Two days in October

 Are you okay, Mom?

Whew.
Today is one of those days.
My fibromyalgia and EDS have decided to let me know that walking every day of the week last week was pushing things just a little too far.
But despite the all-encompassing fatigue and body aches the exercise was worth it.
I haven't been able to exercise - and by exercise I mean walking either 30 minutes on the elliptical or walking outside for at least a mile (maybe two) - this much since early September.
I had been going great guns - yoga alternating with walking - and feeling great.
Until early one morning in September when taking the dogs out my ankle gave way on the deck steps and down I went, full-force onto the patio.  I still have the scar on my knee from the scraping. I injured the heels of both hands, and sprained my ankle.
And just like that, with one splat, my exercising came to a screeching halt.
Now, the sprain wasn't a bad one, but I don't heal quickly these days, especially when I injure a joint.  I figured I just needed a couple of weeks and I'd be back in the saddle, so to speak.
In those intervening weeks I suffered an infected root canal, requiring antibiotics and pain meds and a quite unpleasant re-root canal.  I remained grounded.  The pain meds made me so loopy that I was pretty much bed-bound for a whole week. 
The only good thing about hydrocodone was that I could lie in bed all day and my back didn't hurt.
Finally, the infection cleared, and while I couldn't yet return to yoga, I was up for a little exercise, so we took a little trip to the dog park.
All was going well as I gingerly tested out my ankle and unused muscles.
Then it happened.
I recognized a man on the other side of the fence in the small dog area.  Actually, I recognized his dog.  I raised my hand, gave an  exuberant waive, calling out a gregarious "Hi!."
In the midst of this, I somehow stepped on an errant tennis ball.  We were on our way out of the park and were going at a good clip, when my waive coincided with stepping on that ball.
What happened next took only seconds, but was all slow motion in my head.  I felt myself going down, but my body automatically tried to save me by leaning forward and increasing my momentum.  I knew it was a lost cause.  I was going down and going down hard.
I crashed into the dirt, landing full force on my left side - hip, leg, shoulder, wrist and hand.
Of course I began to laugh hysterically, my daughters punctuating their cries of concern with crazed laughter of their own.
They helped me up, brushed me off, and I managed to limp to the car.
I don't think the guy with the dog even noticed what happened.  Either that or our slightly demented response scared him off.
So, what did I decide to do?
I was determined to regain my lost stamina, so the next day - yes, the very next day - I limped to the dog park.  All was going well as I ever so carefully minced my way over the rough ground keeping an eagle-eye for deadly tennis balls.  As we walked the exercise loop, Gus frolicked with two other puppies, a retriever of some sort and a super-fast something-or-other hound.  Rounding the corner, I was feeling good, when bam!  All three dogs careened into my legs from behind, knocking me off my feet.  I landed with a splat on my right side.  Hips, knee, legs, shoulder, wrist.
I didn't laugh this time.
The only consolation I had as I was helped to my feet was that this time wasn't my fault and Gussie stopped running long enough to make sure I was still breathing.
Ow.
I hobbled out of the dog park and managed to drive home to a big dose of Aleve.
I had injured my wrists badly enough with all the falls that I had to have my daughter do all the driving for a week.
It took weeks to recuperate enough for an occasional stroll outside, never mind the elliptical.
Now it's been months and I can finally walk most days, though I'm afraid my wrists will never be the same.
Recounting these events brought to mind a limerick I wrote for my 7th grade English class:

There once was a man from France
who tried to teach me to dance
I leaped in the air
and tripped over a chair
My, he exclaimed, you can't prance

Even then I lacked a certain gracefulness of movement.
And I still can't dance.
I seem to walk a fine line when it comes to exercise - a little too much and I'm done in, sometimes for a couple of days.  But when I hit it just right, oh, how much better I feel!
So today I'm going to need to rest a lot and my husband might very well need to make supper.
But tomorrow?
I'm aiming for the dog park.