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Posts Tagged ‘walking’

Walking

A year ago from the first day of my coma, I had the runs all day. Several people commented on the irony of that. I feel weird, knowing that a year ago I was Napping. It makes me acutely aware of how far I’ve come. I’ve commented before on how I wonder when going up stairs will stop feeling like an accomplishment. It still hasn’t happened. I am still amazed.

I had a nice experience yesterday, walking the dog around the block. We’ve had a bit of a thaw here the past couple of days, which has done a nice job of clearing the streets of ice, making it much easier to walk. I was marching down the street and I realized that, for the first time in a year, I felt normal. No hernia dragging my belly down, or colostomy bulging out. No sore hip. And Duncan the fluid fetus has finally shrunk to a size that it is no longer bothering me.

Now, if you put me on uneven ground, I’d go back to feeling like some sort of invalid, walking slowly in order to avoid tripping, or just tripping. I’m not normal. But it was the first time I got to feel normal, and it was great.

We are off to the cottage for the weekend. I plan to walk like a normal person and knit. I made another pair of the warmest socks in the world, and I’d show you a picture, but my web camera is refusing to work. Damn kids. Next up, a pair for Boo.

Oh yeah! And my boy is turning 10 years old tomorrow! Double digits! We bought him a unicycle. I kid you not.

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I starting taking more regular walks again with Jasper. We both need it. I am pathetically deconditioned.

Today, I decided I would march around the path at the dog park, as I used to a year ago. I was going to barrel along, working up a sweat and raising my heart-rate. It didn’t go as I expected. Do you ever have dreams where you are trying to run and you just can’t get your legs moving? I used to get those a lot, although ironically not since the Big Nap. Trying to stride along quickly was like that. My legs just wouldn’t go fast. It was weird and annoying. I couldn’t work up a sweat. I did get a back ache, though.

I ran into another doodle mommy. Her guy, Oscar, is about a year younger than Jasper and they had a lovely time running wide circles around us. As we walked, kinda slowly, several other people all caught up with us and there were suddenly a great pile of dogs all chasing each other around.

Caught up in the mix were two young boxers. Oscar who, like Jasper, clearly doesn’t know his own size, was chasing one the boxer pups and bowled her over. She yipped like she was being murdered, but then popped up and was right back at him. This happened a couple of times. Now, when Jasper does this, I try to call him off, but if I really only worry about it if the other dog appears to be distressed, and a dog that throws itself back into the fray is clearly just a drama queen.

Suddenly, a large man turned to my walking partner and said quite aggressively, “You need to leash your dog now.” She asked why and he said that obviously her dog was hurting his dog and so she needed to leash him. She pointed out that his dog kept going back to hers and so it seemed unlikely that she was being injured. He announced that he did not see it that way and she had to leash him. She announced that she wouldn’t, and he was welcome to leash his if he were concerned.

We walked a bit ahead (still not fast enough to break a sweat, sadly) to get Oscar away from the boxers and were continuing our talk when we heard the man say behind us, “Wow, you really are a cunt.” Isn’t that sweet?

We wheeled on him and both told him that he had gone beyond the pale of even an uncivil discussion. He said he could use any words he wanted and we said not if he wanted to be taken seriously by anyone. And so on. At one point, it occurred to me that we were in the woods, an old, fat woman and a young skinny one, in a heated argument with a large young man. Maybe not so smart. But, really, who the fuck did he think he was?

Fortunately, who he was was someone who found himself actually cowed by two women who did not let him get away with using that language, and when my friend once again suggested that if he had a problem he could leash his dogs, he said something like, “Well, maybe I just will!” as though he’d won the argument, and went off to get his dogs.

We might stand up for ourselves, but we aren’t stupid, and when we reached the parking lot, we just hung out for a while until he had gotten in his car and driven completely away, before getting in ours.

I’d forgotten how much action there is at the dog park!

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As I have mentioned, I walk at least an hour most days, missing at most one day a week. I don’t stroll, I march along. I’ve been doing this for months. Yay me.

I’ve lost no weight (I’m not even mentioning the FMS). I figured that since I ramped up the output, even if my input included chocolate and coke, I should still lose something, right? Right, but it didn’t happen.

I managed to cut down on the junk (didn’t get rid of it completely, but a significant reduction). After two weeks of being good, I am at my all-time high.

I’m pissed off. It is illogical and unfair. I feel like I’m fighting with my body, although I am sure this is probably a bad state of mind. I’m not giving in, though. The next step, Weight Watchers. I’m joining on Wednesday morning.

My doctor suggests I actually attend the meetings, which I have always skipped, thanks to my low boredom threshold. She thinks it’ll provide support and accountability. We’ll see.

At the very least, I’ll be accountable to y’all.

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