Just When You Thought It Was Safe to Go Back to the Gym
All these months of communing with the couch, not to mention the resulting residual flab, have motivated me to renew my acquaintance with the concept of exercise.
Six months or so ago, I froze my gym membership—I had an inkling that the whole surgery-surgery-IVF-surgery-chemo-surgery experience would put a crimp in my workout routine. By "routine," of course, I mean "rare instances in which a) the planets aligned and b) it was neither too hot nor too cold outside to walk the nine blocks from our house to the gym."
And even though my left arm is still not back to its old self, and despite the recent pain in my joints, I'd really like to get off my ever-growing duff and get my heart rate and metabolism back to levels at which signs of life can once again be detected.
Before Breast Cancer: The Sequel, I had gotten up to 35 or 40 minutes on the elliptical trainer (not particulary impressive, but not embarrassing, either). So yesterday I asked my physical therapist if I could start back up again.
The good news: She said yes, wholeheartedly.
The bad news: She told me to do no more than five minutes at a time.
So now I have to figure out if it's worth it to start paying my regular monthly membership fee and walking 18 blocks round-trip in 90-plus-degree weather so that I can simulate cross-country skiing for a total of 300 seconds.
Six months or so ago, I froze my gym membership—I had an inkling that the whole surgery-surgery-IVF-surgery-chemo-surgery experience would put a crimp in my workout routine. By "routine," of course, I mean "rare instances in which a) the planets aligned and b) it was neither too hot nor too cold outside to walk the nine blocks from our house to the gym."
And even though my left arm is still not back to its old self, and despite the recent pain in my joints, I'd really like to get off my ever-growing duff and get my heart rate and metabolism back to levels at which signs of life can once again be detected.
Before Breast Cancer: The Sequel, I had gotten up to 35 or 40 minutes on the elliptical trainer (not particulary impressive, but not embarrassing, either). So yesterday I asked my physical therapist if I could start back up again.
The good news: She said yes, wholeheartedly.
The bad news: She told me to do no more than five minutes at a time.
So now I have to figure out if it's worth it to start paying my regular monthly membership fee and walking 18 blocks round-trip in 90-plus-degree weather so that I can simulate cross-country skiing for a total of 300 seconds.
posted by Jody Rosen Knower at 7:22 PM
1 Comments:
heck, it sounds like even walking 18 blocks is a good start--esp. if you figure that it's probably the equivalent of twice that in that kind of heat. And there are always stairs instead of stair-steppers, but that's probably a lot harder on your joints than an elliptical trainer. Oy.
So much of what you've written lately points out yet again what a sort of black-and-white outlook our society can have. It doesn't seem to occur to people or gyms or EMP elevator operators that there might be people in TRANSITION-- neither paralyzed nor Jack LaLanne.
You rock-- don't let the buggers get you down!
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