I Swear, I'm Atrophying

I've been working so hard, yet sitting all week. In my car an hour or two a day. At my work desk for 7 or 8 hours, many of them nonstop. Then, after a brief burst of running around that burns no calories at all, several more hours at my desk in my home office.

If I'm lucky, I lie on a couch or bed for 42 minutes and 37 seconds to watch a TV show with my husband. That happened once this week, I think.

My arms and shoulders ache because their range of motion is about 30 degrees. My hips and legs ache from the pressure of so much sitting. The only thing that doesn't hurt are my feet, except when—

Oh, yeah. I did have 8 hours of frantic activity when I worked therapy on Monday and Wednesday mornings. So my feet hurt then. I guess the aching is more intermittent than it seems.

The phone is ringing, yet it's not here on my desk where it's supposed to be. So I'm not answering it. That'll teach 'em.

I did manage to get a little exercise yesterday. Twenty minutes of walking to and from the City Islanders stadium, with 2 hours of sitting on bleachers in the middle. We went to watch a "friendly" match against our affiliate MLS team, The Philadelphia Union. After a dirty second half and a bench-clearing shoving incident, they called the game with no stoppage time.

There was a very cool element to the game. Since the game was a special, non-league-season game, they had general admission, so the fans were all mixed up, with season ticket holders together with the unwashed masses. One of the defensive captains, Dustin Bixler, has been out most of the season due to a knee injury and surgical repair, and he ended up right next to me!

It was pretty funny. This woman had been holding space in our area for, like, 10 people. Right before kickoff, they finally showed up. This guy in a team jersey starts to step into our row. I glance at him, and he looks familiar. (I just now realized why it took me a few seconds to recognize him—he was clean-shaven!) I glance down at his...knee, and see a brace. My eyes shoot back up. OMG, it's Bixler! One of our favorite players!

I look at Number Two, who's watching the field, not the stands. When I make Significant Eyes at Number One, however, she's making Significant Eyes back at me. He passes us and stands on the bench next to me. I lean and tell Number Two who it is. She looks up and widens her expression into Significant Eyes, then covers her mouth to hide her excited giggle. (She's so going to hate me for saying she giggled.)

A little while later, a fan asks us to pass a beer to Captain Bixler. Number One hands it over to me, and I hand it up. Later, she tells me the whole time she was going, "I'mHoldingHisBeer I'mHoldingHisBeer I'mHoldingHisBeer."

It was fun being near Bixler and his insider friends. They were full of affectionate snark directed at their teammates. My favorite was "Where are you going, Schofield, at 300 miles an hour."

The guys all call each other by nicknames, and the fans have picked up on those. So we call them Schoey (Schofield), Pellie (Pelletier), Callie (Calvano), etc. When one of the players on the field called Hotchkin "Hotchie," I told Number Two I was going to ask Bixler if they call him Bixie. She forbade me, though if he'd ever sat down and brought his ear within six feet of my mouth, I'd have done it.

It's funny, the giddiness of being near a local celebrity. This is a very minor league team, in a very minor city, and it's not like we don't have access to the players if we want it. They hang out on the field after every game to sign autographs, and go to a local pub to mingle with fans afterward. They even coach kids' soccer. But it still added a dimension to the experience that we enjoyed.

Okay, time to get back to work. Yes, sitting at my desk. Maybe tomorrow I'll find time to exercise...