I haven't mentioned my running much lately. Mostly because it has been going so well that I didn't want to jinx it. As I only have smart friends, I am sure you have all guessed that is no longer the case.
I have been running 3 times a week fairly regularly for a couple of months now. Prior to that, I had been doing the walk/run thing for a couple of months. Most of my runs are between 2-4 miles, but I have stretched it to 5 miles on the weekends a few times now. I refuse to lie and tell you that I feel great at the end of my runs, or even that I look graceful while doing it. (Unless you consider sweaty red faced people graceful.) I am still in search of that elusive "runner's high", but at least I no longer feel as if I need oxygen and an EKG at the end of a run.
I am running my first 5K this Saturday. Therefore, I was only planning to run 2.5 miles yesterday. I made it, but barely. I haven't had such a bad run in - well forever. All of my runs start as a test of wills - my body has to convince my brain that I am not going to die and to shut up and keep running. It takes almost a mile, but my body usually wins. My brain could not be silenced yesterday. It kept offering helpful insights about how humid and warm it was, or how strong the wind was blowing, or pointing out the horrible dead fish smell.
I am hoping this was just an exceptionally bad day. I'm forcing myself to get back on the saddle today for another 2.5 miles. Hoping this isn't an omen of things to come on Saturday.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Tall personality?
During my Pilates session yesterday, my instructor paused to readjust one of the machines. She made the statement that I was a little bit shorter than she, so she needed to lower the machine. As my trainer is about 5'10", I laughed and said the Cuban definition of little is different than the American one.
With a perplexed look, she asked: "what are you 5'6" or 5'7"?" After offering to make her an eye appointment, I responded that I am 5' 2 1/2" tall. She laughed and said she didn't believe me. Why anyone would lie about being shorter than they actually are is beyond me, but to appease her, I allowed her to measure me.
Much to my dismay - I hadn't grown at all. I still stand as short as ever. Her response - "it must be your personality. You seem so much taller than that."
With a perplexed look, she asked: "what are you 5'6" or 5'7"?" After offering to make her an eye appointment, I responded that I am 5' 2 1/2" tall. She laughed and said she didn't believe me. Why anyone would lie about being shorter than they actually are is beyond me, but to appease her, I allowed her to measure me.
Much to my dismay - I hadn't grown at all. I still stand as short as ever. Her response - "it must be your personality. You seem so much taller than that."
Monday, March 8, 2010
Weekend Bender
Recovering this morning from the bender I went on over the weekend. By the end of last week, I felt that I should be wearing a black cloak and carrying a scythe. I gave bad news to everyone. I get that I operate on cancer, and bad news is part and parcel. However, usually I get to mix in a little hope with the bad news - not so much last week.
Despite being on call this weekend, and having to interview prospective fellows, I needed to unplug. Friday evening was a wash, I met with my trainer and then had to meet up with the interview candidates for a "social" event at a local hangout. Likewise, Saturday morning involved rounding and interviewing potential fellows. Finally able to bust out around 2 pm, and headed straight to the local mall.
Don't act surprised - it is common knowledge that shopping is how I unplug. I had a plan - at least initially. I am going home for Easter this year, so thought I would pick up a new dress for Easter Sunday. First stop - Ann Taylor. Found an adorable spring floral dress with matching cardigan. Even better - they were both on sale. Since I was "saving" money, I decided the two additional dresses and a couple of sweaters from the clearance rack were basically free. (I know - I know, but they really were good bargains and ADORABLE.)
A normal person would have then gone home, but I've never really understood why anyone wants to be normal. I needed shoes to go with my new Easter dress. Nordstrom just happened to be next door, and seemed entirely logical at the time. I browsed around in shoe Heaven for a while when the devil (dressed as a salesman) approached. I showed him the dress, and even showed him the shoe that I had decided upon. He disappeared into the Garden of Eden, and returned a few moments later with 5 bright shiny tempting apples.
The shoe that I wanted was not available in my size, he says, but he brought a few other options for me to try. I spent the next 30 minutes trying on shoes - each more gorgeous than the one before it. I didn't take all 5, but 3 of them really were just too cute to leave at the store. Since I was running out of hands, I headed for home. (I actually ended up back at a different mall that evening, but only for dinner and a movie.)
Sunday brought me back to the hospital. After finally breaking free sometime after noon, I decided to head to the gym for a work-out. As I am walking toward the gym, the sales lady at the boutique next door mentions what a great sale they are having today. I felt it would be rude to not a least check it out. Three dresses and a top later, I finally got my workout.
As I sat on my sofa surveying my bounty, I couldn't help but smile. I can't afford to have these weekends often, but every once in a while has to be cheaper than therapy.
Despite being on call this weekend, and having to interview prospective fellows, I needed to unplug. Friday evening was a wash, I met with my trainer and then had to meet up with the interview candidates for a "social" event at a local hangout. Likewise, Saturday morning involved rounding and interviewing potential fellows. Finally able to bust out around 2 pm, and headed straight to the local mall.
Don't act surprised - it is common knowledge that shopping is how I unplug. I had a plan - at least initially. I am going home for Easter this year, so thought I would pick up a new dress for Easter Sunday. First stop - Ann Taylor. Found an adorable spring floral dress with matching cardigan. Even better - they were both on sale. Since I was "saving" money, I decided the two additional dresses and a couple of sweaters from the clearance rack were basically free. (I know - I know, but they really were good bargains and ADORABLE.)
A normal person would have then gone home, but I've never really understood why anyone wants to be normal. I needed shoes to go with my new Easter dress. Nordstrom just happened to be next door, and seemed entirely logical at the time. I browsed around in shoe Heaven for a while when the devil (dressed as a salesman) approached. I showed him the dress, and even showed him the shoe that I had decided upon. He disappeared into the Garden of Eden, and returned a few moments later with 5 bright shiny tempting apples.
The shoe that I wanted was not available in my size, he says, but he brought a few other options for me to try. I spent the next 30 minutes trying on shoes - each more gorgeous than the one before it. I didn't take all 5, but 3 of them really were just too cute to leave at the store. Since I was running out of hands, I headed for home. (I actually ended up back at a different mall that evening, but only for dinner and a movie.)
Sunday brought me back to the hospital. After finally breaking free sometime after noon, I decided to head to the gym for a work-out. As I am walking toward the gym, the sales lady at the boutique next door mentions what a great sale they are having today. I felt it would be rude to not a least check it out. Three dresses and a top later, I finally got my workout.
As I sat on my sofa surveying my bounty, I couldn't help but smile. I can't afford to have these weekends often, but every once in a while has to be cheaper than therapy.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Busted!
Conversation at work this morning:
My assistant: "Dr. Baxter, you look very nice today."
Me: "Thank you"
My assistant: "The other women {in the office} and I were just wondering - do you ever wear the same outfit twice?"
Me: "Very funny, I wear the same clothes all the time"
My assistant: "No, we have been watching. Other than scrubs, you haven't repeated since Christmas."
Me: "My name is Tammy Baxter, and I am a shopaholic"
My assistant: "Dr. Baxter, you look very nice today."
Me: "Thank you"
My assistant: "The other women {in the office} and I were just wondering - do you ever wear the same outfit twice?"
Me: "Very funny, I wear the same clothes all the time"
My assistant: "No, we have been watching. Other than scrubs, you haven't repeated since Christmas."
Me: "My name is Tammy Baxter, and I am a shopaholic"
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Old fashioned - maybe
Okay, call me old-fashioned, but I don't get what kids are wearing these days. By kids, I should tell you, I mean the next generation of female physcians. If the only difference between your work attire and your club attire is the amount of make-up you are wearing - it is WRONG!!!!!
I may not approve, but I understand that "appropriate" attire for physicians is an evolving thing. Not my choice, but if you want to wear chinos or dark-washed jeans during the week, as long as you pair it with appropriate shoes and top - I may not like it, but I can live with it. When you wear hooker shoes, skirts that barely cover anything, and a glittery top, I think you might be missing the point.
The hospital, contrary to popular nursing belief, is not a place to pick up guys. There is no bar where you can "look" your way into free drinks. I personally would have a very hard time taking menu advice from these women - I certainly would struggle at the idea of my life being entrusted in their hands.
Okay - I'll step down from my soap box and let everyone return to their activities - for which I am confident you are all appropriately dressed.
I may not approve, but I understand that "appropriate" attire for physicians is an evolving thing. Not my choice, but if you want to wear chinos or dark-washed jeans during the week, as long as you pair it with appropriate shoes and top - I may not like it, but I can live with it. When you wear hooker shoes, skirts that barely cover anything, and a glittery top, I think you might be missing the point.
The hospital, contrary to popular nursing belief, is not a place to pick up guys. There is no bar where you can "look" your way into free drinks. I personally would have a very hard time taking menu advice from these women - I certainly would struggle at the idea of my life being entrusted in their hands.
Okay - I'll step down from my soap box and let everyone return to their activities - for which I am confident you are all appropriately dressed.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
A "Good" night's sleep
A lot is made in the news about the value of a good night's sleep. It is supposedly restorative to one's mental and physical well-being. Okay . . .I'll buy that most of the time, but something went wrong for me last night.
I went to bed feeling fine. I woke up 6 1/2 hours later feeling anything but great. My head hurts; my nose is running; my throat is sore; my chest is congested; and my whole body aches. Glad I didn't get the full 8 - no telling how bad I would feel.
I went to bed feeling fine. I woke up 6 1/2 hours later feeling anything but great. My head hurts; my nose is running; my throat is sore; my chest is congested; and my whole body aches. Glad I didn't get the full 8 - no telling how bad I would feel.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Only in Miami
This morning in clinic, one of the nurses pulled me aside to ask me a question. Her question: "who did your breasts?" It took me a minute, but I was finally able to respond - "God with a little help from Victoria Secret."
What I can't decide is should I be flattered that she thought I had a nice pair, offended that she thought they were fake, appalled that she spent anytime thinking about them at all, or amused that only in Miami (and perhaps LA) is that considered a legitimate question.
What I can't decide is should I be flattered that she thought I had a nice pair, offended that she thought they were fake, appalled that she spent anytime thinking about them at all, or amused that only in Miami (and perhaps LA) is that considered a legitimate question.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)