I was going nuts. Really, that was my neurologist's diagnosis over the phone. He told me to go take a hike. So began a Fitness Quest, of overcoming stress and anxiety with exercise...but I hate exercise. Really. Don't we all? A broken hand, a divorce and multiple life changes have ensued since it began, but still the Quest continues...
Many years ago, Mackinac became a favorite vacation destination for our family. Charlton was a baby the first time we visited the island; we regularly took our fall break in Mackinaw City.
Lad, age 4 in 2004, and two weeks ago, nearly 15, at Colonial Michilimackinac.
Clearly, the boy has doubled in size.
I recall asking him to stand against the gun for the first photo, thinking ahead to future visits, and thinking how fun it would be to chart his growth. We had three or four pictures, but with our move to Arizona, a looming five year gap emerged.
This is one of the reasons I wanted so badly to get Up North on our visit home...it's as close to a time machine as any other thing.
Yes, I own a real time machine. It's called memory. Interestingly, not many want to take a trip in their own time machines, and even go so far as to deny their existence.
I love my time machine.
Recently I learned how to utilize my time machine to improve my future. My still broken hand has left me discouraged and frustrated; it's been hard making lemonade when I used up all of the sugar.
Then I realized I could have iced tea with lemon instead.
My preferred beverage of choice at any given time, no sugar needed (I'm from the North; enough said.)
Nope, I didn't need to steampunk a new brace.
Although one must admit the dragonfly IS a lovely touch...
...it's time to learn how to write with my left.
Oh, it's frustrating, and I am DESPERATE to be able to type (I blog with my left thumb.). I spent HOURS today trying to write with dictation apps, only to get discouraged again.
If at first you don't succeed...
I had forgotten.
With nothing but one hike a week to my name, I had forgotten what I had learned in my Quest.
As days turned to weeks and now months with an injury, I had overlooked the solution: try something new.
My six-year-old-like scratches became more legible this week. You can read it now.
That and Disney announced this:
Afterall, a ride in the Falcon would solve everything, right?!
Yes, I'm still frustrated. But I'm moving forward.
Better yet, I've turned my back on an old stumbling block and refused to even deal with it.
What good is a time machine if you don't use it?
And what good are lemons not added to your tea?
There is good in this world; I will find it.
Grandkitten Thor is one of those good things.
Still having a right hand is one of those things.
Coffee is definitely one of those things.
As is art (Nisbet's Yellow Waves. Love, love, love!!)
There's too much in this world to be thankful for and to enjoy to stay down for long.
My nose looks big in this picture, don't you think? 😜
As you can see, it's not discolored. But it hurts. It's sore, and typing today will likely aggravate it more.
Then there's the damned lingering effects of the head injury that started the fitness quest.
Being limited to hiking is an easy thing (who's going to complain about NOT exercising) but this week's hikes being strolls...
Mine.
Also mine.
...turns out strolling was pretty nice. I didn't work up a sweat, so I could change and head straight to work.
Jenny's dress. I received so many compliments on it and even had a dirty old man pinch me.
Today & tomorrow I can go in until 9 (I don't have keys yet, you know, the mandatory probation period) so I'm reflecting.
Can I get to level four before work?
In all honesty, I'm reflecting on how discouraging a long term injury can be. The concussion, topped off with a broken dominant hand...some things are starting to give.
My word. I have rarely been more nervous about doing something in my entire life.
Walking into a new place, starting a lifestyle change that I wasn't really engaged in...it was tough. Almost as tough as it was for Maverick to engage in the battle after Goose died. Really; I can totally relate.
In my prior career, I'd taken some pretty heavy fire. Now here I was embarking on a new career, and a Fitness Quest to boot. "It's not good. It doesn't look good," were words never far from my thoughts. Hiking was one thing - I've had a 28 year history of loving hiking in Arizona, despite only living here the past four. Exercise, however?
I cannot stress enough how my dread of not being able to breathe has greatly effected my exercise efforts in the past. Only a few times have I been able to push through it - only to loose that fitness due to one thing or another. Once was in college - I ran sprints for the track team - but right after I had the breakthrough in being able to breath, shin splints shut that down. More recently, in the fall of 2012 I was up to 15 mile hikes in a day; only to have that shut down when my hiking partner left me cold to pursue his own fitness quest. My last foray into fitness was the spring of 2013, when I began mountain biking with my son. That ended with a broken foot, by the time it was healed the monsoons had started and the trails were a mess. This time, I'd committed to a year.
Maybe I needed to be committed instead. It's freaking dark at 5:25am.
Sgt. Steve's car. There is no escape.
I had my notebook with me as I walked in; I'm an old-timey reporter in that I like to write things down instead of using voice to text. My memory is pretty good (I'm a trained historian), and I could tell you some pretty interesting tales...
So I walk in, I'm trying not to look nervous, and I'm looking around at the old Armory gym. I've always held a fondness for old armory's, this one is no exception. As my mind escapes the present with a jaunt to the past, I imagine the gatherings of yesteryear; the faded stenciling on the closed window casings sparking my imagination. I wonder if there is a time portal here and I can escape this exercise?
The Armory in Prescott, AZ.
Did I mention I love sci-fi?
Seriously, I think this is just the place for a secret bunker to survive a zombie apocalypse.
This is what it looks like inside:
Sgt. Steve is the only guy in the picture.
So when I walk in, no one is just standing around. They are all power walking laps, which scares me as that means they are focused, fit individuals. Sgt. Steve comes up to greet me, and is pretty great about putting my mind at ease. We start with a warm up, just everyone standing in a circle and doing some easy stretching.
I wonder if stretching might have kept my back from tweaking last week?
Probably.
On to the main course: it's raining this morning (a rare thing in Prescott) and Sgt. Steve announces we are making Alphabet Soup. For a moment, I think we really are going to eat something.
It is my first day.
He holds up a bowl of individual letters, divides us into three groups and has us each take a turn running down to collect a letter. When we had twenty letters in our group, we could stop.
I tried to spell VEGAS. I spelled VOGAS instead.
Once we collected the twenty letters, he handed us a recipe card (for disaster!!! LOL! - sorry, could not resist.) Each letter represented a set of exercises to do (I about fell over laughing when he demonstrated the fire hydrant. I was told "Happy Baby" the prior week was much worse.) As a group of four, we began the sets, my new found friends happily demonstrating the proper form & technique at this early hour. By the time it came for cool-down, I was glistening in sweat, but had not run out of breath. My relief had to have been palatable, I was nothing but smiles as I realized I had made it through the first day without a collapse.
I took a few minutes to chat with some campers & Sgt. Steve, and upon discovering he had a 6:45am class, asked if I could stay and observe. A more "dedicated" group of campers with advanced fitness needs, I found these women to be just as friendly as the group before (even if several of them did have on outfits that coordinated with their shoes.)
OK, never ever Google images for "athletic female" to find pictures of women in matching athletic gear.
By the time the class had ended, I felt I had a pretty good idea of a day at Boot Camp, and tomorrow didn't seem as scary. Time for a hike.
It was raining.
I would surely melt.
Cancelling a hike due to weather led to my downfall in November of 2012 - I wanted to hike in the snow, my hiking partner did not. Although I was gung-ho and ready to go, he put it off to teach a colleague to shoot instead.
Outside.
In the snow.
I never hiked again after that, until Feb. 11, 2015.
This time, however, it was different! It was raining and I had three more hikes lined up that week. I would make it work. Or would I?
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