My father called me “speedburner” when I was small
and would zoom down the block and jump into his arms
Now I could just as soon run as fly
I have loved riding bikes, playing volleyball (an annoying stickler for rules!),
falling down and popping up again to go dancing
I have danced in circles and under the scintillae of disco balls
My dancing is different from the way it was twenty years ago
or even ten
Now I am slow
I move slowly and painfully and relearn my body more slowly still
in every yoga class I take
I move and stretch and try not to cry
over the spilt milk of decades of injuries I ignored because
“there’s nothing to do when you’re fat”
I move and stretch and feel my muscles working
I try not to compare
to my former selves
to other yogis
to fat people without injuries, the ones who move so beautifully
and try again
When I could run, I was crazy
crazy, as Pamela would say, as a shit-house rat
This life is not a trade-off
Still, I would rather be happy
careening against the winding
corridors of life.
You are running faster and farther than ever you have, old friend. And when you make the leap and try your wings, you will find that you have been flying all this way.
I do want to emphasize the line, “this life is not a trade-off.”
I was thinking about it today, and I’m clear that my life has been good for many, many years, even when I was living in crazytown so much of the time.
I do not reject any part of my life. None of it do I reject.
My life has brought me to this moment, and this moment is blessed.