Tomorrow we put my son on a bus and he goes back to school. My daughter comes home from visiting one of her best friends and our life goes back to normal. Well, as normal as it can be these days. I can definitely catastrophize events, so this coronavirus has embedded a stone of fear in my belly. I move pretty freely between we will all be fine and then wondering if we, or at least some people I care deeply about won’t.
I think as a person you get so used to being in the young category that when you aren’t it is a bit abrupt. You keep redefining the definition of young. Few twenty year olds really think of forty as young, but all forty five year olds do. The benchmark of age is forever flexible. Until it isn’t. Until you see something like the coronavirus and you realize how close to the category of risk you are. I nearly fell over in the early stages of this event. I read an article that said the people who were most at risk were fifty and above. And I was outraged. Because the last time something like this came around (H1N1?) I was comfortably in the “safe” category. I was in the sympathy zone, worried about how this was going to affect those other people. Now I am the other people? The numbers have since been readjusted. So for another dozer years at least, I can lean on the cushion of youth. At least for this one. It’s actually kind of funny because I was insulted. Are you calling me old, Coronavirus?
So, my age has been more on my mind as I work out in the mornings. This week there has been this one move where you start at standing go down to the floor and roll up on your back, almost as though you are going to do a backwards somersault. Remember those? And then you rock forward and stand back up. She says we are ending with something fun. Or have fun with it or something like that. Well, here’s a fun fact, it’s practically impossible for me to get up without steading myself on something, or getting a little help. When the hell did that happen? When did getting up off the floor become part of a workout? Seriously? So she’s busy saying, “Push through the heels.” And I’m squatting with by butt hovering above the ground a little, flailing my arms in front of me as I try to push up. Normally I wind up sort of pushing off the floor with one hand, sometimes I hold onto the bed. Sometimes I curse her out a little bit, because it makes me laugh to do so. I am my own biggest fan of my own jokes, so it keeps me smiling. And she does so often say to smile.
And then there is another move called downward dog flow. You start in plank, then push back to downward dog and then drop your knees to the floor, use your legs to push back up to plank, back to downward dog, etc. I actually like this move, but only after I cut the drop your knees to the floor business. When I push up my knees sound like they are trying out for a rice krispies cereal commercial. They don’t hurt, and I really don’t know if it’s bad for me, but I hear them complaining so I adjust. If I’m honest, I think my knees have been noisy for years. And it’s not like they got louder. I think part of it is that I don’t feel as invincible. And so now I’m finally doing what I should have been doing for years, being more careful with them. Take notes, youngsters.
I am three weeks into the program and I can’t say I’ve noticed a lot of change in me. I have been taking the pictures and no you will never see them. But, that is another way that I am rethinking things. I know I am getting stronger. And I know that working out and eating better will help to keep me healthy. This is something that is true for everyone regardless of age. I could probably be eating healthier but I am making small adjustments. (Read, my consumption of cheese and wine have remained steady over the weekend.) Right now I am proud that I have been sticking to this program.Maybe next week I’ll say, and I’m ready to be wine free for awhile.
Nah. No need to be ridiculous.
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