“He had accumulated enough memories to know that the world around him was continually being shaped by his own memories, and while all people were bound together by the common space they shared, their journeys through time were all different, which meant that each person lived in a slightly different world from everybody else.” – Paul Auster
Three men, all the same age. OJ and POTUS and JDW. Just take a moment to contemplate the similarities. Let’s see, all three guys are seventy years old.
Now for how these bad hombres might differ. The Juice is up at last for parole and Trump seems so far to have boundless energy. The old man needs his routine. Needs balance. Not just in life, but in each day.
So, when Bill Rodgers – seventy later this year – says, ‘See you at Gasparilla,’ I start to feel real real old.
I am not going to Gasparilla. Not even for you and Joanie and Meb.
Can’t help thinking, what the hell. What’s wrong with me? Actually asked an elderly buddy that question. And he said…
“Constant pain can diminish social motivations.”
Almost seems erudite. Also correct. At least an explanation allows me not to be so hard on myself.
The pain is an energy-sapping contest. Like a hard run hour after hour. You eventually find an equilibrium and grip it and hold it and maintain it until you can’t any more.
Then you start all over. You don’t win but you don’t lose as long as you can hang on.
Travel, crowds, parking, lines at the restroom, early morning wake-up. Broken routine.
There are actual physical ramifications best left unexplored. Staying home.
https://www.jackdogwelch.com/?p=293
Article in this morning’s paper promoting the race. Joan Benoit Samuelson: “He’s lovable, friendly, happy-go-lucky. How could you not love Bill?”
“I am not as happy-go-lucky as Joan thinks,” Bill assured me.
Never thought you were, I told him.
Always thought you were balanced.
