Exercise Can Fuck Off

On Monday, I took the kids to the gym after work and school and I walked around the track for 25 minutes, then did some arm machines. My goal here is to increase stamina and be healthy enough to help Segunda as she gets older and needs help with some physical activities. I did okay.

We came home to a crockpot pork chop dinner for which husband made spaghetti. Normal night after that of homework, bedtime reading, injection for Segunda, etc.

Tonight, I went back to the gym after work and school and I walked around the track for ... 20 minutes. Less time than Monday. As I walked the track, staring at myself in the mirror, I took stock of the pain and where it was coming from. I watched my ever-widening thighs approach themselves in the mirror before rounding the track away from the mirror, my "workout" pants stretched taut over them. My hips were aching but it felt a little like sore muscles, so I soldiered on. Oddly my shoulders began to hurt. I made sure they were down, straightened my back, tucked my butt in, and tightened my transabdominal muscles. The tiny tendon in the back of my left knee began to complain. Then my lower back just above my buttocks began to feel like two bones grinding themselves together. Deep breaths trying to channel the frustration. I'm almost 46 years old. I'm not dead. I'm peri-menopausal, gaining weight, and trying, albeit for only 2 days so far, to increase my stamina and physical strength. And my body grows larger and it makes me sad. Not because I'm fat but because re-building stamina at this age is damned hard.

Everything is damned hard. I got up this morning, got ready, got the kids ready, threw food in the crockpot, took them to two different schools, and headed to work. I sat in meetings, got some work done, left early to go to Prima's parent/teacher conference, completed Segunda's kindergarten paperwork, discussed Segunda's need for a 504 with the Principal, picked up Prima, ran home, changed, threw green beans in the crockpot, picked up Segunda and headed to the gym. Once home from the gym, I put chicken thighs, potatoes, carrots and green beans on everybody's plate. It was delicious. Segunda began bitching immediately about what was on her plate and decided she didn't like it before a morsel touched her tongue. She finally ate some of it, while Prima had a second helping.

Then dishes, homework, requisite reading, injection for Segunda, Harry Potter for Prima, laundry and finally bed. I think that a woman's body and strength should be a direct reflection of how hard she moms. I would at least have some stamina back and I know some moms who would like super models and be able to run marathons like they were nothing, if that were the standard. I will keep at it, because my exercise is about as low impact as you can get and I desperately need it for better health, but exercise can fuck off.

Cheers to all you super model moms out there.