Dear God, I didn't intend my brief lament to turn into the long goodbye.
But I hadn't realized how sad I truly was and I guess I took the week to process my feelings. Like that's ever fun....
But I'm back and almost raring to go.
I just did a half hour of PT stretching, then some yoga and crunches.
It's always amazing to me how much better I feel, inside and out, after some exercise.
It's like gardening or reading. There's a 100% guarantee I'll totally tune out that annoying voice in my head and just focus on what is in front of me.
I also had a brisk uphill walk after a fast shopping trip. I went for underwear and came back with two pair of workout pants, a pair of jeans and khakis, the NYT times and an iced latte.
I am a good hunter and gatherer. Though I wished I had bought an extra hand to hold my umbrella because it rained on me all the way home.
There's an article in the Times Style section today on how walking is becoming a hot new thing in LA.
According to an Australian study each additional hour of TV a person sits and watches increases her chance of dying by 11%. What?
The "prescription" is to start and keep moving. They're calling it "walk therapy".
And if I sound like I'm gently making fun of this of course I am. After all it's Hollywood.
But do I believe in the healing powers of getting our muscles moving and blood pumping?
And how did I work my way out of my doldrums this week?
Walking and exercising.
I rest my case.
But not my body.
All this exercise and talking about it has given me an appetite. I strongly feel mahi- mahi and mango salsa are in my future.