Long-suffering readers may remember that during our last days in Turkey I developed peripheral arterial disease which affects the blood flow to my legs. My blocked tubes meant that taking a stroll for more than a short distance was a bit of a pain. Back in Britain, I went under the knife for an arterial bypass to my nether regions. The op worked well but was only designed to fix one limb so, rather than hop to the shops for the rest of my days, the quack suggested the best long-term therapy was to walk, walk and walk again. He told me that the body, when pushed, has a remarkable ability to create new channels to pump blood. Me? Walk? I’ve promenaded many times down the years but I’ve always been more talk, talk than walk, walk. The trauma of compulsory cross-country running as a spotty schoolboy left me scarred for life. I don’t hike, roam, ramble, trek or yomp.
But I heeded the good doctor’s advice by joining a local gym, called simply, ‘The Gym’. It does exactly what it says on the tin. It’s got all the instruments of torture anyone could possibly wish for – a masochist’s wet dream. That was in 2014. I’ve been going ever since.
Here’s the torture chamber:
Has it worked? Well, yes, it has. It’s still a gruelling work in progress but I reckon I can now mince triple the distance without having to rest. And the view from the exercise bike of the sweaty gym-bunnies strutting and straining provides some distraction from my labours.
I may need to do the same and join up. I do like to walk, but ever since a bout of dengue fever (have I ever said I now absolutely loathe mosquitoes?) I cannot walk a distance. I was up to 6 and 7 miles daily. Post dengue, a leisurely stroll of two blocks did me in.
It wasn’t the dengue that did this to me. It was the scorching fever which could have left me brain damaged, so perhaps I should feel grateful rather then being a grump about this. But it has damaged my inner ear and left me slightly dizzy and off balance.
But I hope to maybe, possibly, hopefully, get across that blasted pond next fall and I want to roam as much as possible in my allotted time, not merely gaze from a window. Hence the gym.
If I push, I find I can do more, but when I push, I tend to get weak, dizzy, and wobbly. I do not like broken hips and prefer staying upright. A walking machine? Well, at least I can hold on, and push push push!
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Really sorry to hear about this, Emilie. You’ve been in the wars, haven’t you? A gym may well help, but please do so gently and build up as your confidence and stamina grows. best of luck 😀
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Keep on truckin’ fella!
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Or peddling in my case 😁
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I think you do this just to make me feel bad! My exercise has gone down the tubes. See even you can inspire!
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Glad to have been of service! 😁
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We’ll soon have you jogging around the streets! 😉
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God, no. I can’t even jog on the treadmill! 😉
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Good for you. My apartment complex has a gym and it’s free–and I still can’t get off my butt to go!
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😉
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