Ok ...so I spent my seventy-fourth birthday not figuring out what happened to the 73 years, 364 days before...no...I know what happened to them...I lived them for the most part rather well! Or relatively well.
No I spent my seventy-fourth birthday coming to terms with the fact that for at least the latter part of my life, I hadn't  been standing on my toes when I thought I had...been standing on my toes!
Let me clarify. I knew that couldn't stand on my toes in my running shoes. That was obvious. Running shoes are not malleable. They especially don't bend when they are size elevens.
But I was taking yoga.
Yoga is done in bare feet on a special mat.
I can stand on my toes in bare feet on a special mat...or so I thought.
In my 73 years, 364th day I was in my yoga class.
At the end of the of the class the instructor asked us to stand on our toes.
I stood on my toes.
The yoga instructor looked at me and whispered, "Can you stand on your toes?"
I said, "I am standing on my toes."
She shook her head and said, "Not quite."
I went home and stood on my toes.
She was right.
My heels were  off the floor but my toes weren't up...it was sort of like a bridge.
I have two weeks to practice standing on my toes...
The task is futile.
I have congenitally flat feet.