Better Late Than Never
Remember those greeting cards, usually sold in western wear stores, that had pictures of ragged old cowboys on the front? There was one with a particularly ragged cowboy on the front with the caption, “If I’da knowd I wuz gonna live this long I’da took better care of myself.” But that is the problem, is it not? When we are young and fit and healthy, we cannot seem to peer into the future far enough to see that we are not always going to be so naturally fit and healthy.
Becoming a grandmother and becoming officially designated as “elderly” has finally awakened me to the need to take better care of myself. My ever-helpful husband noted a few years ago that I was entering “the fourth quarter of life” according to averages. I have generally done an adequate job of taking care of myself apart carrying too much of me around—a decent diet, no truly bad habits, no addictions apart from caffeine, which turns out to actually be pretty good for you at the levels I consume. In the past, I have had a pretty good walking habit of three or more miles nearly every day, but I have let that lapse in the past few years, in spite of me having a great set-up for walking right here on the ranch. In truth, God has given me a healthy body, and I have not been appreciative enough of that gift.
Back in April, my doctor advised me to start lifting weights. I had a few other things to take care of to make it safe to do so, but now I have started and am kicking myself for not having started this long, long ago. I have also started walking the ranch again almost every day and am kicking myself for leaving that, too. Yes, it can be uncomfortable, and yes it involves sweating, especially since our gym set-up is in the barn, but it is only for a little while and a nice shower awaits.
A few years ago, I would go to quilt retreats that included a young woman who seemed to have a complete lack of self-confidence and usually seemed very unhappy. One time she showed up at retreat obviously quite different than she usually was. The way she carried herself was different, she walked straight up instead of slumped, she seemed overall healthier, more alive, more alert, more confident. As the weekend went on, she told us that in the past few months she had decided to take advantage of the gym her company had onsite and had been doing strength training. As far as I know, that was the only change she had made. I filed that experience away in my head and have thought about it often, but until recently took no action on it. Now that I am a few weeks into my own program, I am starting to understand why it made such a difference to that young woman. I feel SO MUCH better. Of course my body is getting stronger, but I can also feel a big difference between my ears. Maybe it is those “muscles in my head” that John Prine sang about.
I told my seven-year-old granddaughter that I was going to continue to hug her and pick her up until she was eighteen years old. My husband pointed out that she will be too tall for that in another two or three years, but she can just fold her legs up, right? SpringCreekArtsGuild@gmail.com