What's a small rupture between friends?

After I logged off this morning I walked over to the gym. In the rain. And the cold. And I was nearly there when I decided to put it off for another day. So I turned around, took three steps, and decided that I was going to go whether I wanted to or not. Time to stop being a wuss and to get myself together. I need to start doing things that don't involve hospitals, tests, doctors-I need to start living again. And I used to really like the gym.

So I did some exercises before the start of my training session: treadmill, some leg exercises, all just to really warm up. Then I remembered what I used to like about the gym: I liked getting stronger, fitter, challenging myself just that little bit more, doing just that little bit more than I thought I could do. And, after two and a half years of doing nothing, I felt like I was coming back to normal.

Then my training session started. For an hour I was put through my paces, and did I discover just how unfit I've become? Did I ever!! All the things I used to do-I could barely do-so I know there is a challenge ahead. Another one. I've never been one to run from a challenge. So I hit the session hard, and I have a program to do for the next six weeks, before I am changed up to something more difficult. Er-difficult? I could barely walk out of there, and I had to fake it because my trainer was laughing. Are you in tomorrow? I asked him. Oh, yes, come tomorrow, go through the program, I will help you if you get stuck-he said. So I'm doing this all again tomorrow. If I can walk, that is.

I walked up the road to the supermarket after my training-very slowly. I do mean slowly. People did actually avoid me. I think they thought I was about to keel over. And I went into the supermarket and walked around, but nothing really appealed to me. My trainer had advised eating some high quality protein after the workout, but I honestly wasn't drawn to anything. I saw one of the sales people up on a step ladder, and she looked at me and asked me if I was okay. This is someone who is older - and shorter-than I am, so we get along really well. Really, someone is older-and shorter-than I am. Amazing, especially now that I have, after the workout, shrunk to about four feet tall. I just managed to gasp "gym", and Ann started to laugh. Oh, she said, I know just how you feel. You overdid it. I've done that, too-and you are younger and fitter than I am, she said (I'm too lazy to punctuate-it hurts to lift my arms!). Well, I always overdo it. After such a long time that was just nuts. And then she said: don't worry, dear (I hate being called dear-unless the person calling me that is really, really close-and wouldn't do that because they would know that I hate being called "dear". Grrr!!). You will be fine by tomorrow. Well, perhaps not tomorrow. Or Sunday. Possibly by Monday. Then she looked me up and down and added: or Tuesday. And laughed, and I laughed, and I tried not to think uncharitable thoughts, since Ann was up on the ladder stacking shelves. We both said goodbye, and I thought as I was walking away that it was all fine, and that eventually she would probably fall off the ladder and break something, and then I could tell her when I see her that everything will be fine. In a couple of months. Maybe three. Or four.

I feel like I have strained every muscle in my body. Or possibly ruptured a few. Not only that, but I have aches in places where I didn't even know I had muscles (at least not ones I could strain by doing weight training!). Even my face hurts. How is that possible? I didn't lift any weights with my face! And I'm walking like I've just lost my virginity (yes, I can remember back that far!!).

By tomorrow I expect not to be bent over-or even folded over-and I will probably go back to the gym but I won't do quite so much. I could, of course, be very optimistic at this point, but we'll see. I could, of  course, be so sore by tomorrow that I can't get out of bed-but I will let you know.

Oh-I got back and stuffed my face with a bag of Kettle Chips, and felt instantly better. Ow. Oink. Who cares? I worked it off, and that is my story and I'm sticking to it.