Biped: (n) an animal that uses two legs for walking.
There is an old saying infrequently used, but still chronicled somewhere in the testaments of time.
“The legs are the first thing to go.”
When I was a kid, I had no idea what that meant. Even growing into manhood, the idea of losing strength, power and ability in my legs–in other words, not being a confident biped–seemed ludicrous.
So I foolishly and often recklessly utilized my motoring abilities by foot without any regard for the fragility of the practice.
About ten years ago–due to my obesity, activity and sometimes even abuse–my knees, ankles and hips began to complain ferociously by welcoming pain and discomfort into my life.
It gradually got worse and worse, to the point that today, most of the time, I have to use a wheelchair to get to my destinations.
It is odd. I took it for granted. Now I lust as I watch others walking along confidently.
I’m not angry. There is no resentment.
I don’t feel I’ve been targeted by life to be relegated to a diminished capacity.
But I am fully aware that if other things want to go, I must struggle to encourage them to remain.