pushing limits

I walked, just walked at the lake on Friday and began to feel tired before I was halfway through. I kept on, slowing my pace and though I could feel my calves starting to ache and my breathing a little deeper. I could say it was my lack of conditioning, which is possible but the fact it was 93 degrees had more to do with it. I was wearing my new shorts, pale legs in their glory and one thing that kept me going was the thought that I was not going to falter or perish in shorts. I probably should have walked less but stubborness encouraged me to do it, and not wanting to admit I was  a weakling, I did. I was fortunate I didn’t have heatstroke, a heart attack or even sunburn, just a little soreness that went away in a few hours. Pushing myself is good, in theory, but sometimes hindsight shows how dumb it can be. 

I pushed myself again today, in a less dangerous way. I went to an ashtanga class that lasted an hour and 15 minutes. Ironically I sweated less but it challenged me more than the vinyasa classes. Endurance is the keyword here and I found how wonky my balance is, I could barely hold poses for more than a second or two. Yet I felt better after and I plan to go back next Sunday. 

But what occupied my mind tonight while I went for a short (45 minute) walk tonight was this story one of my co-workers and four friends of mine. The first part, that Ms. Couric remarried at the age of 57 and one of my co-workers is getting married, also for the second time, next month and she’s 62. Personally, I say great for them, it’s what they want and maybe it gives other women hope that they might marry later in life. Which is what brought my four friends to mind. 

All four are smart, good hearted women who want a relationship, maybe marriage, maybe not, and are currently single. I’d like to see all four find their ideal partner. Marriage too, if it’s right but that’s not my call. Two of them say they don’t want to be married but all would like to find a good guy. So in this sense we’re pushing limits, of what is expected and when it’s expected. 

As for me I know I’m not cut out for this, I know my limits, my patience won’t allow it. I’m a demanding, cranky old broad who does not want to take care of another sick old man and at my age that’s all there is. I tested my limits emotionally and was surprised how quickly I resolved this. I am a lot like Roz.

 

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