Saturday, August 13, 2011

Of Crones and Whippets ...

In a moment of cyber-hysteria I added another "lifestyle" blog to my Flipbook application on the iPad. "Why not?" I thought innocently, "This one is about an integrated, healthy life plan." However, I have started looking at the articles and they all seem to be directed toward lithe, supple, willowy whippets. Whippets is a term I use for those crazy young women who leave the YMCA at 6:00 a.m. in the morning to run, in packs, along the sleepy streets of Athens. These blog articles actually have the term "20's & 30's" in the titles.  And those are the article about "aging!" I can only assume that I am no longer 'aging', I am now in some sort of ancient, eternal stasis ...

Girlfriend Emily and I purchased trial memberships in some fancy new athletic facility in Chattanooga. I think we have five visits which we have to use  before Christmas. We bought them in a fit of enthusiasm when we got back from the Mississippi bike ride, when we were feeling quite full of ourselves and ready to start testing our bodies again.  Sadly, reality has set in with a vengeance at the chemical plant and the courthouse, and Em and I have yet to make it down to Chattanooga with our workout gear. For myself, I have to confess that, while my titanium hip is doing just fine, all the original equipment around it is still ... well, original and, as such, not cooperating with the strategy to become lean and hungry again.  I'm off to see the orthopedic surgeon again in the coming week but I have a feeling he's just going to remind me that he told me before all this cutting and replacing started that I would still be an old lady when he got through with me. Alas.  I may just give up and join Gracie on the couch ...  


And wasn't this the stuff of nearly all the world's poetry, the transitoriness of life and love and beauty, the knowledge that time's winged chariot had knives in its wheels?
P.D. James

1 comment:

  1. I have come to hate diet plans that require adherence to nofatnoglutennosugarlocalonlyorganic. I abhor the exercise regimens that pooh-pooh anything less strenuous than an hour of sweatin' to the oldies. I heard one doc on the radio who spoke to my soul: just head out you door, he, said, and walk left or right for 7 minutes. I did this. I noticed that I had no choice but to walk another 7 minutes if I wanted to get home. Tricked again!! It works every time.

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