Ten years ago, I took up rollerblading and I continued enjoying the sport until a couple of years ago when I fell and broke my wrist. For the next few years, the fear of falling again kept my blades buried deep within my car trunk.
I talked to myself on a regular basis during the self imposed "blade break" about the importance of putting fear aside and grasping life for all that it was. And then, finally one day early this summer, I decided that I would live my life to its fullest potential and with reckless abandon. So I drove to the nearest park, opened my car trunk, and rummaged through the various trunk debris consisting of loose golf balls, candy wrappers, hats, etc., until my beloved rollerblades revealed themselves. The site of the blades evoked such happy memories!!!---I scraped the stale, hardened candy out of my rollerblades, strapped the boots on, suited up in all the protective gear (that I never wore before) and off I went.
I realized that it was a really stupid idea for a 60 year old to blade about 10 feet into the blading process. It wasn't like the days of old when I experienced the feeling of flying while on the ground. This time I didn't glide as I used to, but rather, pushed myself slowly forward in small uncertain steps. The fear of falling was overwhelming. Would my bones turn to dust when I hit the ground? How could I pay my bills if I was unable to work? OMG! This was a dumb idea. I was overwhelmed with the reality of the situation and underwhelmed by the thrill of it.
Needless to say, I won't be blading again, and the reality of aging has set in. I hate it but it is what it is and I'll be walking, rather than blading, from now on.
Mary Pat Boyd
www.boydsilverworks.com

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