There are some things you just gotta’ do in spite of warning labels. And those darn things are attached to anyone who isn’t still struggling in the birth canal.
I know. I put them on my kids the minute they entered Earth’s atmosphere: Don’t cry, don’t spit, don’t pick your nose.
Today, they still wear those warning labels -- although they live in another city, so who knows?
But from what I can see -- with a good pair of glasses -- the more years that we’re on this planet, the more stickers that affix themselves.
Never miss a local story.
One of them is “You’re too old.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” my husband, Bill, queried the other morning while I struggled into my long johns, overstretched to prove I’d had one too many mugs of eggnog.
“Yes, I’ve got to do it,” I gasped. “The years are zipping by, and if I’m going to get into ice skating, it’s got to be now.
“All right,” he said with a worried look. “But be careful. You’re not as young as you used to be.”
Zap! Another label had just been flung my way. But I was quick to peel it off as I jetted out the door. I was going for the gusto and reaching for the stars.
However, what I soon found on the ice was that instead of reaching, I was clutching -- desperately -- to the railing.
Oh, Kristi Yamaguchi had made it look so easy.
At least this was a 50-and-over session so folks would be taking it easy.
“On your left!” A flying senior whizzed on by.
“Whoosh!” Another silver skater echoed across the rink after a nearly perfect axle.
Hmmm... I could be wrong, but these folks seemed to be grown-up poster kids for “Just Do It!”
I carefully slid one blade after another. I began to pick up speed. The music created a rhythmic dance.
And then my cell phone rang.
“Hi Mom, what are you doing?” my oldest daughter asked.
“I’m ice skating at the senior session,” I replied as I whirled around the rink.
“You’re kidding!” Traci said. “It doesn’t sound like old people’s music.”
Of course not! That’s one label this group refuses to wear.