Category: Health & Wellness

Readin’ in the rain

I will always remember the fall of 2017 because I had just retired and read all of Michael Connelly’s Harry Bosch books in order. Such a simple pleasure but hunkering down at home to read after a lifetime of work felt like a precious gift.

That was before the pandemic, before we discovered the dark side of hunkering down. But this staying at home thing … I still sort of like it. To commemorate the miserable rain-soaked winter of 2023, I am burning through all 19 of John Lescroart’s Dismas Hardy books in order. I would describe them as legal suspense with family intrigue, hardboiled criminal investigations and some courtroom drama.

Oh, and the setting is San Francisco.

Early on, I tried to take breaks and read other books in between, but I finally gave up and committed to the blitz. I’ll start number 16 later today and have the rest on hand, courtesy of our local library. I should be done before the rain clears later this week. No one can stop me now.

I’ll be sad when it’s over, the book marathon not the rain, but at least I can diversify my reading material again. However, I do think my compulsive nature rather enjoys the singular focus of one good series at a time. I’ve become immersed in this fictional world, and it’s been a pleasurable escape from the real one. I may just do this again with a new series.

Number 35

On the local art scene, I finally finished number 35. I’m not sure why, but this piece was a bit of a slog. I was so happy to spray on that last coat of lacquer and immediately went to work on number 36. I’m already way more excited about him than I was poor number 35, who never felt the love.

So, today marks 24 years since I was diagnosed with stage 3 primary peritoneal cancer, which is virtually the same as ovarian. I am in a small group of long-term survivors who have been free of disease since their initial treatment. I don’t know why I’ve been so lucky, but I share this information from time to time because somebody somewhere needs to know good outcomes are possible.

Riding out the storm

The weather here in California is still quite something. We discovered a leaky window that will have to be fixed, but we’re OK. A little sick of each other. Sending messages back and forth through the cat.

I’ve been hunkered down in the house riding out the storm. I finished Sea of Tranquility. I liked it, but sometimes that time travel stuff blows my mind. For the record, I also have trouble understanding how the James Webb Space Telescope sees galaxies billions of years old.  You can explain it to me all day long, but my head is still going to explode.

A good legal thriller is Scott Turow’s Suspect. Pinky, the protagonist, is a funny and smart screw-up trying to make it as a private investigator working for a lawyer. She’s also bisexual, and that’s an interesting aspect of the story.

You kind of have to wonder how a guy creates a character like that, but I guess that’s what writers do. Still, how does he know it’s authentic? Or maybe in fiction, there is no authenticity. Just characters as the writer envisions them. He’s an excellent writer, and I thought the character was great, but I’m assuming someone out there will say he got it wrong.

Anyway, I’ve been on the lookout for a new crime series to read. My original plan was to follow up on the Three Pines TV show and read the Louise Penny books. But they are quite popular right now, so I started Dead Irish, the first book in the Dismas Hardy series by John Lescroart. Dismas is a Vietnam veteran, lawyer and bartender in San Francisco. I love it so far and put the next one on my library reserve list.

The good news is there are 19 of them in all!

On the medical front, I saw the doctor about my blood pressure and took my machine with me because the readings were so odd. My BP was fine on her machine and quite elevated on mine. She tried several times and finally asked me how old it was. I dunno, eight, 10 years?

As it happens, these things are not designed to last that long. Some articles I read said two to three years max. She advised me to get a new one, which I did, and my readings are all now consistent with hers. That was a big sigh of relief.

This is my public service announcement (without guitar). Please see if your blood pressure monitor needs to retire, too.

Finally, I will share that I still dream about work quite a bit, even after five years. This week’s nightly drama was about clothes and dressing appropriately for the office. I can’t remember details from the dream, but there was some level of bullshit about not wearing the right outfit.

No big surprise, really. I did struggle with the corporate “dress for success” model and squandered a lot of money trying to fit in. I didn’t land on a good look for me until later in my career, but it was enough to get me to the finish line.

I ended up keeping just a few great pieces, and I even though I told you years ago I was donating them, I couldn’t quite make myself do it. Still hanging in my closet, waiting for the miracle …which would be like me, dressing up for anything anymore.

Men probably don’t do this, but women seriously check each other out at work. What you wear is more than a corporate uniform. It’s also a peer-to-peer evaluation system, a hierarchy of sorts and one I’m glad to see in the rear view mirror.

Another retirement bonus! Nobody cares what I wear anymore, maybe not even me.  

The side effects of aging

We’re supposed to get a big rain storm starting tonight, so I tried to squeeze in a round of golf today. I violated my first rule, which is never play on the day after Christmas. You know, boys and their toys, testing out the new gear Santa brought them. Fathers with sons home for the holidays.

A happy Hallmark scene best avoided, in my humble opinion. I prefer slow days during the week with crusty old retirees like me dragging their clubs in worn-out push carts.

You might laugh at my other rule if you live in a truly cold climate or have been battling the bomb cyclone. I apologize in advance. I know your weather has been devastating.

If it’s in the 50s here in northern California, I wear three layers on the top and one layer on the bottom. 40s? I add long johns under my pants. It was in the low 40s today, but I skipped the extra layer on the bottom. I forgot I can’t hang in the cold like I used to. But yes, I’m playing golf in the winter.

I don’t think one more layer would have helped much, but it would have been something. It was so cold. I was shivering and literally couldn’t function. I quit on the 6th hole and actually even ran a little bit to my car. I couldn’t wait to blast the heat. My old lady fingers tingled as they warmed up.

Poor me, home again, safe and warm, back in my jammies waiting for the rain to start. For dinner, we’re having sandwiches with leftover Christmas roast beef. Yum.

You may have noticed I comment on the political scene from time to time. I try not to overdo it. But as I think about life, aging and what it’s like to not work anymore, I tell myself it’s critical to stay engaged in important topics of the day. I mean, it would be easy for us to slip away quietly. I do think we become much less visible without a job, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have our say.

So, today’s political mini-rant is Governor Abbott of Texas sending busloads of immigrants to Washington D.C. I understand we need to reform our immigration policies, but these people are not props. They are human beings, and it’s immoral to shuffle them around like excess inventory at the Amazon warehouse.

We lived in Texas and have many fond memories, but that guy is messed up. I know, there ain’t no shortage of messed up people in powerful positions. I have never understood the vicious things people do to other people. Or to animals, for that matter.

I’ve been retired more than five years, and for the first time, I received a holiday e-card from my old office. I don’t know how I got back on the list, but I was pleased to be included. That said, it did stir up some sad memories of a horrible job I had there that changed the whole trajectory of my career.

In the end, I came out better than good, but the experience left some scars. I’ve worked on forgiveness, and I definitely purged a lot of anger, but I wonder how long it takes to truly get that business out of one’s system?

Or maybe you don’t.

It occurred to me, I could begin to frame this old work experience the same way I did after being diagnosed with cancer twice. It was no one’s fault. I was unlucky to get it, but I was very lucky to survive it. I still think about cancer and the way it has changed my life. Not why me, but wow, that was interesting.

Maybe the best approach for life’s bummer events is: Don’t judge the feelings, just acknowledge them, accept them as part of life. Be grateful for the good stuff. I’m sure you had this figured out, but I’m late to the party.

All that said, I’m grateful for the opportunity to age, but I’m not nuts about the side effects, physical and emotional. However, I saw a picture of Harrison Ford, who is 80, and it at least made me feel better about looking old. He looks good. Like really good. He just happens to be old.

That’s kind of what I’m going for.

Warm, soft, extra-gentle yoga for wimps

While I love exercise, I understand it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. Still, I think we all recognize we’ll age better with improved strength, flexibility and balance. I’ve been experimenting with yoga, and this is my hearty endorsement coupled with a warning about lowering one’s expectations.   

I’m pleased to report after several weeks of chair yoga, my back still functions admirably, and I’m no longer taking Advil at night for sciatic pain in my legs.

Normal people – that’s you – would do a little stretchy stretchy and accept their good fortune. But then there are retirees like me, who have been athletic and have a hard time adjusting to the physical limitations of an aging body. Sometimes that ego kicks in, and nothing good comes of it.

As it happens, I was getting my hair cut and mentioned to my stylist I was doing chair yoga. She said I was too young for that, like it’s just for feeble old people who can’t stand up.

I mean, I know that’s bullshit, but it was enough to make me think, she’s right, I could do more. I could get really good at this if I tried hard enough. I could end up teaching yoga! That’s how my brain works. I always dream big before reality sets in.

And that’s why I decided to try “gentle yoga” at the fitness club where I swim. I’ll start slowly, not do anything dumb and work my way up to whatever is next – rough, cruel yoga? Bring it on! I had a yoga mat from the Year 1 and rolled it up like a pro. Dale said I looked just like one of the cool girls with my fancy tights and yoga mat in tow.

As the group gathered outside the workout studio waiting for the other class to end, I chatted up some women and told them it was my first time. One said to grab a spot on the floor, so that’s the first thing I did, except she said not that spot … that’s mine.

Just to be safe, I set up my station a few mats away. The instructor was a middle-aged woman who didn’t look like gumby athlete of the year, but wow. What she could do with her body. She went at a moderate pace and explained the poses reasonably well, but I found some of it difficult to follow. She also shared modifications that made the pose easier, depending on your capabilities.

If I didn’t understand what to do or thought even trying it would put my back at risk, I simply didn’t do it. That’s the part about not doing anything dumb. Overall, I liked gentle yoga, but it was freezing cold in there, and even with the mat, that floor was rock hard. As in not comfy. I could kind of see my dream start to fizzle.

Getting on the floor and doing those stretches took me to the edges of where my body should go. My back is a little sore, and I’m grateful I didn’t push any harder.

While some soreness is inevitable, I presume, I’m not going to jack up my back in hot pursuit of downward facing dog. This is the part about accepting your limitations. The chair yoga is about stretching, strengthening and balance, and it works for me.

Now, if they had warm, soft, extra-gentle yoga for wimps, I might reconsider. Until then, I humbly suggest the chair is our friend.

Making peace personal

Number 34

The only prescription medication I take is 10mg of Lisinopril every day for high blood pressure. My doctor looks at me – lean, fit and healthy – and says it must be hereditary. Another reason the gene pool stops here.

I’m guessing my blood pressure has been elevated since, oh, I don’t know, November 2016? I haven’t been monitoring it at home because I had lymph nodes removed (both sides) during my mastectomy, and I’ve read frequent blood pressure measurements in the arm can increase the risk of lymphedema. However, my oncologist recently said it shouldn’t be a problem, so I’ve been taking my blood pressure at home and keeping a log.

The numbers have been great for months, but I noticed a spike, possibly around the mid-terms or shortly thereafter. You know. Trump 2024 – that sort of thing. Politics can fire me up, but I’m thinking, geez, I’m even doing yoga now. I guess no good deed goes unpunished.

As I thought this through, I realized I’ve internalized some of the collective anger that has spread like wildfire across the United States. While I have a good life and think, oh, I’m happy and chill, and it’s not like I’m storming the Capitol, when I get in the car and someone tailgates me, I spew a stream of venom that would make a Twitter troll blush.

I decided enough is enough. Do not allow the vitriol to sink in. Just don’t. I quit cursing at strangers from the privacy of my car, and guess what? My blood pressure is back to normal. Taking the meds, of course, but normal for me.

So, my latest piece of art. Number 34. Maybe it’s about making peace personal.

Exercise for introverts

A chair yoga room of one’s own.

A guy I play golf with took it upon himself to share his thoughts about my personality.

He said I seemed intelligent and independent, but I was aloof and didn’t show enough interest in other people. I need to ask more questions, he said, if I want people to like me. I just nodded.

Hmmm, so not interested in your thoughts on this subject.

For the record, I’ve never been a social animal, just a few close friends, but people seem to like me well enough … as in not universally despised. That’s a distinction I’m rather proud of.

My buddy is extroverted, randomly chats up people on the golf course and asks a million questions, some kind of personal, and although I find it annoying, it’s not a deal-breaker. As an introvert, I try to avoid the talkers, but somehow we started playing together regularly. He’s a decent fellow, and I don’t want to work all that hard to find someone new.

I actually did play with someone new this week and thought, what the hell? Ask a question. The problem is questions lead to answers, and if you get a talker, sometimes those answers are more than you bargained for. Then there’s always the possibility of sliding down that slippery slope to conversation.

Seems like I prefer exercise without conversation. I suppose that’s why I’m drawn to swimming and long walks alone.

Anyway, my buddy and I are supposed to play again next week, and I’m hoping he’ll have moved onto the next person to fix. I’m not going to apologize for being an introvert. As always, I try to be a pleasant and encouraging partner. No temper tantrums. A laugh, a smile, a thumbs up. Great putt! Wow, you smoked that drive!

Don’t get me wrong. I do enjoy people. Let’s get a beer afterward, and you can talk all you want.

I don’t know why he felt compelled to share all that, but in the end, I’m glad he did. In a strange way, it was validating. As I reflected on his comments, I’d say he wasn’t far off on my personality assessment. The part he got wrong was thinking I should do something to change it.

Feeling comfortable in your old flawed skin is one of the great pleasures of aging.

Chair Yoga

Yet another great pleasure is discovering something new that makes you happy. A recent addition to my happiness bucket is chair yoga. It feels good mentally and physically, and it’s reducing my back and leg pain.

I did the 7-day free trial at YogaVista.tv and tested a variety of YouTube videos. I liked Yoga Vista a lot, but one of the instructors had a voice that reminded me of anesthesia, so I didn’t renew. I looked for similar sites that had a wide selection of chair yoga practices but couldn’t find any.

After a week or so of random YouTube videos, I decided Yoga Vista was a better deal and signed up for $9.99 a month. There are lots of instructors, so I can easily avoid the drip, drip, drip of anesthesia voice.

While gentle is not a word typically associated with me, I am trying to take the less is more approach to this new endeavor. My goal is to stick with it forever and watch myself grow stronger and more flexible over time. Some of the workouts also address balance, which is important, because we don’t bounce like we used to.

I still attend the in-person class at my health club when I can, but I also set up an area in our guest bedroom, where I can take my laptop and follow the instructors on the screen. I like to think of it as a chair yoga room of one’s own, except I share it with the occasional guest and Dale’s war books. The cat seems quite mesmerized by the whole thing.

Some of the chair exercises are sitting and some are standing, using the chair for support. I have just enough room to accommodate all the movements.

Kind of perfect for an introvert, don’t you think?

Random Sunday thoughts

Number 33

Goodness, I’m still messing around with blog design, so be forewarned. Just when you thought you knew what to expect, it will change. While I do love sharing my art, I’ve come to realize I need a simpler banner image. I went with a plain background of rippling water until something better comes along.

I’ll continue to feature examples of my art on individual blog posts such as this one … and continue to update the gallery. As you can tell, I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. But I can’t seem to give up, either.

Number 33 is a little different, and I don’t expect to make statements like that all the time. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t want to see this particular piece as the blog banner. I like it a lot, and it’s a reflection of how I feel, but for me, not everything has a message. Sometimes it’s just crazy colors, pizza or cats. I do love that art can take you any way you want to go.

We’ve talked a good bit on this blog about back pain and various activities that can help or hurt. My particular ailment, according to medical professionals, is a herniated disc at L4-L5, resulting in spinal stenosis and sciatica. I’ve been doing great and only have a little pain. And that’s with golf, walking, swimming and light hand-held weights.

My neurologist said yoga or Pilates would be OK, but I hate messing with a good thing. Both seem fraught with peril. However, the club where I swim posted a flyer about a new class – chair yoga – and I went.

The class was only 30 minutes, and you sit in a chair the whole time. I absolutely loved it and felt great afterward. I went for a walk later that day and wanted to run! Of course, I didn’t, but I think the yoga loosened me up.

I’m going back for more and plan to ask the instructor what she recommends for an online chair yoga program. Our Covid situation is pretty good right now, but I’m assuming it will go downhill this winter, and I’d like to have options. I also want to hear her thoughts about slowly progressing to another class they have called Gentle Yoga.

To celebrate, I bought some yoga tights. Because now I do yoga, right?

My final random thoughts on this lovely Sunday. I’m so glad Halloween is almost over. I used to love it, but it’s so over the top these days. We watch a lot of Food Network, and it’s all Halloween all the time. Just get me to Thanksgiving safely.

And for dinner … I’m introducing Dale to something I invented while he was in Maine. I’m calling it a Hot Dog Reuben. Just like a regular one, except I use hot dogs instead of corned beef. I split them lengthwise (but not all the way through) and sear them in a pan.

Pretty darned good if I must say so myself. Not that hot dogs are a dietary staple at our house, but sometimes you just have to go for it.

Trust issues

I shuffled Dale off to Maine yesterday. The idea of Covid travel stressed me out, so I elected not to go, but then I had “cancellation remorse.” By the time I was semi-comfortable with the idea of going, it was too late.

Hmmm. Too late. How convenient.

My sister-in-law was incredibly understanding when I apologized for canceling and called myself out for overreacting. She said, “You are not overreacting. You are just taking appropriate precautions. I am immune-compromised, but I have not had my medical blinker on for possible death more than once like you have.”

She’s referring to my diagnosis of ovarian cancer in 1999 and breast cancer in 2015. She gets it. Right? She’s not just saying that to be nice?

It’s not that my immune system hasn’t recovered; it most certainly has. I don’t trust that something won’t get me again. Staring down cancer twice changes you, and I’ve decided to accept I will always be influenced by those experiences. I’m not crazy.

Dale, who was an absolute saint getting me through my illnesses seems to think I’m invincible. Like, what could stop me now? Covid schmovid! He said he was perfectly OK with whatever I decided, but methinks that was a wee bit of bullshit. He wanted me to go, and I wanted to go, but in the end, I made the best decision I could for my particular neurosis.

By coincidence, my key word of the year is trust. I didn’t make a formal announcement as other bloggers do, because I didn’t trust that it mattered or that I would even care about it six months later. Here we are at the mid-point of the year, and I would say I hit the mark with this one.

Let’s just say I have trust issues.

I want to trust others more and not assume I know what they think or what they are going to do … as in Nostradonna predicts. Getting out of the prediction business would be a good start. I cannot read minds! I also want to trust myself more and not always question or ruminate over all my decisions.

And so it has come to pass – I am reasonably happy with the decision I made, and I have a week or so to enjoy being at home by myself. Before he left, Dale said he always enjoys it when I go away, so we’re on the same page in that regard. I’ve actually never been in this house by myself, and so far, it’s kind of nice. Just me and the kitty, who I believe is mourning Dale’s absence and looks at me like I’m spoiled cat food.

But after a week of me piling extra kibble into his bowl, I believe we might be friends.

No big party plans. I played golf yesterday, but it was exceptionally hot, and I wanted to save myself for Wednesday’s league play, so I quit after nine holes. This is progress. The last time Dale went somewhere, we were living in Texas, it was exceptionally hot, and I quit after 27 holes, but only because I was throwing up.

But that’s the old Donna. The new, retired version is much smarter. Prudent, shall we say. I will swim or do my deep water running today, but that’s about it. Trying to stay hydrated.

One fun activity was tidying up the freezer. Dale saves little plastic-wrapped globs of pork and chicken fat for various dishes, and he just tosses them in the freezer willy-nilly. I guess he knows where they are, and I try not to mess with his space, except it’s my space, too. This morning I scooped them all up and put the individual globs in a Ziplock.

Oh, and orphaned sesame seed buns sealed with twist ties in their original bags. I found a home of them in the Land of Zips, and they seem much happier there, hanging out together in a neat little package.

I’m imagining Dale’s return and the eventual discussion about the fat globs not being where they were. How buns last longer in their original bags. Where are the used twist ties? We’re using too much plastic.

But I’m making this up.

Risks and rewards of travel

Redwood Sky Walk at the zoo in Eureka, CA

I feel like I jumped the shark with that swimsuit photo. It is challenging to deal with this post-mastectomy body. I got carried away after I found a flattering swimsuit and wanted to show off a little. Still, it seems a bit too showy.

Oh, well. I guess there are worse things. I spent decades feeling bad about my body, so what the hell?

I just returned from a visit with my sister, whom I haven’t seen since before the pandemic. She lives in Eureka. The drive is about five and a half hours, but for some reason, we can’t seem to pull it off very often. We’re both super-cautious about Covid, so that’s part of it. The day before I left, we both did home Covid tests, and both were negative.  

We had a great time, mostly just visiting and watching movies. I was only there for three nights, but it was movie marathon. I don’t think any of them will win the critic’s award, but we enjoyed ourselves. Let’s see if I can remember:

  • Jungle Cruise (our favorite ride from Disneyland)
  • The Lost City (because old ladies deserve to look at Channing Tatum)
  • The Proposal (because we were on a Sandra Bullock kick)
  • Office Space (because we’re retired)
  • Bohemian Rhapsody
  • Rocketman
  • The Mountain Between Us (Kate Winslet)
  • Guardians of the Galaxy
  • Persuasion
  • Good Luck to You, Leo Grande (Emma Thompson bares it all)

I may have missed one or two! It was definitely chick flick central, and I have no remorse. I’m just glad Dale didn’t tag along, as he we would have been miserable.

We also visited the local zoo. While not large, it is an exceptionally nice zoo. My favorite part was seeing two bald eagles up close. Amazing!! My other favorite part is a new feature called the Redwood Sky Walk. You can walk on a series of bridges through the redwood canopy. Very beautiful and accessible for people who use wheelchairs.

Eureka is chilly by my standards. I was bundled up, and my sister walked around like it was summer. We are very different, yet we have a lot in common, and of course, we share the experience of being raised by wolves. As children, it was difficult, but as adults, we can look back and laugh. It’s amazing we’re walking upright.

Back at home, the heat has turned extreme. I played golf yesterday, and I can definitely feel it today. I was lying on the couch, got up too fast and almost passed out. Today is all about getting hydrated.  Then a swim later this afternoon.

This visit was relatively low-risk, and the rewards were immeasurable. Being able to drive there is a huge plus. We have tickets to fly to Maine in August to visit Dale’s sisters, but the jury is still out on that one. Anticipating Covid eruptions, we bought refundable tickets.

I spent a lot of time planning the itinerary, which airports to go through, etc. The flights have already been changed twice, and now we’re going through Kennedy one way and LaGuardia the other. Exactly where I didn’t want to be in terms of Covid risk, although I’m not sure it makes much of a difference. I would guess most airports are risky.

The whole thing scares me, and I’m probably not going to go. I told Dale I would make my decision this week.

After 43 years, it’s still hard to pry anything out of him, so I don’t know what he’s going to do. He and his sister are close, so I believe he’ll go no matter what. I think I just have to do my risk/reward assessment and figure out what feels right for me at this point.  Are you traveling? How do you decide?

I hate that it has come to this, but there you have it. Reality bites. But small wins – a visit with my sister – make up for the other indignities of our times.

Speaking of indignities, I’m eager to see the primetime Jan. 6 hearing this Thursday. I mean, it’s not exactly Channing Tatum, but it will do.

Can fashion motivate you to exercise?

I’ve written before about what a struggle it is to find a swimsuit. I know everyone, and I mean everyone, has something that makes finding a decent swimsuit difficult. As for me, I have a long torso and am flat following breast cancer and a mastectomy without reconstruction. I’ve never worn a prosthesis, and they say the swimming version is particularly awful.

One would think racing-style suits would work for someone like me, since most of them don’t have bras. But then there’s that long body thing. Racing suits seem to be made for short-waisted people. I tried on a bunch at Dick’s Sporting Goods, and none of them worked. I went to Big 5 at the suggestion of a reader, and they had closed their fitting rooms due to the pandemic.

Well, I returned to Big 5, and the fitting rooms were open this time. I kept sizing up until I found the sweet spot. I discovered Nike swimsuits were cut larger, but by the time I got them to fit my butt and my torso, they were too big in the chest.

Speedo and TYR are cut smaller, so I had to go up several sizes – a 38, which is equivalent to an American size 12. Kind of shocked me, but they fit! I ended up buying three. It was like Christmas in July.

How come I didn’t figure this out sooner? Probably because I convinced myself I couldn’t possibly be a size 12. Another lesson in the perils of vanity sizing.

I’m sure I will regret this, but I have included a picture of me trying it on AGAIN at home, just to be sure. All three were keepers.

More and more women are choosing to go flat after a mastectomy, and I know it’s a difficult decision. Is it weird? Will you look like a freak? I hope this visual evidence helps those who might be weighing this important decision. Being breastless is not the end of the world. At least we don’t have to worry about gravity taking over!

Swimming laps in a suit like a “real” swimmer has motivated me to swim more. I’ve always been the type who mindlessly swims lap after lap, but now I’ve started interval training, some long and slow laps and some sprints – and it’s super-fun. Definitely breaks up the boredom, and getting my heart rate up releases endorphins I can’t seem to get from walking or golf, the anti-endorphin.

It just took a little something extra to push me out of my comfort zone. I suppose it’s kind of embarrassing to think a simple change of clothes could motivate me to exercise, but then I remembered the confidence I felt when I looked good at work. Maybe it’s the same in retirement.

Dress for success!

Yes, it’s fashion, but it’s also about form and function.

This sudden burst of energy has also made me re-think how I dress for other activities. Maybe it’s just me, but even a casual walk feels better when you make an effort to look like you mean it. I see a lot of cyclists with fancy outfits, most of them are men, and I can’t help but think having a sports “uniform” motivates them as well.

Do you make a special effort to dress for your sport or outdoor activity? Does it help motivate you to exercise?