Graham and I often take Dulcie swimming on Sundays if I'm not working. The pool we go to has a shallow baby pool, where we spend most of our time, as well as a pool for swimming lengths, albeit a pool with a shallow and an even-shallower end. Yesterday I left Dulcie splashing about in the baby pool with Graham and set about swimming a few lengths. After 1.5 lengths I felt like I couldn't go on, with no juice left in my limbs, but I persevered, took my time and ended up managing ten lengths. I felt like I had swum the Channel... only without the sense of achievement, i.e. not good! Graham was concerned I was about to keel over/die. I must say, I wasn't entirely unconcerned myself! It was a far cry from my pre-heart-failure days when I would generally swim 30-plus lengths and once even swam 112 (I think) which was what I had worked out was a mile, but still, ten difficult lengths was better than nothing.
I have a really difficult relationship with physical exercise. My heart makes exercise really hard and unpleasant, but also makes it even more important, I suppose. I'd love to have a regular activity that I could go and do on my own/focus on, but exercise can completely wipe me out and leave me unfit to do the things I NEED to do, like push Dulcie home from nursery in her buggy or even just wrestle her onto the floor to change her nappy or lift her into her chair for dinner. On bad days, chopping vegetables can be too much, so I'm wary of tiring myself out too much when going home for a lie-down just isn't an option. Dulcie can't exactly make her way home on her own. Evening exercise could be a good option, I was thinking, as hopefully I'd be recovered by the following morning and could spend the rest of the evening sitting in front of the telly if needs be, but then transport and safety becomes an issue, for this pool at least.
Once I get a car (that is the plan, hopefully) the green light will be on for evening outings to the gym/pool, but the car issue would be a whole other blog post of its own... Oh dear.