My neighbor is 90 years old and I have admired how he carries himself around his property. He maintains his land pretty much on a daily basis. I will sometimes see him hanging his laundry in the yard. He lives alone. I’ve had a handful of conversations with him over the past few years. You look at him and think he’s got some kind of secret about life, but he won’t tell you, because that’s not how you find out.
A few mornings ago, I was walking down the driveway, trying to get my head around the idea of fighting for my goddamn breath on yet another morning run. Over forty years ago, when I first pounded into this obsession, It was truly exhilarating. Running and never walking for the full length of the 1982 NYC Marathon was my Everest. I am not exactly sure when it began to suck. Let me tell you, if you are a true runner, regardless of speed or distance, you’d better push yourself hard or you are not really running, freakin’ period!
I was in my current “uniform” of ugly red shorts, a washed out runner’s shirt, with the Zia symbol on it from my New Mexico days, a pair of heavy mileage, black athletic socks and my running shoe of choice, one that has changed countless times over the decades. These days, I am wearing a Saucony brand, because I have had to adjust to a slighter wider shoe. I think years of gravity make your foot slightly wider, something a runner is likely to feel. Stubborn as I am, I blew through a handful of regular size brands, before I bowed to the clock.
My neighbor happened to be out at exactly the same time. I was walking slightly behind him and going slowly. I had no desire to be in the passing lane, knowing that yet another half hour of torture was just ahead. We got out to the end of our respective drives at the same time and kind of acknowledged each other simultaneously. I told him I had been running for over forty years. Now, when you tell someone who is 90 that you have been running for forty years, it means a whole different thing to a forty year old The truth is, I don’t get to talk to that many people who are older than I am and I think it is really cool. I can’t pull the age card on ‘em.
I can’t tell you how many recent mornings I haven’t looked forward to my run. Over the years, I have been a big fan of creating a route for myself and keeping to it, because that way I can gauge how I am doing overall. I won’t indulge myself or bore you with a list of all the incredible places I have been privileged to run. My present route is definitely low on my list and I have been bummed about it.
My neighbor looked at me and said, “Go have fun.” I swear it was a bolt of lightening, especially coming from him. He was like a very demure, very old, very Asian, Peter Pan incarnate. It’s not like he and I talk all the time, so this was unusual to begin with.
My run still sucked, but I swear those three words began resonating between my ears and seemed easy to call up. You know, it’s not like there is anything revelatory about the sentiment, but there was something in our exchange that had this timeless truth to it.
The next day, I rode my motorcycle over to the Nawiliwili Harbor and sat down at the only picnic table there. I took out my Foster’s Ale and a bag of salty cashews. There were around a half dozen, one-person, little sailboats racing in the harbor. I was immediately reminded of a little sailboat I had when I lived on the north shore of Long Island. I was a young guy, way over his head and doing the best he could, with a young family and a crumbling marriage. There was a neighboring community, called Sea Cliff. In the midst of the upscale development, was this town that absolutely still had that old time feeling, sitting right above the Long Island Sound.
For a couple of years, I kept one of those little sailboats locked up, right down on the beach at Sea Cliff. I was an absolutely awful sailor. I don’t know how many times I flipped over and had to wrestle the sail out of the water. I would hold my breath when the wind came up behind me and I’d start to fly across the Sound, having no idea what to do next. I loved the idea of being from a simpler time, if only on my weekend visits down the road to Sea Cliff.
Since the recent encounter in my driveway, I have taken extra time to think about all the joy in my life, yesterday and today.
Do you know it should be a basic right for every human being to experience joy? There are millions and millions and millions of people, who can’t understand the words, “Go Have Fun”, and it’s not a language barrier. This kind of thing should not be considered a luxury, rather it ought to be a basic right for every one of us. In realizing how incredibly fortunate I have been, there is something inherently wrong about so many having so little. Those three words have been sitting with me for around a week now and it just doesn’t make sense that life should be so painful for so many. I am not sure what the answer is, but I know as long as we are stuck in our selfishness, we will remain victims of the future.
Time for my run.