Writing Contests 2012 | It's Never Too Late | Midlife Collage

I dragged my weary bones out of bed and prepared myself mentally for the first day of the physical therapy.

I walked into the building and I couldn?t take my eyes off the many young people working on various machines. They seemed to take on every challenge with little effort.

The receptionist raised her voice to get my attention. She was quick to let me know that the physical therapy section was on the other side. ?Make a left and go through that door. It?s a handicapped door for your convenience. It will open automatically.?

I thought, ?Thanks for reminding me.? It?s annoying and humiliating when people call attention to your handicap.

?This side is the health club,? she said.

?Enough already lady,? I thought. I get it.

My doctor prescribed physical therapy three times a week. I sat in the outer room waiting for my turn to start working on the answer to my problems. I stared through the clear glass walls that separated the physical therapy side from the health club; I longed to be one of those people in the health club.

I could hear my doctor?s words replaying in my mind. ?Physical therapy will not only strengthen your legs, but it will help with your walking and balance.?

Why me? I was a dancer, a dance teacher; I walked everywhere.?Now I was reduced to the hope that maybe I could walk better.

I completed six agonizing weeks of physical therapy and asked my therapist if I could join the health club. She said I could but warned me that it would not be easy. Great. I was determined to be one of those people I envied in the health club.

I limped through the entrance and looked around at the toned, fit men and women. I had self-doubt. I wanted the whole place to myself. I didn?t want anyone staring at me and was convinced everyone was.

As I struggled with a weight machine, an older woman came up to me.? Oh good, there were older people here.

She said, ?How old are you??

?How old do you think I am?? I replied.

?Well, you?re probably in your fifties. But if you colored your hair to get the gray out, you could look ten years younger.?

?Well, thanks for the compliment,? I said.

She was dumbfounded by my response. She had no clue why I was thanking her.?She didn?t know that I was in my early sixties. By telling me I could look ten years younger merely by coloring my hair, she implied I could look as if I was in my forties.

There?s no doubt about it, people can say the strangest (insensitive) things. Ironically, this woman actually did me a favor. Her comment boosted my quest for agility. It?s never too late.

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I was born and raised in Rhode Island. I am the mother of five and the grandmother of six. I enjoy writing and have taken online courses to sharpen my skills. I hope to turn this into a lucrative career.

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Source: http://midlifecollage.com/2012/08/its-never-too-late/

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