This past Monday,
I was finally able to do something I have dreamed of doing since I had to stop,
due to health issues, early in 2011. I renewed my fitness center membership and
have had my first work-out.
I am limited in
what I can do; I’m 61, after all, and I have very bad osteoarthritis. Being
half-crippled with this disease, however, isn’t a free pass to just sit and do
nothing. Even in the years since I had to quit the center, I’ve worn a step
counter every day, and I’ve kept moving. There are days when the pain is quite
severe, but I kept moving, knowing full well that if I didn’t, soon I wouldn’t
be able to.
On Monday, my
routine for my first visit to the facility was simple, but at this point I’m
just so darn glad I’m back, that simple is fine by me. I walked on the treadmill
for 10 minutes (not very fast, and no incline for me at this point); then I rode
the stationary bike, also for ten minutes. That was interesting once I figured
out how to program a course and watch the monitor as the trees passed me on a
road in the French countryside. After a brief rest, I then hit the pool, which
for me is the main event.
At the time I had
to end my swimming, I was swimming 50 @ 25 meter lengths (1,250 meters) a day,
nearly every day. I don’t swim fast—completing those lengths took me about 45
minutes, which included a couple of two minute breaks. I don’t swim freestyle,
or any other recognizable stroke. I do my own variation of a back stroke.
Instead of my arms coming out of the water in a circular motion, I just stretch
them out and then use them as if they were oars, to push me through the water.
It’s not pretty, but my arms are moving (and against the resistance of the
water), my legs are kicking, and I do get from one end of the pool to the
other.
Monday, I was
only able to do 4 @ 25 meter lengths. But that was better than the number I’d
been doing for years, which was none. Also, what made me really happy, was that
by the end of the second length, my body recalled how this motion worked, and my
soul wept with joy to be back in the water again.
I’m not under any
illusions. Despite the fact that I really don’t eat much (just enough to meet
the requirements of being a diabetic, really), I’ll never lose dozens of pounds.
Not happening because I also have hypothyroidism. But I’ll be moving. I’ll be
active. I’ll, by damn, gain energy from the practice of going to the facility
and that energy will infuse my brain with creative juices.
I purchased a
family membership. I wanted my husband to come with me, but he doesn’t share my
attitude of moving through the pain. So my daughter is coming with me when she
can. And that’s good, it gives us something to share. She can lose weight, and
that is one of her hopes. She also has a bit of early arthritis in her one knee
that she broke, so it’s just as crucial for her to keep moving as it is for
me.
Since I
frequented this facility in the city next to us, they’ve made some pretty
impressive changes and improvements. One of those improvements is that there is
now a hydro-therapy pool. It’s like a giant Jacuzzi but the water is only warm,
not hot—nowhere near as hot as it would be, say, in your own private hot tub (if
you had one). That makes sense as a lot of people who use this particular pool
are either older, or they’re disabled. Warm is good, hot can be
dangerous.
For now, my plan
is to go to the center on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I do intend to
increase the number of lengths I swim with each visit, and my exercise times
perhaps a little each week. We’ll see how that goes.
The most
important thing is that I’ve been cleared to swim, and swim I shall. Before I
had to stop, my time at the pool was my happy time, in my happy
place.
I have no doubt
it shall be so again.
Love,
Morgan
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