By K. Pontikes
Lift one foot, gain traction, shift my weight forward.
Swing the opposite leg up, parallel position, repeat the motion.
A few minutes of this upward trajectory and my heart pounds like a hammer.
My breathing comes heavy, exhales in loud puffs, my pulse a backup bongo beat.
I can feel the beloved burning in my rear muscles, a reminder of results to come.
I continue to the first elevated lookout point, pause briefly.
The panoramic view from the hillside is radiantly rewarding.
Buttery sunshine fingers light verdant slopes,
Dashes of fuchsia flowers vibrant as a painter’s dream.
Forty five minutes, four times a week, a heavenly exercise.
The first stab of knee pain strikes on descent at the steepest point.
If I step oddly, my feet out sideways like penguin flaps, and I sway
With each cautious step down the slope, the pain stops.
“Walk through the pain” my non-physician husband tells me.
Soon, I can no longer step, as the pain flashes its warning signal.
The MRI results sit ominously in the doctor’s pasty hands, his lips a straight line.
“You must stop the hiking. The downhill is bad for your knees.
Walk on flat surfaces and you will be fine.”
I still walk, on flat black straight surfaces. No surprises, less effort.
I miss the mountain.
For more information about Lake Chapala visit: www.chapala.com
- March 2023 Issue - February 28, 2023
- March 2023 – Articles - February 28, 2023
- March 2023 - February 28, 2023