I was so thrilled. I could feel the tightening of my quads and the firming up of my gluteus maximus after six bike rides. Then I broke every rule known to womankind and asked my children if they noticed the change in my physique. I turned my back to them to help them assess the improvements.
My daughter raised her eyebrows and looked sorry for me. My precious son said “Mom, you’re at that age when no one cares about your hiney.”
How sharper than a serpent’s tooth … Remaining calm, I explained to him exactly how long he was grounded. Then I rushed to my bicycle and took off down the road, determined to noticeably tighten my derriere immediately regardless of the 13 years it had taken to get it to this magnitude.
I was panting and getting a good sweat going when a blaze of red passed me, slowed down briefly to say “Hi! Gorgeous day, isn’t it?” and then rode off.
He was in his late sixties. Nicely clipped beard. Very nice legs. He was wearing “can’t pinch-an-inch” lycra from top to bottom, a direct insult to my shapeless cotton tee shirt and baggy shorts.
Gorgeous day, indeed. I was reminded of something our orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Mo Brown, told me about the senior citizens in our Valley.
Dr. Brown said he takes care of sports-related injuries in our seniors; torn ligaments from skiing, broken arms from rodeoing, hurt shoulders from bucking hay, bursitis from rockclimbing. In other words, these people aren’t falling out of their rocking chairs. They’re riding mountain bikes and breezing past younger bicyclists while wearing bright red lycra.
I breathed some lingering dust and resolved to care deeply about my hiney and the rest of me. I’ve made a promise to myself that I would reach my BMI goal by eating healthier and exercising wisely; no excuses about my age, chronic issues or love of chocolate. While I understand that it has taken years to get to my current BMI level, I’m having a hard time being realistic about how long it should take to get back into noticeably better shape. I’ve decided to meet with a registered dietitian and my physician to set a goal with reasonable expectations.
I made a bad choice asking certain teenagers about the size of my posterior. I’ve now chosen to base my motivation on the fine examples set by our active senior residents rather than the teens in my life. And that’s a good choice.
Disclaimer: This blog discusses my personal wellness goals and is in no way a soapbox to tell anyone else how to eat, exercise and/or live their lives.