White Threads

This morning I managed to roll myself out of bed too late to meet my friend at the YMCA but just in time to actually join it. The Mayor of the Y (as I dubbed him), a loquacious older man who graciously allowed me to sit with him as I filled out my paperwork, began to pepper me with questions.

“Where are you from?”

“Do you have a husband and kids?”

“Where’d you go to school in Louisiana?”

A friendly guy, older than my dad, or not preserved quite as well, I enjoyed the banter well enough. The community atmosphere of the Y is part of the reason I joined. I like that people speak to each other. I like that there are tables at the front that serve as a designated social spot. 

Finished with my application I looked up at the Mayor and smiled. He leaned in just a little and said, “I love those decorative white threads in your hair.” His hand almost grazed my forehead as he reached to touch the “threads” and I leaned back to avoid the grazing. “I smiled and responded, “Those are gray hairs, just like yours.” With that I shuffled my papers and waved to him as I presented myself at front desk for the remainder of my intake process. 

Motivation dresses itself up in interesting costumes. Gorging myself in Peru on alpaca, quinoa soup, and what I presumed to be frozen vegetables; I came home craving vegetables. Not just craving vegetables, I came home forsaking meat and dairy…for a week. Then I signed up for a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) with plans to continue a veggie heavy, from-scratch cooking reality. 

Imagine my wonder when it was cheese and butter that I missed more than bacon. 

Food wasn’t the only thing Peru left me craving. Craving is the wrong word; I crave long days in a comfortable bed. Peru bluntly reminded me that I need to move more. Hence, the Y. Walking around at 3,300 meters (more than 10,000 feet) in Cusco, and then climbing mountains at almost 8,000 feet at Machu Picchu, and I was reminded just how out of shape I am (actually, my 67-year-old father perched on a rock waiting patiently on his favorite youngest daughter to catch up, reminded me how out of shape I am).

And so here I am, returned from vacation with my sights set on a healthier day to day. My first CSA box arrives October 1 – we’ll see what all this looks like by then.