Old Dogs, New Tricks and Nicknames

It is hard to learn to jump rope when you are past fifty.
It is difficult to get the rhythm of the light bag when you are beyond fifty five.
It is hard to remember Jab, Upper cut, Hook, Cross, Hook, feint, duck, Jab, Jab, Hook, Cross, and on and on.
The neurons just don’t fire that fast anymore.
I guess that explains why I sometimes seem to stare straight ahead after hearing a command.
It takes a few seconds to register and a few more seconds for the impulse to activate the muscles.
But, the hardest of the hard, has been the Hula Hoop.
Try learning that when you are over sixty.
In a car, sixty equals eighty eight feet per second.
In a body, sixty equals about eight feet per second.
The joints and muscles just don’t seem to move as easily as needed to keep a Hula Hoop up in the air, defying gravity.
Then one night last week, it clicked.
I am sure it looked strange but I was actually “Hula Hooping”.
Sparta saw the moment and began whooping as she announced to the assembled class, “looks like the old dog can learn new tricks”.
The mind rebelled.
Old Dog, “who is she talking about”?
The mention of age rarely comes up in the gym.
I actually forget my age during these intense exercise sessions.
But in deference to the Master/Mastress, placing a fist in my other palm, I bow like an acolyte in training, thanking her for the recognition and the new nickname.
See, I have given each person a name that reminds me of some special characteristic and finally I was given mine, Old Dog or OD for short.
So from now on OD will be doing the Blogs, OD will be attending class, OD will be working out in the gym, OD will keep on, keeping on.
And finally when it all ends, hopefully in my eighties, the final report will most likely read like some strange form of poetry:

OD
DOA
The Hula Hoop
Won This Day