I first heard the word “pensioner” when I lived in England, and it conjured up a thin old man, slightly bent, whiskery, baggy pants, wooly jacket, slightly odiferous. I would like to think I’m not that person. BUT. . .I AM officially a pensioner, as of yesterday, when I turned 62!!! Yes, I applied for Social Security, and yes, I can get all the senior citizen discounts I want. Just a few of the “awards” (as Social Security system calls it, even though I worked for and put every penny in my account) of this age.
It was another lovely, sunny, warmish day here in Beaufort, SC. By 11 a.m. Don and I had set out on our bikes. I had a goal in mind. Knowing that our bike’n’barge trip in April calls for 25-30 miles/day, well, today was the day I topped 30 miles.
So over the McTeer bridge we went, enroute to Cat Island. I met up with my biking group and Don headed home. I biked, pedalled, biked some more. Stopped for an hour with my friend Donna to study Italian. Indirect object pronouns, doncha’ know. We drank a toast to her little 3 yr. old neighbor, Morgan, who just successfully underwent heart transplant surgery. Back on my bike to bike, bike, bike. . .and hallelujah, the odometer finally turned the magic number:
As I straggled into the house, I realized that the day was far from over because tonight was SHAG DANCE LESSONS!! So in a short hour, we were enroute to Amvets for our final beginner lesson. Thank goodness for ibuprofen!!
Home again to share phone calls with my kids, a surprise gift left on my neighbor’s porch, and more ibuprofen.
Today, well, let’s just say my quads are letting me know that I biked, my knees still work, and I’ll be ready to bike those 30 again. So what’s my definition of a PENSIONER now? Stay tuned. . .