Those of you who are approaching or in the years that qualify you to order from the senior citizen’s menu at the local eatery will appreciate this story.
I decided to get into shape not long ago. My dear bride had dropped a hint or two in that direction. I remember when I was in the Army that we did a lot of calisthenics and running. The latter was never an activity that I enjoyed but the former was indeed something I could do with a certain level of devotion. So it was that I drew some of my former calisthenics from my memory of days in the Army. It would be a painful trip down memory lane.
It was my plan to do calisthenics five days a week, taking Wednesday and Sunday off. It started well and I was super-motivated at the end of the first week. It was Tuesday morning of the second week that my body decided to teach me the lesson that I was no longer in the Army and should not act as though I was. Working from the middle, my back entered into full rebellion. It did so while at work and in the presence of my co-workers. The pain was beyond anything I had endured since the last time I took a “whupping” as a young ‘un. My back calmed down a little bit after a time (and sufficient “I told you to be carefuls” from the Mrs.) then my shoulders took up the siege and let it be known that they were not going to do pushups or any other kind of “ups” thank you so much. The knees put in the coup de grace on my program to return to “Army Strong” shape and refused to do anymore squats.
After all this abuse, I went to my doctor and told him of my dilemma with the hopes that he could help me make myself behave and get into shape. He took the side of my back, shoulders, and knees with the “You’re not a kid anymore,” speech.
Fine. I’ll sit here and watch TV. That’ll show ‘em.