Very few things are as perplexing to me as my blood sugar. I seriously thought that adding an exercise regimen to my diet would lower my blood sugar and all would be right with the world once again. NOT.
I am a member of an exercise group at our church. The intensity of our work outs vary depending on who shows up and how ambitious we feel. I had found that my blood sugar was lower after exercise class, so I was happy.
Now that I am getting an intense work out two to three times a week at the gym, it's like trying to hit a moving target. Some times my blood sugar goes up while I work out. Apparently after the body burns the glucose from the pre-exercise snack of simple carbs and protein, the liver kicks in with stored glucose to power you through your work out. The rest of the biology is too confusing for me to try to explain, even if I understood it.
Sometimes, my blood sugar goes down. Way down. To avoid meeting paramedics and the business end of a dextrose injection, I am planning my meals and snacks carefully. So far, so good.
My personal trainer (PT) backed off on the intensity of my work outs after the unfortunate blood sugar diving episode. Now we have been moving slowly back to work outs that leave me sore and out of breath. This week we began more core strengthening, weights and cardio. I am enjoying the challenge and am quite amazed at what a weakling I am! I now have no illusions of being fit. PT is working muscles that I didn't even know I had. I am, once again, waking each morning to a find out what hurts. And surprisingly enough, I missed that in the last couple of weeks. It is a good pain; a pain resulting from pushing myself to my limit and finding that it's a little farther than it was the week before.
We are proceeding with caution. After every component of my exercise, PT is asking "how does your head feel?". When blood sugar is low, my ability to reason or be rational is the first sign that things are going south. ( note to family and friends: my blood sugar is NOT always low!)
Once, after a long day at the office I ran to the big box store to exchange a gift. Long story short, the customer service person was less than sympathetic to my plight and I went in search of a manager for further assistance. This unfortunate man was witness to my rapidly tanking glucose level as I went from a rational adult to a crying puddle before his very eyes. Even I was a bit surprised by my behavior. It wasn't until I was in the car on the way home did it dawn on me that I hadn't had lunch and it was almost supper time. I avoided that store for a couple of weeks after that incident, afraid that my picture was hanging in the employee lounge under the words "Yikes! Approach with caution and kleenex!".
We are back on track and moving into exercises to strengthen my core muscles. Most of these exercises are generally hard and unpleasant. Planks are a great core strengthening exercise. You lay on your stomache on the floor and then hold up your weight with your toes and your forearms. I started at 30 seconds and am moving up from there. You feel the burn in your stomach and it hurts just to breath. I encourage you to give it a try.
My Saturday session with PT ended with core exercises on the floor. Scissoring your legs in the air while laying my back caused cramps in my thighs. PT assured me that when my core was in shape, the abdominal mucles would take over the work of my legs. Apparently yesterday was not that day! I felt pretty good when I got out of bed on Sunday morning. I didn't really notice my stomach muscles were sore until I started to sing praise choruses before worship. Using my diaphragm to sing made me thank my PT over and over during the half hour we sang and led worship.
And yet in the midst of my thanks and praise to our awesome Creator, I stopped to give a humble thank you for being able to have this experience. Having a PT who challenges me, patiently works with my wild blood sugar swings and motivates me want to work hard is a blessing. Watching myself "coming into focus" after a long time of mirror avoiding moments is a gift. Being able to share (and vent) to whoever cares to read this blog has made the process so much more fun!
Tune in next week as I relate my first 5K experience!
Monday, April 29, 2013
Monday, April 22, 2013
Week 3: One Step At A Time
I have always struggled with body image issues. That may be putting it mildly, but it's a good place to start. Even as a young girl, I never really liked the person staring back at me in the mirror. My hair is naturally curly and is impossible to tame without super powered hair products and a lot of patience. I had an overbite that was a constant reminder to me that I didn't measure up. I was not a fastionista who had a good handle on what looked good on me. Like every other girl, I wanted to look different.
I developed an eating disorder when I was in late grade school. I struggled through high school and went to two inpatient treatment programs in my late teens. Treatment was so tough in so many ways. Food was the enemy and we went into battle six times a day!
We had three meals and three snacks. Everyone sat at a table and had a half an hour to finish our food. A staff member sat at the table with you and watched you eat. If you didn't eat your food in half an hour, there was always consequences. Usually you had to drink the calories in the form of ensure, a liquid supplement that smells like powered milk mixed with paint - I know - yum!
At first, the food choices were made for us and we just ate what we were given. As we progressed, we made our menu cards from the hospital's gourmet offerings. I spent many hours poring over those menus trying to select something that the dietician checking the cards would approve.
When I was admitted to the program, I were put on a "weight line". The expectation was that I gained a half a pound a day to stay "on your line". If I did not gain, I lost privileges, like phone calls, exercise, fun stuff.. Every morning at 6:00 a.m., a staff member woke us up and herded us down the hall to the scale. Not a terrific way to start your day. The rest of the day revolved around that number. Some of the braver patients tried different ways to have the scale move up without gaining weight including taping quarters to their legs. This was hardcore treatment.
Eating disorders are much like alcoholism. Although a patient may no longer be restricting, dieting, binging and purging, they are always in recovery. It's a slippery slope that starts with one missed meal, one bad day, one forbidden food. Only by God's grace do I stand here today and every day.I was in treatment with young women who died from their disease. Many patients were "frequent fliers" who had been in and out of treatment many times. Some ran out of options before their health was restored.
The programs worked on the disease from many different angles - physical, emotional and spiritual. I hold the chaplains at the University of Minnesota in high regard. Even in the midst of that situation, God was there.
Both of my stints in inpatient treatment lasted six weeks, with years of outpatient treatment to follow. It was a years' long pause in my life that has given me an appreciation for simpling things like going out to lunch with the girls. It has given me a passion in my ministry to remind everyone that the image you struggle with in the mirror is the child that God holds in His heart.
Being in recovery comes in to play when I started at the gym. I don't own a scale at my house - a slippery slope - so I rely upon the doctor's office to give me the numbers as I gauge my progress by how my clothes fit. When the personal trainer assessor told me my body fat ratio, I was appalled! She was quick to point out that it was very normal for a woman my age, but those numbers still hold a lot of power in my life. As I progress with my personal trainer (PT), we don't talk weight much. However, I do triumph in bragging that I have gone down two sizes in the last six weeks (shamelessly bragging!). PT seems pleased with my progress as we move forward.
I give you this history so you understand how much God has been at work in my life and continues to amaze me with His blessings. My diet works for me because my dietician/diabetic educator uses an exchange system instead of calories. She is sensative to this nature of my recovery and is wonderful at making it seem completely normal. My PT focuses on fitness, stamina and endurance. I am surprised that my four mile cardio class at church shows me that I am moving in the right direction.
This week at the gym was not extraordinary. I was eager to get to the gym on Tuesday and work. A repeat visit to the dietician gave me some great resources as I continue to find a balance between carbs, protein and blood sugar. I now carry a powder carb booster if my blood sugar drops during my work out. It looks a bit like a pixi stick. It's my secret weapon against hypoglycemia and a safety net. It's a study in patience for me and PT as we find that balance while keeping me challenged.
As I lock my cell phone in the trunk and head into the building, I spend time working on me. My health and well-being are an investment in myself, my life, my family and my ministry. I have become disciplined in other areas of my life as I work on my diet and fitness. Prayer time has become more regular. I seek balance between working and playing, resting and activitiy. Even financial decisions are considered more carefully.
As I leap into this coming week, I want to stop and give God the glory for the great things He is doing in my life.
I developed an eating disorder when I was in late grade school. I struggled through high school and went to two inpatient treatment programs in my late teens. Treatment was so tough in so many ways. Food was the enemy and we went into battle six times a day!
We had three meals and three snacks. Everyone sat at a table and had a half an hour to finish our food. A staff member sat at the table with you and watched you eat. If you didn't eat your food in half an hour, there was always consequences. Usually you had to drink the calories in the form of ensure, a liquid supplement that smells like powered milk mixed with paint - I know - yum!
At first, the food choices were made for us and we just ate what we were given. As we progressed, we made our menu cards from the hospital's gourmet offerings. I spent many hours poring over those menus trying to select something that the dietician checking the cards would approve.
When I was admitted to the program, I were put on a "weight line". The expectation was that I gained a half a pound a day to stay "on your line". If I did not gain, I lost privileges, like phone calls, exercise, fun stuff.. Every morning at 6:00 a.m., a staff member woke us up and herded us down the hall to the scale. Not a terrific way to start your day. The rest of the day revolved around that number. Some of the braver patients tried different ways to have the scale move up without gaining weight including taping quarters to their legs. This was hardcore treatment.
Eating disorders are much like alcoholism. Although a patient may no longer be restricting, dieting, binging and purging, they are always in recovery. It's a slippery slope that starts with one missed meal, one bad day, one forbidden food. Only by God's grace do I stand here today and every day.I was in treatment with young women who died from their disease. Many patients were "frequent fliers" who had been in and out of treatment many times. Some ran out of options before their health was restored.
The programs worked on the disease from many different angles - physical, emotional and spiritual. I hold the chaplains at the University of Minnesota in high regard. Even in the midst of that situation, God was there.
Both of my stints in inpatient treatment lasted six weeks, with years of outpatient treatment to follow. It was a years' long pause in my life that has given me an appreciation for simpling things like going out to lunch with the girls. It has given me a passion in my ministry to remind everyone that the image you struggle with in the mirror is the child that God holds in His heart.
Being in recovery comes in to play when I started at the gym. I don't own a scale at my house - a slippery slope - so I rely upon the doctor's office to give me the numbers as I gauge my progress by how my clothes fit. When the personal trainer assessor told me my body fat ratio, I was appalled! She was quick to point out that it was very normal for a woman my age, but those numbers still hold a lot of power in my life. As I progress with my personal trainer (PT), we don't talk weight much. However, I do triumph in bragging that I have gone down two sizes in the last six weeks (shamelessly bragging!). PT seems pleased with my progress as we move forward.
I give you this history so you understand how much God has been at work in my life and continues to amaze me with His blessings. My diet works for me because my dietician/diabetic educator uses an exchange system instead of calories. She is sensative to this nature of my recovery and is wonderful at making it seem completely normal. My PT focuses on fitness, stamina and endurance. I am surprised that my four mile cardio class at church shows me that I am moving in the right direction.
This week at the gym was not extraordinary. I was eager to get to the gym on Tuesday and work. A repeat visit to the dietician gave me some great resources as I continue to find a balance between carbs, protein and blood sugar. I now carry a powder carb booster if my blood sugar drops during my work out. It looks a bit like a pixi stick. It's my secret weapon against hypoglycemia and a safety net. It's a study in patience for me and PT as we find that balance while keeping me challenged.
As I lock my cell phone in the trunk and head into the building, I spend time working on me. My health and well-being are an investment in myself, my life, my family and my ministry. I have become disciplined in other areas of my life as I work on my diet and fitness. Prayer time has become more regular. I seek balance between working and playing, resting and activitiy. Even financial decisions are considered more carefully.
As I leap into this coming week, I want to stop and give God the glory for the great things He is doing in my life.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Week Two: Crash & Burn
My diabetes diagnosis did not come out of the blue -- my fasting blood sugars had been creeping up for a couple of years. However, the day my A1C came back 7.2, I was a bit suprised. An A1C, or "lie detector test", is a lab value which IS basically A summary of what your blood sugar has been over the last three months. The normal range for A1C is 4%-6%; anything over 6.5% on two separate lab draws indicates diabetes. My first impulse was to go out for ice cream. Fortunately, logic took over and I asked for the name of a good dietician/diabetic educator. I still really did want to eat ice cream, though.
For me, the diagnosis was a wake up call. I have worked in a nursing home with elderly adults who ignored their blood sugars for too long. Missing feet, blindness, nerve pain and kidney problems were the results of many years of undermanaged diabetes. I knew that I needed to make some tough decisions and a commitment to make a lifestyle change. Yuck! It's hard to life a lifestyle you don't choose.
There is a special place in heaven for my dietician. I have met with her several times to help me get on track. Occasionally I wander in to uncharted territory and need some guidance. She is so motivating and reassuring that I walk out of the appointments believing that I can take charge of my diet.
Well, I ran back into unchartered territory in my second week of training. As I said last week, I have a great trainer who motivates me to work hard and keeps me from hurting myself, which is not an easy thing for this accident-prone exerciser! We had discussed my diabetes at my initial meeting and his basic instructions were "sit down before you fall down". When my blood sugar gets low, my first sign is often feeling a bit jittery, maybe a little clammy sweat, overall weakness and being unsteady. As my sugar gets lower, I have been known to cry suddenly or even zone out a bit.
Tuesday's training time was great. I really need to work on endurance and resistance training. I was kidding myself into thinking that I was in pretty good shape after my 18 months of church exercise class; I was seriously overestimating my fitness level! My first time on the elliptical caused my heart rate to climb and I struggled to catch my breath. How long had I been on this torture device? Fifteen minutes, two hours, three life times?!? Uh, no... about three minutes. Yikes! I left sweaty and happy that I had survived another day!
Thursday began very much like Tuesday. I always start by warming up on the bikes. I pedal away for about seven minutes until my personal trainer (PT) taps me on the shoulder, hands me a wipe to clean off the bike and leads me to my next challenge. PT led me to this cool apparatus where you can do about a zillion different resistance training by clipping the handles to different parts of this frame. PT demonstrated the motions for the arm weights I would be using and handed me the handle. Obviously not prepared for the weight setting, it pulled me back to the handle's resting position. I am sure it was hilarious to watch! I kind of hung there by my arm perched on my tiptoes. I am sure that it's on Youtube by now. After the arm workout, PT decided I should do the bike instead of the ellipcal because I was feeling a bit dizzy. I cruised for about three minutes and went off to do lunges.
By the time I got off the bike, I was feeling more than a bit dizzy, but hoped that it would pass. I made about four lunges before I sat down mid-lunge. I was shaking, cold and clammy and not completely with it. It feels kind of like other people are talking to you from a distance. PT asked important questions that I could not produce appropriate answers for. Two hours later as I finished the supper dishes I realized what he was trying to ask me. My answer wasn't even close!
I needed to bring my pulse rate back down to a normal level, so he guided me over to the bike and asked me if I wanted some sugar. "Sugar??? Never heard of it!" my fuzzy brain was saying as I tried to formulate the word "yes". He was back in a flash with a sports drink and handed me the bottle. I looked at the bottle for quite some time before I figured out that I couldn't drink the contents until the cover was unscrewed. And for the life of me, I couldn't understand how you would get the cover off. After a few half-hearted attempts, PT took the bottle, unscrewed the cover and gave the bottle back to me. After a few drinks, I could feel myself perking up. After a couple of minutes of drinking the red nectar and biking, I headed to the office so PT could make sure that I was able to leave under my own power safely.
By the time I got to the office, I was able to form words and talk in complete sentences. Assuring PT that I would come back the gym that weekend only when other people were present, I was able to go home. I felt frustrated and defeated. A call to the diabetic educator gleaned some helpful tips and an appointment to discuss the issue at greater length. I needed to go back to the drawing board and figure out my pre-workout snacks. I needed to have a Plan B for quick sugar and carry this with me all the time.
I am surprised how much I enjoy this gym time. I lock my cell phone is the trunk of my car before I go into the building. The only thing I have to think about is my next breath and my next step. Sometimes I am pretty sure that my next breath and my next step might be my last!
I have never invested much in myself, not just monetarily, but also as a whole. I see the value of being stronger and healthier so I can be a better servant for God. Scripture tells us in 1 Corinthians 6:19-20, " Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies." I guess my "temple" is under renovation currently. How is your temple?https://www.facebook.com/
For me, the diagnosis was a wake up call. I have worked in a nursing home with elderly adults who ignored their blood sugars for too long. Missing feet, blindness, nerve pain and kidney problems were the results of many years of undermanaged diabetes. I knew that I needed to make some tough decisions and a commitment to make a lifestyle change. Yuck! It's hard to life a lifestyle you don't choose.
There is a special place in heaven for my dietician. I have met with her several times to help me get on track. Occasionally I wander in to uncharted territory and need some guidance. She is so motivating and reassuring that I walk out of the appointments believing that I can take charge of my diet.
Well, I ran back into unchartered territory in my second week of training. As I said last week, I have a great trainer who motivates me to work hard and keeps me from hurting myself, which is not an easy thing for this accident-prone exerciser! We had discussed my diabetes at my initial meeting and his basic instructions were "sit down before you fall down". When my blood sugar gets low, my first sign is often feeling a bit jittery, maybe a little clammy sweat, overall weakness and being unsteady. As my sugar gets lower, I have been known to cry suddenly or even zone out a bit.
Tuesday's training time was great. I really need to work on endurance and resistance training. I was kidding myself into thinking that I was in pretty good shape after my 18 months of church exercise class; I was seriously overestimating my fitness level! My first time on the elliptical caused my heart rate to climb and I struggled to catch my breath. How long had I been on this torture device? Fifteen minutes, two hours, three life times?!? Uh, no... about three minutes. Yikes! I left sweaty and happy that I had survived another day!
Thursday began very much like Tuesday. I always start by warming up on the bikes. I pedal away for about seven minutes until my personal trainer (PT) taps me on the shoulder, hands me a wipe to clean off the bike and leads me to my next challenge. PT led me to this cool apparatus where you can do about a zillion different resistance training by clipping the handles to different parts of this frame. PT demonstrated the motions for the arm weights I would be using and handed me the handle. Obviously not prepared for the weight setting, it pulled me back to the handle's resting position. I am sure it was hilarious to watch! I kind of hung there by my arm perched on my tiptoes. I am sure that it's on Youtube by now. After the arm workout, PT decided I should do the bike instead of the ellipcal because I was feeling a bit dizzy. I cruised for about three minutes and went off to do lunges.
By the time I got off the bike, I was feeling more than a bit dizzy, but hoped that it would pass. I made about four lunges before I sat down mid-lunge. I was shaking, cold and clammy and not completely with it. It feels kind of like other people are talking to you from a distance. PT asked important questions that I could not produce appropriate answers for. Two hours later as I finished the supper dishes I realized what he was trying to ask me. My answer wasn't even close!
I needed to bring my pulse rate back down to a normal level, so he guided me over to the bike and asked me if I wanted some sugar. "Sugar??? Never heard of it!" my fuzzy brain was saying as I tried to formulate the word "yes". He was back in a flash with a sports drink and handed me the bottle. I looked at the bottle for quite some time before I figured out that I couldn't drink the contents until the cover was unscrewed. And for the life of me, I couldn't understand how you would get the cover off. After a few half-hearted attempts, PT took the bottle, unscrewed the cover and gave the bottle back to me. After a few drinks, I could feel myself perking up. After a couple of minutes of drinking the red nectar and biking, I headed to the office so PT could make sure that I was able to leave under my own power safely.
By the time I got to the office, I was able to form words and talk in complete sentences. Assuring PT that I would come back the gym that weekend only when other people were present, I was able to go home. I felt frustrated and defeated. A call to the diabetic educator gleaned some helpful tips and an appointment to discuss the issue at greater length. I needed to go back to the drawing board and figure out my pre-workout snacks. I needed to have a Plan B for quick sugar and carry this with me all the time.
I am surprised how much I enjoy this gym time. I lock my cell phone is the trunk of my car before I go into the building. The only thing I have to think about is my next breath and my next step. Sometimes I am pretty sure that my next breath and my next step might be my last!
I have never invested much in myself, not just monetarily, but also as a whole. I see the value of being stronger and healthier so I can be a better servant for God. Scripture tells us in 1 Corinthians 6:19-20, " Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies." I guess my "temple" is under renovation currently. How is your temple?https://www.facebook.com/
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Week 1: Terror on the Treadmill
Last week was my first full week at my new gym. It can be daunting to walk in and see these crafted bodies running on elliptical machines. But I took a deep breath, opened the door and walked in to meet my new personal trainer (P.T.).
I had met my P.T. the week before and had left the meeting somewhat overwhelmed. He was speaking a scary new language which included words such as "squats", "lunges" and "running on purpose".
I was the person running in the back of the pack during high school P.E. class. I was a cheerleader before it was considered a sport. I was on the track team for approximately 6 days before I admitted to myself that I was not an athlete. It was liberating turning in my track sweats and walking out of the funky-smelling locker room.
Now I was back in a gym by my own choice and I was having gym class flashbacks. My P.T. approached me and asked me if I was ready for this. My honest reply sounded kind of shaky coming out of my mouth, "no". I felt a little like an imposter as I walked around with my exercise clothes and water bottle.
My P.T. is knowledgeable about my rheumatoid arthritis and my diabetes. My physician had deemed a trainer medically necessary so I wouldn't hurt myself. Those who know me well know that I am accident prone and that has nothing to do with my pre-existing conditions. I regularly loan out my stash of crutches and walking boots. For a while, the Emergency Department personnel kept my chart on the counter in anticipation of my next visit!
One of my goals as I begin training is to participate and finish a 5K. I was planning to start slowly, walk the first few and then maybe - just maybe- I could work up to running maybe. P.T. told me that he would shoot for having me run by the end of April. I have publically mocked those who run on purpose. I don't think God put us at the top of the food chain to run "just because". If you are being chased by a rabid bear in the forest, that would warrant running. However, we are short on rabid wild life, so the need to run is pretty minimal. P.T., however, is certain that I would be jogging in no time at all.
The P.T. told me that the first workout would be among the worst that he would lead. He wanted to see just how far I could go. Promises of lighter work outs to follow was the only reason I didn't bolt immediately! I figured it would be a short first session. I guessed I had about 10 to 15 minutes of fitness inside of me. He looked like a trustworthy professional, so I put myself entirely into his hands and followed resolutely behind him across the gym.
I moved from squats to lunges, exercise bike to rowing machine. Some of you might be surprised to know that I am a little bit stubborn. I know - shocking!!! An hour later, I stumbled off the exercise bike after my pulse rate returned to 120 unsure if my legs would carry me all the way to the car. It felt like my knees would buckle at any moment.
I awoke the next morning and tentatively put my feet on the edge of the bed. I really didn't feel to bad. Maybe I was in better shape than I had given myself credit for! Then, I stood up and all daydreams of being fit went out the window. My legs felt full of lead and the msucles were so tight that I could hardly hobble down the stairs. I was so glad that I was adopting a healthier lifestyle (sarcasm). Going down stairs and getting up from a chair were new adventures in pain. The next morning I woke to find that I couldn't straighten my arms as the my forearms were so sore that they would cramp up if I didn't let them hang at my sides at all times.
Last week was Holy Week, which is the second busiest week of my year. Our Reflections clown team ministry leads the Good Friday service which requires me to walk, kneel AND get up again and raise my arms above my head. Perhaps it was bad timing on my part, but there was nothing to do put keep moving forward and pray that Jesus comes back soon!
On Thursday, I walked stiff-legged into the gym hoping that P.T. could "fix" my tight muscles and get me ready to clown the next day. His prediction was accurate - I had never worked that hard. I was ready for the forementioned easier workout. The workout included much of the same exercises interspersed with a few minutes on the exercise bike. At the end of the workout, he helped me stretch out my legs and arms. I left feeling a little like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz who had finally found my oil can.
I also left feeling a strange satisfaction that I had the right P.T. - someone who would push me when I wanted to quit. At no time did I have any joint pain, so I was exercising safely and that gives me confidence to work harder. Maybe it was the endorphins, but I am exciting to see what my limits are. How far can I push myself? Can I really run a 5K and not finish in the ER?
I walked into our church exercise class yesterday and put in four miles enjoying the workout. Dare I say that I am beginning to "like" exercising? Stay turned for my next post.
I had met my P.T. the week before and had left the meeting somewhat overwhelmed. He was speaking a scary new language which included words such as "squats", "lunges" and "running on purpose".
I was the person running in the back of the pack during high school P.E. class. I was a cheerleader before it was considered a sport. I was on the track team for approximately 6 days before I admitted to myself that I was not an athlete. It was liberating turning in my track sweats and walking out of the funky-smelling locker room.
Now I was back in a gym by my own choice and I was having gym class flashbacks. My P.T. approached me and asked me if I was ready for this. My honest reply sounded kind of shaky coming out of my mouth, "no". I felt a little like an imposter as I walked around with my exercise clothes and water bottle.
My P.T. is knowledgeable about my rheumatoid arthritis and my diabetes. My physician had deemed a trainer medically necessary so I wouldn't hurt myself. Those who know me well know that I am accident prone and that has nothing to do with my pre-existing conditions. I regularly loan out my stash of crutches and walking boots. For a while, the Emergency Department personnel kept my chart on the counter in anticipation of my next visit!
One of my goals as I begin training is to participate and finish a 5K. I was planning to start slowly, walk the first few and then maybe - just maybe- I could work up to running maybe. P.T. told me that he would shoot for having me run by the end of April. I have publically mocked those who run on purpose. I don't think God put us at the top of the food chain to run "just because". If you are being chased by a rabid bear in the forest, that would warrant running. However, we are short on rabid wild life, so the need to run is pretty minimal. P.T., however, is certain that I would be jogging in no time at all.
The P.T. told me that the first workout would be among the worst that he would lead. He wanted to see just how far I could go. Promises of lighter work outs to follow was the only reason I didn't bolt immediately! I figured it would be a short first session. I guessed I had about 10 to 15 minutes of fitness inside of me. He looked like a trustworthy professional, so I put myself entirely into his hands and followed resolutely behind him across the gym.
I moved from squats to lunges, exercise bike to rowing machine. Some of you might be surprised to know that I am a little bit stubborn. I know - shocking!!! An hour later, I stumbled off the exercise bike after my pulse rate returned to 120 unsure if my legs would carry me all the way to the car. It felt like my knees would buckle at any moment.
I awoke the next morning and tentatively put my feet on the edge of the bed. I really didn't feel to bad. Maybe I was in better shape than I had given myself credit for! Then, I stood up and all daydreams of being fit went out the window. My legs felt full of lead and the msucles were so tight that I could hardly hobble down the stairs. I was so glad that I was adopting a healthier lifestyle (sarcasm). Going down stairs and getting up from a chair were new adventures in pain. The next morning I woke to find that I couldn't straighten my arms as the my forearms were so sore that they would cramp up if I didn't let them hang at my sides at all times.
Last week was Holy Week, which is the second busiest week of my year. Our Reflections clown team ministry leads the Good Friday service which requires me to walk, kneel AND get up again and raise my arms above my head. Perhaps it was bad timing on my part, but there was nothing to do put keep moving forward and pray that Jesus comes back soon!
On Thursday, I walked stiff-legged into the gym hoping that P.T. could "fix" my tight muscles and get me ready to clown the next day. His prediction was accurate - I had never worked that hard. I was ready for the forementioned easier workout. The workout included much of the same exercises interspersed with a few minutes on the exercise bike. At the end of the workout, he helped me stretch out my legs and arms. I left feeling a little like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz who had finally found my oil can.
I also left feeling a strange satisfaction that I had the right P.T. - someone who would push me when I wanted to quit. At no time did I have any joint pain, so I was exercising safely and that gives me confidence to work harder. Maybe it was the endorphins, but I am exciting to see what my limits are. How far can I push myself? Can I really run a 5K and not finish in the ER?
I walked into our church exercise class yesterday and put in four miles enjoying the workout. Dare I say that I am beginning to "like" exercising? Stay turned for my next post.
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