Body blues

When you’re a child, your body is lithe. You barely even notice it.

With just a touch of practice, you swing your legs over the uneven bars on the playground and flip around and around, your ponytail whipping the ground. You can ride the Silly Silo six times before getting just a little nauseous, the centrifical force gluing you to the wall like an X as you grin at your BFF and fellow X.

You do cartwheels for an hour and ride your bike way past the point that your butt starts hurting. You roll down the big hill behind your house without getting any bruises, although you do get a few chigger bites. 

You trudge your sled up and down a snowy slope for hours on end, the only evidence of physical taxation being your rosy cheeks and your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead under your cap. 

When you get older, your body is a mystery to solve; a code to be cracked. Knowledge is endless and conflicting; experts on both sides arguing this proof and that study. You stiffly hang in the balance looking straight forward, because turning your head hurts your neck too much.

Listen to your body – treat it with respect – have faith – take responsibility – never ever stop playing. 

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