Monday, September 22, 2014

Too Much Of A Good Thing


"If it's worth doing, it's worth overdoing."

-- Anais Nin

Freezer packed with ice bags 9-22-14


"Too much of a good thing can be wonderful."

-- Mae West


"The bigger the better; in everything."

-- Freddie Mercury


In most facets of my life I feel like I don't do enough.

But when it comes to exercise, I am definitely guilty of overdoing it.

I go too far, too hard, too often.

To stave off injury and soreness, I take an ice bath every day after my ride. I dump two 7 pound bags of ice in the tub, fill it with enough cold water to cover my legs, and sit in it for 20 minutes.

I store the ice in the basement deep-freeze. It holds about 10 bags at a time (along with all of our frozen foods) which means I have to restock every 5 to 7 days.

When I'm on my game, I get my own ice. Sometimes, when I feel lazy, I can bribe Leo to do it. When I totally forget and it's an ice emergency, my husband is always great about making a last-minute ice run for me. Sometimes I don't even have to ask. He just does it.

Yesterday I was out of ice. I knew there wouldn't be any after my ride. 

Leo and his girlfriend were eating breakfast together, so I didn't want to make him do it. And I didn't want to interrupt my husband, who was working hard on a project of his own, and make him drop everything to go get ice. So after my ride, I opted for a hot bath with Epsom salt. 

It felt good. But it wasn't the same.

Later in the day, while I was out running errands, I dropped by the store and bought my ten bags. I felt good about being responsible for my own damn self, and for taking care of my own damn business.

I carried my ice-cold booty to the basement and opened the freezer.

It was already full.

Packed to the gills.

Ten big bags of ice, ice, baby. 

The Ice Man had already cometh.

So you know what I did? I called him on his phone (he was out scouting geese with Leo) and reamed him out. Ripped him a new one. I was all "Why didn't you tell me you bought ice? I have ten fucking bags and no where to put them. I hate it when you do this." I was super pissy because if I'd known there was ice I could have taken my ice bath after my riiide-uh!

And you know what he did? He apologized. For being nice. For helping me. For seeing a need and filling it. For being the kind of husband that almost every other wife wishes she'd married.

I huffily rearranged the contents of the upstairs and downstairs freezers as best I could and was able to cram in six bags. I dumped three bags into the bathtub, and put the last one in a cooler. Then I took the ice bath I'd missed earlier in the day.

Using three bags instead of my usual two made the bath extra icy and extra good, and it felt extra awesome.

I needed it to cool off my hot head and realize that I was a complete bitch to my husband who'd done nothing wrong except be a totally great guy. When he got home I apologized, and I thanked him.

And I realized, now that I have all this excess ice, I can take 3-bag ice baths for a few days to use it all up. I know it's a strange and unusual luxury, and not everyone's cup of tea.

But it's definitely my cup of tea.

Make that iced tea.