Dearest Rachel –
As a follow-up to my second letter from yesterday, I should point out that, as one might expect, my moment beneath my license weight after working out to the point of dizziness has passed – at least for now. Upon waking up this morning, I was basically back in the same position as I was yesterday; just over that line. It’s not a matter of futility as such; it’s more a case where the water I sweated out (and which dehydration may have contributed to that disorienting sensation in the first place) had since been replenished, and so here I was, in the same place I’d been the day before.
Of course, there’s a simple remedy to this, were I so inclined; the gym is just a couple of block up from here, and it was early enough that I could head there, put in an hour on the treadmill or whatever, and be back with time to wash and eat before heading to the ‘office’ at a reasonable hour. Moreover, while it’s already muggy outside, it wasn’t as oppressively hot as it’s expected to get over the course of the next few days – it’s going to be sauna-like at least until Thursday. It’s the kind of weather I would jokingly suggest be packaged in cedar and shipped to Finland, except it sounds as if they – and apparently, the entire remainder of Europe – are already dealing with such heat, and they don’t have air conditioning to cope with it, the poor schmucks. So making one’s way around in the hours before the sun reaches an apex would be advisable.
Only today, unlike yesterday, I couldn’t seem to work up the same level of motivation. I think it’s because yesterday, I was waking up after having consumed a fairly huge meal (albeit after doing my usual weekend fast while in the booth), expecting – and hence willing – to have to work off all those calories. The fact that it wasn’t as necessary as I’d feared was a bonus, and actually added to the motivation, paradoxically enough. By contrast, last evening’s meal was fairly light (although now that I think about it, I did do some snacking later on in the evening, so that might have been a contributing factor), so I was expecting a lower opening number, which I didn’t get. Disappointment, as opposed to pleasant surprise, can be quite the demotivator.
At the same time, there’s also the fact that I’m still feeling things from yesterday, I think. Granted, I didn’t wake up with a stiff back like (as you’ll recall) I once did quite regularly, and even the acute pains in my hip and knee have all but disappeared. Then again, I can feel both my ankles complaining when I first get up, and balancing on the scale seems to aggravate them all that much more. I really have to figure out how to let them know that, if they wobble as much as all that, I can’t get a proper read off the scale, and I have to step on it that many more times in order to get an official number. They’re only making it harder on themselves with this sort of behavior.
Between one thing and another, though – the disappointment and the (admittedly mild) pain – I don’t have the motivation I had yesterday to get out there and try to burn off the calories like I did yesterday. It’s not a permanent “well, that didn’t work, and it makes me feel bad, so I’m never doing that again”; it’s more of a resigned “oh, please just let me recover a bit more from yesterday’s efforts, would you?” plea to my mind, who, to its credit, seems surprisingly willing to give me the pass this time around.
I do wonder, as I step outside into the slowly growing humidity (thanks to the sound of the air brakes on the garbage truck as it passes – that used to wake us up of a Tuesday morning during that last year we had together, remember? – reminding me to rush out there with our bin with last week’s rubbish we need to get taken out) whether I’m starting to get to the point where the weather actually affects me, like we used to hear from your folks and so many others of the older generation.
Thus far, I’ve not gotten to the point where I can actually hear the creak of my bones or the cracking of my joints when I first stand up for the day, but it’s just enough, between the soreness and the stuffiness of the outdoors, that I could begin to believe that the connection is being made. I doubt I’d be able to tell, just from one pain or another, when it’s about to rain – heck, I can never remember if it’s a rising or falling barometer that indicates such stuff, and what either direction would feel like – but maybe that predictive skill comes over time; time that I presumably still have plenty of.
Not that this is so much a result of my age as all that, necessarily. I still remember how you would come to me more evenings than not, back in the day, and either plop yourself in front of me in my chair, or right on my lap, depending on whether it was your back or shoulders that needed a good massaging. Both would get sore on the regular – or that’s what you would tell me – and don’t even get me started on your sciatica, which would require relocating to the bedroom, both to expose the muscles in need of massage as well as to allow you to offer recompense for the soreness in my hands and wrists (not that you did much for either of those, but let’s move on).
My point is, these aches aren’t entirely due to age or excessive exertion, but those certainly become contributing factors. Theoretically, I’ve of the understanding that regular exercise might even stave off the worst of the creaks – keep the joints moving, and they won’t freeze in place so soon. Then again, if you move them too far and too fast, there’s the risk that something might break down. With that in mind, I’m not going to bother going through my paces today.
As it is, when I give myself an hour or two between waking up and breakfast, I can literally eliminate the problem; by the time I was ready to put together breakfast, I was back down under my license weight, and without having to tread four miles uphill. It’s just what the body does. Now, all I have to do is to cut down on my intake going forward, and things will continue to trend in the right direction, regardless of my working out or not.
In which case, I’ll ask you to continue to keep your eye on me, honey, and wish me well. I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 