This was not the summer of 90 min/day excercise and endless pool days. This was the summer of a long, drawn out illness, fever and languishing in bed with a travel break.
It’s been 2 months and I am finally recovering from a horrid sinus infection, 3 rounds of antibiotics (many shots at the doctors office) and 2 bouts of anaphylaxis (post allergy shots). Whilst on Levaquin, and 2 weeks thereafter, I was verbotten from excercising (Levaquin is notorious for dissolving tendon tissue and ripping your Achilles heel).
Needless to say, I am far from my fitness game but able to keep my weight even by adding in more thyroid hormone that feels about right. I don’t wear cashmere in Texas in August anymore unless I’m in an overly-cooled house.
I’ll get there.
This summer, in Provence, my husband and I checked out an old Roman aqueduct.
I was winded walking up to it.
My husband was concerned and later asked if I would please see a cardiologist.
I knitted my brow incredulous (as a former long distance runner and weight-lifter) and said “Oh, it’s just the upper respiratory infection.”
“Please” he asked, flashing his green eyes at me.
Defenseless, I arranged the appointment, worried I would be seen as a hypochondriac with my littany of doctors and prescriptions.
Even the receptionist understood what I meant by a “Honey Do” appointment. “Honey, please Do this appointment for me.” We chuckled.
But, in all fairness, I’m not 14 or 40 anymore.
Today I started with 15 minutes of low impact excercise-really just flitting around the living room like an uncoordinated 6 year old while Alice in Wonderland was on and the rain poured outside. Fifteen minutes seemed about right-the point where I was beginning to tire.
I had to start somewhere.
15 minutes was better than 5.
And tomorrow, 20 minutes will be better than 15.
You just start.
Photo of my former dog, Oliver “Ollie” cooling off in the sprinkler RIP 1995-2010