When being nice is, sometimes, not so much

My hubby has always prided himself in being in shape. Not in a macho, bulky, grunting, monosyllabic kind of way, but just in a way that he can.... and here of course I wish I could say....keep up with me....but he's way beyond me with all the myriad of orthopedic peccadillos I'm beset with....that he can walk, hike, bike and eliptic with ease and pleasure. (I can also do those things, but sometimes not without excessive monosyllabic grunting).

And he can crouch, oh my goodness, can he crouch. I envy him so. I don't think the new millennium has ever seen me in a crouch. Not without having an all-hands-on-deck propping me up kind of desperation.

I did win a Limbo contest in my mid-30's, so there's that.

But this isn't about me.

In hubby's hey-day, many years ago, he'd bike some 40-50 miles weekly, plus jog about 15 miles. Mostly he traversed the beautiful hills and dales of Issaquah, back before the hills and dales became endless rows of homes, condos, divided highways, and other vagaries of urban living.

He rode the notorious Chilly Hilly.

He rode from Grand Junction, Colorado to Moab, Utah on a 5-day mountain bike ride.

He prided himself on, and was grateful for, his ability to be active in ways that were nature-loving and soul-inspiring.

Even now, when he's had to slow down a bit (but there's still the crouching, have I mentioned the crouching?), I can tell that he has the glorious muscle memory of his previous jaunts.  He's no slouch, for sure, and can out-anything me.

So, here's the "nice" part. Picture a man, who sees himself as a 20-something (and in a lot of ways could still compete with a 20-something), active, happy, feels in many ways-- true ways--that he still "has it." Feels good about himself. Picture this man in a grocery store, when a small child runs up to him and hugs the man's legs. Suddenly a voice cries out, "No that's not grandpa, that's someone else's grandpa."

Please note:  we do not have children, we do not have grandchildren. We are not sad about this.

And now picture this same man, this time jogging through the remnants of his old haunts, now a nice wooded trail through a housing development. He was huffing and puffing a bit navigating a slight hill. Suddenly a babe comes up from behind him. A babe babe. And says to him as she whizzes past, "Good for you, keep it up!!"

So, sometimes being nice, is, well, not so much. :)