tartare and cardio. and cardio.
there are few things better than a post-exam lunchy with a friend that you don’t see that often. one of them is a post-exam lunchy [with said friend] at wabi sabi, where you order bunches of very pretty items, including spicy tuna tartare, complete with avacado and little spoonfuls of de-lish caviar everywhere [see photo]. and it gets better– after digesting for an hour or so in a “mandatory” [read: usless] introduction to repro, cherie and i ran off to the tennis courts to chase balls and gab, gab, gab.
i came home and looked over some old cardio pharmacology notes– i seem to have forgotten all of my anti-arrhythmics/anginals/everything. so… i reviewed my cardio drugs and ate sliced mango until my club boxing class.
i got to the gym waaaaaaaay to early, though– and wasted away my time on the treadmill until the class started…10 minutes late. poopy. the first part of the class was tricky– i have no coordination, and the instructor was doing these jab, jab, hook, hook, body, body combo things that my feeble brain really can’t handle. but… then we started running. weave, weave, run, hit the bag, lunge, kick, dip dip dip-a-million-times, pushups, situps, duck walk (?), breathe. that part was considerably easier. i’m thinking that it was a good thing that the class wasn’t packed, or i’d have inadvertantly hit someone already. not that my punches have anything behind them. i hit like a girl. seriously.
at one point, i actually stubbed my toe when kicking the gargantuan punching bag. bad form. baaaaaaaaaaaaaaad toe.
next time, emma and i are bringing gloves. the instructor told everyone who didn’t have gloves to hit the bag with the palms of their hands, instead of their fists, to keep from hurting themselves. i, the perpetually paranoid medical student, feared getting a colle’s fracture [or something] from slamming the palm of my hand into the bag repeatedly , so i pretty much just tapped the bag and kicked it a few times.* emma, however, went all out, fists flying… and ended up with pretty red knuckles. ouch.
afterwards, i stopped by ross and picked up a couple more pairs of workout pants [more time at the gym = more pants] and 4 new towels so that the family doesn’t use up my supply every time they visit. woo hoo!
now? i’m tired…and no one’s here to peel me an orange!
*yes, i’m a big wuss. and, yes, i probably don’t have the strength in my arm to actually cause a colle’s fracture. you should at least be proud of me that i actually remembered what a colle’s fracture is. yaaay for me! 200,000 more little bits of information like that, and i’ll be ready for boards!