SWING BATTA BATTA

I feel so much younger than the sum of my years. That is until I played softball on Saturday afternoon for the first time in about 30 years.

Saturday I attended a picnic with the Triangle Couples meetup group. After a nice relaxing lunch, our hosts decided to put together a softball game. Silly me...I signed up to play. I wasn't really expecting much out of myself other than some exercise swinging a bat at the air as the ball whizzed by me. So you can imagine my surprise when I heard "WHACK" and saw the ball flying off the end of my bat. I ran...as fast as my ancient legs would take me and low and behold I was "safe" at first. I was ecstatic! But as the next person up to bat hit the ball and I had to run to second...and then the next person got a hit and I had to run to third...I began to question the wisdom in my actually trying to hit the ball. If I hadn't hit it...I wouldn't have had to run. Hmmmm, I could be onto something here. SAFE at home! I had run all four bases. As I sat in my camp chair trying to catch my breath and willing the sun to stop beating down on my head...I realized...I was through. I wasn't getting paid for this punishment. I had no intention of hitting the ball again if I got up to bat...so I gave my team a break and headed to the picnic shelter to relax with the rest of the intelligent over 40/50 crowd who chose to just watch the game and not actually participate.

Thank God I took myself out of the game. I could barely move by the time evening approached and going to Rum Runners and tripping over my own two feet didn't help with the aches and pains any. But that's another story. Talk to you tomorrow.