There
isn’t much going around right now other than politics and, although we have dabbed into
that a couple of times in the past, that isn’t really what this blog is about.
Years
ago, in another time and life, I’d get up in the morning ready to take on the
world. Play tennis, do some gym work and tackle the day with a full-frontal
attack.
Today,
forget tennis… I still have a racket and a bag of tennis balls which are
becoming rusty and somewhat deflated. The bag lies there in the dark closet in my office at home, until
those times when one of our younger set members comes bearing his/her four-footed
children. At that point, that bag of balls becomes handy and it gives up one or
two of its well-guarded treasures so they can become the object of a chase and
play game.
If I ever
manage to create a 3 on 3 tennis game (me, being one of the third players,
stationed semi-motionless at mid center court…) I may be able to play
again. Otherwise… no comments, please.
Sometime
during this past January, I went through my clothes and 75% of them simply did
not fit. I did not feel well and looked worse for the wear. My waistline must
have increased dramatically, for I remember one pair of jeans that showed at
least a 2+ inch expanse between where it might close and where its buttons
actually were.
But,
hey… it’s January, very close to new year and still in time to make good on one
of those (in)famous new year resolutions, right? Except on this occasion, that pant waistline
reality-check tells me that I better make it work.
What
to do?
I
like to eat. Not in excess quantities, but I am omnivorous and some of the fare,
although home cooked, might tend to be not on the lean side of the scale. As
mentioned before, I used to exercise regularly, so I was able to eat well. One routine
stopped; the other did not.
So, I
took stock of the situation…
There’s
this incipient arthritis on the left shoulder… so my possible arm exercises are
limited to waving hello and goodbye.
A
long-standing ulcer (now finally healed) on the inside of my ankle had
not allowed me to walk much, because the socks would rub on the sore skin and
make it worse.
My
hips were bothering me, and the left knee was letting me know those beautifully
fluid motions that allowed me to, ages ago, gracefully slide on the tennis clay courts,
were no longer fluid nor beautiful. In fact, sometimes it felt downright
creaky.
Especially
when carrying around an extra 30 pounds or so. But, hey… other than those previous details,
all else was great and I was set to go. Right. Yeah.
I
looked at the mirror and said to myself: -“Self… you are close to letting
things get out of hand … on the verge of becoming old, bald and fat (at
least, at 6’2’’ I can skip the “short” part)
- “What
are you going to do about it?” Asked I to “self” …
- “How
about looking through Amazon to see if I can find a newer model?” came back the
immediate answer … You
can imagine my state of mind …
I am
not going to bother you with the intervening moans, groans, and ouches. Changed
my eating habits, increased the green stuff and decreased the red stuff (including
wine, a painful decision), stopped eating anything between meals, making
the night meal a very light repast.
Started
walking. In the beginning, my walking goal was 3 x week at 2,000 paces. Kind of
Sunday walk-about paces. Pitiful. But true. Now I am at 6000 paces x 5 times
per week. Brisk paces, just short of “double-time” (for you, Army buffs).
I
feel a lot better; my hips don’t bother me, my knee stopped creaking and I have
actually lost some 28 pounds. The tennis part is still in the future... and here is where I say … - “If I can do it and you
need to, you can do it too …” It’s true.
And those bloody jeans are on me right now, as I write this.
And
answering your silly question (I can hear you!) … Yes, they are properly buttoned.
Be
Well … Be Back!!!
Final Notes:
· Pray
for those who are
fighting an illness which may take them away from their loved ones… Every
request is heard, and counts!!
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