Wednesday, December 8, 2021

Learning the Lesson?

You'd think I'd have learned the lesson by now. 

I've spent the past 6 weeks preparing for and celebrating and preparing for and celebrating family and friends and arrivals and departures and holidays out the wazooo.  What I haven't been doing is exercising.

An occasional Pilates video, mostly to break up the monotony, when I didn't have a package to wrap or a book to read.  There haven't been that many monotonous moments recently.

I rode TBG's spin bike exactly once, due to the arrival of the cute bike shorts I'd ordered when I momentarily agreed with TBG that regular cycling would strengthen all that needed to be strengthened.  He was right then and he is right now.

Like I said, you'd think I'd have learned the lesson by now.

Big Cuter's face was horrified as he watched me lurch around the kitchen.  MOM! Do something about your leg!  He's a grown man, who's guarded with his emotions.  This was my little boy worrying about me.  It got me to thinking.

So, when My Yogi announced her outdoor class I signed up and have attended religiously, every week, working as hard as I can, which often does not result in anything more than a vague impression of the pose she's suggesting but which, by the time the effects have settle in, allows me to walk out, slowly but less wobbly,  than when I struggled in.

It works.  And it's yoga, just one piece of the program I was on before I was perforated, and then after rehab part of what I missed the most.  I allowed myself to believe that because it wouldn't be like before it wouldn't have any benefits.  I was wrong.  

It's a wake up call for my entire body.  I'm sitting up straight with my hips aligned and my spine lifted off the seat.  My neck is long and my shoulders are down.  I didn't notice it until I starting typing it.  Now that I'm aware of it, I'm recognizing that slouching is quite uncomfortable.  I can breathe better now.  My neck isn't stiff and my blood is flowing evenly through my body.  

Are you walking every day?  Each of G'ma's doctors asked that question at every visit - thus, her apartment at Independent Living was furthest from the dining hall.  I knew she wouldn't move unless she had to.  You'd think that would have taught me something.

I've been achy and breaky lately. The Oriental Rug tripped me up this morning - gently, nothing terrible, just a little scary - because it hurt to lift my thigh into anything resembling an angle.  I yelled at myself - out loud, with vigor and attitude.  I spent weeks in physical therapy trying to get my foot over a disc 1"  high.  Had I really reverted to that?  

I am going back to my pilates studio, starting private lessons with The GrandMaster once again.  She says that all her staff is triple vaccinated and so are all of the clients, to the best of her knowledge.  She is one of the smartest women I know, one who has great judgment (except, perhaps, in men),  a mama bear who comforts through strength and an abiding belief in the work and its transformative powers.

It's hard to disagree when you  hobble in and stroll out.

If, as she described it, I feel like it's the safest place I go in Tucson then I'll sign up for Coretets, and maybe try a class or two.  Turns out, a friend has been going for months; she's another whose judgment I trust. 

I know myself - without a commitment, I'm worthless.  It's not the money, prepaid, because free classes at the gym hold the same sway.  

Maybe this time I'll learn the lesson. 

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