Pilates was brutal, yesterday and today. I am doing some mat work for abdominals that assumes leg strength. My right leg is just fine for these workouts. But my left one. Oy vei! (sp?). Scissoring with my legs at a 75 degree angle from my body, raising and lowering both legs at the same time no more than an inch, drawing first one and then the other towards my chest has worn my little self out beyond words. I find myself quite horrified by that weakness, even when I know that a 48 year old woman recovering from hip replacement surgery probably will not have a real easy time of it. I think about my mother in law, facing wrist surgery tomorrow morning, feeling her 91 years even more than I feel my 48, I suspect. In this season of incarnation, we are called to hold fiercely to an insistance that our bodies are good, very good indeed. But it is easy to love a sweet young body. Just accepting mine like it is tonight takes every ounce of will power I possess. What is this business of incarnation really all about?
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