I had an interesting forty-one year old moment this morning while attempting to walk on a carpeted surface.
It was an exercise I was familiar with. I guess I should have considered some stretches and deep breathing but I had done it a few times before. At least, I think I had.
I took a step, one foot in front of the other, left in front of right (Jeeze, I should have taken another right before attempting the more complicated left).
I felt a strange, surge of fast moving, old person syrup shoot through the space between my heel and toes. It lasted long enough for me to drop to one knee, bruising (obviously) my right knee and leaving my left leg bent like I had “taken a knee” to show support for someone who had just been injured in a sporting event except I was the one injured and the sport was “see if you can walk across your carpeted bedroom floor you forty-one year old geezer!”
Since the injury, the support from my family has been overwhelming.
Ellie yelled, “Mom, are you doing yoga in your bedroom?” Something like that.
Hanna, “Mom, put some clothes on before you do your stretches.” Did I forget to mention I was naked?
I hope to one day walk without fear. I just need to stop treating walking like I’m on a Twister board and start respecting the process by following the fibrous cues of my carpet.
I’ve grown as a person and learned so much. I think I now understand why Chloe said to me last night on our walk, “Mom, I don’t want you to give me a piggy-back today. Your body is a wonderland.”
It sure is Chloe. It sure is.