But My Landings Need Some Work
Like many boys, I thought about joining the circus. I was never afraid of heights and the trapeze looked like fun. I was pretty sure of my footing. When I was young and engaged, Barbara thought I was crazy for fearlessly walking across logs or close to edges.
I’m still good at balance when it comes to balancing things on my head, but I seem to have lost all sense of balance in my legs. I’ve been become a class-A klutz.
Last week, I was at a miniature golf course. This course has several water traps, cement ponds that are fed by cement streams. The water was turned off in the one stream and there was a layer of slimy mud at the bottom. Someone in my group knocked their ball into the water trap and I went down to get it.
When my left foot hit the slime, it went flying in the air. I went flying too, bending my right knee back under my derriere, and landing hard on my back in the slime. Somehow in the maneuver, I skinned my shin.
This was only one of many recent tricks gone bad. In the past few years, I’ve done myself a lot of damage with unplanned acrobatics. I know that some of our physical prowess diminishes with age, but I just don’t want to admit that I may need to tone it down a bit.
I do keep telling myself that I’m not as agile as I once was, but I always seem to forget it in the moment where some cat-like antics are required. I called out, “I’ll get it!” just before I went flying.
It wasn’t just that I was stupid enough to volunteer. I also took the more hazardous route, not thinking that I had anything to worry about. I probably could have walked around to the other side of the pond where there was a net for fishing out golf balls.
In a way, I was protecting my client, who was also going to step right where I did to get the ball out. I suppose I took the fall for him.
It’s not just this kind of fall. A few years ago, I drove over a very round long while on an ATV and ended up flying over the handlebars. Skinned my leg that time too. I really peeled off the skin in my lower shin when I misstepped at another miniature golf course while horsing around with a friend.
Well, it won’t do my self-esteem any good to give a more complete inventory than that. It’s quite a long list. Let’s just say that I need to figure out how to take it easy, act my age, as it were.
Therein lies my dilemma. Just what is “acting my age?” I’m not even 60 yet.