Foot on the Floor

I had a lot of back trouble last week.

Every day was a chore, but I refused to sit anything out.

“You can take a day off,” Kathy said, as I iced the back each night.

I knew that I just had to get to the weekend and I got a massage that changed everything. I was loose again, so, I could tee off this morning.

When I opened my eyes, I forced to do a bit of an inventory.

Back felt good, but I couldn’t bend my right leg.

“That’s new.”

How does one go to sleep in decent shape and wake up with a leg that won’t work?

At all!

I was in deep trouble.

An hour before we were set to tee off.

I took an Ibuprofen and scrolled through stupid crap on my phone and waited.

I thought of something one of my golfing buddies said.

“Someday it won’t come back. You’ll get sick or hurt and you’ll just have to live with it.”

I didn’t want today to be the day.

It came around. 

I walked most of the first hole and knew I’d be able to play.

We noticed that the foursome in front of us were Buffalo Bills players, as we recognized one of their wide receivers.

They’re better football players than they are golfers, and on a few holes we chatted, and playfully busted their chops a little.

They were very gracious on the final hole and shook our hands and introduced themselves.

It always shocks me that they’re smaller than they look when they play.

I played well enough, but in the back of my mind was the thought that:

‘I went to sleep in fine shape, and couldn’t walk when I woke up’.

“What could that be about?” I asked Kathy.

“Who knows? You’re old.”

I’m afraid to go to bed.