The 100 Steps

   With all the exercise addicts out there, I hesitate to reveal my daily regimen, but I can justify it by saying that I am old.  Anything is better than nothing; at least I hope so.  Since I finished physical therapy last fall, my daily "workout" has consisted of  riding my exercise bike for about half an hour, usually while watching Jeopardy. I had moved the bike into the bedroom because it was so cold in the outside room that I had to bundle up in coat, hat and gloves.  I don't set the tension on the pedals very high, and I convince myself that I am exercising, though it never makes me tired or out of breath.  I stop because it is rather boring.
     So with the return of nice weather, I returned to my step therapy--outside, on the steps leading to the pool.  100 steps.  That doesn't take very long, but I find it much more taxing than riding a bike.  My legs have to heft all that poundage up and then down 5 steps about 20 times.  At first, I stopped to gasp for air at 50 steps, then 60, and 70.  Today was the first time I managed to do 100 steps without stopping to breathe.  I trust that no passing motorist would notice and think I had gone batty;  the speed at which cars go by my house prevents anyone from seeing more than a single climb.  Or at least I think so.
    When I get to the top of the stairs, I stand on the deck and practice my other exercise--this one for balance.  I stand on each foot for as many Hail Mary's as I can recite.  Sometime I can get as far as three.
     What the heck, I'm no Kelly Ripa.