Ow.

With the diabetes and all, I finally decided enough was enough and that I was going to get back into shape. Considering no-one in my family has ever had diabetes before, there's a very good chance that my diabetes is solely caused by fat infiltrating my liver and pancreas…meaning if I lose some weight and get back into shape, my diabetes could go away completely.

So, for the past week or so, I've been getting up in the morning, eating a very light breakfast and then going for a 1-2 mile walk.

I know that may not sound like an awful lot, but bear in mind that since I moved to the USA five years ago, my usual amount of exercise consisted of walking from the bedroom to the living room….with maybe one or two trips to the fridge to break up the day.

Well, after a week or so of walking I made a big mistake:

I was about halfway through my walk when I realized I was actually feeling good, and despite the fact I'd been walking for about a mile at a very brisk pace (about as fast as you can walk normally without breaking into a jog), I wasn't even slightly out of breath and my heart-rate was only very slightly elevated.

Suddenly, I remembered how I used to take my dog for about a five mile walk every single day, usually after getting home from an 8 hour shift bartending (which not only meant I was on my feet for 8 hours, but that at least twice an hour I was carrying cases of bottles up three flights of stairs.) I thought of my short walk and thought:

"This is nothing. I doubt it's even doing me any good. I know! I'll run from here!"

…and that's what I did.

As my calf muscles caught fire, I realized that not only had I not been for a run in over five years, I was at least fifty to sixty pounds heavier than the last time I got above walking pace. Yeah, just because you heart and lungs are healthy enough to sustain a short run doesn't mean your atrophied leg muscles and joints can take the impact of your fat ass running for the first time in five years.

I was honestly surprised that every time my feet hit the floor it felt like a hard, almost painful impact instead of the effortless 'bounce' I remembered. The really stupid part was that instead of stopping and walking again, suddenly realizing how much of an out-of-shape fat bastard I am caused what little ego I have left to step in and tell me to keep running.

I got home with my calf muscles feeling like they'd been replaced with jagged blocks of iron. I found myself sitting at the couch, praying to the exercise Gods to not let my calves cramp up like they were threatening to do.

Then, I got up this morning, ate my two slices of unbuttered wheat toast and set out on my walk again.

This time I was less than a quarter mile in when my right calf muscle decided it was going to seize up and become incredible painful for the rest of the walk.

I think I'll be taking a day off walking tomorrow.