I'm doing some running again after a winter of walking only. It's about to kill me but I've lost a couple of pounds in the last two weeks. Stubborn, stubborn pounds that wouldn't succumb to regular exercise. Now if someone would just tell my knees that 40 isn't *that* old and they need to buck up and tough it out...
One more night of finger therapy unless Dr. Not So Nice orders more when I see him on Friday. It hurts just as he promised and there is a point in every session where my fist doubles up (on the good hand) and she knows it's time to quit for the evening. Even though I am quite thankful that it can be fixed easily, I will be so glad when this is over.