It's no secret that I've been in a workout funk for a while. Ever since I did some kind of damage to my Achilles tendon in May, things have gone downhill. I stopped running so I wouldn't make it worse. I got out of the habit of going to Strive (the weightlifting class). Too many Tuesdays went by that I missed Pilates. Pitaiyo fell by the wayside, except for the weekend I did their instructor training. Every once in a while I would try to run a mile or ride the bike or whatever, but I just never could get my mojo back. And of course I gained a few pounds, didn't sleep well, etc. It was getting pretty discouraging.
I'm still waiting for approval to do physical therapy for the tendon, so I really can't run much, if at all, until that happens. But today I forced myself to go to Pitaiyo and in one short hour, I remembered why I love it so much. There is no other class that all in one session helps you relax, focus, stretch, strengthen, and realize just how much your body can do. It's amazing.
So after Pitaiyo, I left the gym with a spring in my step. I needed to get a few things at Walmart (right across the street), stop by the library, and then go home to clean the bathroom and make bread for a dinner guest.
As I was pulling out of the gym parking lot, I stopped long enough to take this photo for Man-squared and Ben:
I couldn't tell you what it is, but I'm sure it's cool.
Then I went to Walmart, got my four things, and headed for the library. About a half mile up the road, I noticed the air conditioning suddenly got pretty warm. I fiddled with the controls for a minute, thinking, Nooooo! Not the air conditioning! Then I saw that the temperature gauge was pegged. Not merely inching toward the big red H, but hanging right there on top of it. I got this vision of my hood exploding right off the car.
At that moment I was pulling up to a light in the left-turn-only lane. I put it in park, turned the car off, and put the flashers on, knowing how much everyone in Northern Virginia loves when you do that on a busy Saturday morning, but I didn't want the engine to blow. I called Ben to tell him what was happening, and he said to get it to a parking lot and wait there.
In 20 minutes, he was there to rescue me and my three Walmart bags and two library books. He and Man-squared went back later and found that all the coolant had leaked out, which would explain why the temperature was all the way up but there was no steam. They fixed it all up and brought it home, good as 256,000-miles-new.
This story shows why I love this man. You see, I have three paranoias about cars: the tires, the brakes, and the coolant. I am forever saying one or the other tire is low. I can actually walk around my car and tell just by looking which tires need air and which don't, and it doesn't have to be more than a pound or two. Ben says I have calibrated eyes.
And I am always nervous about brakes. Two months after new pads are put on, I need Man-squared to check them so I can sleep at night and drive without my stomach being in knots. Then it's about every month thereafter. He's gotten very good at checking brakes over the years.
And coolant. Oh, my word. It's a wonder I don't run off the road for all the time I spend watching the temperature gauge. I could never have a car with an idiot light instead of a gauge; I would have a nervous breakdown not knowing what the temperature in the block is. And yet the whole family knows that I overheat everything I ever drive. It's a sick joke the devil torments me with.
Ben is very patient with me and all my weird-isms about cars. He rescues me, he fixes my car, he pats my hand and tells me everything will be fine. He's a hero.
Be thankful ~