From whining to wining

Why am I wearing two sweatshirts and sheepskin boots inside my 70 degree apartment?

Well, because even I get tired of hearing myself complain, I took a break from whining yesterday to go to the gym. There I did more lunges, squats, and dead lifts than I have done in a while, with more weight than I had ever done before. I stretched before and after, warmed up with a run and cooled down with a walk, but none of my diligence prevented my muscles from rebelling in shock today, stiffening up against my joints so that merely walking was a chore.

It actually wasn't bad when I woke up; the worst of it came at the end of the workday, after I had been seated for the greater part of eight hours, and after my drive home, when my body was again, at rest. Finally, after dinner, I hopped into a long-awaited hot shower, hoping to loosen up the muscles and joints and relieve the tension I had felt all day.

One of the benefits of my job is that my company actually makes a product that is ideal for sore muscles. Somewhat like a Ben-Gay, it uses cold and heat therapy to reduce pain - essentially, camphor and menthol cool the area and desensitize nerves, then another ingredient warms the skin, stimulating blood flow. I've used it before, and while it's not a magic cure-all, it works well enough for me to at least walk across the kitchen towards an open bottle of wine. (The only magic cure-all I know.)

So after my shower, I scooped out the product and applied it liberally over my quads and hamstrings. Then I put on my pajamas - drawstring pants and a tank top. Then I grabbed a hoodie from my closet. My Uggs, for good measure. And then things got out of control. I started shivering. Not just quivering, but I was shaking, my teeth chattering. My legs became so damn cold, they literally felt numb. I grabbed the throw blanket from my couch, and dove under my covers - Uggs on and all. I've never taken an ice bath, but suddenly I knew what one felt like. This is ridiculous, I thought. Like a horror movie when a temperature drop indicates the presence of an evil spirit. Don't think I didn't check my room for ghosts. It was bone-chilling enough.

I considered my options: shower, and try to get every ounce of this stuff off me, or layer up and wait for the cold to pass. Hoping to brave it, I bounded out of bed and into my closet, where I grabbed the heaviest sweatpants I own. I shimmied them up over my boots, over my pajama bottoms, thinking they might provide some insulation. No luck. I dove back under the covers, laughing out loud at the craziness, wondering if maybe I was possessed after all.

Finally I couldn't take it anymore. I ran into the bathroom, peeled off the clothes, and stood under another steaming shower for ten more minutes. Sorry, LA. Eventually I climbed out, put new pajamas on, but the cold was still there. Sweatpants went back on, then the hoodie, then an old college sweatshirt that was intentionally bought a size too large, to insulate myself from the blustery days at Syracuse.

When I sat down to write this, I was still visibly shivering. Since that first sentence, however, the heating properties kicked in - I shed the two sweatshirt layers and am genuinely toasty from head to toe. Of course, that may just as easily be attributed to the wine.

Edited to add: And now this is front page news. How bizarre. I am nothing if not on-trend. As I mentioned to Anonymous in the comments, though, our product does not contain this ingredient. Hey - I spot a PR opportunity here!