Well, here's one number I can beat. (Come on, let me be better at something. Please.)
My heart rate, taken last Wednesday at my doctor's office (way more official!) came in at ... 42 bpm !!! (Wait ... am I even alive??) Apparently, I am alive. I mentioned (read=bragged) about this to Number One Daughter's insanely in-shape-bound-for-the-Olympics bf, and he scoffed. "Not possible," said he. His heartrate isn't that low, how could mine possibly be??
Good question. I've always had low blood pressure. And even when out of shape, a low heart rate. But 42!!!
And the fun didn't stop there.
I've also apparently grown taller. At my last doctor's appointment, approximately two years ago, I checked in at 5'8 1/2". Which was maddening, since I've always been 5'9". My whole life. I'm not ready to start shrinking yet.
But last week? I was 5'9 1/4"!!! I get to weigh more now!! I mean: I get to not have osteoporosis!!
I totally attribute my restored height to evil Bikram yoga.
And while we're on the subject of numbers: my watch died. My favorite Ironman Triathlon Timex watch, with
Which meant, on yesterday's six-mile run, I had no idea how fast/slow I was going. So, I just made something up for my running log. Something conservative. Very conservative.
Tonight's track workout is in grave jeopardy if I don't find a way to get a watch. Which would be a dirty shame, since the "realfeel" temp will be (here's another number): 101 degrees F.
I'm very upset about missing a track workout. Very. Upset.