Back to Fitocracy

This week I have gingerly re-entered regular exercise.

I had slacked off, this winter. Most recently I Had Other Things On My Mind. There’s also been the terrible weather, making running outside Not an Option, and frequently making driving to the YMCA not safe. Before that, there was the holidays. Before that, I had some sort of hip-tendon-thing that hurt somewhat and made me limp all the time.

Anyway, it’s been a while.

I’d been exercising here and there, piecemeal. But on Saturday I re-committed. I ran a mile in eighteen minutes, which is not my best time, but is better than a couple years ago. (My best time is around sixteen minutes.) And then, like a SMART person, I stopped rather than continue and probably hurt myself.

Sunday I rode the exercise bike in the basement. I have been avoiding this because I find it punishingly boring. But J mentioned that I could take my tablet down with me and watch NetFlix.


My partner, she is very smart.

Today we went to the Y. I rowed to warmup, then lifted. I lifted weights at, oh, about half the weight I had been doing last summer. But it’s been a while. I am forty years old. Everything on me is creaky and persnikity and requires gentle respect. Also, my bruised ribs from the car accident on Valentine’s Day are still vocal in their occasional displeasure. So, lighter weights. Slowly. With good form. Paying attention to wrists and ankles and back and everything. Then a quick quarter-mile jog at some speed, then planks and brief yoga for stretching.

I put all three days into Fitocracy, which, more than anything, is a sign I mean to continue.

Onward and upward.


2 Responses

  1. Congratulations! I know how challenging it can be to get back into exercising after an injury or illness. I want to leap right back to where I was when I stopped. Intellecually I know that is unrealistic, but emotionally I don’t. My memory also wants to go back to the days when I was 30 and very fit. Silly brain.

    I look forward to hearing more about your fitness adventures.

  2. MY brain likes to think that I have the body of a 25-year-old DUDE. Which so does not work for me.


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