The Running Man

About two years ago, I was waiting to turn my car onto the main road, when I saw a guy in a hoodie jacket shuffling along the bike path. When I say shuffle, I mean a Tim Conway old man shuffle—he was BARELY moving. The thing was, he wasn't elderly. He looked to be in his late 40s. Even if his countenance was exceptionally boyish, he couldn't have been more than mid-50s in age. He was slim and handsome and inching along. It was clear to me that something was wrong physically, and my best guess was that he was recovering from a stroke and working through partial paralysis.

Since that original sighting, I've seen him regularly in the mornings. His shuffle has gradually evolved into a walk and then a kind of walk-run. This morning, I passed by him and he was actually moving forward in a slow jog. He's still a turtle, but he is definitely a JOGGING turtle.

You know, I wanted to stop my car right then and there, hop out, skip over to that guy and give him a big hug. I didn't approach him, though, because after the hug, what would I say? Awkward. Still, I hope that some day I'll be brave enough to let him know how inspirational he has been to me. To see him, day in and day out, forcing his body to move, makes me want to cry and laugh at the same time. You go, dude!



Dinner last night: spaghetti and meatballs, garlic toast, peas, green salad

Exactly one year ago:

Happy Easter