I have been quiet on this front for a bit. Well at least I’ve been quiet since June 1st. Check out here, here and here for the three most recent mini-rants.
I’ve been making decisions or burying my head in the sand. Bottom line, I will not take either of the potentially cancer causing meds even if the potential is “rare”. I mean c’mon! Who would do that? Not I … said the spy … who is me … and not a gambler.
Instead I have been working toward the original therapy of walking. Yep! Not enough doing unfortunately but I am turning over a new leaf. Starting right now! And borrowing from Sunny Stephens of Hello Sunshine “it occurred to me that turning over a new leaf probably involved saying it less and doing it more”
When I work out of RW, I take the stairs in the garage. I purposefully park on Level 2 and walk to Level 5. Prior to diagnosis, I used to park on Level 3 and walk to Level 4 :). To help me succeed, I curse my way up.
I hate this shit, I hate this shit, I hate this shit (12 steps right there). lol.
I have to say cursing does help. Plus, I’ve been told a way to form discipline is doing something you don’t want to do. Pushing through. For me that is walking up the dang stairs.
I have not been as disciplined about the general walking – 30 minutes a day 3-5 days a week. I was trying and I was listening to music to help me push through but the music stopped helping. It’s hotter than Hades out there and no amount of music takes the heat away.
I tried a different tactic today. We’d been to the Pearl taking photos which caused walking by default. I could have stopped there but in the effort to become disciplined, I walked again around our place. We’ve got almost 5 acres of prime real estate. I have no excuses. I took my snake gig (even though too hot to see them; better safe than sorry) and as I proceeded I repeated FTS, FTS, FTS. And not the acronym, the words! And guess what? I’ll be darn if I didn’t walk 25 minutes (felt like 5) when I started out trying for 10. Gotta start somewhere right?!?!?
I hope to eventually work my way up to 30 by 3 or 5. I can do it Ricky Bobby. FTS, FTS, FTS. Say it with me. 🙂
I remember fondly that my dad would not cuss in front of us. He’d used initials too. Mainly BS and CS with an occasional PF worked in. The three littles (J, P and J) would always ask “what’s a PF daddy?” He’d laugh – a pink flamingo but he never say what it really meant. Maybe I should work PF into my walking routine. No telling how far I’d walk powered by those memories.
Happy Sunday y’all. Hope it’s been a good one.
As always, more to come.