Back at the library now. My daughter is nearby knitting this charity scarf project she's been working on. Had a decent workout at my local YMCA this morning. She and I work out during the weekdays mostly, separate but nearby rooms of course due to her age right now. She's a big, solid, athletic, gorgeous girl who looks older than she is. Currently about 5'5, Size 11 men's shoe! and not embarrassed about it. Not that she should be. I digress.

I'm glad she's learning about overall fitness/nutrition at such a young age. It's like second nature to her to be active and eat healthy foods. Among a variety of other sports, she plays baseball with boys. And she's GOOD. Extremely confident w/humility. Totally fearless too. My heroin. *Where did she come from? I often wonder. My husband says she's like me. But I don't see it. Yet.

If she can compete hard in her youth, be knowledgeable and courageous enough to adequately lead and not be led (perhaps guided, if necessary) she can do anything. I'm proud. Don't want to ever do anything ever to ruin her unwavering self-esteem. Back to the gym. Going there often is a big deal for me considering what I survived a little over a year ago. Rebuilding strength (which I developed much of during my employment at Holiday Spa health club back in the 80's - I was a hardcore aerobics/fitness instructor and semi budding "bodybuilder" back then) and muscle -- which deteriorated over the years of inactivity, but really suffered following rapid weight loss while hospitalized for the kidney failure/stroke (2014).

I'm thankful for mobility; to be able to do things, considering. At the Y, I observe and admire the many strong and able bodied centrist I see there. I look at them and think, "now that's where I want to be when I grow up". It's fuel for me to keep going when I feel like giving up. Rehabilitation, therapy is hard. *I'll write more about my therapy in a later blog. Before this illness, and I call it that reluctantly because I really don't consider myself ill (even though I feel ill a good portion of my week - more like, I'm dying honestly), I didn't want to grow old. By now, surviving near death it appears, I want to stick around for as long as I can, within reason. Provided I'm fairly healthy, or even fortunate better health than I have now.  Want to someday see what financial security feels like, and be in a securer position to be more philanthropic. I want to witness my kids continue to evolve; want to see my husband get wiser, and myself, well... me, become more enlightened (and, more toned :).

While riding the fitness bike today, I marveled at the ability to watch TV (cable TV, I might add) while I try to burn fat/tone up loose skin at the same time. Back in the 80's, I remember just staring at the fitness bike's screen. Then covering it with my sweat towel, as I had so much more time to go - I rode for 60 minutes or longer back then. The music heard was whatever facility radio station was on at the time. No I-pod or Smart Phone. You were cool if you had a walkman back then, if that's what they were called. I was too clueless and "uncool" to know or notice the latest trends and cooler things.

When I went to wipe sweat from the machine I was working on, I thought, "if only these moist sanitizing cloths were freely available in the 80's". Back then, rarely did anyone bother to wipe sweat from the soaked machine they just used. And I was too OCD to use "my" towel thus having some strangers wetness (DNA) on my absorbed into my belongings. Wiser now, maybe I should have used a wet paper towel meticulously retrieved from the restrooms. Carried one with me to each machine. In my younger days, I think I would have cared too much what others thought to do something seemingly strange like that though. It might have facilitated too much unwanted attention. Being a mature woman now, I could care less what others may think. As long as I wasn't inappropriate or offensive. And my daughters mindset is where mine is at now - like a mature woman's. And she's so young!

To not care, but be and remain genuinely compassionate nonetheless, is truly a gift.

that's all for now,

Sage