Sunday, November 7, 2010

I Walk The Line

I decided this morning that, rather than drive or ride my bicycle to the corner 7-11 to get my Sunday New York Times, I'd walk the short (half-mile) distance.

So, I put on my sweat pants, draped a hoodie over my long-sleeved Giants T-shirt and set out down my driveway. Imagine my consternation when the joint pain settled into my hips and I could barely stand up straight. Hands on the back of my hips, I hobbled down the street like an old man. Oy!

"Good morning," the chipper store clerk chirped as I entered the sanctum of fresh brewed coffee, 12-packs, and assorted degrees of fried food-like objects. "Morning," I grumbled, paying for my paper via debit card.

On the way back, I forced myself to stand up straight, swing the shoulders back and pick up the pace. The sooner I got home, the sooner I could take the pain pill I'd forgotten to take before my outward bound trek.

Once home, I settled onto the couch with a fresh hot cup of coffee and started dissembling the Times, eventually getting to this story about Jon Mendes, a 90-year-old man who was still running the New York Marathon. Well, running isn't quite the right word, more like walking, although he planned to jog the last 100 yards in. “Makes it look like you ran the whole way,” he told the Times.

And he likes to finish the race with a glass of Black Label!

I was inspired by the story of this ex-Marine colonel who flew with John Glenn and Ted Williams so much that I've decided, should I make it to 90, I will celebrate by participating in the New York Marathon. If I can't run it, I will walk it. And I will finish, even if I have to crawl across that line.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Johnny Cash:

No comments:

Post a Comment