Week 1 of physical therapy is done. Over. Finis. I made it out alive, but only barely.
This morning I had session #3 for the week, and I was thinking I was doing pretty well. I had made it through sessions #1 and #2 on Monday and Tuesday with flying colors working hard and feeling like it, but also feeling good to be working out again, albeit on a different level than I was used to. I also did all my exercises yesterday at home, not wanting to take a day off from working the muscles in my hips and legs that are so disastrously weak right now. So I turned up at the physical therapy studio full of my athlete self and ready to rock the workout. Instead, it rocked me.
I started off doing 10 minutes of cardio on a machine I have never seen before but am now in love with. It's a cross between a recumbent bike, stair stepper and elliptical trainer all in one. I have been wanting to start doing cardio again (not just walking the pups) and this was a perfect way for me to see what my current ability is. Jeanne got me all set up and off I went recumbently stepping my way on level two down my imaginary road to my imaginary beach. And there was a smile on my face.
Five minutes in I couldn't believe I was still going and feeling good. I wasn't sweating, although I was starting to get warm, and my legs didn't feel like overcooked linguine. Life is good. I was still going strong when Jeanne came and got me after 11 minutes. As I stood up, Jeanne asked if I needed to take a breather and have some water. When I stood up is when it hit me. Water goes well with overcooked linguine. I drank my water as I wandered around the room trying to find feeling in my quads and not trip over the miscellaneous exercise equipment.
Now you may think this might be a demoralizing moment for me. But instead I was proud of myself for doing 11 minutes of cardio! Sliding scale of accomplishment at work. I felt like I pushed myself and, as my stomach was deciding whether or not to accept the water I just fed it, I basked in the glow of the road to athleticism. I may be bumping along in the breakdown lane, but I'm on the road none the less.
We then moved on to several new exercises using bands. It's amazing to me how these tools of torture come in such happy colors! How a bright yellow band has the capacity to make a leg actually feel like it's going to fall off. And that water is not sitting well in the old "athlete's" body. I'm looking around for a trash can, but trying to be subtle. I'm cool. I'm fabulous. I'm gonna hurl water. But at least it's covered by insurance...
After finishing the nightmare yellow band exercises, we moved on to the bevy of exercises we did during the past 2 sessions. I needed a crane to move my legs, my stomach muscles were stuck in the "on" position, and I really wanted the room to stop jumping around. When did everyone start looking like they were reflections in a fun house mirror? Yes, I would like another cup of water thank you...
Bottom line, I got out of there without hurling. Victory! I also felt like I worked hard, and that in and of itself is very satisfying. I learned kind of what to expect when I go back to the gym to start doing cardio. And I learned that I shouldn't be mortified when I do return to the gym to do my cardio. I'll be ok if I do 10 minutes or if I do 20 minutes or whatever. As long as I don't throw up my water...
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