- Yesterday morning I headed out for another long walk. While still within the confines of my neighborhood I came upon an inspiring sight. There was a young father pushing a stroller. There was a boy in the stroller maybe 2 or 3 years old with a death grip on one of those cheap 10 inch balls you always see in big wire cages at Walmart. Walking along with these two was an elderly man, maybe the younger man’s father. He was stooped shouldered and shuffled along with the help of a walker which was making a terrible racket on the rough surface of Aprilbud Drive. I nodded at them as I passed on the other side of the street as a smile came to my face. Watching the three of them together made my day, if you want to know the truth. There they were, three generations making accommodations for each other, like you do when you’re part of a family. I’m sure that Dad would have preferred walking along faster without the grating noise of his father’s walker. I feel certain that the old man wished he didn’t need the walker. He probably would have preferred sitting in his recliner taking a nap. The little boy wasn’t going anywhere without his ball, probably would have been perfectly happy kicking it around in the back yard. But there they all were taking a morning walk together. I thought about them for most of the remainder of my walk. I identified most with the Dad. It seemed like just yesterday when that was me. But truthfully, I’ve much more in common with the old man. I might not be hunched over and using a walker, but my day is coming. I wondered about the little boy. Did he have any idea how precious a thing it is to spend time with your father and grandfather? What will this little guy become? Maybe he will be the one who finds a cure for cancer. He might end up being an artist or a businessman. His future is sprawled out in front of him for the taking. I wondered what it must feel like for the old man, what emotions were at play as he walked beside his son—walking his son. I imagine a mixture of pride, gratitude, and bewilderment at how fast time flew by from his days as a boy.
It brought to mind this photograph, the only one of its kind that I’m aware of, probably over 30 years old now…
- Speaking of running, yesterday I determined that I would replicate the 7 mile walk from a week ago for which I took lots of heat on Facebook by the usual suspects, namely, my sister Paula who opined, “What is this compulsion you have to push yourself?!? Good grief. Chill out.” I should point out that this is nothing new from her. She always has something snarky to say whenever I do something fun or dangerous. But, I must admit that she asks a good question. The problem is that I have no satisfactory answer to the question of why I have always been thus, always pushing myself to do better, do more, go faster etc…But, yesterday my goal was a second 7 mile walk, only this time I would concentrate of walking as fast as I could possibly walk to discover how much time I could shave off. The original walk took an hour and 50 minutes which upon reflection seemed embarrassingly slow. So yesterday I finished in only an hour and thirty nine minutes…eleven minutes faster, baby!
So, what was the point, you may fairly ask? I’ll tell you what the point was—I set a new personal best time for walking seven miles! That’s the point! I proved that I can do better. Until actually doing it, the possibility of improvement is only a theory. The proof is on this little scoreboard. I’m sure that this explanation will not satisfy my opinionated sister or any of the other naysayers and worry warts out there who will warn me of future replaced hips and knees. They may all be right. To which my response is, so what? YOU go out there and walk seven miles at a pace of 14:11 per mile!
- Last night our social calendar was full. First off was a baby shower held out in Hanover County, then a dinner out with three other couples to celebrate a birthday down in Chesterfield County on the western end of Midlothian. Both events were great fun. The baby shower thing featured one of my old Sunday School students from the Grove days, along with his older brother and sister, also kids I was close to back in those youth group days. To look at these three siblings now and see their lives flourishing despite the considerable headwinds they have faced is one of life’s greatest rewards. But despite their hard earned adulthood status, when I see them I still think of them as adorable, fun and mischievous kids. Always. I suppose that will never change and I’m fine with it.
No comments:
Post a Comment