Well that was pathetic. There I was, on the elliptical for the first time in six weeks, trying to channel my inner Bridget von Hammersmark, and I lasted for five minutes. But it's a start.
Ever since I injured my knee shortly before Hallowe'en, I've been hobbling about, grunting and groaning going up and down stairs, and spending half the night tossing around in bed trying to find comfortable position for my knee. I had already attempted the bike, but there was just too much knee action involved, so I had been concentrating my (admittedly infrequent) workouts on upper body strength training. I could feel my tentative grasp on fitness slipping through my pudgy fingers. It's anybody's guess how flabby my heart is getting.
I was actually quite thrilled to discover that, if I turned the resistance to the lowest level and moved slowly and carefully, hanging onto the hand rails, I could manage an elliptical workout. Okay, five minutes isn't a workout, but you know what I mean. The knee bone is connected to the heart bone.
Today, the day after my Olympic performance, I can feel the muscles surrounding my knee instead of the knee itself. This is progress. I am going to keep at this, adding three minutes every time and giving myself a day to heal in between. At that rate, I will be back to my normal workout by 2014, according to my calculations. Bathing suit shopping may have to wait another few years.