The kite sailors were flying on Biscayne Bay when we drove over the causeway to Grant's appointment with his cardiologist. It looks like so much fun. I envy their freedom and strength. Between my broken pelvis and the crumby weather left from Hurricane Dorian, I haven't had any exercise for days, not even a walk to the end of the block. I've become stir-crazy, which I learned comes from stir, slang for jail.
When we moved to the key, I had hoped to try windsurfing again, after a break of 30 years, but that's looking unlikely. Even paddle boarding may be out of reach. When will riding a bike be taken away? I worry about that after hearing Grant's doctor being so concerned about his bike mishap. He takes blood thinners, and a bad fall could be fatal.
This is what really scares me about getting old. I have so many things I'd like to do, and, slowly, slowly, they are be eroded. Hike? Not if the ground is too steep or too slippery. Bike? Not too fast or too far. Canoe or kayak? Can I get in or out? Tent camp? Sail? What will be left? Slow ambles around the block when the weather is fair?
I know most of this musing is from being stuck inside. I really start to deteriorate when I don't spend time out in fresh air. Maybe tomorrow will be sunny, and I will walk in the pool.
No comments:
Post a Comment