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Fat Fibromite Fakes Fitness For Freedom/Fun

Step Two: Start training

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Easier said than done. But as I'm posting to this journal, it's a journey of one step after the other. One step at a time.

Training for someone like me -- overweight, chronic pain, occasional balance problems -- is a very slow and arduous process. Add to that, I also need to train the dogs. I guess this is where I express my gratitude that I am owned by a Gypsy. She pushes me, nay, FORCES me to get up, get going, GO. Joker will happily snooze away the day with me in bed. He's used to Mommy being broken; he's used to spending days at a time either in bed or with little to no activity. I can't do that with Gypsy -- she'll go crazy (crazier?) and drive us nuts in the process. Yeah...an out of shape person ends up with an athletic, high-energy, very smart and VERY BRATTY dog. So, I do my best to keep her stimulated.

We waited until the rain let up and then hiked up Ruffner Mountain Thursday. I went to yoga the next day. Yesterday I raked the leaves and mowed the lawn for the last time this year and today I cleaned Will's apartment and ran around with Fez and Harley. That's a lot of physical activity for this old broken-down broad. Will remarked to me that he knows me well enough to know that if I say I'm going to do something, I'm going to do it. So this "hike the AT" thing isn't just a passing fancy. I'm going to do it.

Now I need to work on training the furry part of this expedition. Joker will do anything I ask of him, I'm not worried there. I'm a responsible pit bull owner, so he's NEVER off-leash when there's a chance he could get into a scuffle with a strange dog. He may not start it, but it'll be his fault anyway because he's the pit bull *rolls eyes* I do need to teach him to stop marking everything. Joker, dude, you're empty...no point lifting your leg anymore. Dork. He'll stop and brace me if I'm off-balance. He makes sure I'm OK when we're climbing over rocks and roots.

Gypsy, OTOH. Oh, my darling Gypsy. The brattiest brat that ever bratted. But goodness gracious, I love her. I love her in spite of her brattiness and because of it. I need to teach her that when Mommy says "walk nicely", it doesn't mean "go to the very end of the leash, just before it gets taut because then you're pulling". That "shhh" means, "shut your mouth, stop talking back to me, yes, I know you're ****ing adorable but shut up!" That noises happen in the forest; so do animals and birds and no, you can't hunt them all and no, not every hiker you see wants to meet you even though you ARE ****ing adorable. Oy. Recall. At least she's learned to check on me while we're hiking, I have that in my favor.

Now that I've written it all out...the hardest part will be training myself to train HER. Because...she really is that damned cute. And I love her, the brat.

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