When you’re not fast and increasingly suspect you’re not
going to be, you take pleasure in other small victories.
I sat cross-legged yesterday.
Pretty underwhelming for a lot of people out there, I
imagine, but pretty big stuff to me. You see, I didn’t even realize I had done
it at first. I had the debate on last night while I was down on the floor
rolling out a couple tight spots (they’re called ‘legs’). Then I finished and
sat up in place, watching the TV.
When I looked down and realized what I was doing I was a
bit surprised. My legs don’t bend that way – or if they do, it won’t be long
before they’re quite unhappy about it. Since they hadn’t noticed yet I decided
to stay in that position and see how long it took before I had to move.
(Yes, I admit that the two candidates for my nation’s
highest office took a back seat in my attention for a while to the simple fact
of my sitting like a pretzel.)
I waited for my legs to hurt, or go to sleep...
nothing... nada!
I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. That
worked well. I leaned back and put my hands on the floor. That was pretty
comfortable too.
Eventually (this may be hard to believe) I got bored with
this and started paying attention to the debate again. I waited until that was
over and I got up off the floor. I had just successfully sat cross-legged on
the floor watching TV!
This is a little thing, assuredly, but as I say: little
things mean a lot to me. Six years ago I was one of those old people who never
(ever) got down on the floor if I could help it because getting up again wasn't
pretty and was accompanied by groans that really only should be heard in a
hospital setting. Now I can sit on the floor watching TV like a kid.
Nothing accounts for this change over the last six years
as much as running does. I started out six years ago emphasizing strength
training, which was a good thing because first I had to build some muscle. But
hanging meat on your bones - even if done with compound exercises - just
doesn't glue the body together as a cohesive unit like running does - at least
that's the way it feels for me. Moving the entire body over the earth, every
limb pumping, the core providing the stable platform for all that motion, heart
and lungs revved up but well within comfort zone - that just feels like what we
were born to do (and no, I never pass up a good cliché).
I was reminded of that feeling again tonight, out running
a few miles around the neighborhood. There is that point, maybe a half-mile or
a mile into a run, when everything settles into a real rhythm, your body
remembers that this is what it was designed to do, and it feels like there is
no reason you couldn't just go like this as long as you want to. I love that
point.
It's a little thing - maybe even a very little thing -
but as I say for me, little things mean a lot.
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