Long before the rheumatoid arthritis was diagnosed, long before the dozen or so screws were used to put my shoulders back together, long before my right lung became non-functioning, long before my two titanium knees were implanted, long before I became mobility-scooter bound, and long before I weighed 400 pounds, I used to belong to a health club.
I had a set after school routine. Drive the 20 miles to the gym. Bike for less than 15 minutes, treadmill for about 5 minutes, lift a few weights, and then get myself into the pool. It wasn't a very challenging workout but one just long enough to make me feel like I was trying to be healthy. In hindsight it probably was a big waste of gas and time, driving that far for so little. But at least it was something.
Fast forward to today.
I now live less than five miles from the YMCA. No longer 400 pounds, no longer mobility-scooter bound, no longer expecting to do a minimum amount of work at a gym, I made my way to my first session this morning. Knowing I haven't done much but ride my bike this summer I anticipated a bit of a rough start.
One hour on the treadmill and bike and one hour in the pool. Seemed like a great plan, a great way to get me to focus on me, to get a jumpstart on an exercise program. And it was a great plan. Up until the time I got home. That warm water pool I spent my time swimming laps in and doing exercises in and walking in turned out to be quite kind to my achy joints. I felt warm and comfortable and relaxed and...tired.
While one plus one usually equals two, in my case today it became one hour plus one hour equaled a good long nap.
And almost five miles on the bike. While I didn't push myself too hard on day one, it was a place to start. I think I'll stick with my plan.