This last week I’ve been somewhat busier than usual. Aside from joining in Needlework Days and doing lots of sewing I’ve planted seeds, potted cuttings from the Tradescantia plant that I inherited from my grandmother (which needs a good old prune to stop bits falling off all the time like this) and carried washing upstairs to hang up. I’ve even managed to eat a couple of times this week, and cooked the chilli myself (my sister advises that I get as involved in food as possible to try to break the vicious circle; she’s now a foodaholic and looking incredibly well on it).

Taking a basket of washing upstairs to hang on the clothes horse may not sound like much, but thanks to the health problems of last year making me all but immobile my muscles are weak and my back, going up the stairs, isn’t very weight-bearing any more. I usually support myself with both hands on the sides of the stairwell, but with a basket I have to use muscles that don’t want to play any more.

So I’m suffering for that today. This ought to be a wake-up call about being more active, but the fear is stronger than the desire to attempt it. I have a Wii Fit, but haven’t yet dared try anything beyond the balance games. Now that I can actually touch my toes again I’d like to try the yoga programmes, as I’ve heard good things about them; it’s a simple matter of screwing up the courage!

I definitely need to attempt to tone up a little more, as I don’t want to be an exhausted bride, having to lean on her bridesmaid’s arm during the ceremony. I know for sure that I’m a healthy weight (slightly under, if anything) and that I look fantastic in my gown, so why do I sit here playing computer games and sewing instead of getting up and building my muscle tone back?

It isn’t apathy, or lack of will. Moving hurts and I don’t like it.

Negative thinking will get me nowhere. Also, now would be a ridiculous time to explain how much I miss my pushbike. I’m going to say it anyway though; I miss my bike. If anything got me motivated for exercise it was my beloved British Racing Green Falcon Explorer.

Sadly Not My Bike

That bike took me everywhere. I cycled to the gym; I cycled to work; I cycled around little villages “just because”. I took my bike with me when I went camping with my then-partner and we’d cycle anywhere we could. We cycled the famous Marriot’s Way in North Norfolk and on into the next village, where we took a train elsewhere for the day.

I had really good legs back then.

Sadly, as must always happen, my bike reached the end of its lifespan and couldn’t be fixed. I could never afford another at the time. I could afford one now, but it would be of absolutely no use to me.

The Wii Fit it is then; hopefully building up to swimming.

Every day I have to tell myself that I am neither lazy nor a failure; I have been compromised. I am not so broken that I – like my bike – am beyond repair. Perhaps I just need a little oiling to get those stiff joints and gears back into action.

No, dear Missus Tribble, you will never again be that strong, determined athlete, but you can still become fit and healthy again. Just allow it to happen.

And eat. Always try to eat. Accepting what has happened to your body is no excuse for continuing to neglect it. Get your act together and make Mister Tribble proud to have you by his side on your wedding day, and every day.