I was doing my Saturday errands.

Grocery shopping, pharmacy, sit and wait to get my car insurance handled. Normal. Trivial.

I’d left my preauthorized debit form for insurance in my car, so I had to run back out to grab it. As I was walking through Coast Capital to the back parking lot, an elderly gentleman with two canes walked in.

Well, shuffled. I could tell that walking was arduous for him.

It was a narrow section of the office, so I stepped out of his way to let him pass. He smiled at me and said, “thank you.” I smiled and nodded back at him.

As I pushed out the door, I looked back over my shoulder, catching a quick glimpse of him slowly making his way to the tellers.

I didn’t notice it right away—the heaviness around my heart. I had a million things on my mind, with deductible costs and blueberries at the forefront. It wasn’t until I leaving that it hit me: I’ve been taking my body for granted.

Without a doubt.

Every day that I can get up and out of bed with no pain and ask my body to do whatever I need it to do is a blessing. Something that isn’t for certain. Every day that I can walk, dance, jump, stretch, run (well, let’s not get carried away), lunge, balance on one leg, just simply move, is a luxury, something I could lose in a split second.

In a city, like Victoria, where a vast majority of its population is quickly aging, it should’ve been a no-brainer, a constant reminder to appreciate my body and every beautiful thing it’s capable of doing or achieving on the daily.

But I’d forgotten that. I got lost in my every day life, the sh*t that piles up, that we fight so hard to avoid.

It took an elderly gentleman—who probably wishes for a body that would work for him—for me to realize that I need to make a change in my own life.

So that afternoon I went for a walk along Dallas Road. I hosted a one-man dance party to Taylor Swift in my kitchen as I made dinner. I lunged to stretch out my tight hip flexors, like my chiropractor told me to.

It wasn’t a perfect solution, but the big thing is, I listened to the reminder, that I heeded its message and continue to try to make small changes every day to add more movement into my life while I still can.

Things change on a dime, so we must make the most of the time we do have.

So, move that precious body, shake it like you mean it. Use it, love it, admire it, own it. Time is limited.

Dance while you can.

Relephant read:

Your Body is a Self-Mending Genius.

Author: Kaley Walls

Editor: Ashleigh Hitchcock

Photos: flickr