Don't Overdo It

It's important to stretch

It's true, I tend to go overboard when it comes to exercise.  I've been known to over-Zumba, over-aerobicize, over-spin, with unhappy results.  Apparently, I'm too enthusiastic for my own good.  But lately, I've been feeling like a Santa Cruz banana slug.  My retina man -- everyone should have a retina man -- told me to cool it with the exercise, for the second time in two months.  "I see something suspicious," he said, before zapping me.  "Can you at least get out some of the fine lines, the broken vessels, while you're at it?" I asked.  "No," he said, "it's not that kind of laser treatment." Fine, be that way.  So, the jazz hands have been in hiding, the booty-shaking has slowed to a slight swaying motion, the feet have failed to bring me joy.  And then came the week-long cough-a-thon.  But on January 1st, the SJG said "oh, eff it" to all this sluggishness.  I had to move and sweat for mental health purposes.  "I'm going for a walk," I announced to hubby, who was on the driveway, doing, what else, car repairs.  "Don't overdo it," he said.  "How can I overdo it?  I'm just going for a walk," I said, all snippy-like.  Off I went to the park, to walk with gusto.  I gave it all I had.  I was into it.  I was feeling it.  I was in the zone.  And for my efforts, I got a giant blister on my heel.  "How'd it go?" hubby asked, upon my return.  "Terrific," I said.  "Why are you walking funny?"  "I may have overdone it a little."  "How do you overdo walking?"  "It's a skill," I said, and went off to find a bandage.