Some days you wake up feeling like a Mack truck has run over you.  Today was that day for me.

But my sister wanted to go to the gym today and do weight exercises because, she conveniently slipped into the conversation, she had been in the ER yesterday and has a stress fracture in her foot, is using a cane and wears one of those ugly, sling-like shoes (I guess the word, “ugly” was redundant).  I told her even if the shoe was comfortable and resembled an Easy Spirit style for one’s tenth decade, it was not a fashion statement she wanted to make.  My sister need diversion and so I dragged my sorry self out of bed and away from my son who was watching less violent cartoons (must be something about Sundays).  I had a sense of an on-coming migraine, but it is my sister and she was in the ER alone the day before.  Anyway, migraine pills are always at the ready.

We both belong to a wheelchair accessible gym but you have to go outside and up a ramp to get to the elevator which doesn’t go to every floor.  Ok, so like most things in life the advertising is better than the product. My sister hobbled up and skied down the stairs (the latter was scary because my sister is no Picabo Street).  Here is a picture of the latest sporty ambulatory footwear (some day I will master the reformatting of a picture but for now, please turn your head sideways, thanks):

My sister plans on a whopping twenty minutes at the gym.  I channel my old trainer and yell “thrust the bust!!”, “breasts out!!” and other crazy things that only a perky 20-something can say to a 40-something person.  My sister laughed too much and ruined her posture while using the weight machines.  And I sounded like a moron.  But I got into it and kept yelling, “breathe IN, breathe OUT”.  Another episode of “Ethel and Lucy Go to the Gym” but without the laugh track.