Getting old(er) sucks. My back has been a mess lately, and I have been moving slower than usual. Annie has been patient, but only up to a point. This morning she decided the grace period was over.
I woke up with her already on top of me, straddling my upper body in a way that left absolutely no confusion about what she wanted. She settled herself over my face like I was nothing more than her personal appliance.
“Get to work,” she said. No softness, no sympathy, just the tone that tells me I am done resting.
So I served.
Back pain or not, once she takes that position, my entire purpose becomes very clear. I focused, held her hips, and did everything I could to make up for the days I’d been less useful. She was impatient at first, grinding for control, taking what she wanted, and I did my best to keep up.
When she finally reached her peak, she didn’t hold back at all. She had one of those long, intense releases where she goes still for a moment and then rides through every last wave. By the time she climbed off me, my face was soaked, my hair was a mess, and she looked like she had just woken up from the best nap of her life.
She stretched, sighed, and said, “See? Your back works just fine.”
I guess that was my medical clearance.
This has been discussed here before (and I’m talking “thru my hat (as Daddy used to say):” fitness extends youthfulness. Annie’s just provoking mileage markers. What else does she need to do to make you do your maintenance?