the pain of greatness!

I’m in enough pain that I know I had a great weekend.  I have large bruises on my calves, shins, knee.  My shoulders hurt. I found it difficult to reach out to adjust my rear view mirror last night.  My right arch is tender; there is an odd, traveling ache in my lower back.  Fade to black: flashback…….

My riding lesson was Friday afternoon and I had that irrational feeling of invincibility.  I won’t fall if I push my luck, I told myself.  I believed me.  So, after warming up by riding at a walk a few times around the ring, when my trainer told me to trot, I went for it. 

I clutched the posting strap for dear life and made it half-way around the ring before calling for a walk. Then I did another half-round.   I realized I was okay.  Next time, I got the entire way around.  And a second time.  Then the time was up.  I was so proud of myself for believing nothing bad would happen if I trotted through the fear.  It was true.  After I got off the horse, I noticed there were two huge bruises on the inside of my calves.  Looks like I might have been squeezing that poor horse to death to stay on.  But Thelma didn’t mind and I love my purple-y, greening badges of courage.

Last night we went to a wedding with the best reception I’ve ever been to.  The couple had hired an 8-piece brass band that played everything from Stevie Wonder to the Stones with that distinctive New Orleans beat.  The amalgamation was amazing.  We were up dancing, trying to remember our best Michael Jackson moves to that NOLAfunk version of Beat It.  Dance like no one is watching?  Fat chance with a videographer, a photographer and a hundred cell phones working constantly.  We just hope we didn’t shame the hosts, but that is really what you get when you throw a party with an open bar……

The party ended with the band strapping their drums on and leading the guests on a second-line out the door and down Fulton Street. The couple danced in the gazebo while the guests danced and waved handkerchiefs, the band jammed and herds of tourists snapped away to preserve their memories of serendipitous local cultcha.   

So the shoulder, arm, back, and arch strain came from a night of wild dancing.  The extra bruises on my knee and shin?  Taking a nosedive on the notoriously uneven pavement before the drinking began.  Yes, I fell, cold stone sober, and danced the rest of the night away.  That’s the Big Easy way. 

So ache on, body.  You had a great time this weekend.  Thank you, Thelma, for not dumping my overconfident butt off your saddle and congratulations to Cleveland and Jessica: may your marriage be a great as your party-planning abilities!