Okay, so I'm not 50 yet and am clinging to my 40's like a pimp to a hooker. Even tho my enevitable date with a half of century is still 6 months away I still belong to a special (but desperate) group known as the in denial late 40's. Hey not a great name, but I didn't choose it. Anyway, Molly and I headed out to the great uncertain. 12 blocks of smooth pavement with little traffic and flat as the club soda that will eventually co-mingle with my vodka. I told myself to start slow with low expectations. Good advise.
Thoughts of images of me lying by the roadside clutching my chest and re-awakening holding court in a huge tent surrounded by large breasted amazon women gave way to the gasping and wheezing fits that make you remember that you do indeed have organs.
As my faithful dog was still getting used to this "new kind of walk" (one that punishes incessant sniffing of other dog's excrement every 10 feet), I pushed my shoulder back into its socket once again and forced these soon to be suffering legs to return home.
I made it! One mile without stopping! There was life after the couch! If I ever catch my breath I may try this again. The truth is, once I gathered myself (literally) I felt great. If they could bottle that stuff.......
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