I finally reached my limit of feeling out of shape and decided it’s time to get back in the groove. I started asking around. I talked to a friend about, Becky, the trainer she's been working out with this year. Becky and I met last Thursday for a consultation and the vibe was good. Today, the
Satan lives in the basement, as all good monsters should. The basement. You know, DOWNSTAIRS. I’m on the second floor in the playroom. That means I have to go down a flight to the main floor and then down one more flight to the basement. “So what?” you say, “What’s the big deal?” Well, I’ll tell you. The squats and lunges had done their evil magic. My thigh bones were gone. Well, not GONE, exactly. Transformed. Transformed into something very non-bonelike. Something soft and quivery and helpless. Jell-o.
Over the next 45 minutes, I had to make that descent three times. By the third time, I was gripping the handrail and hoping I didn't have to resort to crawling. I hope my bones solidify before Thursday.