With my new gig I’m only about a mile and a half from work so I’ve been walking fairly regularly. Seattle winters have been keeping me from doing more than a couple of times a week but I’m always happier when I do.
A few months back I was heading in a little earlier than usual. It was the day before halloween and it was cold, well at least cold for Seattle and especially for that time of year, probably around 40. On the way I pass a park with a couple of tennis courts, but on this day there was man out there. No not a bum, but an old man, easily looked to be in his mid seventies, late sixties at the youngest. And he was working out.
He was fully decked out in track suit top, short shorts, high socks and a head band. I slowed down, totally curious, and a bit bewildered. He was sliding back and forth in what looked to be an attempt at a basketball stance, knees slightly bent, shuffling to the side along the outside edge. Sweat was shimmering on his wrinkled forehead above the headband and he was focused. Determined to finish a routine that looked like he’d done thousands of times before.
I love old guys like this. They make me smile. It’s because I love the determination, the attitude that you know even though I’m on the downswing of life I’m not slowing down, or at least not stopping, because the minute I do then I’ll truly be old. Or maybe that’s just what I want to believe they’re thinking. What I do know is that someday I hope to be just like that old man on the tennis court, well with better socks.
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