I stare at my friend as we sit on the yoga mat next to each other and I say: “Hi there, you. Have you gotten a little heavier over the past few months? Because it certainly feels like it.”
Before you ask me if I’m lost my ever-lovin’ mind, don’t worry. I haven’t. My “friend” is a 10-lb. medicine ball. And I’ve just finished reacquainting myself with it through a series of sit-ups while holding it and pivoting side to side.
This particular “friend” has not been too hard to reconnect with, but damn—the other dynamic duo I met up with this week, Kettlebell and Burpee, well they are just mean girls. I had forgotten just how mean.
My frequent blog visitors know I had elective surgery last fall. My surgeon put a 12-week ban on exercise.
Just as he lifted it and I began to work out, a visit from an old friend in February brought me what my doctor now thinks was coronavirus. Another 12 weeks of no exercise as I got rid of the cough, fatigue and shortness of breath. All that, with no pre-existing conditions. I’m a healthy gal who drew the short straw, I guess. Don’t believe the people who say fear causes you to get this virus. I had no fear of it—we didn’t even really know what it was back then. Aerosols in closed spaces? Now those can give you this virus. Listen to science.
Do the math and you find six months of a more sedentary life—half or more during a pandemic. Oy.
Add to that scenario that some of my symptoms came back in July—and you have a woman who usually channels some Tigger energy feeling a bit more Eeyore-paced. And for you worrying types, don’t fret. My heart and lung scan came back clean. But fatigue is hard to shake with this virus—at least for me. I wish doctors could prescribe three months in the French Riviera. Except the French (wisely) wouldn’t take me right now due to my U.S. home address.
So here I am, humbled yet again by these old “friends” who usually help me get in shape. I had three good workout days and then exhaustion. While I’m itching to get started again today, my body says “wait.” This Tigger, internally, is about ready to bounce off the walls.
On the plus side, I’ve lost 10 pounds in five weeks. I’d like to lose another 15 to 20. We’ll see what Kettlebell and Burpee have to say about that. They’ll need to weigh in on the matter. (Go ahead. Groan. Pun entirely intended.)
I have readers just heading into summer (shoutout to the Kiwis and Aussies), while others—like me—are heading into autumn and winter with some trepidation. I won’t be sharing a lot of indoor air after two skirmishes with this bug. I feel like those skirmishes give me some leeway to give you a bit of advice.
Regardless of what season you’re in, my unasked for advice is to mask up and keep yourself active at home or in the great outdoors. And good food matters. You don’t need the sugar. Many of us don’t need the gluten or dairy, either. If you pay attention to what you eat and how it makes you feel, you really will gravitate toward what makes you feel good. And by good, I mean healthy. Energized.
Hopefully I won’t become one of those people who is no fun to go to dinner with, when we can finally do that indoors together again. The one that eats in spartan fashion, asking about every single ingredient. I’ve railed against the salad girls before. It’s less what they eat than the way they approach life that I think I chafe against. My zest for good food goes will with my zest for good wine and good music and a good time.
Now I just need to combine those with my zest for hanging out with Kettlebell and Burpee. And see if my body wants to attend this party.
Even if you haven’t been ill, I know the pandemic is doing a number on daily life for many of you. Here’s to channeling our inner Tigger, friends, for whatever your particular challenge is. Maybe slowly. Maybe in choppy, intermittent fashion. It may not be pretty.
But let’s get there. I could sure use some company on the ride.