When it was dark in the morning, she slept in her crate until about 8. That was a perfect time for me to get up.
Now she's up with the morning light around 6:30. Which means I should really try (again) to get to bed earlier.
Last night I dreamt I heard someone singing downstairs. The high-pitched "singing," i.e. whining, woke me up. It was Maddie crying, "Daybreak! Let me out, let me out!" You can't blame her. I walked her, fed her and went back to bed for about an hour. Once she is out of the crate, she doesn't go back in. So far, so good.
I got up again around 7:30 and went to Enfield to play doubles. I am now signed up for a weekly Friday morning round-robin. It's great to be out there, but I need to stop with the head-games in which I compare myself (unfavorably) to the way I used to play.
Hey, I'm getting stronger all the time, and I move well enough to play without worrying that I'm holding the others back. My serves are going in at a decent pace, and today I hit an ace. It felt great.
George (the coach whose clinic I take on Wednesday nights) says my arm is getting stronger every week. I attribute that both to the decrease in prednisone and to the downward dog and plank positions that Erin has us hold (for ages, it seems) at yoga on Thursday nights.
I am really happy about my progress. But still, I remind myself of my father when, in his 80s, he couldn't walk as fast or hit the ball as hard as he used to. He would say, "I'm a shadow of my former self." I'd reply, "But Dad, look at how great you're doing." He never gave in to fatigue, and he kept on moving until the end.
I did my little "I'm a shadow of my former self" on the phone this morning with Diane after tennis.
"But look at where you've come from," she said. She reminded me of the coma and the near-death experience and everything. Sometimes it seems so far away and sometimes it seems frighteningly close.
Anyway, thanks, Diane. I will revel in that ace.