Well, it’s
now 9:00 am. Obviously this is not going to be my daily - from this moment on
until the end of my life so I can be a healthy old lady - hour of exercise.
It should be
so easy. After all, I always get up early and lounge around for hours on end. Why
not use one of those hours, just one of that endless span of hours that make up
a day, to do some exercise? Think of how good I would feel!
Wasn't it
just yesterday I made a pledge, a vow to start the Fall exercising?
"So do
it, Paula," I said. "Just do it. You must. Your knees, your weight,
apparently your mental state demand it."
And I agreed
with me, and with a zillion articles in every newspaper and magazine on the
market.
I started
out this morning so well. Got up at 6:00, remembered my vow, went to the kids'
old bedroom, opened the windows, turned on the TV and there was Miranda Esmonde
White, looking all perky on channel 25.
On channel 21 Priscilla did yoga and look! There’s Body Electric! It’s still running since the last time I looked
some 10 or 15 years ago.
Oops! Waited
too long to choose and now all the exercise shows are half over. I need to plan
ahead.
6:00 AM is
way too early to exercise anyway, I’ll wait until I’m less stiff and the glucosamine has kicked in.
Maybe some
caffeine too, I allowed myself.
By the time
I made coffee, the Times had arrived. Gotta love home delivery.
What could be better than the sight of the newspaper in front of your door?
Must check it out right away.
By 7:00 I
was no longer stiff but I still hadn't emptied the dishwasher or done the crossword
puzzle. Hadn’t even located a pencil.
At 8:00 Jim
got up and we had a nice chat about How We Hate Time Warner.
By 8:30, I
wanted breakfast. That took half an hour.
So why am I
writing this at 9:00 still not in front of my Pilates for Seniors,
Classical Stretch or Yoga for the
Rest of Us DVDs or even the easy
knee video I just bought two days ago?
I decide
against going out for a walk because my
back would act up.
I could drag
out the bike, it’s warm enough, but biking would kill my knees.
I don’t want
to join a health club again. I belonged to the YMCA and went there for a
year and a half. Remember how it took a
half hour to get there, plus 15 minutes to find a locker, and get dressed,
while avoiding the sight of all those pale white bodies. My years at a Catholic
girls school taught me to change clothes without showing any skin. Kind of a
gift to the universe at this time of my life.
Then there
is the mini trampoline staring at me from the utility closet it doesn't quite
fit into. I always have to jam it in and shut the door fast. But that
thing turned out not to help my knees at all, so it just sits there next to the
step gizmo from the 80's which started the downward slide my knees have taken. And
right alongside it is the complete set of free weights and the Pilates Mini Reformer kit.
Have I
whined long enough? Won't someone call? Land line, cell phone? Morse code? I've
looked at my my email, read the Times, put the trash out, done the crossword
puzzle, checked for mold around the
kitchen sink. Isn't there a pressing household chore, like rearranging the
towels, I must do?
Oh wow,
here’s an idea, I can turn this whole debacle into an essay! I will write about
it.
Then by
11:00 I'll be ready to start exercising.
Definitely.
