Once upon a time, right after I had Scout Son, I started working out. At first I hated it, but my knee and hips hurt and the YMCA had a weight machine that I thought would help. And it did. And after several months of working out several times a week, I loved it. I felt great, I looked great. I discovered fat feels different than muscle, and no, I never realized that. I was not a coordinated kid. But I could take you in a game of Space Invaders. Do not judge.

But at the tender age of 29, I slowly became coordinated. I could read or knit on an elliptical machine, and some of the folks I worked out with slowly talked me into racquetball. I dropped the last of the baby weight, toned everything and had a blast. I became one of those people who loved working out.

Then came ladder #1. I didn’t fall off of it, so much as it slid to the ground and I rode it there. I firmly believe that the only reason I didn’t get seriously hurt (broken bones) is because I was in good shape. But between giving birth to two kids and two ladder encounters, my body has changed.

I never used to hate my body. Even when I didn’t know that muscle felt different. I wasn’t embarrassed by it. This is me. I’m in reasonable shape, take it or leave it. But over the last few months as I’ve seriously considered putting myself back into the dating pool, I’ve paid more attention, and while I hate my back and hip, I’m just generally unhappy with the rest of it.

The problem is finding a workout that I can do. Right now I ride a bike in the living room because I can read, watch TV, edit a book, knit and talk to the kids while I ride. Remember, I have at best 3 hours a day that are mine, so I have to multitask. But it irritates my back. I love to dance, but anything like that makes it impossible to walk the next day.

I did light strength training and yoga last night and today I want to die. As an aside, downward dog is really hard to do and focus on your breathing when you have a Doberman trying to find your face so she can give you kisses. Not the dating pool I had in mind, Cassie.

That’s the problem with chronic pain. I gained the weight because I couldn’t work out. I couldn’t work out because I couldn’t get a diagnosis for the problem. For. Ten. Years. I try to work out, something gets inflamed, I keep trying to push it so I can lose some weight, get in better shape and protect my body. After all, hauling around less of me would be good for the joints that are toast. But working out only inflames things more and lands me on my ass. Hmm, seeing a cycle here?

But I keep trying to work out and feel better. I’m happy to announce that since New Year’s, I’ve lost 3 pounds It took ten years to put on 13 pounds and three weeks to lose 3 of them. I am going to work really hard at not finding them again. It would be so much easier if I could still play racquetball.

It was an awesome workout both mentally and physically. Mad? No problem. Go into a small room and beat the shit out of a ball. Need to think about the problem with your book? Same solution. Kids driving you nuts? They could have put a plaque on the door of that court; I lived in there three days a week. But even if I was delusional enough to think I could play, my chiropractor has said no way. Something about racquetball players being highly competitive and running into walls. I have no idea what he’s talking about.

So, it’s baby steps these days. There’s a goal. I’d like to be in better shape before I spend the weekend with my family in DC this March. Or before I have to take my clothes off in front of another human being. Or the next ice age.

Whichever comes first. How many calories do you burn with baby steps?