Crazy Thoughts

In my youth, I was a very active little thing. I took gymnastics for about six years, and rode my bike all over tarnation. I was also fond of the bars at recess - I think they were made to do some pullups, but we used them to hang upside down and spin around and such. I was a swimming fool, doing treading-water contests and playing Marco Polo and Shark. I was FIT.

The thing is, these days, not so fit. More fat than fit, and fffft. BUT, on occasion, my body thinks it should be able to do those same things that I did in my glorious little history. Like, I think I should just be able to do a series of back walkovers across my lawn.

Occasionally, I will try these things, and my body knows what to do, but my logical brain screams at me: "HEY!! YOU DON'T BEND LIKE THAT ANYMORE!!" It is sad to say that cartwheels hurt me, though I can still do one. I can also still stand on my head. I'm too chicken to try a walkover of any sort. I can still do a backflip off the diving board, but I believe that most people would kick my hind end in a treading-water contest and I would be the "shark" until the other kids got sick of playing. I can ride my bike, but not up huge hills. And I CAN flip over backwards on some hanging rings off the swingset. I cannot flip back the other direction, and I will not try to get on those bars and swing myself around for fear of internal injury.

So, even though I know, intellectually, my limitations, I imagine I will continue to be plagued by crazy thoughts of dashing across the lawn in a spectacular round-off back-handspring. Where's my Haldol?