The first week back at school in January is traditionally one of the year’s most difficult, and I’m suffering this round. Never mind that I have pretty much given up my three-plus a day Diet Pepsi habit, so I’m flying (sputtering along) uncaffeinated. Forget that it’s still the dead of winter here, and it’s dark from four-thirty in the afternoon until nearly nine in the morning. Final exams also start on Tuesday, so I’ve been slogging through a heap of marking as the semester draws to a close.

In the season of change, I’m literally working my butt off. Since my recent, frustrating diagnosis with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, I’m doing all the things I’ve been told, like taking my remarkably ironic birth control pills. The doctor also recommended I lose some weight if I can, even if PCOS makes it extra difficult to manage weight, to see if a little less padding will help my hormones level out.

Last weekend I took advantage of the New Year’s Resolution sales and bought myself an elliptical trainer. I’ve been wanting to run in my basement for quite some time, particularly since I don’t have a tenant any more. One of the biggest problems with my job is the amount of my time my marking chews up, leaving me little left over in the week for exercise. By the time I get dressed, drive somewhere with exercise facilities, work out, and return home, I’m into the endeavour for a minimum of 90 minutes. Logistically, it makes no sense, particularly in winter when the roads can be treacherous and driving anywhere is often ill-advised.

Now, I run in the spare bedroom in the basement, where the only creature running before was this fine fellow:

Sadly, we can’t run side by side, like I’d like to, because Sherman’s treadmill and my elliptical draw on the same circuit, but the little green bedroom downstairs has now officially become the home of the high heart-rate in this house, even one heart at a time.

I just wish I had a little caffeine to do it all on. I’m dragging, friends.

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