You could still go to the gym, says my son perhaps actually wanting to be helpful and supportive.
My back’s still sore and tender.
You could do stretches.
I can do stretches at home, I say, feeling the pinch in my glut and the soreness in my lower back.
You can still go to the gym.
I’m giving myself a break. I hurt my back two days ago. I need some time to rest. A twenty something may bounce back from injury in two days a fifty something does not.
He can shake off tackles and relishes the hard hits of the game. I take more time to shake it off when I stub my toe, or lurch out of the bed too quickly.
It’s a tough lesson. I wish things were different, but I know that my old body takes much more time to repair and rejuvenate. I’ve pushed it before. Not today.
Sometimes the hips stick; other times, it’s the knees. I can still do full body push ups,but some days, I can’t open the peanut butter jar.
Keeps life interesting. Those differences between a mother and a son.