Two, three, four, five … 11, 12 … I count and lose count. Rest. Repeat.
I’ve been counting the days living through a pandemic, and lately I’ve also been counting exercises during my virtual workouts.
I like exercise. I always have, even before my injury as a teen. I would look through fitness magazines and curate my workouts, go for a jog in my neighborhood, or run up and down the stairs (my parents wouldn’t buy a StairMaster and I wanted a nice butt). Fast-forward 26 years, I sit on my nice butt all day, nobody gets to see it but my caregivers, yet I still like a good workout.