The warm up

I have reached the age when all the things that could misalign seem to do so midway through slumber.

Thankfully, I have also reached the stage of development when my body tends to wake me up before that fateful twist or turn in my sleep, presenting me with the insomniac assisted ability to thwart fate.

I'm not sure how it is that I can also drink fully caffeinated beverages before bed and still manage to fall asleep at will.

But that is for another time, perhaps.

Maybe you don't need to know this either, but it is 1:30 a.m. where I am now, in bed staring up at a ceiling, contemplating a shift in position that could have a far-reaching impact on the remainder of the day.

Two and a quarter minutes ago I was fully asleep. And two minutes from now I might be heading back to dreamland or I might be heading into a world of pain. It all depends on a rotation I literally used to be able to do in my sleep.

But no longer.

Before reaching for the pocket research library ... the thing that I typo-away on for most of my waking existence ... I will first make some tentative stretches of the arms and legs, including a more deliberate run-through of the alphabet with both feet.

I carve lowercase and uppercase letters into the air, just to be safe.

I press down on what I imagine is my seventh cervical vertebrae, though it could be the last one of the thoracic, I've only surveyed Anatomy at the M. Siobhan School of Medicine at Google. I haven't committed to immersive study. 

It turns out I only dreamed it was stiff. 

I continue on with the small movements, the ones that I imagine are oiling this old machine.

My left ankle makes a satisfying snap as I exhale. My right ankle never makes any sound at all, which is probably best but ultimately a letdown.

I turn my head and experience a painless line of crackle, like school children lining up for dismissal. It seemed so exciting once. 

I am ready to attempt the toss part of my turn, which starts with an assistive propping of weight by my right elbow.

If I am successful, my hips and knees will come along without complaint.

There aren't miscalculations so much as always ready to “tear” part of “wear and tear.”

I hold my breath and, keeping caution out of the wind, I tumble slowly into this practiced roll.

I land in my new position without any more trauma than just the realization there are five more hours of sleep and counting. 

If I am lucky, I will get back to it momentarily without the added chore of visualizing and accounting for a long line of woolly farm animals leaping over fences.

Occasional bedtime coffee, I'd like you to meet my daily run of arbitrary distance …. let's see who wins this race.

On your marks.