Friday was a feel sorry for myself day. If you haven’t divined I have these, you’ve not been reading between the lines.
Having my oldest friend of fifty five years visit for a week had been a tonic, despite being marred by weather and these bloody legs not cooperating. There’s nothing we can’t talk about and nothing he can’t offer a sound insight for. I saw him off on Wednesday. Sadly.
Thursday I rested, only venturing out after my morning nap on the bike to do a little shopping at the local butcher and the bottle store. No pedalling, legs dangling, back straight. The rest did me good. I used the walker to get to the shower before bedtime, and didn’t need it at all for the early trip next morning.
I am rethinking my use of the walking stick. I suspect that leaning heavily to one side on it as I do may actually be causing, or at least exacerbating, the pain generated by my back. I suspect it is really necessary to keep it straight. The problem is to steady myself when my knees want to wobble me, without generating another problem by bending my spine sideways. . I have decided to try doing without it. Exercise more.
Following the advice of my mentor and guru, I next addressed, as best I could, a matter that has been preying much on my mind. That’s what led to the fsfm day. But I’ve now done what I can. There’s no more to be done. Move on.
This morning I had the excitement of the rakali encounter, followed by the pleasant discovery that a couple of days rest and comparative inaction had resulted in greatly improved mobility. That is to say much less pain. I climbed into the cruiser in an almost sprightly manner and went for my swim.
Dave hates that word. Sprightly. So I’ll take it on. I’m going to own it.
The return to gravity after ninety minutes of weightlessness was, as usual, a bugger. I wished after all I hadn’t left the walking stick in the car. But I managed the trip to the shower and changing room without stopping or leaning on anything. Small victory. I just need more resolve, and not give in too easily. And rest when I need it. No shame in resting when necessary. My yet immature eighteen year old brain must accept it has been mysteriously transplanted into some fat old codger’s sixty eight year old body. One that has not been properly maintained. One of my regrets.
Regrets. I’ve had a few
And there are some I’d like to mention
I didn’t always think things through
I didn’t always pay attention
I never joined the rodeo
Even though I was invited
I never ran away to sea
Though ships get me excited
I loved and lost, and did not learn
I never could forget
Then, at last, I started running
And I am running yet.
It has been said – I know it’s true
We regret most what we didn’t do
© 2020 ARF