pushing too hard every night and day

I am definitely a child of the 1970's.
This song, "Pushing Too Hard", is from 1966 and it immediately sprung to mind for this blog post.
Now, just let me say this before you get a wrong impression.
No one has been pushing me.
Okay?
No one has been trying to get me to do anything this month of travels.
I have no one to blame but myself.
Before coming to Kissimmee on Sunday, my left shoulder was aching, my left hand would tingle if I put too much pressure on my arm, and my right hip and thigh ached badly.
But you know what?
After three days and four nights of not driving anywhere, those aches are all gone.
Vanished.
POOF!
Just like magic.
I gotta face it: I'm not as young as I used to be.
Shite.
Driving from Savannah to Hiram to Dora, Alabama, and back to Hiram that first week of June may not have been the best idea. It had seemed like a logical course of action at the time. I was even taking some breaks along the way, but the time factor was constantly pushing me. I had obligations to other people, so I pressed on.
Driving from Hiram's rolling hills to the Blue Ridge mountains of North Carolina was another difficult drive. I was leading the BFF's daughter, so I was continually checking behind me to make sure she was still in view, taking care at traffic lights so she didn't get left at a red, taking care when shifting lanes so she would have room to squeeze in behind me. Also, the resort management company for Fairway Forest closed at 5 PM, so that time factor was pushing me. We only stopped once.
Then I had three solid days of driving on two-lane mountain roads. I wanted the girl-child to be able to enjoy the views while I operated my ton of death machine. Neither of us had been us there, specifically, though I had been to Franklin and Cherokee when I was in high school and about her age. Better that she be allowed to soak in the ambiance. But those twisting, curving roads pushed my nerves more than I wanted to admit. I was glad to be done with them.
I came home for just about two days before settling into the Saturn once more. Southward, this time, but southward from Bluffton, SC, not Savannah. I had chosen time with my stepmom over an early start. Good choice. Then I drove straight through, not making a single stop. Bad choice. Pushing too hard, trying to chase daylight.
I had noticed the aches before leaving Hiram for the mountains. They settled in for the long haul while up in North Carolina. They were constantly digging at me on the drive to Florida.
And they're gone.
Vanished.
POOF!

The moral of the story?
My body is not as young as my mind is.
More consideration of that fact must be given.
If it takes a little longer to get somewhere, guess what?
The fun begins with the journey,
not after the destination is reached.

With that firmly in mind, I have planned a nice long stop at McKee Botanical Gardens on my southward drive tomorrow.
That should be a nice journey, and a good walk, too.
And if you see me, be sure to tell me to look for the trees in the forest.
You know: s l o w d o w n.
(smile)