Two days ago, I set the goal of pushing myself from the venue to the hotel. It’s a fairly long push, and, as sidewalks are always sloped, it’s difficult. My right arm became sore from the effort about half way and I gave up with the hotel in sight. Joe got the car and we got home.
Yesterday, I knew the difficulty and I knew the obstacles so I planned a little differently. I planned to go into a store at the end of the outdoor mall and roll around a bit to rest my right arm and to give myself time to a breather. I did this and then headed out and down the parking lot to the street sidewalk and then pushed up onto it.
I was further than yesterday, I was dead tired, but I could see it. My pushing had slowed to barely moving but I was moving. When I got to the final curb cut just in front of the hotel, one which I’d done every day, it seemed impossible with the strength I had.
But it wasn’t.
I was up and then in and then down the long carpeted hallway to the room. It felt wonderful. I had spent the day talking about self esteem and disability and the roll that acknowledging accomplishment plays in that … well, I celebrated. With a cup of tea, but a celebration is a celebration.
The lack of exercise I’ve had, I’m relieved, hasn’t taken away from my ability to do distance. But this was different because distance, outside, is very different than distance inside. This was a first for me to go this far, out side, on my own steam.
Thank heaven’s my steam engine can still fully be stoked.