Photo #1--Me at the top of saddle. That's Tuacahn in the back ground...site of me and Rach's first date ever many moons ago
Photo #2--One of the heavier dudes in my group has had a hard time losing weight here. On the hike today, he needed to use the restroom and this is what he produced...someone has some explaining to do.
Photo #3--Rock formation on the back side of "saddle," near fern gully.
My back has been bothering me just under my left shoulder blade for a couple days so I made a appointment to see the in house chiropractor this evening. I told him what the deal was and he determined I had a rib pop out a bit, so he made his adjustment. He said he would spend the rest of the 1/2 hour checking me out and making sure there were no other obvious issues. He started with my feet and noticed the scars running down both sides. I explained, I had two ankle reconstructions related to sports abuse. He asked about the scar on my heal. So, I explained I had a torn tendon repaired because I was thrown into a fence by a gentleman who had killed several people, while working my Forensic Unit job. While adjusting my neck he felt the knot on my collar bone and asked if I had broken it, I answered yes...both of them. He made a comment that maybe I should be a little more careful with my body in the future. This really caused me to think a bit. I felt a little stupid and was glad we didn't talk about both my broken arms (one as I tried, unsuccessfully, to jump several railroad ties on my bike and the other because my friends and I thought it would be interesting to see what happened if I stood on one side of a teeter totter and they jumped together off the monkey bars onto the other). We won't go into my two shoulder surgeries and stitches, multiple times. And with all that, I am still grateful for all the times I ended up okay, when I could have or should have been seriously hurt doing other very stupid things.
What's the point of the prior paragraph, you might ask? Of all those injuries and accidents that have left scars, limps, creeks and arguably some minor brain damage; the one thing that aggravates them all and makes them hurt 10 times worse and ultimately culminated with a thousand decisions far worse...is the extra weight. Frankly, I'm tired of it and am ready to give my body a break. Picture in your minds eye a 25 pound dumbbell. Picture yourself holding it...not that bad, right. Now, picture yourself holding five of them and carrying that around all day. For every 25 pounds I drop, I have one less dumbbell to carry around.
Enough with the melodramatic thoughts and comparisons and on with something lighter...pun intended. I've seen more bum cracks in the last week and a half than I care to mention... to the point of recognition. Seriously, I see a bum crack in the pool now and I know immediately who's it is. I believe one of two things needs to happen; either the fat community needs to go through some sort of mandatory awareness training and be subject to a wedge penalty by any random person that feels they're not in compliance or, Wal-mart needs to start selling adult onsies to cover the gaps...again, pun intended.
That's all for now...heading to bed.
A lot of butt cracks there? You've obviously never been to a Gunderson reunion.
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