Changing the Way We See

OK, I have to admit I have bitten off more than I can chew. I’m actually writing to you by way of speaking into a recorder as I drive down to the gym (see previous post Getting to the Gym). I want you to know that I feel heartsick and anxious at not being able to answer your comments on the posts. I get very tired you see and I have to choose carefully where my energy is spent because it always runs out before I think it should in a day. And then I have nothing left in me.

Please know, though, that I’ve read all of your kind notes both on Facebook and on the blog and have loved them and taken them to heart. In fact I’m incorporating some of your suggestions into my days already. I’m looking into ankle and wrist weights to wear around the house; I’m researching portable stationary bikes for those days when I can’t get down the mountain because of too much snow; I have some of the elastic bands for stretching exercises…

Anyway, if I’m to stick to my decision to finally start at the gym and to go there three days a week AND write posts somewhat regularly, I can read your responses and gain a lot from them, but I simply don’t have the energy to respond to them these days. I’m hoping more vigor will return sometime soon and then we can see. And I’m also hoping you’ll understand. I’m thinking that the posts may have to become my responses to your notes.

Just so you all know, there are two primary reasons I’m so focused on getting to the gym. First, I’ve always been very drawn to exercise equipment. I seem more able to stay consistent with goals in a gym. In fact I used to have a whole room in my house filled with various machines to help keep me strong, back when I had a corporate job. But now I must use the gym in Espanola, a half hour’s drive away. I’ve resisted it for over a year, thinking the drive alone took too much time.

But now that I’m committing to it, I find it’s not so bad considering the scenic road that takes me there, out my own snowy drive…

… through my little mud village of Truchas…

… down the mountain…

 

… into the valley…

… past tiny old adobe villages, settled in the 1600s and 1700s..

… and ancient churches…

… across the icy Rio Grand River…

… a land people pay big money to visit and it’s right here every day for me…

Talk about your lucky stars!

And then there’s the gorgeous facility I’m privileged to use. It’s within the Presbyterian Espinola Hospital and it’s there to be used by patients who need physical therapy and rehabilitation for various reasons. I mean look at this place, it’s brightly lit with big windows…

… the latest equipment…

… a helpful, kind, and well trained staff (although I can’t show you pictures of any of them for privacy reasons) but I can show you more of the beautiful facility…

… and the spacious room with no crowds or lines…

But the main reason I’m going is because my wonderful orthopedic surgeon, Dr. McKinley, who is part of the Presbyterian staff, is trying to save me from having knee surgery (how many surgeons do YOU know who advise against surgery?). So he sent me there for a version of physical therapy. And I’m finally going.

I’ve mentioned to you that I seriously injured my knee (see previous post Breaking Silence) and over the last year or more since that injury (while I was NOT going to the gym as prescribed by Dr. McKinley because I was sure my own walking program would suffice), my knee has become worse and now the other knee is damaged as well (just as one of you said it would be). And the terrible, shocking truth is I’ve fallen so far out of shape that, with the bad knees, it’s very hard to stand up from a seated position. And it all seems to have happened over night. Like my weight gain. Being old.

I never worried about growing old before but I’d also never thought of it changing anything other than my looks. In my mind’s eye I would remain just as strong, able and healthy well into a reasonable old age. I never considered that one day I would be shrunken by pain and weakness, limited by fatigue.

So for those of you who have counseled an easing into my exercise regime and being gentle with myself, I don’t think I have the time! Well, no, I will be gentle but I do have to begin wholeheartedly NOW if there’s any hope of pulling me back to strength, or even to semi-strength (a far away and faded dream I fear most days).

But here’s another heartening thing: As I said, the gym I’m using is part of the hospital complex in Espanola. So I’m there alongside other people who are recovering from illness or injury. I’m working side by side with some people who have huge hurdles to overcome. Being there reminds me that I don’t have it so bad. And a sort of, “If they can do it, so can I,” determination is forming. I’m finding that’s a very supportive thing.

My very favorite suggestion, though, sent in by one of you (saving the best for last), was that I should take a look at my own mindset—to consider changing the way I was thinking about the gym, it being something to dread, something hard I had to drag myself to, and at least try to think of it as something of a retreat, a haven, a luxurious getaway; a blessing instead of a burden.

And do you know what? It was incredibly easy to do once I saw the beauty and simplicity of the idea (thank you Grace). Right there within me (within you), lay a stunning tool—the ability to change how I was thinking.

Bam! What a difference that has made! And I’ve included my drive time in that as well, the whole kit and caboodle in fact.

So, for now, while my willpower is still fairly strong, I’m holding that thought: Going to the gym is a blessing.

And of course it is. Depending on what point of view I decide to have on any given day.

So whatever it is you may be struggling with, might I suggest you think about Grace’s idea? Find a nourishing way to see it if you can. It only took me a little over a year.

Love to you all,

Jeane