Since I’ve been feeling better, I started walking early in the morning. Exercise was one of those things that I knew I needed to do, but near-debilitating joint pain and discomfort stood in the way.
Not all that long ago, it occurred to me that nothing hurt. I stood still, closed my eyes, and had a revelation that I was not experiencing any pain. At all. And that feeling continued. One of the only two supplements I’ve been taking is CuraMed (for inflammation and it includes Curcumin) and Vitamin D. This is a very different regimen from when I had to take upwards of 70 pills a day including antibiotics and various herbal medications.
So now I walk. I do kind of a fast/slow interval walk, replete with 70’s music piped in. My children would be horrified. I really have perfected speed walking, even what with my stubby legs and all. Fiddle daddy calls me Shorty McShorty.
He gets really agitated when he climbs into the van and I have the seat set to “crush upon impact” so that my feet can reach the pedals. He has bruises on his knees that he will show you if you ask.
So I was on my walk yesterday and I had a thought. “I want to run. On purpose.” Anyone who knows me well knows that I don’t run. Even before the Lyme Disease, and even before two unnecessary knee surgeries left me with a severely thinned ACL, I didn’t run. And if I did happen to run, you needed to run too because something really really bad was coming.
So I took off running. And to the naked eye, it might have looked more like Phoebe from Friends attempting to run. (Look it up on youtube.) That’s what the neighbors were treated to. But still, I ran. Not far. Not fast. Not pretty. But I ran. And I didn’t break anything. Except a sweat.
I returned home looking more disheveled than usual. I informed a child that I ran. “MOM RAN?” As other children heard this they repeated incredulously, “MOM RAN????”
Word got around to my dear friend and partner in crime, Andrea, who I talked into coming to the beach nice and early with me the next morning. She and I have always stood in solidarity that we don’t do the beach. And yet, there we were sitting in our beach chairs, watching our teenagers surf, while facing the ocean and beautiful billowy clouded sky. I audibly noted how nice the sand felt on my toes. She shifted uncomfortably. Then she remarked that I was eating something that looked like a delicious dessert concoction, but I told her it was a salad. After a few moments someone offered me a chocolate-filled donut, which I politely declined. Just then a bike rode by in front of us, and I mused that it might be fun to ride a bike on the beach.
She couldn’t take it any longer. She turned to me “WHO ARE YOU?”
I chuckled. I KNOW, RIGHT?
I’m just someone who is anxious to do a lot of catching up on life. I will simply need to do it in my orthopedic sneakers.