It’s been quite an eight months. Carolyn, Juan Carlos and our grandchildren returned to Santiago, Chile. Fought and won a quick war with breast cancer. Lived through two and half months of construction, as a leak turned our house into a disaster zone for way too long. Took on an intense assignment for a San Francisco client that was a lot of fun – and a lot of work. Then got an even more intense assignment with a Southern California client that has had me running non-stop for three months and will do so for the foreseeable future. And finally, since nothing much else was going on, we decided to demo the kitchen and start over from scratch.
I’ve managed to juggle it all, but for one thing – walking five miles a day become just impossible, or so it seems.
Two weeks ago, the battery on my FitBit died, and I couldn’t find the stupid little recharger that comes with the One. I tossed the FitBit into my nightstand and ordered a new recharger. Which is on back order until May 13. The final excuse to be a lump had fortuitously arrived.
Except that I find myself anxious and prone to depression. Not to mention chubby. Walking 5 miles a day, it turns out, is a pretty good treatment for whatever ails you. So rather than upping my Zoloft, I bit the bullet and order a new FitBit – just for the recharger. Extravagant, yes, but I decided that waiting another two weeks to get back to a good routine was too long. And yes, thank you, I am that neurotic that exercise doesn’t count unless I can measure it and strive to meet a goal.
I’m no less busy and my life is no less crazed. But with the motivation of knowing that I don’t want to look at the FitBit at the end of the day and see that I’ve taken exactly 45 steps, I think I can start to get healthy again. One step at a time.