At 6 a.m., I laid in bed, stiff from head to toe, trying to work up the nerve to put my feet on the floor. Finally, I closed my eyes, swallowed hard, threw my legs over the side and stood up ... and then yelped.
I stood there in pain, wondering how bad it would be to walk. And once again, my expectations weren’t high enough. I walked to the bathroom like I was on stilts. I tried to brace myself on the banister, but that only made the muscles in my arms cry out for mercy.
Sitting down is a whole other matter. It’s like I physically cannot do it. I get halfway and have to throw myself the rest of the way into the chair.
And then there were the 14 stairs I had to descend in order to leave the house. I tried one standing up, and I couldn’t believe how hard it was to stay upright. PAIN. It was just pain, all through my legs. I wondered if this is how I would die. Tumbling down all 14 of these stairs to my death.
So, it had to be done: I sat down and scooted my rear down every last one of those stairs. There was just no other way.
I honestly still debated this morning about whether I should push through and put my hour in at the gym. I Googled the night before about whether it’s OK to workout with sore muscles. Apparently, if you’re able to, exercising (cardio) an already overworked body doesn’t do further damage. So I was going to try it.
But then I went to the back door and saw the snow piled up and there was no way I was getting out of my driveway. So my workout time was spent shoveling and snowblowing.
Maybe that’s OK. Give myself one day to rest a bit, and I’ll make up the hour on Saturday.
So now there’s just the rest of today to face, walking around like an 80-year-old on an icy sidewalk. At least my coworkers know what I’m up to, and we can all get a good laugh out of this.
But today happens to be the first day of spring semester at MSU, where I teach editing. I wonder what those kids will think when I hobble into class today.
And I wonder how I’m going to get down the stairs to get there ...