I’m fighting the COVID FIVE, an unfortunate  by-product of relative inactivity. I still get my three miles in every morning and at least 12,000 steps through the course of each day plus hundreds of sit-ups & push-ups. Apparently, it’s not enough to offset too many hours of sitting, along with the constant consumption of pizza, pasta, bread, tater-tots, snacks, left-overs, corn-dogs, cookies, and chocolate. As a result, I’ve added 5 pounds of fat that translates to nearly thirty pounds of extra force on my knees when I’m running. I can feel the strain and bulge around my belly as I continue to struggle with stiffness in my lower extremities. 

I wrap my thighs and calves in compression gear every morning, a new hassle in an activity I prefer to keep simple. From the start, I liked the idea of throwing on a pair of shorts, socks, a t-shirt, and lacing up my shoes. I was quickly ready to go with no need for a gym membership. It was exercise I could do anywhere in the world and proved to be the best way to keep the weight off. Nowadays, I’m concerned that my spindly little legs will collapse without thigh wraps and stretch socks. I now feel like a mummy, dressed more for entombment than running. (See Post #1297).

In the last couple days, I’ve been trying to stay off the concrete sidewalks in favor of the softer asphalt-paved streets. In trying to keep six feet away from other pedestrians, I’m often forced to the street anyway. Despite the fact that many experts say that modern shoe cushioning counters any normal surface change, I felt more comfortable off the sidewalks. On occasion, when I was pounding the concrete I could feel a slight tweak in my right knee. It doesn’t seem to happen as often on asphalt. I’d hate to add a knee-brace to my amour and makes me wonder how many years of this I have left?

Yes, I somehow survived day #4146 of “The Streak.” and it’s time to celebrate Cinco de Mayo. It’s my night to cook so I’m making a tortilla layered dish in a bundt pan. We had initially purchased the bundt for the grill to  make “Beer Can Chicken,” but we no longer have a grill, storing it instead at my stepdaughter’s house. This offered an alternative use and seemed appropriate for our stay-at-home Cinco celebration. A “Fifth” of tequila is also probably in order, but I’ll stick to red wine. Certainly not Corona beer! Mother’s Day is next on the May calendar of non-get-togethers, as we continue to fight the mental strain of lock-down and the physical impact of weight gain. Stay Safe, my friends.