Lucky to Exercise?? Are you kidding me??

"I really don't think I need buns of steel. I'd be happy with buns of cinnamon." ~ Ellen DeGeneres

Finally, six weeks after an injury that left me with a dislocated and fractured hip, I was back in my surgeon's office to see if I could get the "green light" and have some physical restrictions lifted.

"Well, Vanessa, it looks like you can start with physical therapy and working out again. You can do light walking, upper body and core work."

I sucked in my breath. "Ooooh, that's unfortunate. I was hoping you'd say I was still banned from doing anything with my abdomen."

She smiled and shook her head. "I wouldn't do any long distance running, though."

I brightened and sat up straighter. "Really? You should probably write a note so I can show my parents so I don't have to make any excuses about not doing a marathon with them."

She laughed. "You know, I have written many notes to employers and insurance companies but never once have I been asked to write a note to some one's parents so they don't have to run a marathon."

I nodded and leaned forward. "My family is a bunch of athletic freaks. Anything you can do to get me out of their craziness would be greatly appreciated."

Later that day I found myself taking several, tentative steps unassisted. There was nothing pretty about my new gait; in fact, it was quite ugly.

My kids, however, cheered like I had just climbed Mount Everest.

"Way to go Mom! Yay for walking without a walker!"

I couldn't help but think about how it wasn't that many years ago that I was cheering them on as they took their first shaky steps as toddlers.

My thirteen year old watched me walk across the floor. "What do you think?" I asked her.

"Oh snap," she replied. 

Teenage translation: Good job.

This was all two days ago. Yesterday I made the drive to my trainer's studio. For years I've referred to him as the Tin Man, since I always whine that he's heartless. While driving to his studio, I started to get nervous. What was I doing? I wasn't ready to work out. It's not that I was afraid of exercise, I was just terrified of getting hurt again. 

Before long I was at his studio, and staring down the treadmill like it was the scariest thing I've ever seen. But for as much of a hard time I give the Tin Man about being mean, I will give him this: he knows his shit. He knew what I needed to do to start the rehab process and he knew I needed to be pushed.

After a few minutes on the treadmill, I started to feel like Forrest Gump. "Oh, check out me and my magic legs!"

We moved on to arm work and then the sucky core abdomen work. The Tin Man had me doing some type of horrific crunches while he carefully stabilized my legs.

"Oh my gosh it hurts!" I cried out.

"Tell me what hurts," he said. "Is it your hip?"

"No," I whimpered. "It's my stomach muscles."

He rolled his eyes, called me a punk, and made me start over.

After 45 minutes my workout was over. As I was finishing one of my last bicep moves, I was surprised to find myself almost getting a little teary.

Not from the pain, but from what just happened.

"You know," I said, "I know that was was one of my most pathetic work outs ever. I looked like a 93 year old arthritic woman...but I think it was my most favorite work outs of my life. Just yesterday I was having to use a tub transfer seat to take a shower, and I was using a walker. And today I was on a treadmill for ten whole minutes." I never would have thought I could accomplish that.

My main focus is to strengthen my gait to get rid of my limp. The Tin Man assured me it would be gone soon. I excitedly shared one of my useless celebrity trivia facts with him. "You know Marilyn Monroe had a limp. Well, hers was more of a self-practiced waddle. She perfected it by walking around with a nickel under her left butt cheek."

The Tin Man laughed. "Damn, girl, you can get more than a nickel under your ass."

Oh shut it.

I couldn't stop thinking about my workout throughout the day. I had been dreading it for days and I was actually astounded I could do it. I never thought I'd be so excited to work out. I was talking about it to my aunt Betty and she wisely said something I don' t think I'll ever forget:

"You know, Vanessa, you'll probably never view exercise the same way again. This will make you realize how lucky we are to be able to move our bodies like that."

So true. My doctor told me that a hundred years ago I never would have walked again. Thank God for modern medicine.

Next week I go back to work. I'm also looking forward to that. I need to go back and utilize my brain in a more constructive way than watching my "stories" on tv in the afternoon. Seriously, no good has come from my watching back-to-back courtroom shows.

For instance, I have developed an unhealthy interest in Judge Alex. He's so cute. I became a fan of his on Facebook and started imagining us drinking wine and playing Yahtzee together.

Then there's Judge Joe Brown. He reminds me of a cantankerous old man that yells at people to get off his lawn. After this we have Judge Judy. She makes me crabby. Today I watched her yell at some plaintiff and I said to the tv, "Bitch, please."

Yep, time to go back to work.

And I am going to count my blessings that not only do I have a job to go back to, but I'm going to be able to practically skip my merry ass into the office.

Ok, ok...I probably won't be able to actually skip for a few more weeks.

But mentally I sure will be!