Life seems to be a process of replacing one anxiety with another and substituting one desire for another–which is not to say that we should never strive to overcome any of our anxieties or fulfil any of our desires, but rather to suggest that we should perhaps build into our strivings an awareness of the way our goals promise us a respite and a resolution that they cannot, by definition, deliver. – Alain de Botton
The old man woke late – 0659 – and so the daily routine was already completely whacked all out of shape.
Weight was so good, he got on the scale twice.
Decided to linger over breakfast, which he didn’t always eat.
Weight so good.
Next thing you know, it’s ten o’clock. Already sunny and hot and humid. Uncomfortable.
That’s when it hit him – you might feel better if you (gasp) skipped your workout?
There was definitely a question mark in his thought bubble, yet the answer came back faster than the next grift.
Ron Clarke said, “The hardest step for a runner to take is the first one out the door.”
Wrong, kangaroo-breath! The hardest step for a runner is the one you don’t take ON PURPOSE.
Already in his banana republic – lower case; not a store, where he lives – exercise kit, complete with sweat bands and stop watch, the old man said, what he should have said many more times in his life than you can even imagine: Hell, no, I won’t go.
Felt kinda powerful. Wisdom is a muscle.
Think about it. First Spring in three without surgery. So, he had not been forced to stop at any time all year. Except for Covid last month and maybe, just maybe, he was still getting over Fauci’s Flu, as it’s known locally.
And the sweltering heat. Unrelenting. Not enough shade for the dog.
The old man was listening to One Hundred Years Of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez. The old man basically had no idea who anybody was and they all seemed to have the same name anyway.
Just like modern pop culture. You know you’re in trouble when they toss in a PDF including a character chart.
He would listen to it more than once doubtlessly. The sexy parts. The old man spaced out, crushing those endorphins, missed a lot. A good book playing in your ears, those miles expire less painfully. Part of the point.
You push long enough, you get used to pushing. And pushing. And pushing.
But the old man needed to move. Needed to. Movement is lubrication.
Weeding in the shade and poop pickup in dog yard still permissible. The old man stretched and bent like a hot yoga instructor in Boca. Invasive species and shit among life’s constants.
He actually did feel better.
If the evening thunderstorms abated, he could still put in some effort tonight.
A luta continua. The struggle continues.
Snow flakes rolling over my ear, goose bumping weather If I’m hungry at four-thirty in the morning, Pink Dot will deliver And I’m oh so tired of you pushing that thorny crown Down onto my head so hard, my knees are two inches in the ground And I said, God damn, God damn that Bible pushin’ man You know I smoked a lot of grass and I’ve popped a lot of pills But I’ve never done nothing that my spirit couldn’t kill And I walk around with these tombstones in my eyes But I know the pusher don’t care, if you live or if you die. And I said, God damn, God damn that Bible pushin’ man. Godamn, Godamn, Godamn, Godamn, God damn
Dog got a note from another animal friend who cares about my health almost as much as I care about his.
“The old marmot lives by the principle that while working out is good, and keeping to a nutritional regimen is good, when your body is insisting that you should not labor on a particular day, or that you absolutely must have a bowl of ice cream, or that you absolutely must go to bed even though it is only 6PM, you should listen and obey. Assuredly, on the next day, the exercise routine will recur without a second thought, you won’t even think about the ice cream, and you stay up again as late as 8PM. But only if you have paid attention to what your body says today.
After a certain age, ‘self-discipline’ is meant to take a back seat to a looser rein on things. It is the order of things.”