I’m 47 years old. I officially got a year older on Thursday. Am I sad about it? Nope, and I’m about to tell you why.
Approximately four years ago, my son and I walked the three-mile loop at Rock Island State Park. It almost killed me. I’m not even kidding you. I wasn’t going to make it. The trail is marked as moderate in intensity and I believe it. I had to stop a time or two and I was out of breath most of the time.
More than once, my son looked at me and said, “Are you going to make it?”
Finally, I said “No! I’m not. Just leave me here.”
What kept me going was pure willpower and a tiny, determined voice that sounds just like my mother saying “Oh, heck no! We do not give up!” I hear that voice every time I’m struggling with something. I tell people it’s not in my DNA to give up, but it’s actually that little voice that urges me on and I’m sure it’s mom. She wasn’t a quitter and neither am I. Thank you mom.
Well, I took that loop again last Sunday evening with my niece, her husband and their kids. After more than two years of eating healthy and walking for exercise, I aced that bad boy. I didn’t have to stop, not once. I never really felt out of breath. It never occurred to me I wasn’t going to make it. Being able to tackle that trail and do such a good job after struggling the first time made me feel awesome.
If that three-mile loop wasn’t enough, I took my dog for a 1.8-mile walk that morning and did two hours of yard work that included push mowing. As a follow-up to last week’s column, I gave in and purchased the inexpensive mower. I’m not 100 percent happy about going cheap, but I got to mow and that made me happy enough to live with it.
I was feeling some muscle soreness Monday morning. Heather, my co-worker, once told me that pain is weakness leaving the body. I jokingly stated, “Come back weakness! Please come back!” I didn’t say that on Monday. I was in pain but it felt good. Look what all I had to do in order to be in pain? My pedometer had more than 19,500 steps on it by the time I took it off Sunday night.
Despite the soreness, I was still able to get up Monday morning and take my dog for her customary 1.8-mile walk before work, as well as the rest of my normal daily walking. By Tuesday, I was pretty much back to normal physically and wondering what else I can tackle that I once couldn’t.
Because I’m getting better with age, I don’t feel sad about being 47. There may not be an actual fountain of youth but that’s OK. I’ll make my own.
Standard reporter Lisa Hobbs can be reached at 473-2191.