The Complaint Dept.

I woke up yesterday morning, tired. Some weeks I just won't let the weekend go, desperately clinging to it by staying up into the wee hours. This weekend was better than most, with a visit from my friend gmad, a trip to the UConn vs. Duke football game, and some of the best weather that reaffirmed my love of falls in New England. So needless to say, I stayed up way too late. I faced Monday and the craziness that this week will be work wise with more than a little trepidation.

To add injury to insult, my back started to throb as I was getting ready Monday morning. It was a weird pain and I couldn't figure out why it was hurting me, because the most strenuous activity I had been involved in was being a little rowdy at the football game. I decided to attribute it to a weird sleeping injury (or, as my mind tends to work, a life threatening ailment) and to suck it up and get to work.

By the time I got to work, I was feeling very uninspired (read: crabby) to be there. I sulked into my office without the normal jovial manner that has come to be normal for me. My boss picked up on it immediately: "What is wrong with you today?"

Delighted with the attention, I told her that my back was killing me. She sympathized and, feeling a little better with the empathy, I went back to my office. Now my curse (or maybe it is a blessing) is that I telegraph every little feeling I am experiencing on my face, so soon everyone was asking if anything was wrong. So I would tell them my back hurt and would relish in the attention that would generate.

"Oh, do you have a heating pad?"
"That has happened to me, not fun!"
"You should be at home!"

And with each of these comments, I felt a sense of pride. Why I should be at home, nursing my back, yet I am here because the students need me! This is homecoming week, no time to rest. If I end up paralyzed or perhaps even dead, at least the week will have been a success! Despite the pain, I was really enjoying putting on a brave face.

During the course of the morning, our new staff person came in to my office to talk about a project she is working on. Now, my coworker is an amateur triathelete, who is known for spending her free time training and being the opposite of a couch potato. Really the opposite of me and my personal philosophy of only running when chased. About a minute into our conversation (just before I was to launch into my back pain diatribe) I noticed a bandage emerging from her shirt sleeve.

"What is that?" I inquired.

"Oh well yesterday I attempted my first 'century ride'. You know a hundred mile bike ride. During the ride, my tire caught an old train track and I went sailing. I have a few scratches on the right side of my body." She then exposed to me the horrific results of her injuries up and down her arm. She said her leg is bad as well. She indicated that she was disappointed that it happened on her 51st mile.

"Oh, because you didn't make the 100 miles?", I asked.

"No, I rode 108 miles. It just made the last 50 uncomfortable."

Our meeting ended, and knowing I had been trumped, I never mentioned my back again for the rest of the day.