When will I learn? When will I finally come to terms with the fact that I am not 25 anymore? Or 35? Or 50?
When will I begin to accept my own physical limitations?
Not yet, apparently.
I’ve been in a bit of a funk the past few days. I’ve been crabby, tired, irritable. You know, the typical curmudgeon of an old lady. My brain’s been sort of fried, and that has been the root of my problems.
I mean, I don’t know about you, but I don’t sleep real well when my thoughts are running around in circles like a crazed hamster on a wheel. I drift off, then jolt myself awake thinking of things I haven’t done, things I meant to do, things I’m supposed to do but am refusing to do, things I think maybe I should do if I was a really healthy person but which I don’t want to do now that I know I’m not. You know. Hamster. Wheel. Awake all night.
Anyway, I came home from work yesterday with my brain in a fog and my spirits low.
And I was greeted at the door by my tall, handsome, grinning-with-his dimples-twinkling German boychik, Lucas. He held up his phone, showing the face of his beautiful Momma with whom he was Skyping. I spent a few minutes chatting with her, smiling at him, and walking around my intensely muddy garden. It was very uplifting!
When I came inside, Lucas and I started talking about baseball. And that got us thinking about my old, dusty Wii. And he challenged me to a game of baseball. First I just laughed.
Then I accepted.
Because I am dumb.
Very, very dumb.
I got dinner started, then grabbed my controller. And Lucas and I played “Wakeboard”. I lost by about 3, 000 points, but it was fun! I was jumping around, pretending to be at the beach, swinging my arms…… Then we decided to try “Bowling”. And “Table Tennis”. And “Archery” (where I came within striking distance of almost sort of catching him, -ish, kinda.) Lucas stood like a sedate old elm, flicking his wrists and scoring big. I continued to jump around and flail, like a gorilla with a paintbrush in his hand.
So fun! Ha, ha!
This went on for quite a while. Lucas scored points, I flailed and twitched.
By the time we ate our pork chops and cleaned up, I was feeling all relaxed and happy. My brain was focused on jumping over the wake, and my body felt all loose and stretchy.
I was like a limber, athletic older jock lady, you know? Pretty sweet!
I fell into bed around 9, and slept the gentle sleep of the physically fit.
I hardly snored at all.
When my alarm trilled at 6 AM, I rolled over. I yawned, feeling incredibly refreshed and relaxed.
Then I stood up, and every single nerve I have ever had or dreamed of having went into a spasm of silent screaming. I couldn’t stand up straight. My back ached. My butt ached. My right shoulder felt like I’d pitched 9 innings for the Sox. I sucked in a breath, and tried to hobble to the bathroom. I managed to claw the door open, but I couldn’t even get my PJ’s off. How could I shower or shampoo?
I did my best, emerging from the bathroom 20 minutes later with lather still in my hair, my pants unbuttoned and my back in the shape of a wobbly question mark.
When will I learn?
Some people my age run marathons. Some compete in ski races.
But some of us are only engaged in competitive cooking, meatball eating competitions and falling asleep races. We simply cannot spend two hours playing Wii with 17 year old German princes.
Not if we want to be able to tie our own shoes in the morning.
I am off to the hot tub with my ibuprofin in hand. Planning to slather on the menthol cream when I get out.