Stoking the Fires
It’s a good feeling to sleep through to the alarm. It’s a good feeling to roll over with no pain because your DO popped your hips into alignment yesterday. It’s a good feeling to lie in bed with today’s words huddled in your brain like chickens ready to escape the coop. It’s a good feeling to sit then stand and not have the muscles in your back feel tight as knotted ropes. It’s a good feeling to know you’ll get a massage today, that will chase away the residual soreness.
At this point I need to parlay all these good feelings into some sort of action. An aging body doesn’t heal itself like it used to so I need to get up and do; I need to remind it of the feeling of action and health. Walking is the preferred treatment in my book. Long walks. Walks up hills. Walks down valleys. Walks to see sunsets. Walks along a river, or a creek, or canyon trail. Along the way, I’ll try to throw in some exercises to toughen the core and get the old abdomen back into some semblance of shape. The key word is try.
Motivation of course is the key. The big why. I no longer have a family to support or a wife to love and care for. I still have the kids of course and their kids. But in the end, it’s just me. And that sounds morose, and I’m not. I have loads of friends. As mentioned. I feel good. I’m simply reminding myself that staying fit is just another job to be done, and if I want to continue enjoying life as I currently do, then I need to put forth the effort, because I’ve learned over the years that with life, as with relationships, you get out of it what you put into it.