Two events juxtaposed within two days.
The first—the triumph—was (and please don’t think this silly) I discovered I can run!
Harumph you say. What nonsense. Excuse me. I turn ninety in a few months…haven’t been able to actually run in YEARS. Probably the last time I actually ran anywhere was maybe twenty years ago…
A friend at the gym drives me crazy because she’s in her sixties and she jumps rope. I LOVE JUMPING ROPE. No way could I jump rope… It is painful watching Ginger jump rope with a dancer’s grace. As I watch her (and I should avert my eyes but I do not) I can’t help but think, I’ll never jump rope again. No biggie, but painful…
Then a few days ago at the gym at the end of our workout (Bill and I have half-an-hour with our coach Monday-Wednesday-Friday mornings), I had hold of the handles of a machine upon which we do push-ups. The handles on each side support your weight and there’s room for your feet below (Coach Hollis says it’s a GHD—Glute Ham Developer–if that rings a bell). I don’t know what impelled me to do it, but all of a sudden I found myself holding on and bouncing up and down, up and down, sort of trotting. I just kept doing it and when I looked down, I realized I was running! Impulsively, elatedly, I stopped, turned around, and ran across the expanse of gym to where Hollis was working with Bill on rings…calling out, “Look at me! I’m running!”
Hollis’s eyes got large and I’ve no idea what he said but it was something with pride in it. Bill was speechless. I was busting the zipper of my warm hoodie (it’s COLD in the gym these mornings) with euphoria..
The next day Bill and I had a quick visit with our wonderful doctor…minor investigation, we ended up just chatting, but at the end of our appointment I said, “Please watch me,” and I pushed myself up out of the chair and trotted four feet one way, turned around and trotted five feet the other way. Dr. Lewis was speechless also.
So that was the triumph. I must say it’s pretty marvelous, approaching ninety, to be able to do something physical with your body you haven’t been able to do in years.
But then mixed with that achievement is the loss.
Turns out I’ve recently been diagnosed with osteoporosis. You know what that is. My bones are skimpier than one would wish. It means that if I fall and break a hip, it’s possible—one thing leading to another—I could be on my merry way sooner than intended…
(Soon I’m going to write about drinking a glass of milk every day of one’s life…)
Uschi (our seven-year-old eighty-eight pound German Shepherd daughter) needs a walk twice a day. Bill and I have been walking her most every day since she came into our lives at five months old. Until recently, afternoons Uschi and I walked a mile along the edge of the continent… A joy–except in summer when nesting seagulls divebombed us…
But now the powers that be—from coach to internist to orthopod to you name it—say I no longer should walk her. Uschi’s too powerful. Truth to tell once she brought down ex-Marine Bill and once our beloved Big John…
And true, I’ve fallen twice walking Uschi—both my fault not hers. The first time she was pulling me and I didn’t let go of the leash soon enough—yes I broke a couple of things but all mended nicely. That was five years ago. The second time I was paying attention to the climax of Where the Crawdads Sing and missed the place on the sidewalk where two slabs of concrete came together unevenly, and down I went….Uschi had nothing to do with it…she just sat there, saying, “Now what, Mom?” I broke dumb stuff but again mended just fine. Anyway after the latter adventure I no longer walked and listened to books at the same time. A loss.
Yes as a dog-devoted child then as a nature-loving grownup–for decades!–I’ve walked my dog most days of my life. Whether boxer, black Lab, bichon-poodle, or German Shepherd, communion with my dear friend, appreciation of neighbors’ gardens, the sky, trees, birds, adroit avoidance of skirmishes with other dogs…dog walking has been one of the abiding pleasures of my life.
Well, dears, this recent juxtaposition of running/not walking is in the category of Win A Few Lose A Few. The Win part is so marvelous, I consider it a triumph that I’m still able to make progress with this old bod’. The Lose part I rack up to prudence…a vital factor navigating the further regions of one’s life.
And so it goes. The uppy-downy life of an old lady.
Royally grateful for her extraordinary blessings.
