Bluebells, cockle shells

I went back to work today after five days off, and boy oh boy the newsroom was like tumbleweed blowing through the bald prairie, empty, lonely, desolate, not a soul there but me. I think I may have missed a memo or something.

I was a little disgruntled when I woke up this morning. It’s always hard to get back into the routine after holiday, and when the 6 a.m. alarm blasted, the last thing I wanted to do was pull myself out of bed. And apparently it was the last thing my legs wanted to do too, because as soon as I stood up, my right leg buckled from under me. It was the weirdest thing, I think I may have actually had a cramp in my knee. I’ve had cramps in my calves, in my feet, in my toes, in my hands, but never in my knees. I didn’t like it.

My mood, however, was lifted at noon, when as I was pulling my lunch out of my lunchbox, I noticed an unfamiliar bag sitting on a box underneath my desk – a gift bag! WOOHOO! (Have I mentioned how much I love gifts?) And inside the bag was a bottle of Quails Gate pinot noir from the Okanagan Valley, but no gift card. I looked inside the bag, outside the bag, under the bottom flap, and nothing. So, if my dear, belated Secret Santa is reading this: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I love gifts. I love wine 😀

Now, because the holidays are over, but my holiday treats are not yet fully devoured, I figured it was high time I got back into a routine. Last night I had pilates and tonight I had skipping.

Some of you may recall how I announced a couple of weeks ago that I was interested in taking up skipping to better my endurance. But I haven’t skipped in a good 20 years at least, and given my lack of talent with the hula hooping, I figured I was best to get some skipping support. But not just any support, I went to the Queen Bee Skipper.

My girlfriend Carolyn, who I’ve been friends with since we were toddlers, is a star skipper. I’m going from memory here because I was too busy catching up with her and her sister and her mom to ask the pertinent questions, but if my memory serves correctly, Carolyn started skipping in elementary school, then started competing, then became a champion skipper, then started coaching … and now, her four-year-old daughter is following in her footsteps.

This kid was doing two-foot hops, alternating foot hops, skipping forwards,  backwards, doing loop-de-loops, donkey kicks and a whole bunch of other crazy skipping I had never before viewed – and she was doing it fast! She is my little skipping mentor.

The first thing I was told: NO SINGING! Star skippers, meaning speed skippers, do not sing. No Apples, Peaches, Pears and Plums. No Bluebells. No Cinderella. 🙁

I had it in my head that I was going to do 15 minutes of skipping right off the bat, which apparently was a little optimistic. “I challenge you to do five minutes,” Carolyn said. So, I set the timer, figuring I could do five minutes no problem, but quickly discovered, in like the first 30 seconds, that five minutes was going to feel like a bloody hour. My heart was racing, my face was reddening, sweat was beading, and when the buzzer had finally sounded, I was huffing and puffing like I’d just finished running a 10 km race.

I think me and this skipping thing are going to get along fabulous … that is, as long as I can stop whacking myself in the head with the rope!