Fake Summer is Killing Me

As much as I love summer, its fake relative is killing me this weekend. You know what I’m talking about; the stretch of a couple gorgeous days in spring that beckon us outdoors to engage in summer activities after a long winter of hibernation Yeah, that. It’s supposed to reach 80 degrees today. My body can’t take any more of this insanity or of my high expectations, at least that’s what it tells me.

The first day of fake summer:

On Friday, I take a break from writing and head out to the pond behind our house. I notice a trickle of water running from the fake stream that feeds our water feature which acts as a holding pond for irrigation.

Noticing the thick tangle of dead cattails strangling the creek, I check to see how hard it will be to pull them out from the empty and muddy creek bed. Their roots usually go to China. I pull a reed out by the roots. They rotted over the winter. First. Time. Ever.

Remembering what I learned about squats, I use my knees while making a humongous pile. I don’t want to hurt myself so I quit after an hour’s work.

Later that day:

I took a year off from tennis and hired a personal trainer to strength train and rehab my knee instead. It has stabilized a ton. I lasted entire days while skiing this year.

I focused on becoming fit and strong after muscle atrophy and even meditated with that intention. That was the deal I made with my body. It was time to find out if the hours in the gym (and in my head) had paid off.

With the sun shining overhead, my husband and I headed to the tennis court.

Danny fires a ball over the net and I race after it like a golden retriever.

BODY: What the hell are you doing????

I get to the ball and hit it wide since I’m late in making contact. Every muscle feels strained.

ME: I gotta move my feet. GAH!

He sails another one right up the middle. I return it. Then he sends one wide and short and I bolt for it. I whiff, big time. Shocks of pain streak like lightning from my shoulder.

BODY: For God’s sake, woman. STOP! You may have strengthened our muscles, but making us sprint was not something in our verbal contract.

ME: Ouch! I can’t afford to do that again. I stretch out my shoulder and line up behind the baseline again.

I ignore the yelps from my body and get to the ball this time, returning it down the line.

BODY: Don’t get your hopes up. We can only take this torture for so long.

After a long rally warm-up, my body’s screams dull when endorphins take control.

As we play, the game comes back to me. I’m not as fast as I was, but it feels good to sprint again.

Painless, I quit while my body is still shocked into submission. I walk home wondering if I’ll be able to get out of bed the next day.

Saturday:

Another gorgeous day. I’m surprised when I’m able to walk, although stiff-legged. I look out the window at the listless gardens in desperate need of deadheading. A landscaping crew will do the work, but not for a couple of weeks.

Fake summer strikes again.

By noon, I can’t take it anymore. I head outdoors to pull weeds and cut down tall grasses. Again I remember my squats until a hamstring yelps.

ME: Now what? I’m doing squats like I’m supposed to!

BODY: You’re expecting way too much of us. Muscles need a break not to mention tendons and ligaments. They’ve been complaining for hours now.

ME: I start bending at the waist. A big no-no, but it stops my hamstrings’ complaints. With the unfamiliar feeling of sweat dripping down my back while fake summer’s sunshine warms my heart like Medusa, I continue my purge of winter’s aftermath.

Holding the last of the long wheatlike stalks in my hands, I turn to throw them into the pile. A tree branch pokes me above the eye. Dammit. All I need is another scar. I have a terrible one above my eye from a rabid rose bush.

ME: That’s it. I’m done with fake summer! The leaves haven’t even come out on all the trees. I would have seen that little sucker. I throw my shears on the ground. I clean up the mess and go inside to take a loooooong shower.

Sunday. Fake summer strikes again:

My body is sore from the hair on my head to my toenails. I read the weather app on my phone.

It’s supposed to hit 80 degrees today.

ME: Whoopie ding dong day. I’d rather catch up on my blog and Pinterest.

While scheduling pins, my computer freezes.

I have a heart attack. Did I save my latest edits on my manuscript? I try everything. After thirty agonizing minutes, I finally turn my laptop off.

While praying it turns on again, (my operating system crashed right after buying my MacBook Pro) I remember something about Word not being updated.

What if it didn’t save my files in the cloud? What if all the work I did on Friday is GONE??? I take a deep breath and look skyward.

While nervous perspiration breaks out on my clammy hands, I press the button to restart my computer. I hope the little bar appears underneath the big apple to show it’s loading files……….

It does!

It takes a long time to load everything. Having too much open, including my massive photos app, probably caused the freeze.

I check my Word file to see if the last edit was saved. *gulp*

IT WAS!!!

I shut my laptop and go outside to enjoy the last of fake summer. It’s supposed to drop thirty degrees and rain this week.

Do you enjoy fake summer? Are you a weekend warrior only to feel the pain on Monday morning?

More adventure on the Wild Ride.

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