OZ

Life just smacks you upside the head sometimes.

Went to the doc today to check out a bump on my left hip. No big deal, Doc says, birsitis and sciatica. Exercise, keep losing weight, and do yoga. YOGA?

Anything else? she asked. Now that you mention it, I've noticed my left arm has less range of motion. Can you look at that, too? Oh, and this bunion bugs me. And how about my plantar fascitis and the Olive Oyl shoes I am forced to wear and ... OMG! I've become my mother.

Driving home, as I salivated over a 100 pill supply of Naproxin with - count them: TWO refills! - I realized I'm in OZ: the old zone. Here I am, achy and creaky and cranky in the mornings, having to think long and hard about 2 hours of weeding because I may not be able to move the next day, let alone get up off my knees. I guess Lazer Tag is a definite no.

Nowadays, a healthy weekend recovery plan involves a slugfest day on the sofa in jams, reading a book or watching back to back movies. Yah dah, yah dah, I can say all I want about the greuling pace of life, but the twelve pairs of cheaters strewn all over the house, in the car, at the office, and in the glove box say otherwise.

I would long for the moment when pedaling would slow for a little coasting, and straining muscles could relax, to be able to savor the sun and breeze and earn the moment. Will it ever be as perfect as it was in my head? Probably not. But it's still a place I wanted to see, creaky bones and all.