I’ve been feeling my oats lately, what with my crutches, leg brace, and wheelchair all gathering dust. And in the last few days I started talking smack about how I couldn’t wait to get back to the gym.
So Thursday afternoon Fiddledaddy kicked me out of the house with my gym bag. Followed by a few parting words. Something about not overdoing it, blah, blah, blah.
It should be noted that the folks at the gym have not set eyes on me in many months. The last time I was there, I sported the leg brace and crutches, and the most I could manage in the form of exercise was pushing the button on the elevator, and 10 minutes on the Nu-step machine with all the old people.
I pulled into the parking lot and made the decision that I was NOT going to park in my customary handicapped space. Mostly because my handicap hanging thingie (a medical term) was in the van. And I was not. But still, I would not have used it even if it had been with me.
I walked in with only the slightest of limp, unfettered by crutches or a brace. When I entered the lobby, I wanted to jump up and down, wave both arms up in the air and shout “LOOK AT ME JUMPING UP AND DOWN!” But I didn’t see anyone that I knew, or that I knew would care, and frankly I feared being escorted back outside by security before I even had a chance to, you know, work out.
And besides, I honestly haven’t attempted the jumping up and down business. I did almost jump, however, when it was reported to me by my daughter, the entomologist, that a wasp was loose in the house.
I grabbed a can of wasp spray and murdered the alleged wasp on the wall. And by the way, wasp spray will remove paint from the wall. In case you were wondering. And also by the way, it wasn’t a wasp. I’m pretty sure I would have made less of a mess if I had just shot the thing with a rifle.
Where was I? Focus. The gym. After I had secured my possessions in the locker, using the same pad lock I used in high school (which yes, is now an antique), I headed upstairs to the workout area. And by headed upstairs, I mean that I did NOT take the elevator, I really headed upstairs.
But by the 3rd step, I realized that I had just made a grave error. If my knee could talk, it would have said something like OH NO YOU DIDN’T. And instead of turning around and taking the 3 steps back down and heading for the elevator, I continued the long arduous climb up the stairs. Keeping my left leg straight. Try that sometime. While holding your water bottle, towel, and iPod. There’s your workout.
It took me 45 minutes to get up those stairs. Well. Maybe not 45, but A LOT OF MINUTES. The old people with oxygen tanks were passing me on the left. MOVE IT SISTER.
I was just like Sylvester Stallone ascending the stairs. In Rocky XVII.
When at last I made it to the landing, I headed for my old faithful Nu-Step machine. Because I was certain that at least I could manage that. Ten minutes on the Nu-Step and I was feeling cocky again.
So I headed over to my very old favorite Elliptical Machine. I haven’t been on that in over a year. Not since this whole medical odyssey began. I stared at it for a minute or two, and thought that I’d just climb aboard, just to see how it felt. And then I thought I’d just get it going a little. And I did. Before long, I was going along at a pretty good clip. I could hear Fiddledaddy’s voice in my head, over the iPod blasting AC/DC (don’t judge me), DO NOT OVERDO IT. So I stopped at 5 minutes.
I had a bit of trouble maneuvering the descent, but managed by putting both feet on the left foot peddle and easing myself down. That move could have proven catastrophic, but somehow I did it without taking anyone else down with me. Domino style.
Time for the weight machines. I did a few leg presses and the one that stretches your calf because you have weight on your shoulders. I really should be a physical trainer, what with my vast knowledge of workout machinery.
Then I thought I’d give the upper body a little attention. I was really excited about this, because up until 2 weeks ago, I had no use of my left arm at all. Couldn’t scratch my head, nothing. And all that lack of use has given me a little turkey waddle where my biceps have fallen. I did a couple of machines. My favorite upper body machine is the V-pull down. Sadly, after 1 pull, my left arm said pretty much what my knee said to me earlier. But with a curse word or two. I ended my workout with some free weight curls, to the tune of 5 pounds.
Then I took the stairs down. NOT. I pushed the down button on the elevator. I may be stubborn, but I am not stupid.
I walked a bit more slowly back out to the car. Wishing I had parked in the handicapped space after all. By the time I got back home I was in full limp. And I dreaded those words that I was destined to hear.
I TOLD YOU NOT TO OVERDO IT.
Moderation. It is not my gift.
I’m not dissuaded, this is not a set back. It has just made me even more determined to get back in the saddle. My goal is to get to the gym 3 times a week. And I’m looking long and hard at a Yoga class. I may need a fork lift to get me up from downward dog, but I ain’t skeert.
Have you guys ever heard of a workout program called Nia Dance? It is a form of dance/exercise that is centered around sensory movement. An old friend of mine is involved in it in a different part of the country. I am fascinated by the concept. We don’t have anyone here in Equator, Florida who offers such a thing, but I’m keeping my ear to the ground hoping that someday it does come here. I think I would like it far more than Zumba. Zumba makes me feel uncoordinated. And old.
Anyhoo. What is your workout routine this year?
(Oh, and btw, Fiddledaddy took the offensive video back to the library for me. He’s also not afraid to purchase feminine products for me, either. Just in case you were wondering.)
Have a great weekend!