When this most recent flare-up started, I ceased doing any really challenging exercise, mostly because I was afraid I'd topple over. Since I have been feeling better and better, especially over the last couple of weeks, I decided it was time to return to Pilates class.
Ten in the morning on Mondays and Wednesdays. I love it and always feel wonderful afterward.
Yesterday I went to class, not intending to try and exercise to the level I had been when I left. I was pretty embarassed when class was over; I had not been able to get past 5 or so reps of anything. But, at least I made it through the entire 55 minute class and I felt great all afternoon.
This morning I woke up and headed toward the kitchen for my cuppa coffee. Somehow, when I was asleep, the placement and dimensions of my house had been altered. Door frames were six inches off, the hallway was narrower, and the edges of every carpet had been bent upward. How else can I explain the listing, tripping and bruises I received getting from my bed into the kitchen, other than little, gnome-like, nocturnal, sadistic carpenters?
That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.