|Weeping Woman By: Picasso|
Well, you know me... (maybe you don't) but I've never been one to hold back on personal stuff - so when someone asks a personal question they tend to get a damn honest answer. My answer to why am I getting in shape? Why now? Was this: "Well, I'll be 40 next year. My youngest son is just 1 year old. Well, 2 years old in March. If you do the math ... if I don't start taking care of myself I may not be around to see him get married and at even greater risk of not being around when those grand-babies arrive." That unexpectedly choked me up when I started talking about my own mortality out loud. Choked me up big time. The tears sprung out of my eyes so fast that it was like an unplugged damn. I was mortified. Luckily, Joy, the product of hippie parents and frankly a bit of a hippy herself was not bothered at all. She took it in stride, offered a tissue and said - I think I've got my ammo for making you get yourself back in the gym the day you disappear on us.
I think this could be the beginning of something good.