Some mornings, it's hard to drag my tuchus (tokus/tochis?) down the stairs to put my four miles in. But every time it is, I conjur up my mother and it helps me get moving.
You see, she's about to turn 70 years old and she puts in two miles every day herself. Well, every day that it's nice enough outside to get it done ... because she hates her treadmill.
And she walks fast. I occasionally have a hard time keeping up with her.
Here's the kicker, the older she gets, the more important the walk becomes to her. She knows that the more she moves, the better off she is. The stronger her bones are. The better her head thinks. The more productive her day is.
I like this.
She's not one of those retired folks who are content to sit on the couch. Nor is she fanatical about counting every calorie ... but she eats a balanced diet of real food and indulges every now and again.
She's not tiny and she's not too big. She's strong and healthy.
I sure hope I'm like her when I grow up.
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