Sunday in the Neighborhood. Whoa.

Sunday morning. Drag out of bed. Tired, as usual. Later, the life will come. Just wait. Must get up by 9 so maybe I'll sleep better. Sit at the computer. Coffee.

Put in the ear pods.  The music started. Shock. Exhilaration. I had to get up and move. Magic.

Hurried. Pulled on one layer. Don't bother to check the temperature. Get the walker, out the door. Not exactly skipping, at least physically, but in my head. Energy to burn. Got as far as the corner. Cold wind cuts into my one layer. Tried to continue. Shivered. So cold I can't think of the music. Back to house. Light bulb. Aha. Treadmill. Excitement inside my head. Calm down, al.  Slow down. Breathe.  

All the while the music. Pushing me. Lifting me. Almost manic. It’s been years since I felt this. The possibility of–whisper this–running. 

Upstairs. Turn on the treadmill. Careful now, you can't afford to fall. Elevate to 3. start with speed at two mph. Moving. OMG. The excitement in my belly, my heart, my throat. I could fly. Hold on. Up the speed. Elevate to 7. To match the pace of the music, deliberately chosen to be slow, make my feet hit on the beat, I go knees way high, a proud march, eyes forward, back arched. Head up. With the music, I am strong.

All the songs are a surprise. Some I know. Some are new to me. I am filled with delight.

 My Name is Larry Yount comes on. I up the volume.

Anyone who walks past the exercise room right now will see an old lady, strutting strong, knees high, heels hitting the treadmill hard, tears running down her smiling face. I could scream to let off emotion. Euphoria. I feel like a woman in a crowd at a rave. At least that's what I imagine it would be like. And the music, the music fills my head and my body and my legs.

This is gonna sound, IDK, pathetic maybe, dorky, for sure. I’ve been trying to write a thank-you letter, to let you all know what this means to me, to my view of my life.

All the time I’m moving, in my head it feels like running, I’m thinking, here I can improve my balance, let go with my hands occasionally, stand upright, not hunch, lift those legs, build some strength. Arms pumping. (Well, maybe flailing, but still, look ma, no hands.) In my imagination I will be able to walk free, jog, maybe even run, eventually. 

All this because of the music. In my head. From my kids. I am so lucky. All the energy that went into this gift. The love. I am full-on manic and almost bursting with happiness and gratitude and love for my kids.

Forty-two minutes like this. Best forty-two minutes I can remember.  Gotta stop now. Legs getting a tiny bit wobbly. Can’t wait to get back tomorrow.

Thank you all. Love mama