Live A Little

“I’ll just close my eyes for a second,” I thought to myself.

Once dreaming, with the weird head position only available on airplanes, I was violently shaken awake. My entire core was trembling; bewildered and startled, I realized the convulsions were not by some rambunctious flight attendant, but together the passengers were clutching onto the armrests as everyone held their breath in terror thinking the plane was being ripped apart at the seams.

It was then we ‘caught air.’

I realize the fact that flying, in the air, defeats this pithy vernacular– but enter the free-falling feeling where your stomach and brain tango, your heart is the bass of a club, and if you can muster it, you scream. Only the kids could muster the strength to scream.

When I had boarded the plane, I chose my seat-mates with dexterity and discernment; both with books, they looked to be the more quiet types. Hobbling over, I sat in the middle seat and with all the strength I could gather, I sat down as smoothly as possible. See– like the modern American, I took vacation to mean shaking things up.  In my case, chunking heavy things (kettlebells) and lifting heavy things (weights) to the heavens was my version of ‘live a little.’

Whereas I am a borderline gym rat, my workout routine is more a three hour cardio dessert platter. My three pound weights I use in Zumba are bonus cherries on my proverbial sundae. However, walking into the fitness country club in The Woodlands with my hoss sister made me feel incredibly weak.  Let’s just eat barley, shall we? Throwing 25lbs kettlebells? ……….. bon appetite!

The remainder of my vacation was limited motion thanks to my muscles going on strike.  I hobbled on heels. I agonized in a-lines. My limbs were stuck in the upright position and there would be no tray tables in my future.

My trip to Houston provided insight and adventure as any trip down memory lane would. The biggest challenge is to maintain and continually cultivate relationships with every person of your history.  We are in a constant state of change and distance doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder– the show must go on and it will, even if you’re not around to see it. Which makes visiting your past just bittersweet. Like chocolate. It’s good for you.

Though the visit was too short, I was ready to get back home to Albuquerque and to my dog. I arrived to the airport and soon boarded the adventure craft where I drifted to sleep peacefully.

The quiet neighbors with their parcels and books maintained their quietness while we jointly clutched the armrests. The girl offered a polite smile once our stomachs traveled back south.  Rare do you feel like you are speeding when over the 10,000 ft mark in an airplane, but the soft clouds ran screaming by the windows, the ground and its ants were frantically running away. Life will always have turbulence though sometimes you just need a joy ride.

We landed perfectly. Maybe the pilot was trying to live a little. Or maybe he wanted us to live by the seat of our pants. Whatever the case may be, being grounded is a wonderful thing.

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