A Small Price to Pay
Monday, September 23, 2013
Step class is at 4:00 in the afternoon on a Monday, and like a good neighbour and State Farm Insurance, I was there.*
It was a quieter class today, with only about a half-dozen or so people. That meant I was in our intrepid instructor's peripheral vision and as my adaptations became less successful, it really started bugging him, so he had to come over and try to work with me.
I did my best. But my problem is, I do okay on any pattern with 4, 8, or 16 steps. It's easy to adapt and end up facing the right direction and on the correct foot if the patterns are divisible by 4. But he likes to throw these "10 steps" in there sometimes, and today was one of those times. So I was completely stymied and did a lot of marching in place trying to find a point in the pattern where I could join back in.
One of the hardest things about knowing I have limitations is sometimes not knowing EXACTLY how limited I am. If I hold back, there is always a (not so) little voice inside me saying, "Wimp! I bet you could do that; you're just too much of a wuss to try it."
And then I'll go ahead and try something, and not be able to do it. And yeah, then it comes home in a big way how abysmally limited I am now.
Never will I be my old, agile, childlike self who used to jump around and spin for the sheer joy of it.
I must remember:
I do not walk with a cane, as I did five years ago.
I do not wake up every morning in excruciating pain, as I did five years ago.
I can accomplish daily chores without facing the pain that made me prefer to leave them undone.
I can exercise!
In exchange for my improved quality of life (OMG, no pain!) I must not run or jump. I must not cross my legs. I can't sit or lie on the floor. And I must be very careful of my stability.
A small price to pay, really, for several decades of improved quality of life.
* Apologies to non-North Americans who may not get the reference to the old State Farm ad campaign.