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This season of Lent

April 20th, 2009 · No Comments · Exercising, Family Life

This year for Lent I decided to

1) attend Mass every day and2) take up exercising.

The first part I did really really well on.

Until.

You felt that “until” coming, right? Spring break. During the kids’ spring break, I took most of the week off from work.  Well.  I went in one day and filed a bankruptcy for a client that needed to be filed, I  had to be in Court another day and ended up filing  a bankruptcy for another client and staying all day to get other crap done that needed to be done.

But I took three whole days off that week!

But during the week of Spring Break,  I did not make it to Mass  during the week.   Not one.   Once I got out of the habit, I just never got back into it.  I tried.  But is seemed like the week after Spring Break, I’d be working at my desk and at 10:30 I would think, “I’ll leave for Mass at 11:50” and then I’d look up again and it would be 12:30!

Blew that one.

My other Lenten promise was to exercise.  I thought forty-five minutes a day (which really equals an hour and a half a day when you add in getting ready, getting there, actually doing the exercising, getting changed and getting home) would be good.  I decided to spend my time on the treadmill.

I didn’t start this one right on Ash Wednesday.  I think I was at the doctor’s office on Ash Wednesday.  I had bronchitis that first couple of days of Lent.

I started exercising right after the antibiotics kicked in.  And I was very faithful to that promise.  Every night after the BoyChild went to sleep, or David returned from choir practice or one meeting or another at Church, I’d head over to the health club.

I can’t say I ever liked it.  Like I like and look forward to a pedicure.    But I think it made me feel better.  I was sleeping better and I lost some weight.

But my shoes weren’t doing it for me.  I am a super-pronater; my feet kind of roll out to the side.  And they made my feet hurt when I ran.  So I went to the running store  and bought a pair of running shoes.   Which promptly put a blister on the bottom of my foot the very first time I wore them.

But I kept running.  When went to Kansas City for my Uncle’s funeral,  I ran on the treadmill at the hotel where we stayed.

I was doing 45 minutes a day and averaged about 15 miles a week.  I had gotten to the point I could do a 13 minute mile.  Not gonna win any races at that pace, but not bad for a fat, middle aged mommy blogger.

But that blasted blister would not go away.  I tried a dozen different pairs of socks.   It was painful.  It hurt.  I took a day off to see if it got better.  It seemed to hurt even more the next time I went back.

And then I got this pesky fever.  And the lymph node in my leg hurt. And the blister looked kinda funny.  So finally, on Holy Thursday I went to the doctor.

I told my husband I thought I had the flu.  My body ached, my muscles hurt, I had a head ache.  But he’d been advocating letting the blister heal and he said, “show the doctor your foot!” as I walked out the door that morning.   As much as it pained me (literally and figuratively) , she agreed with David, gave me an antibiotic and sent me to a foot doctor.

The foot doctor looked at my foot, got out a sharp pointy thing and began cutting and scraping on my foot.  He scrapped off dead skin and opened up that funny spot which oozed something yucky for the rest of the day.

Now my foot feels better.

I called to talk to my friend Linda about my foot.  Last summer she and I took a yoga class together.  Linda hurt her knee requiring surgery.  I told her about my problem with my blister.  Her take on it was that at our age, trying to get healthy, even for a good cause, is a dangerous proposition.

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