Monday, November 22, 2010


In combination with a strong vitamin D regimen (I was declared deficient previously, in need of high levels of supplementation, to which I've dutifully adhered and by the purchase of massive amounts of commercial grade gel tabs golden in color and initial consumption), yesterday I decided, after what I'll admit was a somewhat productive weekend, to go for a run.  I had wanted to get out of the house, and we did take a walk for about an hour, but the walk just didn't cut it, whatever it was/is.

And so I put on my orange socks, a pair of long johns, some shorts over the long johns, an orange sweatshirt specially designed to take the sweat from my body and bring it to the outside of the surface of the cloth, a wicking process that everyone in the sports world is obsessed with in their crusade against cotton (go like merckx and just wear wool!).  This being the first time out with my "new" i.e. post surgery body, I was a bit weary, but after some short thrusts across oncoming traffic, my legs seemed minimally operable and I began to hobble around the neighborhood at a speed greater than walking and slower than cycling, which, truth be told, I almost always prefer (just that it isn't as feasible here in queens in the late dark of a november sunday).  And viola!  Stress killer that exercise is, I felt the surge of emotion and relief and pleasure, and it kept going and going, making me want to keep going and going, which is so typical for me, I can see now (but never really before), that I would go and go and then NOT run again for a month.

Here i sit, feeling damn good, in large part because of the running, but also because I took it easy enough to recoup before I tried to run.  I'll try again on wednesday.

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