensive items. As did Edward. But there was a sincerity about him, a genuine eagerness to advocate for his choices. So we went it & loved every bite of them.

We started with the fois gras, which is what drew us here. It was both seasoned & cooked perfectly, a melt-in-your-mouth dream for this unapologetic carnivore. The accompanying chutney was a well-matched foil of sweet-tart tastes and toothy-crunchy textures. The foie gras and the chutney each were outstanding on their own: neither needed the other — but together they were divine.

Then chorizo-stuffed calamari. I adore squid in all its manifestations, so I didn’t even read the description closely. It’s not deep-fried or breaded except for 2 perfectly done tentacles, so small they are almost garnish. But the main bit is a little 3-inch football, a tiny whole squid, filled with house-made chorizo. Alone, it might have been too salty + bold for more than one bight, but paved with the eggplant agrodolce, it was wonderful. Had there been a teaspoon or two more of the roasted pepper puree, it would have been perfection.

My husband’s lamb tenderloin was undeniably good. But what I loved about his dish was the supporting actors: the risotto, surprisingly flavored with a raisin-mint agrodolce, and the pistachio gremolata, which I need to replicate at home.

But the real star of the show was my dish, the one you could tell Edward really loved: the Chilean sea bass & lobster with saffron risotto on lobster ragu. I know what you are thinking: lobster in North Carolina? (My mom said the same thing.) But this beat out anything In Main or Massachusetts. Lobsteriest lobster ever. Like lobster-infused lobster meat. You know how a fruity Jelly Belly is more fruity than the real fruit? It was like a Jelly Belly lobster, but cooked to perfect tenderness, as was the sea bass.

I could eaten a vat of the saffron-lover's risotto all by itself. But what really has me wanting to lick the plate was that lobster “ragu." If you love lobster bisque, you’ll want to lick your plate, too.

Ed chose my dessert, too: chèvre cheesecake. Not what I would've pricked, but I loved it. I loved it so much that I finished off the distracting guava topping, yummy crust, & blueberry sauce so I could enjoy the chèvre cheesecake all naked and pure. But the best thing on the plate? The house-made honey ice cream.

But the real dessert winner was the limoncello custard. It had sounded, on the menu, a tad overreaching, even pretentious, with its thyme pain de genes, toasted pine nuts, & black gelee, its candied orange zest and ricotta gelato. But no: it was a perfect combination of items, each delightful on its own... but magic when assembled on one’s tongue.

And that is the real, rare gift of The Fig Tree: combining perfectly executed elements in unexpected ways so that the end result far exceeds the sum of its parts.

It might just be worth scheduling some overnight layovers at CLT to Uber on over here. I'll have to start scheduling my flights around Edwards schedule.

[ajaelee]

Option C

I like to start my New Year’s resolutions on my birthday, mostly because that December-January transition is pretty hectic, and I am rarely home so I feel I have too little control over my environment. Also, the gym crowd has died off by March.

So here we are. It’s March 1st.

I thought I’d be ready to start running by now. I thought I’d be ready to start writing about it by now. I thought I’d be set to resume my long swims and chronically my journey to my first Ironman. But my shoulder, while better, is still iffy. And that ischial tuberosity? It’s still a pain in the ischial.

So do I continue to rest my body? Or do I forge ahead with a strengthening regime? Or shall I give my alignment PT a serious go and stop making excuses?

I know option C is the best choice. But here— first, let me present my excuses:

Frankly, these PT exercises are not your usual PT exercises. I’m good at the usual PT exercises — the squats, the clams, the rows, the presses. Give me bands, weights, balls, whatever. Those, I love. Those, I’ll do all day long and then again after supper.

But these... These are boring. They are static. They are subtle. And they are hard. Not just physically, but mentally. I have to think about half a dozen things as I try to breath deeply to get my muscles to play nice again, to restore my posture.

Postural restoration. I have to restore my posture or things will keep getting hurt.

In the past 3 years, I’ve strained my right glute, right hip flexors, right hams, left calves, and left shin. My right navicular is perpetually unhappy. My left navicular occasionally joins the pity party. I’ve had plantar fasciitis in both feet, been alarmed by a huge bulge to the right of my left Achilles, and then blew out both posterior tibials with tendinitis. I keep having a pinched nerve down my right arm, extending from my C2, and my left clavicle has been an intermittent source of grief and heartbreak.

And now its this weird issue around my left ischial tuberosity that started as an upper hamstring problem, then migrated medially until it felt like it was the perineum itself that had been strained. “Bursitis,” my DO/MD/ND says. But he also said that about my left shoulder, and I’m beginning to wonder if he just really enjoys giving shots.

“You should stop running” is what I never want to hear. But I have taken lots of time off. I do the PT squats/clams/lunges. I heal. I start running...and the demon appears in new places. But its the same demon. I know it is. It’s the same problem taking on a new form

So I’m hunting for Ground Zero. I gotta get to the root of the problem.

And running itself is not the problem. I ran for years without problems. I started walking again, after 11 years on a cane (but mostly in bed) in 2008. I went for my first walk/run in 2010. And there were no problems. I mean, I sprained my ankle once in 2011, but after a few months, I resumed running And everything was fine.

Then in November of 2016, I fell. Hard. I was running up a leaf-covered hill and Tripped on broken sidewalk, slamming down on my left knee and right hand. I tore my glove and my pants. I sat down on the cold sidewalk and cried. I hoped a car would stop and ask if I was okay. I hoped someone would peak out of their window and invite me into their home. I considered all the people I could call to come pick me up, but I didn’t feel comfortable calling any of them.

So I started to walk the 5 or so miles back to my car. But then I started feeling better, and the walking was taking so long, so... I ran.

Later, when I called my ER doctor sister and told her what had happened, she says, “yeah, I got a diagnosis for you: you are an idiot.”

And she is right, of course. Because when I called her, it was two days later, and I had thought I would try a quick, easy run on the treadmill. It seemed to go okay until I was done and tried to get off the treadmill aaaaand my left hip flexor decided to go on strike. This eventually led to a total-hip brown out over the next few years, with my glutes leaving the team completely, forcing my TFLs to take over and the adductors falling into a stupor while everything around and below fell apart.

So now the whole Hip & Co. is undergoing a comprehensive restructuring, and no one is happy about it.

This is all background to say that starting tomorrow — the day after my 48th birthday — I will start being really disciplined about my postural restoration physical therapy. No more excuses. No more whining. I don’t care how boring it is or how how cold I get lying on the mat trying to remember which muscles I’m supposed to be recruiting where. I’m gonna do it.

Also, we are adding planks.

Let’s see how this changes the game.

running #physicaltherapy #posturalrestoration