09 Jun / Shoelaces
Tonight, as part of my exercising in an endeavour not to die early, I walked home from work.
I’d done it yesterday as well, and if my willpower holds out I may just manage it tomorrow.
The walk home is a changeable distance. When I start out it seems easy, though relatively time-consuming. When I’m past the point of no return (the last bus-stop for forty minutes walk) it starts to get harder going. When I’m about twenty minutes from home it seems like I’ll never reach my destination. Then I make it inside, crawl to the couch, and pretend that it was a breeze.
It was at the point where it seemed impossible to finish the journey (alive) that a terrible incident overtook me this evening. One that demanded my complete and undivided attention. Immediately.
My shoelace came undone.
There was no way that I could keep walking with it flapping about and just pleading to be stepped on. When I was younger I’d have bent over and tied that up with no problems.
Being a middle aged woman who’s just started exercising again after a sabbatical and whose skeleton seems to belong to a woman twice her age there were a few considerations.
1) Did I think I could bend over to tie it up, or should I risk the knee bend?
2) Did I think I could maintain my balance whilst doing so, or should I risk tripping for another minute in order to make it to the bus stop where I could sit down?
3) Did I think that now I’d committed to bending over I’ll be able to stand back up, or should I just drop to the pavement and crawl the rest of the way home?
I wish I still had bendy joints that did things the way they’re meant to. If you catch me staring into space the next few days it’s me looking at my departing youth.