I had a lovely birthday this Monday with my boys–they’re on spring break so it was nice not to rush around all day and yelling, "Do this…get that…put this on…don’t forget that…eat this…turn in that, and hurry, hurry, hurry!"
I ended my birthday with a run on the trail behind my house—my family dropped me off at one end of the trail that happens to be right by their martial arts studio and I ran to the end of the trail that happens to be right behind our house. The run was grueling from my first step, despite the fact that there is 0 grade and the weather was pleasant. Every step just took twice as much effort as usual, and by the time I got home I hurt in all sorts of places I don’t usually hurt in.
When Kevin returned home I told him my body seems to know it’s a year older today. Everything aches! 39 is going to be hard.
And then as I lay in bed that night, I realized something. Remember that vigorous game of chair ball I mentioned I played at Easter? The one with a four foot tall soccer ball and two chairs?
That’s what made me sore. All my sore spots lined up with kicking a giant ball over the expanse of an acre for an hour. From the tops of my feet to my nose (getting hit with that ball feels like being on the receiving end of the world’s gentlest full-power punch), I was chair ball sore.
So in conclusion, I am older but fortunately not as older as I thought.
WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Italian wedding soup
Fresh bread (well, it was fresh two days ago…) with strawberry jam