WIT STOP

Nature's Cruel Lesson: The Legs and Back Must Participate to Act as Young as You Feel

Other Nature is a won-drous educator, and Arizona offers the full curriculum of her classes. From the snakes and lizards that scurry among the cactuses on the Sonoran Desert floor to the hearty sparrows and water pip-its that visit the snow-tipped San Francisco Peaks, each crit-ter and plant has unique and fascinating lessons to teach.

One thing we learn is that natural laws are inexorable, immutable and unyielding. Mother Nature is teaching this to me right now. You see, for a long time I've been cocky. Giv-ing myself the benefit of the doubt, I consider myself an in-telligent creature. I can think and reason, hence I am su-perior to the flora and fauna and nature itself. Mother Nature, in re-sponse to that, says, "In your dreams, Einstein."

Take my tennis prowess, for example. I'm at the net waiting for my opponent's return. I watch him get to the ball and strike it. In a fraction of a millisecond, my mind computes the direc-tion of his shot, the speed at which it will travel and the quickness with which I'll have to move to reach it. At the same time, this magnificent mind of mine, which I maintain has do-minion over nature, is planning out the strategy for my return shot. Now that all the prepara-tion has been done, my mind issues orders.

"Move to your left, quickly," my mind commands. "This is your chance for an amazing put-away shot. Move."

And my legs say, "Wait a minute. Let's talk about this." My mind says, "Talk about what? We've got to get moving. The ball is in flight."

The legs respond, "We're not as young as we used to be."

The mind says, "I'm the same age you are, and I'm not having any problems."

The legs say, "Yeah, but you've got no moving parts. Try thinking that fast with a bum knee."

The mind says, "Never mind. The ball just went by, and we were nowhere near it."

My mind performed brilliantly. In my imagination, I got to that shot and executed a perfect, decisive, winning volley. But in reality - in the real, physical world - I stood there like an oaf and watched the tennis ball sail by. Mother Nature said, "Nice shot, Brain Boy."

And Mom Nature is not satisfied to just humble me in athletics. Take driving a car, for instance. It's relatively simple logic. You drive a car to get where you want to go and once you get there, you get out of the car. Mother Nature says, "Think again." And Mother Nature has a point.

I stop the car, turn off the engine, fling the door open and swing my legs out. But those legs, the same ones that were recalcitrant in the tennis match, rebel again. "What's the hurry to get out of the car?" they ask.My mind responds, "We've got places to go, things to do."

The legs say, "And we've been getting you to those places and doing those things for years now. We're a little stiff, so give us a few extra seconds, please."

I graciously allow them to move more slowly than I would like. Eventually, they swing out to the sidewalk so I can get out of the car.

"Hold it a second." That's my lower lumbar region speaking now.

"What now?"

I say.

My back says, "I've been sitting in one position in this car for an hour now. I can't just go from sit-ting to standing in a snap of the fingers."

"Why not?" I ask.

"Because I'll get a pain shooting all the way down my right leg, and I know you don't want to get the legs involved again in this discussion."

I lose again because I'm still struggling to get out of the car while Mother Nature just laughs at my frustration.

Mother Nature says, "Face it. You're slowing down."

I argue, "I'm not slowing down. I'm as young as I feel."

She says, "Oh yeah, are you noticing now that your left leg doesn't feel anything?"

I say, "Okay, maybe I am slowing down."

She says, "Don't feel bad. It's nature's way. Leaves turn colors slowly. Flowers bud and blossom in their own good time. The Petrified Forest wasn't built in a day, you know."

I thought it was a cheap shot to bring up fossils while I was feeling the way I was.

But Mother Nature went on.

"Now that you're slowing down," she said, "you'll have more time to look around and enjoy the other wonders of nature, besides yourself. Enjoy."

So I think to myself that maybe I should slow down and smell the roses, breathe the air, admire the mountains, listen to the birds warbling. My stiff back, my aching joints and my sore muscles all respond with a resounding "Now you're talking our language, pal."