(Don't) Walk, Don't Run

Sunday, July 1, 2012


You would think I would have learned my lesson last March, when I tripped and fell outside my parents house and broke two ribs, to take it easy.

"You're a girl now, Cassidy," a friend half-jokingly admonished me back then. "You can't be doing things like this anymore." Would that I had listened and learned.

Alas, I did not. :c)

It was very warm here today - in the low 90s, with bright sunshine and little to no breeze to speak of.

Now, a normal (read: sane) gal would see that and say to herself, "Gosh, 90-plus degrees is pretty warm. Perhaps I should take it easy today."

I am many things.

A normal (sane) gal, unfortunately, I am not.

It was yet another long, stressful week at work. I am trying desperately to find something else. But no luck at all so far.

I began work on what is turning into another mega-post yesterday - about, ironically, my work situation - after escaping the office late yet again. I left so late, in fact, that I wasn't able to get any exercise after work.

And the same thing had happened Thursday.

I have discovered two surefire stress relievers that work for me: exercise and writing.

And of course it's even more important now, given the changes I am going through both physically and emotionally. Stress is most definitely not welcome.

So in spite of the heat, I decided to go for a walk. I still can't really go to the gym; my ribs began to bark at me the last two times I tried to resume my aerobic/cardio routine.

I simply cannot get any writing done at my parents house. There are too many interruptions, and too many tangible reminders of the past that I am, slowly but surely, leaving behind.

"I'll only go for a little while," I reasoned with myself as I slipped my iPad and keyboard into my backpack. "Just to the coffee shop. That's about 45 minutes each way."

Of course, once I get going, I begin the bargaining with myself.

"It's not that hot; they said mid-90s, and it's barely... what, 93? It's a wonder I'm not feeling a chill! I feel fine... I may as well go a little longer. What could possibly go wrong?"

And the next thing I know I had walked for two-plus hours. I was a bit light-headed, but I stopped for several hours, downed some water and a large iced coffee, and churned out a sizable chunk of writing on the aforementioned blog post.

It was late afternoon when I decided to head back home. I would hop in the shower, polish off my post, and watch the Mariners/Red Sox game in air-conditioned comfort.

Both my sister and my nephew had offered to pick me up if it was too hot. (In my nephew's case, he was simply looking for an excuse to drive what he terms "his car" - that is, mine. "I'm glad you keep this in such excellent condition," he told me recently as looked around while we drove back from dinner together. "It's in good shape for something so old." I'm fairly certain he meant the car.)

But I was determined to make up for two days of inactivity - which leaves me feeling lazy and out of sorts - so I chose to walk home.

And I almost made it back none the worse for the wear.



I think I've mentioned before that my parents live at the top of a long, steep hill. After starting HRT, I initially had some difficulty with it. But my strength and stamina had seemingly stabilized since.

Within the first few steps up the hill I was laboring. Usually I simply grit my teeth, put my head down, and get through it.

This time was different.

I had to stop twice on the way up. I was dizzy, my legs felt rubbery, and my breathing was labored. I was feeling nauseous as I finally steeled myself to walk the last block.

I was staggering up the stairs when I thought I heard someone call out my name. I took off my headphones, turned around, and saw it was my parents' new next-door neighbor, a young woman with whom I hadn't really had a chance to speak with yet. She is a musician, and by all accounts quite nice, so I was looking forward to chatting with her sometime.

Just not today.

I chatted with her for a few moments - more or less coherently, I fervently hope - and then I felt things beginning to spin. I blurted out something about needing to get a cold drink (of the alcoholic variety, I'm sure she was thinking!) as I stumbled into the house.

No one was home. I was so woozy that I simply did not know what to do for a moment. I tried to catch my breath, then realized I needed water. As in, right now.

I poured a glass, then felt so dizzy that I wound up lying on the kitchen floor for several minutes. (I was perspiring so much I was afraid to sit in a chair.) The wooziness finally passed; I gulped down three 16 oz bottles of water before I finally felt recovered enough to take a shower.

My legs kept cramping up every few minutes for several hours after that, but they have seemingly subsided. I'm still drinking as much water as I can, which will, hopefully, help matters.

I can laugh about it now - particularly what my no-doubt-perplexed neighbor must have thought - but I think I finally learned what my friend said: I can't do this sort of thing any longer.

As she teased me a few months later (in another, unrelated context), "Irish girls are silly."

Don't I know it!


I was planning to finish that blog post I mentioned, but I guess it will have to wait for another day. Baseball beckons, after all. (Go Ms! Go Sox! Oh wait... Darn. I hate it when my favorite teams play each other...)

No sense making anyone else suffer for my silliness, though. So here is some classic surf-rock, courtesy of the Ventures:

In my case, I think my post's title is more appropriate! :c)

Oh, and if the Ventures sound familiar, this may be why:

Boy, that is *still* a great show opener, isn't it?


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