Introduction & Early Stages

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May 2007

Monday, May 07, 2007

I have adopted a new personal policy of "up two, down three". It means that if I'm in a building with an elevator (and stairs, obviously), I will walk up two flights of stairs (and not take the elevator), and I'll walk down (up to) three flights. In other words if I'm on the 6th floor and I need to go to 8, I'll walk it. Yup! I'll ask someone walking by me "where are the stairs?".

In New York we're obsessed with the elevator. Seriously obsessed. The vast majority of people in New York don't take the stairs when there's an elevator. So hopefully this will catch on? It's about feeling good, saving some time (walking down is almost always faster) and avoiding a smelly, shaky elevator which feels like it can break at any time (or smells like something broke moments earlier).

Now granted, some days I can walk more, and other days I am parked in the elevator like it's my job, but generally speaking, it's a new policy. If you have the chance to do it you should. Up two, down three. Someone make a t-shirt.

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Last night was another sleepless night. I was awoken by my hands hurting – the kind of hurt which lets out a very loud cry for attention (for no particular reason). And it didn’t stop there. Every which way I tossed and turned I couldn’t get comfortable. It came down to thinking up a caption for the caption contest in the “New Yorker” to eventually get back to bed. Everyone has their trick I guess.

But hey, such is life, right?

In other news, now that spring has arrived I am eager to get outside and walk. I watch people run, bike, rollerblade, skateboard, skip and zoom (as in those sneakers with the little wheels on the heel) by me and I am always tempted to try those things again (all but those stupid sneakers). Then I take a minute to think about how much rollerblading hurts my hips, or biking hurts my knees, and I automatically default back to walking. With the right pair of shoes, I’m good for as many blocks as I need to go for some Tasti-D or some fantastic takeout dinner.

Though rollerblading through the park does look mighty fun…

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Funny thing happened the other day: I went swimming. Granted it’s the best form of exercise and for those of us with arthritis we can’t ask for a better way to work out and feel good. But for those of us with arthritis and a mild case of OCD, sometimes swimming isn’t that easy. There’s also a dose of laziness thrown in there – finding a pool, drying off, etc. – all pretty lame excuses for not swimming. But hey, what’s lame to you could mean the world to me, so for a lot of (stupid) reasons I’ve steered clear of the water for quite some time.

Until this week, that is.

I’ve been traveling around meeting with community centers in cities around the country to organize patient education programs, and when I travel I need to work out (to compensate for the surge in hamburger eating). Plus it’s summer and that means the beach. So exercising is a must.

But with the ridiculously strict (or just plain ridiculous) TSA restrictions on carry-on’s (thanks to the War on Terror™), and the airlines carelessness in losing our bags, packing for a workout has become a pain. So instead of shlepping the clod-hoppers (sneakers) and other gym clothes, a pair of flips and a bathing suit makes for a much lighter bag. So I started swimming again!

Like I said – funny how those things happen. What’s even funnier is that I didn’t sink after eating that 8-ouncer with a low-fat American cheese.