Bob: I was feeling tight in the shoulders and neck, so I called down and had a Shiatsu massage in my room…
Charlotte: Mmh, that’s nice!
Bob: And the tightness has completely disappeared and been replaced by… Unbelievable Pain! …Just… staggering, unbearable pain.

Bill Murray & Scarlett Johanssen in “Lost in Translation” __________________________________________________________________

I’m between alternators at the moment.

…Well… it’s an alternator in one of my two disabled vehicles. I’m between starter-solenoids in my other.

Being somewhat impoverished, I’m having to make a financial plan in order to repair my cars. I’m no mechanic but I work fairly cheap, so my costs are down to the auto-parts I need. Unfortunately, I can’t quite fit these expenses into my tight monthly budget. And so my financial strategy for this project thus far entails: checking out a couple Chilton auto-manuals from the library, consistently bumping these repairs from my budget every payday, and an indefinite period of walking.

I live fairly close to work (about 1 and a half miles), so walking there on a daily basis isn’t unfeasible. But I have found that it’s taking a toll on me. I have genetic disposition toward physical stiffness, and my my typically tight legs and sore back have responded to this added workload by converting their sensory protest into debilitating agony.

The frustrating thing is… I really like walking, always have. As a teenager, I would go hiking & backpacking through the mountains. And honestly, I prefer walking to work over driving. I love walking through my neighborhood of large trees and beautiful bungalows. I like walking through the college campus and along the canal. I like walking down the alleyways of downtown, past old warehouses, through the park. I change my course every few days to amble along blocks of the city that I haven’t seen before.

Even after I have working transportation again, I would like my treks to continue. I’d like to continue taking long walks throughout my old age. I’m none too pleased that my body is putting up such a fight.

I know what I need to do. (Aside from fixing my automobiles, that is.) I’ve known for years what my physical fate held in store for me. Over the past few years I’ve witnessed my father deteriorating into an arthritic lump of bone-spur-prodden flesh. I’ve known this too was my destiny, I’ve been dealing with muscle-tension issues since my early teens.

No, the coercion to find alternate transportation simply brought to surface what was already waiting for me. I need to get in shape. It would seem only fair that walking 3 miles a day should help, but with my genes, passed down from my grandfather to my father to me, that’s not the case. Exercise itself will only further hinder me. More important to my body type is flexibility, the men of my family haven’t been able to touch their toes in God only knows how long.

But this stretching, the key to my physical future, is so hard to do. I know how to do it, I’m aware of all the techniques: warming up, going slowly, making sure I don’t overstretch, not to “bounce” while reaching… But still, its just so hard to find the time. And it’s so undignified when the kids see me weeping while making the effort to touch my ankles without bending my knees.

“Daily Stretching” has been a failed New Years resolution of mine for 8 years running. This year, I didn’t even try… Sure, I thought the thought, but by the unconsummated end of January 1st, I knew I was only dreaming. I’d like to say that I’ll start now, that my throbbing body has shown me the error of my ways, but that too would be just a pretense of self-discipline and conviction that I simply don’t have.

Therefore, the only option remaining for me is to pop a few ibuprofen and stop whining about it. And to get my cars fixed. Or better yet, buy a new car… New, as in: “it has a warranty where they will repair it when it breaks down”. And preferably it will have a CD player instead of a broken tape deck.

…and dual climate control.

…oh, and remote keyless entry.

…and… thinking of my future (finally)… a wheelchair lift.