C I P R I A N I

My maternal grandfather is going to be 91 very soon…or is it 92?  Either way, he’s lived past 90.  Wow.

Now I remember awhile back him telling me that every morning he wakes up and toucheshis toes. While I’m not certain if he still does this (it may have been 20 years ago when he dispensed this bit of information). I know that I do not…

Since he told me about it, over the years, I’ve made attempts to touch my toes, bending down, getting generally close, but I am not now, nor have I ever been very flexible.

I have been exercising more especially lately. When I was younger I played football and after the Freshman Fifteen (more like 35) of college, I began to hit the gym again – off and on for the rest of my life, but only recently have I developed a routine. But I still can’t touch my toes. For years I’ve contemplated yoga, but just haven’t made it to a class yet. One of these days.

I did hit a Pilate session over the summer. Comedy and tragedy at the same time.

Let me clear: I can touch my toes. But I have to bend my knees. Slightly. I think there was a time, long, long ago that I was able to touch my toes without bending my knees. I just tried it. I can almost do it…practice, practice, practice.

In addition to touching my toes – or attempting to (which I am trying to do now, like grandpa, every morning), for thelongest time, stretching when I woke up somehow fell by the wayside.

My son does it. He wakes up, stretches, obviously never “learned” how to do it. He just does it. It’s natural. And some how along the way, I stopped.

But I’m stretching now too, and touching my toes. Perhaps not every morning, but much more often than I used to.

And finally, here I am again. Writing a post – The Morning Stretch as it were. I perhaps couldn’t be more on the nosewith my metaphor, but this is all in the service of practice. And we know what they say about practice.