Reality bites me

I really like to work out but I hate doing leg exercises. Saturday I decided that I had slacked off enough on my leg routine. I increased the weights and upped my number of sets and reps from six to ten each. I did squats, dead lifts, leg extensions, leg/hamstring curls, lunges, and standing/seated calf raises. I felt really good about myself when I finished. That was Saturday.

Sunday morning when I swung my legs off the bed and tried to stand up I almost buckled. And I did shout in pain. Sam must have thought I was calling him because he leapt off the bed and jumped up on me causing me to really shriek as I stumbled and fought to maintain my balance. Pulling on my sweats was agony. Then I made the mistake of trying to walk downstairs. It seemed like hours before I made it to the bottom. I would take one step down, stop, squeal like a little girl, grip the banister tighter, pant, take a deep breath, grit my teeth, and then move to the next step. Downstairs I shuffled around like an old lady and cursed with each jolt of pain. I soaked in the hot tub and that only helped a little. Finally in the afternoon I resorted to drugs and alcohol. God bless Soma, Darvocet, and 1997 Ridge Montebello Cabernet Sauvignon! With Mothers’ little helpers I made it through the day.

This morning things are only marginally better. I will try not to hit the wine before noon. But I’m making no promises. This sorry state of affairs has caused me to reevaluate. Do I really need push my workouts? Isn’t it time I eased up a bit? After all, I am going to turn 54 in 36 days. I do want to stay in shape for health reasons. But it’s not like I want to hunt for another husband. I don’t need to look that good. So maybe it’s time to settle for Pilates. Oh, and Waiter…from now on I will be ordering desert.