While at work, I had a brilliant idea�I decided to walk the stairs up to the cafe for a snack.
What�s the big deal in walking some steps? Well the big deal is that my office is on the 2nd floor, while the caf� is on the 9th floor, and I have (mild) asthma. On top of that, for the past 5.5 years I�d been working in a one-level building � little did I know, I�d soon find out what my lung capacity really is. *Oy*.
I�ve been employed, at SRC for a bit over a month. From day one I insisted on using the steps. After all my office is on the 2nd floor and this is just another way to add exercise into my daily life.
My first day on the job, I set a goal to be able to walk from the lobby to the top most floor of my building. To this day I don�t know how many floors we have, I think we have 12 or 13. Either way I�ve got a goal to accomplish, and you have a life to live, so I�ll get on with it�
I began my walk at the 2nd floor stairwell. I began counting the number of steps on each landing, turns out there are 10 per floor, per single landing, and they are steep as anything. Okay enough with the kwetching already.
I walked from the 2nd floor to the 6th floor nearly effortlessly. I approached the 7th floor and began huffing, puffing and struggling to breathe. Immediately I began asking, �what were you thinking?� I took hold of both handrails and began pulling myself up the stairs, determined to walk to the 9th floor I was not going to stop. Don�t ask what came over me, or why I was doing this. I get bent on accomplishing a goal (big or small), and I have to see it through. Up I went, counting 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 breathing deeply the whole way. I got to the 8th floor and said aloud �go girl, go, you can do this, this is nothing, 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10, up you go!� No one else was in the stairwell that I am aware of, no matter, I continued reciting my impromptu ditty. 9th floor, I realized that the 8th and 9th floors are carpeted in red shag carpeting. Not much pile left to the shag though. I stop to catch my breath.
I am painfully (literally), aware of a fire in my chest cavity. I am sweating, hot and thirsty. I open the door to enter the threshold of the 9th floor and smile. I must be part sadist. Slowly I make my way to the caf�. I see a table right next to the door and sit down. I say a prayer, thanking God for helping me to get to the 9th floor safely, and helping me to walk the stairs daily to expand my lung capacity to walk floors 2 � 6 with nearly no effort.
I�m momentarily exhausted, but ever so proud of myself. I knew if I sat still long enough and breathed deeply enough I would be able to get beyond the hot burning sensation I was feeling.
I must�ve been pretty red in the face, because the manager of the caf� came over to ask if I was sick or if I needed help. Nice of him to come over and check on me. I huffed and puffed out a phrase to let him know I�d just walked the steps and I was o.k. He nodded and walked off. I was glad he was gone, last thing I needed was to be trying to talk to anyone at that moment. I wanted to be alone with myself, or as alone as one can be in a public place, such as a caf�.
I have learned not to walk to the 9th floor like that again, because I�m not quite ready, but just as I say that, I am ever so proud of myself for having made the commitment to improving my health by walking the stairs. I use the stairs for the trips downwards and every once in a while I�ll walk a couple flights up and take the lift downwards.
Now that I think of it, the smartest thing I could do, is to catch the lift to the top most floor, then walk down. If I began doing this on a daily I could really improve my health without nearly rupturing my lungs, or feeling that hot, burning sensation�it�s an idea. I�ll try it starting Monday when I get to the office.