Wistfulness

Sometimes people come up to me wanting to talk about my rowing shell, usually women, but not always. Often, there is a sort of wistfulness when they look at it. They either grew up near a river where the sport was popular, or they had a boyfriend who rowed in college, or they've enjoyed watching it on the Olympics. My age group is pre-Title IX, remember. Since I do not look like an athlete at all, they are usually surprised when they realize here's this middle aged lady, wider at the beam than her boat, doing this difficult sport. (Well, difficult, of course, is relative. Difficult for me, for sure). They linger a long time, and I offer them the opportunity to try it if they'd like, but so far only one has actually sat in the boat.
Yesterday, a gray-haired lady with a boy of about 10 came to look at the boat. We talked about the sport, and the boy seemed enthralled. I had already carried the oars and rigging to the car or I would have let him try it. After ooohing and aaahing for a while, the woman said, "you are quite a gal, quite a gal."
We have so much hard-earned strength at this age. So much untapped potential. Here was a woman having a beach day with (probably) her grandson, who seemed to be enjoying himself spending the morning with his grandmother. SHE is quite a gal, quite a gal. Aren't we all?