Push mowing: whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger

I grew up mowing grass. Summers meant many hours spent on the riding lawn mower, a relaxing way to get a tan and earn a little spending money. 

Now that I'm much older (maybe that should be "much, much, much older"--just ask my knees and back), I am using a push mower. It doesn't run on gasoline or electricity. It runs on human power. It doesn't cut nearly as well as our old gas mower, but it does get the job done. Eventually. I mow in sections now, following the advice in the time-honored saying, "How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time." 

Actually, I feel better each time I mow.  My surprised muscles respond well to the task, as long as I don't take on too many sections at a time. These days, no one pays me for the task, and I mask off my skin from the wrinkle-inducing sun, but I still enjoy mowing. Mostly. Especially when I finish.