Legs
Legs are amazing things. Attached to the lower base of your body. They are known to transport you from
one place to another by the use of your feet. Legs
come in many shapes and sizes. I’ve had my legs for over 50 years. I shouldn’t be so critical on the outward appearance of my legs.
I have put them through a great deal.
I
began using them right from the start. Walking was something I did as a young
child because … I could. Most families only had one vehicle. Therefore, you carpooled, used public
transportation, rode a bike, or you walked. We chose to walk. Most
families did. We enjoyed the slow pace
of walking, looking at the sights and talking. We imagined, and created stories in our minds and shared
them with our siblings. All while our legs took us from one place to another.
I walked to school from first grade through fourth grade. Walking to school was a great way to catch up on all the
neighborhood happenings.
After school, we would walk home and then to our friend’s house.
There we would run and play outside for hours.
As I grew into early teen years I put my legs through a whole
new array of torture. I began gymnastic.
I abused my legs for hours on end practicing various gymnastic runs and
tumbles.
In middle school, a new fashion came out. I wasn’t thrilled about the new
fashion, but I didn’t want to be left out, so I joined suit. Four inch platform shoes! We were so cool!! Mine were white. Because white matched everything,
right? Now all the girls towered
six inches above all the boys instead only two. (What were we thinking?)
Oh, and then there is the countless attempts at
shaving my legs. I’ve removed hair
and inches of skin with one swipe.
I have the scars to prove it.
Fast forward- college and the endless walking from building to
building.
I never understood the reasoning on building the academic halls so far apart.
Marriage, then shortly after marriage we had the little ones to
chase around. (Not
to mention, taking our babies on long walks like I did when I was a child) Standing
on my feet was a norm.
Teaching school for sixteen years, wearing various
shoes, from heals to tennis shoes still added more wear on the legs.
Now, I’m a grandma.
The highlight of my day is chasing grandbabies around the house or the yard. These old legs
still move, and with great ease I might add. (Not that it doesn’t
cause me pain or creak or crack when I move.)
Now, on to why I even
mentioned my legs in the first place.
A few evenings ago, my dear husband and I were
shopping for running attire at a local sporting good store. I collected a fair amount of the new and upcoming
styles of running ware to try on in the dressing room. Feeling quite proud at my new style I
had gathered, I strutted to the dressing room only to find a HUGE
full-length mirror facing me on the other side. (Full-length mirrors
are evil) I’m pretty sure this mirror was made to make all objects to appear
larger than they really are. I
started to grumble and decided to rise to the challenge and try on my new
running fashion outfits and be proud that I am again preparing for the ultimate
race of my life. A FULL marathon before I turn 60. Last December I ran a half a marathon.
Skillfully coached by husband the avid runner that he is.
As I tried on the first pair of running shorts,
(that came equip with a darling little skirt with the cutest pattern ever! Definitely, the set for me. It had a young fresh, youthful look to
them! After all, you’re only as old as you feel. Right?)
I slipped them on. Perfect fit. Did the school girlish twirl in the
dressing room, looking at the shorts/skirt at ever angle, WHEN I spotted “it”.
“It” was ever so present. I’ve seen small traces of “it”
before, but NEVER so proud and pronounced! It was as if “it” wanted to be recognized. Acknowledge for
all its hard work. “It”
started as a small faint line of the prettiest light lavender, and then spread
out like a run in an old pair of pantyhose! “It” was my mothers purple veins.
I gasped!!!
Fell back on the chair in the dressing room! I jumped up and twirled around again; just to make sure the
fluorescent lights hadn’t hit my leg wrong. No, it was true.
A crop of purple veins had made their way to my leg and was making a
loud announcement! They screamed: “ Google Map” has text and want to use your
legs as an alternate route!” I shook my head. Sat down and pondered my dilemma.
I did what any 50 year-old woman would do.
I found the cutest little Capri tie-dye running
pants ever!! Made my purchase and went home!
Here’s my conclusion:
I am 50.
I’ve walked thousand of miles on these legs, ran a
couple hundred, and stood for hours!
I used these legs to pace the floor with
babies crying in the middle of the night with fever, knelt to pray to my
heavenly Father, and to walk in the sunset with the love of my life.
I plan to walk many more miles on these legs. I
have many places on this beautiful earth that I’d like to see.
Thank you Lord for allowing me these strong legs
to walk and go the places I’ve gone.
I know you will carry me whenever they are too weak to walk. You always do.
I will smile and be
proud that they are a more colorful shade of flesh. You gave them to me and I will wear them well.
