Me: "I admitted an entomologist today."
Husband: "Did he catch a bug?"
Me: "I asked for that one."
Not long ago, I spent a week playing piano. I do that from time to time, play piano. It was my first love, discovered under headphones at age 5 listening to my parents LPs. Specifically to this:
One can argue regarding the purity and perfection of Horowitz' Beethoven playing, but that guy won my 5 year old heart over faster than you can say Torsades de pointe. I then begged for piano lessons till my parents finally gave in on my 7th birthday. I still have the card, with a picture of Schroeder playing guess who and the pronouncement I was being given piano lessons and an old upright piano. My friends patted me on the back with sad looks on their faces. But, nerd that I am, I was psyched!
Anyway, playing piano for a week at a chamber music workshop was a marathon of sorts. Day one, my fingers rebelled, but then they seemed to find this muscle memory, and started to act like they were made for this and took on an existence all their own as well as a sassy attitude, as if to say "what the hell took you so long to play some serious piano?"
I did not run a whole lot that week, though got a couple of good ones in. All that sitting started to make my behind feel like it was going to permanently widen, and a run in the woods at least gave me the illusion of decreasing possibility of said widening.
And like the meth user who unceremoniously comes down from their high, usually in my ER and usually quite unhappy about it, I woke up the morning after my last marathon piano day and headed back to the hospital. Now I could go on to say that the 70 hours of work in the last 5 days was horrible and exhausting. And I definitely could say I am antsy as I just did not have the energy to run even one of those 5 days. But truth be told, I had a fairly good week. There was some great medicine, and it was good to be among friends at the hospital. Yes, 70 hour work weeks are stupid. But, I guess I asked for that one.
One day at work, while taking a moment to absorb some vitamin D out in front of the hospital, a friend called and told me this joke: "Let's do an ultra marathon." I laughed and laughed and laughed. Turns out she was serious. It took about 5 minutes to talk me into it. She accused me of being easy. I certainly am not! I am simply trying to support a friend in their time of insanity. And one should not let friends approach 50 mile trail races alone. And plus I actually am easy, at least regarding certain things.
Ask and you shall receive.