Tricks to Slow Me down, even as I need to Step it Up

"Slow down!"  Ren whined as we walked the mile downtown.

"Nope, I got to walk fast--this is my exercise for today." I picked up the pace even more.

Thursday was my physical.  Can you believe my PCP called me on a Saturday to chastise me for being overdue on my physical, mammogram, and pap smear?  

I warned her as soon as I walked in that I've put on weight in the past 2 months.  She even let me strip naked.  But there I was--3 pounds heavier naked than a year ago clothed.  

Sigh.

She grilled me about my eating, drinking and exercise.  Which I believe are all at healthy levels.  Finally, she poked me in the stomach, pointed out how I was protruding, and said "This is metabolic--you need to exercise more."

"What?  I already exercise 5-6 times a week, how can I exercise more?"

"You need to exercise 7 days a week."

You've got to be kidding.  7 days a week???

She conceded that a couple of those days could be walks, but stuck to her guns that I need to move my body every day.  I’m fighting my body’s proclivity for Type II diabetes, and one of the key ways is keeping my weight down.

I debated whether or not to tell Scott.  I knew that telling him means he’ll hold it over me until the day I die.  But the chances that I'd self-motivate 7 days a week of exercise are slim to none.  So I told him.

Sure enough, Saturday he asked me what I was going to do.  I couldn't go to my favorite spin class because we were going to the mall.  

"I'm going to walk."

After the mall, he said, "When are you going to walk?"

"Sometime. . ."

"You should go now and take Ren to the hardware store to see if they have a wheel for his history project."

So off we went.  

I felt annoyed on many levels:

1.    This was my future--taking an extraneous walk every day just because I have to

2.    I was cold.  I wore my light black leather jacket instead of warm red coat because I was wearing red pants and I didn't want to look like a candy cane.  So I was also vain.

3.    Ren was lollygagging along

4.    We were looking for a wheel for a school project I didn't believe was doable

5.    Ren whined incessantly about walking and how fast I was going.

6.    To slow me down, he kept grabbing my hand, or pulling on my arm, or leaning on my shoulder

On the way back, after indeed, not finding a wheel for this school project that I was now doubly convinced wasn't doable, Ren, with even less motivation to walk fast, lollygagged even more.   

"Slow down!" he kept begging.

"Nope!" I speed-walked on.  

Now the kid really started grabbing me--pulling on my shoulder, my arms, anything to get me to slow down.  Which made me more annoyed and made me speed up even more.  "Stop grabbing me!" 

But he wouldn't stop.  We bickered back and forth, and finally he put his hand on my shoulder, holding me back and said, "I'm praying for you--you have to let me put my hand on your shoulder!"

"You've got to be kidding"

"No, I'm praying. . .  God," he looked up in the sky, "Please make Mom walk slower."

What does it say about me that I still tried to shake him off of me so I could go faster?

But he was relentless.  He grabbed my shoulder again, "I'm still praying!  God. . .  PLEASE make Mom go slower."  

He giggled.  I couldn't help it.  Even with my annoyance, I laughed too.  And laughter can really help break a funk.

Ever the budding thespian who wants his glory, he said, “Are you going to blog about this?”

So here it is Ren.  A blog about you praying for me to slow down.

Amen