So I have 6.6 miles logged on my app that tracks my 1000 mile journey. (Truth be told, it should be 8.3 miles because I got 1.7 in the first day before I downloaded that app.) Whatever. I’m off the couch and I’m pushing myself to up my pace everyday. It’s not consistent. But I’ve gone from a 22.5 mph average to 17.45 mph average and today is only day 4. I’m awesome. And I know that 17.45 mph averages aren’t anything Guiness would even pick up the phone over. But that’s almost my average time for jogging 2 miles when I was younger and far healthier. And I’m WALKING not jogging. (Why pee your pants when you don’t have to?)
My friend, Kim, who works out regularly, pointed out that it’s an addictive feeling; that overall GOOD that you feel following your workout….well, more accurately, following the SHOWER after your workout. And HELLS YEAH. She is so right. It is addictive. Yes, my science geek friends: They’re endorphins. They’re like Prozac, with ONLY good side effects.
Here’s the thing. I have a sway back. So when I fell into bed last night, literally, I slept on my face. Thanks to Menopause and her twin sister, Night Sweats, I rarely use the covers and sleep with the ceiling fan on. But sleeping face down forces my lower back to dip down just before the sway up at the tailbone and no covers plus ceiling fan plus sweaty back equals “Honey, please help me get off the bed before I wet my pants” in the morning. I was so stiff and unable to move without pain that I was lucky to make it to the coffee pot.
My husband told me to take today off and rest.
At first I thought, well, maybe a 1/2 mile walk at a “Sunday stroll” pace. Just to keep up the momentum. Then when I got outside, the weather was so nice and there was a nice breeze, so I just ended taking a slightly different route. Instead of taking it easy, I walked 2.72 miles in 48 minutes at an average pace of 17.45 mph. A personal best. Yay, me.