Sheesh! I was only trying to get my 10,000 steps in. For 10 weeks, I stuck my pedometer in my pocket each morning and didn’t miss an opportunity for a few stairs, a little jaunt to the corner, and gleefully made five separate trips to the kitchen while making tea just to keep the number rolling to the elusive 10K. Except on Sundays…. part of my Sabbath to leave it on the nightstand.
So last week I felt unstoppable, triumphant, I could do this the rest of my life, UNTIL I stubbed my toe, hard. More mad at the halt to my steps than the pain, I resolved to keep going and applied my usual mantra, “I will be fine.”
Except I wasn’t…fine that is. The pain and swelling grew rapidly and still I walked, so sure I could beat it with a few Advil.
By Thursday as the purple in the bruise deepened, I begrudgingly got an X-ray. Fracture! “Four weeks to heal, stay off it!” was the MD report.
I felt the whoosh of the wind going out of my sail and, truthfully, I am still a bit furious. One of my lifetime struggles is to stay consistent with exercise. If you are a regular reader, you know about my personal trainer, cancelled this week of course since putting shoes these days requires a lot of finesse and occasional swearing.
Last night I read the enlightening statistic that it takes six months to get into shape and two weeks to lose it. I felt like throwing a goodbye party for my fitness.
My zero steps pedometer
I know, I know, I really will be fine and it could be so much worse, right? Meanwhile, I’m working on a few different re-framing packages. My Verve isn’t broken, just my toe.
Hope for the Best 