Old

One week ago I was given the official go-ahead to resume exercising after 4 months of restrictions.  I was so excited I bought new workout clothes on TWO separate occasions.  Anyone who knows how much I loathe shopping would be impressed.  I reorganized/finished-unpacking my closet in order to best accommodate said work out clothes.  I scoured the house to find my knee brace, one of my most prized possessions.  (Incidentally it turns out it had been shelved along with my road bike since the MS 150 in April.)  And I located my new exercise ball, though I thought it unwise to try balancing my still pregnancy-weight-laden body on it using only my newly healed ab muscles just yet.

I started out by vacuuming the house.  This was my idea of "starting slow," as everyone has warned me to do...those who know me best, repeatedly so.  I slept for 2 hours immediately afterwards.  The next day I instituted my favorite home work out routine that I used to do 15 years ago before I had access to a gym.  Truthfully, it came from an early 90's issue of Seventeen magazine, entitled, "Exercises for the clothes you love!" with pink arrows connecting the bicep curls to a tank top and squats to the butt of some designer jeans.  But, despite the source, the work out is actually fast, effective and comprehensive, consisting of three exercises each for upper body, lower body, and abs.  So I started to do this routine with 10 lbs of extra resistance sleeping happily in the infant carrier strapped to me.  But very shortly after that I stopped to seek out my brace on account of my knee was now clicking every time I moved.  I braced myself and resumed the work out, and I was so glad to be active again. I couldn't do the three floor exercises due to carrying Rowan, but again I thought that might be a gold star for me in the "taking it slow" category.  The next day my legs were still fiery-sore, but I felt great over all.

Two days ago I tried the routine again.  This time I didn't have my knee brace, but I decided to go ahead anyway.  My knee wasn't even clicking.  Rowan tagged along in his carrier, and the dogs even excitedly followed along with me until they realized that I never intended to leave the 6 square feet of space I was exercising in.  The next day my legs weren't even sore.  No... Instead my knee swelled up, is tender to the touch, tight to walk on, and is even in twinging pain at rest sometimes.  It makes it very difficult to kneel down beside the baby for play time or baths, or to rise from sitting on the floor.  Even putting my knee on the mattress to get into bed is painful.

It was never this difficult 15 years ago!  This is an easy work out!  Sheesh. I guess I should trade in my Seventeen articles for some Boniva and a subscription to Better Homes and Gardens.  As I informed Rowan today, "Your Mommy is OLD!"