I'm feeling better today than I have in a while. It has nothing to do with the fact that I turned 40 yesterday and more to do with the fact that I had a very good run on the promenade this morning. I've been walking 4 days a week since the Nike Jozi Night Run 3 weeks ago, and today was the first time since then I actually ran, and it felt good. While I walked most of the 10k this morning, I ran much further than I thought I could. Which is how it always is with running, as with life. The limitations I put in front of me are far greater than any obstacles by a third party.
Now with knowledge like that you'd think that would motivate me to run every day, but it doesn't. I have been battling a persistent chest infection over the past month (you'd think I'd quit smoking already) and had to take a break. I kept walking so I wouldn't lose my momentum, and because it's almost as good as running. Because I'm wary of making my body immune to anti biotics, I avoided the doctor, since that's exactly what she would have done. Sometimes you just need to tough it up and let your body feel it's worst before it can get better.
I got my white board and it's mounted above my desk. Let's hope it lasts longer than a new year's resolution. So all this means is that the bucket list has begun. I suppose it comes with the whole territory of a "big" age like 40 and with all the personal and professional transitions I'm experiencing, to look at the big picture that is my life and ask: "WTF am I doing here?"
I have a lot on my mind, which is the only reason I've decided to blog. Writing has become something that I do to get paid, and there's something about going back to the basics of doing for the pure love and fun of it that I miss.
On my way to get the board I walked past a horrible stench of rot. A turn of the eye revealed the source to be a homeless man who was begging for money. The source of the stench seemed to stem from his feet, which were discoloured and swollen, and obviously infected. On my way back I could not avoid his stare, and was shamed into dropping a coin into his paper cup. "You have to get help, the smell is really bad and your feet look terrible", I said. Stating the obvious. He just said "I know," and I'm sure he was as happy to get rid of my pitying stares as I was to get away from his smell.
If I really cared about this person, I'd do something to help them, right? Well what exactly should I have done, and should I then do it for everyone I come across? Surely someone in our system should be able to help the man, but who, and how? I gave him a pitiful coin and got my new purchases in my car. It was the lamest show of detached guilt I've ever practiced. I did not even offer to take him to the hospital, because I honestly couldn't bear the thought or smell of him in my car.
How the hell are you supposed to take a bath when you're living on the street anyway?
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