It might sound strange to hear from someone my age, but I woke up today with aching joints in just about every movable part on my body. I know the culprit too, because it happens regularly.
I don’t mind a round or two of hard labor outdoors, especially when it comes to meeting the needs of the house and the yard. Yesterday, I managed to mow and trim here and there, and was able to avoid getting stuck in the mud that’s still underneath all that grass. The backyard will have to wait though. It’s still a bit too wet to be properly cared for.
It’s a fact that I’m out of shape. One of the more physically active guys here at work has challenged me to change that. He says he can help and I believe him. I keep putting him off though. And the reason? I don’t own a pair of tennis shoes.
Since 1996, I’ve only bought 2 pair of tennis shoes. The first pair wore out after 9 months of running around the grounds at Texas A&M when I was a bald headed cadet in the ROTC Corps there. The second pair came around 7 or 8 years later, but they ended up at my parents’ house and I haven’t seen them since. I think my Daddy wears them from time to time, and that’s OK with me. It makes me feel good that something that was once mine is doing him some good.
And just like this column drifted away from the topic at hand, I also keep drifting away from the solution to my weary feeling. As soon as I get around to it, I’ll go buy some shoes. After all, you can run around and ride exercise bicycles or lift weights, or any of that sort of thing wearing steel-toe Red Wing boots.
Oh, I’m sure you can. But that would mean I could get started right away, and I’m in no hurry to do such a thing.