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.
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.