For the people who haven’t given up on me and still read my blog – I am back! I have an absent note:
Please excuse Monkling from the extended absence. She has been very busy adjusting to her new home/social schedule. She also despises the new interface WordPress has implemented for writing posts – Gutenberg. It is truly a nightmare.
Having done with the excuse portion of today’s show, we shall move on to the actual blog post:
I am out of shape. Horribly out of shape. This was dramatically revealed to me on the day my daughter asked me to carry a 20 lb. turkey down the basement stairs. The turkey was mislabeled. It had to weigh at least 500 lbs. At least that’s what my arms told me. I’m not quite sure how I made it down the stairs and hoisted the bird into the refrigerator but somehow the job was done. I have carried many turkeys down those stairs for countless Thanksgivings at our home. It was never a struggle. Clearly it was time to do something.
Our retirement community has a gym. I have not been to many gyms but, from my point of view, it is a very nice one. There are many different types of machines that will work on pretty much any set of muscles you’re looking to bulk up. With this gym two blocks away from our home, there is absolutely no excuse not to utilize it.
My mama didn’t raise no fool. I know you can’t jump into an intense exercise program when you’ve been a desk potato for years, further complicated by the unknown side affect of menopause – a loss of muscle mass (Who knew??) so the plan was to start slowly. My goal was to go daily and spend 15 minutes between the treadmill and bike. Each week I would add 5 minutes. Every other week I’d add in a new machine. It seemed to be the perfect plan.
The first week was great. I was at the gym every day. The second and third weeks, the Gym Gods decided they didn’t like me. One physical ailment or another interfered and I only made it one day each of those weeks. Not much progress there.
This is week four. Today I felt well enough to go. The sciatica is gone. My stomach has decided to behave. I was on that treadmill, walking away with the headphones on, feeling mighty proud that I had gotten there at last. Pride goes before a fall, they say. I didn’t fall. I just turned weird. Don’t ask me how. I still can’t figure out what I did. My upper back groaned in protest to that odd movement. It is beginning to be obvious that they Gym Gods are against me.