Survived the first week. It was hard work, but doable and, in my mind, worth it.
If you’ve never been fit, you can’t know how incredibly good it feels to be physically able to do anything you want. So at this stage I’m lucky. Even though it’s been years for me, I remember the feeling and that is what I want again. That is what I’m willing to go through all this at this age and this weight for.
Two more days of 10 sets of running one minute and walking for two minutes. (I have a stop-watch feature on my watch, so I could set it to beep at me every minute. The young ‘uns use their phones for crying out loud. Oy.) I got it done. My legs were wondering what the heck was going on and my lungs just thought I was crazy.
Week 2. Running one minute and walking one minute all times 10. So the recovery time is cut in half. I admit I was intimidated. I felt I wasn’t ready for such a quick turnaround. (From the other side that is practically laughable, but I’m entitled to my feels as I feels ’em.)
The amazing thing is how a single minute can be so long when you’re running, but so short when your walking! Weirdness in the space-time continuum. Talk about relativity!
Survived again. Did not need an Epsom salts bath, but an ibuprofen was welcome. And the next two running days — Wednesday and Saturday — got done as well. It still isn’t easy. I’m constantly reminded how out of shape I am. But my hip is happy and so the break-up with the couch looks like it’s going to be official.