I might as well jump

Not a threat of suicide, in case you worry. Those of you 'in the know' and old enough, will of course recognise the line from Van Halen, but I refer in fact to a trampette. Not a small tramp, but what is known officially as a rebounder (again, not someone on the rebound from a relationship - I'll stop this now). Much as I love my dance DVD I found I was getting a little bored of it. When I felt able I would do the 10 minute cardio routine, pause for water, then the 10 minute sculpt or stretch, which is a little more low key. There are only six to chose from on the DVD and I don't like one of them. So I dusted off my trusty old trampette and then in a fit of peeked energy, the adrenaline of which clearly spiked a daft idea, dusted off the cross trainer (and dusty it was indeed) that has lain folded under my bed for nigh on two years. It was effort enough getting the darn thing out, cleaning it and hauling it into its upright state, had it not been for the fact it stopped me getting to my bed, I may well have thought sod it, and had a lie down instead. It, like me, has seen better days and creaks and groans. Having that in common, I felt we had an ideal basis to start a beautiful working relationship. Initially, I started with five minutes on the trampette, water break, and two minutes on the cross trainer. Back in the day I used to bound around like a loon to Bon Jovi for about 20-30 minutes, but that was then. During Feb, I managed to up the jumping to 10-15 minutes averaging at 12 minutes with a water-related rest then five minutes on the cross trainer, by which time I look like I might need medical attention. I have to give it a minute or so before I can collapse the thing down and shove it away, and by then my legs have usually forgiven me and kindly agree to have a go at taking me safely downstairs. I do this somewhat faffing but worthwhile routine a couple of times a week. I still walk to work on a Saturday and if I'm not working I do a bit of dance. I am experimenting now with working out what is actual fatigue and what is reduced stamina due to not being able to do so much because of actual fatigue. It's a fine line but I seem to be treading it about right. Last week I attended a Mindfulness workshop and am following a book that takes me through an eight week course of it. It is more tricky than it sounds, but will prove helpful, I feel. The day inspired me to contact our lovely Nutritional Therapist, Claire Stone, to discuss writing a 7-10 day detox. I have always shied away from detoxing as I feared I would have to juice everything and eat raw food for a month and end up murderously miserable, but no, we are going to write a menu plan with proper food and I am looking forward to it. Having succumbed again to the blasted bugs that kind clients keep bringing in for me, I am now sat with a pot of honey, lemon and ginger tea. I am not a fan of honey, but am giving it a go. Manuka honey, no less. I am on my third cup and grimacing less than the first. Tomorrow I am off to a reiki share, cold allowing. The thing I a most proud of is that for most of Feb I did away with Amitriptyline. I now have a cup of camomile and spiced apple tea before bed and that does the trick. The only issue is that the drug clearly masked some physical pain (a hip injury where I was hit by a car, a poor damaged shoulder, and  random joint pain). It's hard to know how much of this is CFS related. I suspect the hip and shoulder not, but I cannot stand to lie on my side with my knees or ankles on top of each other. Therefore, I find I take up some bizarre positionings using all manner of things as props. Still, I generally get a good block of five or six hours of sleep and can mostly doze back off for a bit. I was also pleasantly surprised to find that coming off of Amitriptyline did not, as it has previously, give me very disturbing dreams. Other than a couple of minor 'emotional crashes' involving tears and dark chocolate and a little bit of hypnotherapy, Feb has been quite a good month.