I'm moving a bit slower this morning after working in the yard this weekend, and wondering if I would feel the same if I did yardwork on a more regular basis. I seem to do it in spurts, and that makes my muscles and joints sore to the point of aching.
On the verge of turning 60, I'm questioning my body a lot these days. It seems to be failing me more. . . or maybe I'm failing my body by not getting more exercise and eating better. In any event, I'll steal some lyrics from Billy Ray Cyrus and adjust them a bit to explain my fix.
But don't tell my joints, my achy breaky joints
I just don't think they'd understand
And if you tell my muscles, my achy breaky muscles
They might blow up and kill this man
Ooohhhh. . .
OK, you get the point. I can't write lyrics, even if they are handed to me, or deal with my muscles and joints getting out of whack.
I think it is time for some ibuprofen.
Monday, June 22, 2009
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Take an aspirin and call me in the morning.
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