My gym attendance has been spotty recently, and I don't want my endocrinologist giving me a disapproving look over the top of her spectacles, so I decided to pop in yesterday for a little extra cardio. Felt good about myself. Until the moment I left.
I've always had dodgy joints. My physio says they're "hypermobile" - too flexible, and so prone to injury. As many of you will know, I had to have surgery after I ripped the cartilage in my right ankle in a fall. My neck is perpetually stiff and sore, my back flares up all the time, and there's a little muscle on the inside of each of my knees that weakens from time to time and pulls my kneecaps out of place. I've restarted the exercises that strengthen it, but a week or so ago I managed to wrench my left knee (in the locker room!) so badly that, when I later tried to get into a taxi, I let out an almighty yell and frightened heck out of the driver.
It's still not right. After yesterday's half-hour on the arc trainer, getting down the flight of stairs from the gym to the locker room meant hanging onto the rail and taking it one stair at a time, stepping with my right foot because my left knee can't take my weight when bent. It's slow, painful, and undignified, but I can manage it.
Of course, once I was changed and ready to go, I took the lift down to the entrance level rather than attempt another flight of stairs. When the lift doors opened, there was a guy in a wheelchair, pushed by a cherub-faced boy.
As I stepped out of the lift, the man in the chair said sarcastically: "Can't walk, eh?"
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( SPOILERS for both films )
