Moderation has never been my strongest character trait. I've been accused of working too much, playing too much, thinking too much, caring too much, and shopping too much ... just to name a few. Through physical therapy I've learned the hard way that moderation is the way I must begin and maintain my training.
Remember, for the better part of 10-years, I couldn't stand or walk without pain because of the severe osteoarthritis in my knees where bone was scraping on bone. The last two years before the surgeries were pain from the moment I awakened until the moment I fell asleep. I tried very hard for the knee pain not to overtake my life. However, looking back, it governed everything I did; even limiting my movement just enough to care for my mother and taking care of my most basic needs. Consequently, saying I was "out of shape" was to be an understatement.
I have to credit the months of physical therapy for giving me mobility and strength in my legs, but that mobility and leg strength were not tested. So, standing in my driveway tonight, I hate to admit, my confidence of making this quarter mile walk was rather low. I will say that when I rode the 1.3 miles in the car, it seemed such a short distance. I believed I had covered more distance shopping for groceries, but still, I was concerned. I joked with my mother that if I wasn't back home in 30-minutes she should consider calling 911 because I might be stranded or - dead with fatigue - within sight of the house.
Here I was beginning my quest wearing new running shoes, my Fitbit watch, shorts, and a tee-shirt. I pressed the stopwatch function on my Fitbit and I was off. I silently told myself every positive reinforcement which I could think of ... "you never know until you try," "the first step is always the hardest," "you've rafted Class-5 rivers which makes this a piece of cake," "you survived marriage and divorce for God's sake," "the biggest achievements begin with a first step," and other positive statements I can't admit for fear my nieces and nephews will read this, thus ruining the belief I burned into their brains since birth that I really am "the best Nonnie in the whole wide world."
I took that first step, followed by another, and another, and many others; not counting the stumble when I almost fell but didn't. I had this desire to call my physical therapist and tell her that balance exercise where she made me stand on one leg - the one I hated and never mastered - had really come in handy tonight. But at that moment I had reached the house at designated .13 mile marker. It was time to take a deep breath, turn, and head for home.
My ego was brimming with pride. I took a few more steps, followed by a few more, until I had to stop. Not only was I out of breath, but my right thigh was screaming with pain and my back - which needs surgery next year - were both loudly telling me they are the boss of this body. Not only could I not quit, I would not quit ... for one thing, it would be quite embarrassing; and for another thing, I still had to get home. Talk about having my ego deflated ... it dropped faster than a man who had taken only half of his needed pill for erectile dysfunction.
I limped home the last of that .13 mile. When I got in the house I walked straight to the refrigerator and pulled every ice pack from the freezer. As I plopped onto the couch I strategically placed an ice pack on my left ankle, wrapped one around my aching neck (which also needs surgery next year), placed the biggest ice pack on my back, and two more frozen planks onto each knee. Mother walked into the room, smiled, and asked how great my walk had been. With a frozen look of shock upon my face I pointed to my ice-covered body. I wanted to say how I really felt, but remembered my determination to be positive. With fading enthusiasm I declared "I'l do it again tomorrow."
So, it’s one foot in front of the other to the finish line!
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