I’m off to a flying start. Well, I suppose it’s more of a stepping start, really, but isn’t there an old Chinese saying, “Every great journey begins with a single step?” and I did, like, at least 30 and a half steps today, so I must be really well started on my great journey, even if I do have to go back and start again because I forgot my GPS and SatNav.
I woke up this morning with both my thighs telling me in great detail how they’d been brought rather rudely out of retirement yesterday without any prior warning. I suggested back to them that they might want to get used to it because there was a lot more where that came from and oddly enough they just laughed at me. Even my legs don’t have any faith in me.
I didn’t let it deter me, though. I resolutely soldiered on with my day – I did my morning IV’s, I ate my breakfast, I sat on the sofa and read a little and I sat at the computer and surfed a little. Extremely strenuous, clearly. I also slipped back to bed to read for a bit and then do some physio and then I had some lunch. They were still moaning, mind.
In fact, I think my quads had only just stopped giggling and been lulled into a nicely false sense of security when I took the bull by the horns (yep, the same one as yesterday) and marched to the bedroom to pull out my little yellow step from under the bed.
I think I may have to work on the phrasing around my exercise equipment, or come up with a cunning euphemism for it because, let’s face it, “little yellow step” is a bit pathetic isn’t it? Maybe I’ll Christen it Goliath.
So I dragged Goliath from under the bed and I set myself up in the door frame to the living room – facing a bemused K sat at her desk “working” while trying to keep a straight face, clearly – and set off into my routine of step-ups.
10 and a bit minutes later I’d completed my prescribed 6 minutes, with 30 second breaks between rounds, and was feeling it, too, but happily hadn’t keeled over or gone dizzy. I quickly knocked back a glass of milk (fluid replacement AND calorie booster rolled into one, easy, cow-born package) and hoped that foot and mouth isn’t a problem in pasteurized produce.
Goliath was kicked (sorry, hauled) to one side to wait for his return tomorrow and I sat, slightly sweaty, on the sofa with a smug look on my face with K muttering approval from behind her lap-top in the vaguely-guilty-sounding voice of someone who knows they ought to be doing something similar, too. (Exercise-wise, that is, not sitting smugly on the sofa.)
Hurrah! then, one day down and I can feel the habit forming already. Well, kind of. OK, maybe it’s not the habit I feel so much as a vaguely uncomfortable stretching of the quads, but I still did it – and did it unprompted, too.
I’m actually now so scared of people with large sticks (see comments on previous post) that I think I’ve got motivation enough to last me till winter.
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- Nope, we got nada!