Walking by the River and Remembering When

Walking by the river this morning, appreciating God's beauty, and trying to take my mind elsewhere so I could walk without concentrating on the pain it causes me, I started to reflect about how things used to be.

I am fairly leggy, and physical activity always came easy. I loved basketball and played some in grammar school. I'm not exactly that graceful, but the ability to move without effort was there.

I remember once, in my twenties, I went with a friend to an aerobics class. She had been going for about a month. I joined them, and after it was over, the instructor came up to welcome me, and asked how  long I  had been doing all the exercises she had put us through. I explained I had never done it, I was just with my friend. She 'bout spazzed!

"If I'd known that, I would have  never let you do so much! You won't be able to move tomorrow. Are you all right?"

I assured her I was fine.

I wasn't sore the next day either.

Same for horseback riding. My goal as a child was to own a horse, which of course hasn't happened yet. But the first time I had the opportunity to ride, I did, all day long. I loved it. The horse even jumped a small fence, which scared everyone to death but me and the horse.

I wasn't sore, even a little bit.

And when I was twenty-nine I started doing Jane Fonda's "Secret to Killing People" exercise video and within three months, honey I was fit.

But I've never really liked formal exercise, it bores me. I was born with a book in my hand, not a desire to get out there and run. I live inside my head, not with  my body, as some do.

So mostly, I have walked (or not) and stayed home and read books.

But before I fell, I had started feeling guilty about my laziness and knowing I wasn't getting any younger. I didn't have a desire to become a slave to exercise in an attempt to keep looking  younger than my real age, like Christie Brinkley.

I use her because we are within days of each others age.

Funny story: About a year or so before I retired (at age 49), we had to start wearing identification badges. The pictures were worse than your typical driver's license, if you can imagine. And we all  hated wearing them. It was silly. We all knew each other. It was kinda like wearing one to Sunday  Dinner at your Granny's house so your cousins could see it and know who you were - just in case you had changed any from last Sunday. But the center was abiding by some silly rule.

Well, my picture was worse than bad, so I taped a tiny picture of Christie Brinkley's face over mine on my badge.

Would you believe it took three weeks for anybody to notice? Let me tell you, it says a lot more about the folks I worked with than it does about my resemblance to Ms. Brinkley.

Anyway, of course, I took all this ease of exercising my body for granted.

I feel a little spark of anger when well meaning people encourage me: "Oh, just keep at it, it will get easier." and other similar remarks.

The sad fact is for me, it won't get easier. The nerve damage doesn't 'get over it' like muscle soreness. In fact, the more you irritate them (like by walking), the louder they scream.

Don't get me wrong. I know it could be a lot worse. At least I can walk, I can feel. And I'm grateful. There's a lot for me to enjoy  on my walks, and I truly do.

But don't you dare come  up to me and ask, "Wanna race?"

I still have a mean right cross.