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A few weeks back, I waxed poetic in this column about the virtues of public transport, and now I'm sorry to say, having worked the process steadily for the past few weeks, I think I've changed my mind. It's not the commute itself that's so taxing; psychologically, the biggest problem is me because I stubbornly maintain I shouldn't have to travel on someone elses schedule. A quick look at prices at the pump and parking expenses brings be down to reality though and I accept the realization that it just makes more sense to belong to that Big Brotherhood of Commuters.
Having accepted that fact however, I have to say that the next obstacle to public transport is downright stubborness of a different nature; the unwillingness of my body to accept a daily brisk walk of eight-tenths of a mile to and from the train station. Let me cut the tongue-cluckers who claim exercise is good for me at the pass: I'm already in good pphysical fitness for a woman of that "certain" age, but the problem is a rather dodgy hip that began giving me problems several years back. I don't know if it's bursitis, arthritis, or some other type of "itis", but I can count on at least two excrutiatingly long (read: two weeks or more) episodes of extreme hip pain which magically disappears for reasons only known to the Divine Healer, and, perhaps, the makers of Excedrin Arthritis Pain Relief.
Unfortunately, my bi-yearly hip torture session chose the week after I returned to commuting to make its reappearance, and the summer heat an accompanying humidity have only served to worsen the situation. Normally, I would grin and bear it -- well, bite down on a rope and bear it, if I'm honest -- haul myself into/out of the car/bed/chair, and get on with it until the hip fairy came to alleviate the pain. But now, thanks to commuting, it'a whole new painful ballgame. In addition to the exquisitely painful eight-tenths of a mile walk I have the torture of alighting and departing buses, all of which seem to have extremely steep steps, the torture of subway stations whose escalators never seem to be operational, and the pressure from other commuters who don't seem to understand constant pain and are always urging one to hurry up.
To add insult to injury, the onset of this most recent eposide begain one week after the start of a new job; the time meant to be absorbed in learning and understanding; not pain and swelling. So now I have a fresh, valid reason to curse public transport, miss my car, and hate middle-age. But, no worries, when it all passes and hip health is restored to it's usual self, I'll be writing about how my daily walk has made me fitter, how I'm saving money on gas by commuting, and how content I am with life in general.
Until then, pass over the heating pad and Excedrin Arthritis tablets, please.
