Once upon a time, I was very into gymnastics. Cartwheeling, somersaulting, hand standing, back bending- the works. I was a tumbling machine. I used to practice my handstands so much that I would leave hand prints in the carpet for a couple of days. The Little Gym was the best (though turned me off of the B-52s and "Love Shack" for life) and I even graduated to a pretty impressive gym for a time(when it's in a warehouse and they sell tons of pretty gymnastics wear, you know it's legit).
However, the tender age of twelve was not very good to me- I grew. Tall. Keri Strug, I was not. At 5'8", I was suddenly terrified of hitting my feet while spinning around an uneven bar and couldn't bear looking down, down, down below while shivering on the balance beam. Vault was still pretty fun and floor was no problem, but I was still all limbs. Plus, I'm sure my ever-growing curtain of bangs compromised my visibility and I was a hazard to other aspiring gymnasts as I catapulted all over the place, but that's another story (thanks, Mom). For whatever reason, I dropped it.
Fast forward twenty-five years, and I am attempting a different form of flexible prowess- yoga.
Man, I miss being twelve. At least then I was able to touch my toes without labored breath and tears stinging my eyes. Once I heard the opening notes of "Nothing My Love Can't Fix", I would launch into an endless routine packed with splits, back walkovers, and plenty of professionally choreographed dance moves. I was destined for stardom.
This is really all about a crisis of age. Since when was I 27-years-old, straining in my Warrior II and cursing my "bad knee" and "sore back" and breathing my heart out until she let's me go into Child's Pose?
All this to say, I remember the good ol' days: leotards & spandex, scrunchies & bangs, and Joey Lawrence singing his heart out while I elastically threw my body around like it was no thang.
Little did I know.
Well, at least in yoga we're more likely to listen to Yanni than the B-52s. So there's that.
Namaste.
Funny. I was just thinking about that this morning when my feet hit the ground at 4:15 am and my right knee buckled and I thought to myself "61 and falling to pieces". You are young enough to have your body back; me, not so much. Keep at it. I will never again be able to touch my toes. Heck, I can barely touch my knees!!
ReplyDeleteLove you
Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, Sis!!!! At least you WERE able to touch your toes. I NEVER could....not my gift, I guess. You keep at it and you will be Mrs. Flexible in no time. Heck, no bangs to get in your way, the future is bright already.
ReplyDeleteLYT xxoo