Sixty is sixty. A third grader can tell you that sixty is not
forty. Think we could just honor that
reality? At sixty I can tell you I’m
still the kid I was at six – climbing trees, rolling around in the grass and
dying to play basketball in the driveway with my brothers, even though they
cheat. Yes, there’s a zero now after the
“six” so I’ve had to modify a few things but I still check out trees for good
climbing branches, and I’m a barefoot broad for sure.
From childbirth to breast cancer, my
body has taught me everything worth knowing.
Some people learn by reading books; I learn by heaving up yesterday’s
lunch after a six mile run. When my
first son was born I was furious at my body for betraying me with the kind of
pain you see in horror flicks. A cocky
runner and strong 24 year-old, I was humbled when nature put a vice around my
belly and said See here, Philly girl,
you’re not such a big shot after all.
Four decades later when cancer
showed up I was a lot less cocky. I gave
up my breast tissue for peace of mind, and even threw a going away party for my
boobs – a Ta Ta to My Ta Tas Party – grateful for the fact that they served
me so well for so long. The first time I
went for a run after my bilateral mastectomy I was like Wow! This is easy! Girl athletes know that breasts can get
in the way.
At 60, no matter how fat or skinny
you are, you’re sort of shaped like a vending machine. From my extensive research I found that you
become a rectangle so that men stop being interested in having sex with
you. Apparently, the primitive male
brain seeks a waist to mate with and if you’re a rectangle, they’re not
interested which certainly frees up a lot of time. In my case, my best friend –
who grew up on a farm in Iowa and never minces words – tells me that from the
side I look like “a pack of mayonnaise from Wendy’s.” No breasts, no ass, clothes now sort of fall
off me, which would have been a boon in my sexual heyday but now is just sort
of funny. I love and honor the pack of
mayonnaise I am, and every step my sweet and sturdy feet take every day.
Aside from humility, my body has
taught me invaluable life lessons that guide my thoughts and action in the
world. Believe me, there are plenty of
times I wish I could have learned this by watching a movie but I’m a
knucklehead. I learn through my body,
often via a world of pain. If you stay
tuned in as you run, ski, ride horses or backpack you’ll learn crucial lessons.
But stay put and learn from a 60-year-old body in motion:
1.Watch
Your Step: Everything is fraught
with peril, so best to put one foot in front of the other carefully. I won’t inflict the “mindfulness” rap on you
but take it from one who has stumbled while climbing a 13,000-foot mountain pass
with a 40-pound backpack. It pays to pay
attention;
2. Be Protective of Those Below You: When
you’re higher up – on a ski slope or in an organization – it’s your job to
watch out for people below you. Period.
3. Pay Attention to Pain: It’s trying to
tell you something.
4. When You’re Tired and You Don’t Wanna, Do it
Anyway
5. Control Your Speed: If you’re out of
control – on the ski slope, the bike or in life in general – you endanger
yourself and others.
6. Trust the Horse: Or the Force.
There are times we’re just riding some big thing and we have to have
faith that whatever it is, it will take care of us.
7. Improvise, Adapt and Overcome: Marines, athletes, and old people.
8. Keep Moving: Ever forward, girlfriend. Eye on the prize. When you’re on a horse or a bike that’s
climbing up a gnarly pass, lean forward.
Always forward.
9. Wherever
You Look is Where You’ll End Up: This is the most important lesson of a body in
motion. Where your vision is, you’ll go
too, so if you’re skiing through trees and you look at a tree you’ll end up
kissing it, and not in a good way. Same
thing on a bike or a horse. On a skinny,
rocky single track if you stare at an obstacle your bike will crash into
it. Horses can actually sense your “sit
bones” (a/k/a ass) and your body follows your eyes so if you’re looking all
over the place, the horse will take you all over the place, which is not what
you want when you’ve got a 1100 pound animal between your legs. Look beyond and not at the obstacle.
10. Be
Grateful Every Step
I watched a YouTube video the other
day where women were asked to describe their body in one word. It was profoundly sad to hear what they had
to say: ugly, fat, awful, mediocre, embarrassing. There was a clip of a husband sort of yelling
at his wife – “Come on! It’s time to go!” and she so hates her body she’s
paralyzed in front of the mirror, unable to go out in public.
Holey moly, sisters. That’s so sad. I just want to hug you with my skinny
breast-less body (my heart is that much closer now, to the world). I guarantee you there’s a talent in you
waiting to shine. Being ashamed of your body just clouds your light so love,
love, love that amazing bag of bones that gets you from A to B. Take it from a pack of mayonnaise, don’t miss
one second of being alive and just keep moving forward, eye on the prize.
