Finding Motivation....and Losing Mobility

This is me writing about how I voraciously devoured every one of Emilie's inspiring blog posts about her amazing athletic antics and watched contestants shed pound after pound on episode after episode of The Biggest Loser and thought "wow" a lot but didn't actually DO anything myself. I did manage to not sit there shoveling Ben & Jerry's into my mouth, but mostly I sat there awe-inspired but not actually inspired. I kept waiting for it. This has GOT to get me motivated, I'd say, just watch! But no lightning bolts fell from the sky. No light bulb lit up over my head. My legs did not suddenly leap up of their own volition as if posessed by those famous red shoes. I continued on in my rut.

And then Emilie sent me a facebook invite to her event "Thanksgiving Day Turkey Trek" and I thought "I can walk 4 miles. Easy." and then I thought "Maybe I could run 4 miles if I actually did a training plan and built up to it.... I could at least run some of the 4 miles." And that very day I looked up the Hal Higdon 30/30 and I went to the gym and I ran the equivalent of a half mile out of the two miles I covered going around the track. And I didn't die. And I felt strong and proud. And Motivated with capital M.

And then Madeline's dance teacher talked us into doing Zumba on Saturday mornings--which is really fun and up-beat and tiring and fun!--and I was really on my way!

And then I screwed up my right ankle, mostly because my left knee is twitchy and I've babied it so much that my thigh muscle is pathetically atrophied and I drop all my weight on the opposite foot whenever I go down stairs. So I'm limping and hurting and starting to doubt my chiropractor's optimism and trying to do housework and prep for Thanksgiving.

Since I can't DO much right now (and WANT to), I'm reflecting on why it took so long for me to get there, mentally. I recently saw my OB-GYN after a little too long between visits. After being welcomed back, literally with open arms and demands for recent pix of the kids, she summed it up as "You just realized you're 40." I had the fancy party (almost a year ago now!), I know how old I am, I came to grips with that intellectually at the time. But it's only now that it is really sinking in as a permanent truth. Last year at this time I was bemoaning not having done something amazing prior to turning 40. Now I'm about to no longer be "just" 40 and I still feel that way. I've realized now that soon I will be "forty-something" and I'm going to be that for a while, so I'd better face it and take control of my body while I still can.

So, here I am, with my swollen ankle, bound and determined to still do the Turkey Trek (walking only, alas) and looking forward to getting on with learning to run.