The worst part wasn't the breathing. It was the sitting.
My grandson Jackson is 5. He has exactly one speed, and it's full sprint. When he runs to the back door and yells "Grandma, come play!" he doesn't mean in twenty minutes. He means right now.
And I was saying "not right now" more than I wanted to admit.
It's not like something was wrong. My doctor said my numbers looked fine for my age. But "fine for my age" meant accepting that Saturday afternoons were for watching, not playing. That hiking meant a flat path and frequent stops. That I was becoming the grandmother who sat in the good chair instead of the one who got on the floor.
I tried a few things. Breathing exercises from a YouTube video. A supplement my neighbor recommended, big capsules I could barely swallow. An herbal tea that took 15 minutes to steep and tasted like lawn clippings. None of it stuck. Not because it didn't work. Because I couldn't keep doing it.