Keep Your Eye on the Hike

Aside from the occasional headache, I've always had the good fortune of being relatively healthy. I hardly get colds, and my last blood test showed my blood pressure, sugar, and cholesterol levels as normal. When I was pregnant with M ~ at the ripe age of 42 ~ my OB was always amazed at how well I did throughout. I was lucky enough to not be plagued with the usual ailments most pregnant women endure, especially at my "advanced age" as it's referred to in medical circles. D used to jokingly call me a specimen.

Shortly after giving birth to M, however, I began to experience some discomfort between my shoulder blades. I went to physical therapy for six months in a vain attempt to get the problem corrected. the lack of positive results have led me to resign myself to living with it forever. And it's that same lack of positive results that promoted a conversation between D and me a couple of months ago. I mentioned that in addition to the physical pain I endure, the emotional one may be just as bad if not worse.

One of my go-to lines is "I'm already an old mom. I don't want to be a (fat, bald, or whatever other problem fits here) mom too!" D's response was that I should take better care of myself because once the kids are teenagers I may not be able to participate in family activities; namely, hiking. It instantly struck us both as funny that a hike is what he focused on. Never mind that I may not be able to drive them around or that they may have to push me around in a wheelchair, it was a hike that had him concerned. We like to hike every once in a while, but we certainly won't be mistaken for hikers.

A couple of years ago, when I turned 43, I told myself that by my 45th birthday I was going to have lost all of my weight and maybe even be working, but certainly hold the title of Court Reporter after my name in the State of Washington. It's through no fault but my own that I sit here today, 18 days before my birthday, and have to write that I've met none of those goals. I can throw out a myriad of excuses ~ some of them even valid ~ as to why that's the case, but I won't. Because the truth will always rear it's ugly head. And that truth is that I didn't keep my eye on the ball.

In an October 2010 post titled "Mommy's Prayer" I likened losing 10 pounds to climbing Mt. Everest.

There's that mountain again. I'm beginning to see a pattern here.

To add to the misery, last week something happened in my neck. I have no idea what it is, but it hurts. A lot. Apparently I've been complaining about it ever since because D mentioned it to me last night. While at first I felt a little insulted, I was quickly glad that he told me. I don't want to burden the whole family with my ailments on a daily basis. I know from experience that that type of complaining gets old really fast and starts to lose its value shortly thereafter.

My mom, bless her heart, has been complaining about her health in one way or another since I can remember and it's been the bane of my existence. While at this point I certainly take her complaints more seriously, there was a time where I just stopped listening. I told myself that I never wanted to do that to my family. And now here I sit. I guess it happens to the best of us. Even with the best of intentions, we all eventually, as we ascend the mountain of life, come to the fork in the road where we must make a choice. Very often the trail we choose, whether consciously or not, will be the same one our parents once traveled. My mom has been traveling for many years and on many different paths. And while I don't claim to have the endurance to summit while on many of them, most of them I'd be honored to follow. The complaining about my health route is not one. It's a lonely road that is sure to lead to a dead end.

So, I'm going to do something about it. All of it: The neck, the weight, the title.

Keeping my eye on the ball proved to be a difficult task. Perhaps it's because I should have been focusing on the hike instead.