Category: RETIREMENT IS NOT WITHOUT HASSLES (Page 13 of 209)
My day-to-day retirement life
Three more runs to go – or maybe not. As I completed my “Runella” this morning (See Post #2463), I got a call from Tampa General Hospital Financial Services claiming that my insurance had yet to be approved. Without confirmation by 3 p.m. this afternoon my surgery could be delayed. Just the kind of stress that a heart patient doesn’t need. I might need to cancel my transportation and accommodation plans and if so, “The Streak” continues.
At the same time, I received two hard copies of my Storyworth contribution, “My Life in Black & White” in the mail. It’s 408 pages with photographs and a project that I’ve worked on since last Christmas. I’m finally published but not in the manner that I always expected. This was a wonderful gift from my family, and I personally autographed each one. Maybe someday I’ll be an “official” author, but at least my story is written and in book form.
On another note, when I was a teenager, I would never have imagined running every day. I hated to run, so it’s even more remarkable that I’ve done marathons, races, and developed an uninterrupted daily running habit of over 15-years. I did expect at that age, however, that push-ups would become a daily endeavor. It was a Florida retiree and friend of my grandparents that was the inspiration. I admired his motivation in telling me at this vulnerable age that he had does push-ups every morning. As I watched, I decided to make the idea mine, and as a result do a short exercise routine of stretching, sit ups, and push-ups before my run each morning. In fact, I can’t remember a time in my life, running or not, that I didn’t do a regimen of push-ups. I currently do over 90 a day, but this habit will also soon be disrupted.
I won’t be allowed to lift over 10-pounds for at least two months after this surgery. Sit-ups will also not be possible, so it’s hard to say what my new life will be like. Will I eventually get back to doing these basic elements of fitness or turn into a slug? At this moment, everything is on hold!
Four days until surgery – four last runs. This morning I did the standard route down Rinella Street that I fondly refer to as “Runella.” I’m seeing all those familiar neighbor faces, many of whom are still nameless. There’s Leo, Johnny, several Mikes, Paula, a few Karens, Kathie, Big Jim, Diane, Steve, Rich, Maddie, and Nick to recall a few. Last names are not so easy. I run by the dog park, pickle ball courts, clubhouse, playground, basketball courts, and home after home. A big green utility box marks the mile mark, and a concrete garden monolith with holes is the half-mile gage. When I stretch it to three miles, a half-way pathway takes me over a Venetian-like canal bridge. I always add on that extra tenth of a mile to accommodate any GPS inaccuracies.
I started watching the Lawman Bass Reeves series on Paramount last night. My interest was a result of a recent Ban(n)ister Family post. My birth name was Jerry Lee Banister. Apparently, Texas Ranger, John Riley Banister (1854-1918), Sheriff of Coleman County, participated in the arrest of legendary outlaw Sam Bass. His brother Will was also a Ranger. I was mistaken in thinking that Bass Reeves (1838-1910) and Sam Bass (1851-1878) had a direct connection, but they lived in the same lawless era. Bass Reeves is believed to have been “The Lone Ranger,” with several key similarities between the radio & TV character and the actual legend.
My wife has the car today, tending to her substitute teaching duties, while our schnauzer Tally misses out on a trip to the dog park. A few of her buddies were there this morning as I ran by and waved. She seems content curled up in my office chair as I write this. Tally will go to Schnauzerville on Sunday, as I make final preparations for Monday’s surgery. Maybe there will be one final “Runella” before this streak finally ends?
Despite consuming two bottles of white wine last night, watching the I.U. basketball loss with a neighbor, my run this morning was relatively good. There were no major breathing issues or strong winds and rain, so I was able to get back to a normal 2.1-mile jaunt. This was after four days of miserable miles and many thoughts of quitting “The Streak.” After all, there’s little motivation knowing that it will officially end next Monday morning. However, I now confidently feel I can muddle through the last five mornings. The end is now in sight.
As I prepare mentally for a long stint of relative inactivity, I’m getting my financial affairs in order, along with a haircut and final tele-consult with my surgeon, Doctor Lozonschi. I’m finally learning to proper pronunciation of his name, moving on from simply Doctor L. He has a very capable team of associates to assist him on Monday morning. I still plan to use the hotel treadmill for a ceremonial final run. The days after will more than likely be a blur.
On the home front, our pool heater is two months over the warranty, so getting it repaired will put another dent in the budget, let alone the out-of-pocket costs of the hospitalization. I’ve taken a three-month leave from my weekly Chiropractor visit to save a few bucks. This afternoon, we have to plan our shore excursions for my recovery cruise in mid-March. Most are included, but there is a wine-tasting event in Argentina that has intrigued my wife and some other tours that may add to our trip expenses. We’ve all agreed that tasting the local fare will not add to our costs since we’re perfectly satisfied with the on-board restaurant options. On a positive note, I won’t have to navigate the unsteadiness of a treadmill or ship deck in rough waters to maintain my running streak. By then, the addiction of running for fifteen years straight will have likely passed. I will need to simply relax.
Before surgery, I will have to endure another I.U. basketball game, the Saturday night “Borrego Bash,” and another nerve-racking drive to Tampa. My wife and I will also have another Sunday Night Financial meeting that has wisely been on hold for several months because they typically result in a disagreement. Holiday expenses were naturally extensive and mortgage/insurance costs have predictably gone up. I want to make sure that we’re both on the same page before my costly hospital stay, assuring a peaceful recovery period. She will be at my bedside as much as possible, as she reluctantly gives up any opportunity to substitute teach for the next few weeks. I think she enjoys having the rewarding responsibility, while my needs likely will be exhausting. Five days and counting, with just a few more miserable running miles to complete!
It took every bit of resolve to complete the minimum mile this morning. I got up early, did my pushups, sit-ups and stretching, took my wife to work, and drove Tally to the dog park. She is currently curled up in my office chair, seemingly content. I could feel the absence of Tylenol in my system as old age stiffness was more pronounced than ever. I wanted to quit in that first Fassio Street stretch as a strong headwind pushed me back a step for every two strides I progressed. My plan was to run 2.1-miles, but my heart was racing. Coordination and balance were difficult, as the 1.1-mile distance I covered felt like a marathon. It looks like I’m destined to finish this 15-year running streak in misery, as I huff and puff along.
There’s an I.U. game tonight at Rutgers, and I hope the Hoosiers find the stride that I couldn’t this morning. A neighbor and Rutgers alum is coming over for some pre-game chicken pot pie and to watch the action while I wives are at book club. We’ll set our sights on a couple bottles of wine, since one of us will be the loser. Former I.U. quarterback, Michael Penix, Jr. did not set a good example of competitive play in the Washington loss to Michigan in last night’s National Championship. I send this important message to our basketball team: Don’t be like Mike!
I’m headed to Chair Yoga yet this morning, an eye doctor follow-up this afternoon, the chiropractor tomorrow, a tele-video conference with my surgeon on Thursday, and the Saturday night Borrego Bash before the drive to Tampa on Sunday. Maybe we can get in a movie, Date Night and a haircut? All of these routine activities, fun and not so fun, will come to an end on Monday as my new life begins. In the meantime, the struggle of anticipation continues.
It was Christmas Day when I posted my last story here, one of my longest stretches of inactivity since I started this blog. Everything seems out of sorts as I anticipate next week’s surgery. I finished all my pre-op tests this afternoon, after a long drive to Tampa General Hospital. This Sunday my wife and I will motor there again for her stay at the nearby Westin Waterfront. I will be in Intensive Care, much pricier accommodations. She will come back on Wednesday for her tap class and to check on Tally at Schnauzerville, returning the next day to check on my progress. I doubt that I will remember much of my time there, at least until I eventually am moved to a room. The last time I visited was well over 20-years ago, following my son’s accident. He’ll get to visit me this time.
In those two weeks since Christmas, we’ve gone to several parties, hosted some good friends, spent an afternoon at the Peace River Botanical and Sculpture Gardens, watched some movies, had a cavity fille, dined at several restaurants, entertained neighbors over cocktails, and traveled to Orlando for the Mecum Auction and Disney World. I’ve, of course, managed to get a short run in every morning despite some uncooperative weather and a lack of motivation. In stepping on the scales today, I’ve beefed up a bit, devouring all my favorites before I’m cut-off in favor of a healthy diet. Knowing that my 15-year running streak is coming to an end is discouraging, while every mile has been a chore. Winds, rain, shortness of breath, stiffness, darkness, heavy legs, and even a mechanically challenged resort center treadmill have made things difficult. I don’t really know if my breathing issues are just psychological or a factor of these heart conditions. I’m naturally hoping to feel better overall after this surgery, once the pain of a severed breastbone subsides.
I will probably use a treadmill in the middle of the night to get at least the last mile in before my 5a surgery block begins. “The Streak” will end on day #5,496, temporarily156th in the world on the U.S.R.S.A. all-time retired list. The surgical team has six-and-a-half hours reserved, but hopefully won’t need that long. The part where they stop my heart is a bit scary, and I’m glad that the anticipation will soon be over. Good drugs and bedrest will become my new routine. There will obviously be another pause in my posts until I get settled back here at home. Rehab will be determined based on the extent of the incision and how I respond. I will definitely be shirking all my duties!
It’s Christmas 2023, while fifteen years earlier (December 29, 2008) I was contemplating the start of a running streak that was originally planned for New Year’s Day. We flew into Indy from Austin, drove on icy roads to Elkhart to see my folks and had Christmas dinner at my wife’s sister’s home at Geist. We then traveled to Decatur to check on our unsold house and went to Bloomington to watch I.U. basketball lose in embarrassing fashion to unheralded Lipscomb. These were the days when Christmas was an absolute hassle, trying to spread our time between friends and family in three different states and four or five different cities. The bigger nightmare, however, was finding the Decatur home flooded from a broken pipe. I think I started my running streak a few days early to help deal with the stress of all this. I haven’t missed a Christmas morning jog since, still running away from my problems.
This year’s Christmas was easy. Brunch at a neighbor’s and dinner with family at home. It rained during my morning run, but it was my son who was rushing with the kids from place to place instead of me. It’s, in fact, the very first time that my son, his wife, and the grandkids have been with me in our home on Christmas Day – a monumental occasion! I’ll get to see the look on my five-year-old granddaughter’s face when she beholds the Barbie Dreamhouse that I assembled in our garage.
Earlier today, my wife opened her traditional Limoges box gift, a memory from our visit to King Tut’s tomb. I enclosed the following poem:
These Moments We Share
We’ve seen the world,
And Buddha’s butt.
And visited the tomb,
Of pharaoh King Tut.
Our first might have been,
The Twin Towers on high.
The lights of Times Square,
And fireworks in the sky.
We’ve cruised the Nile,
Stayed in an overwater hut.
And at luxury resorts,
Shaded by the coconut.
We’ve heard prayers in mosques,
Synagogues and Churches.
And stood atop,
Some precarious perches.
Rocamadour comes to mind,
Or a rollercoaster ride.
I’m always much braver.
With you at my side.
Even at sunset,
It’s always proven true.
There is no better view,
Then looking at you.
We’ve been to the Pyramids,
Admired the Sphinx.
Stood in Monet’s Garden.
And by the statue that Thinks.
The Beatles and Big Ben,
Bourbon Street pubs.
Michelin Stars,
Vacation Clubs.
Nantucket to Napa,
Hood to Coast.
Key West to Mackinaw,
All Bucket stops we boast.
Coronado Island,
Caribbean getaways.
Hall of Fame museums,
San Francisco Bay.
Traveled on cruise ships,
Flown in First Class.
Marveled at Glaciers.
And Chihuly glass.
Normandy’s white crosses,
Or atop the Eiffel Tower.
A slow Positano ferry ride,
To fast Hydroplane power.
Castles and Temples,
Too many to mention.
Or Palace Guards,
Standing at attention.
A Maui Luau,
Huatulco waves.
Mountains and Oceans,
Crypts and Caves.
From Route 66,
To the Champs-Elysées.
I sometimes take the wheel,
But you always point the way.
Amsterdam and Rome,
Santorini blue domes.
Overall, in five states,
We’ve owned homes.
Petra and the Dead Sea,
Night Life on the Strip.
Our Bellagio Wedding,
It’s been quite a trip!
Planes, Trains, and Auto,
Ubers, Taxis, and bikes.
Despite my reluctance,
Even cliff-nics and hikes.
Stonehenge seemed tiny,
After all that we’ve done.
And soon we’ll be basking,
In the Mallorca sun.
But the best place of all,
Is in your arms.
Beholding your beauty,
Admiring your charms.
All would be meaningless,
If you weren’t there.
To hold me hand,
In these moments we share.
Christmas 2023
Copyright 2023 johnstonwrites.com
Sorry about all the formatting issues.
I honestly didn’t do much travel in my first marriage, except business trips to Chicago, New York, Atlanta, Philadelphia, and Boston until Marcia’s company arranged award travel to London, Hong Kong/China, Greenbriar, and The Breakers. As we were trying to raise a family, it was too expensive to see the world. However, as we settled into our careers, we were soon anxiously hooked on adventure, and prior to these international excursions, her friend Karen coaxed us for the first time abroad to experience regions like Tuscany and Burgandy. With Oregon friends we tackled Rome and the Amalfi Coast.
Being in the media business and doing promotional work took me to some out-of-the-way places. For example, we organized some day trips for listeners out of Indy to the Bahamas (hot) and Stowe (cold) on ATA. Viewer ski trips took me to Breckenridge two years straight. In addition, our friends Tim & Irene suggested Isla Mujeres for a taste of rural Mexico, and we ventured to Las Vegas many times through the years, especially after our son left home. We did take him there for his birthday one year. I remember visiting some of her distant family in Arkansas and a night at Hot Springs, numerous ski junkets including Big Sky in Montana, touring Washington DC, and staying closer to home with weekends in Ann Arbor, Louisville, Cedar Point, Brown County, and Chicago. We fell in love at Mardi Gras and out of it in Honolulu during our 25th wedding anniversary. As a side note, we did take the sheets and blankets from our hotel room, trying to keep warm while waiting for the sun to rise on Oahu’s Haleakala. I wanted to bike down – she didn’t.
In the second marriage, we were constantly on the fly and dined at many famous chef restaurants. Conventions and business meetings in NYC were common along with frequent dealings in Chicago, Detroit, Cape Cod, Las Vegas, New Orleans, Dallas, Houston, Providence, Buffalo, Boston, Orlando, Los Angeles, Honolulu, Atlanta, the Big Island, and even Dayton. Vacations included Saint Lucia, Napa, San Francisco, Barbados/Jamaica, Dominican Republic, a Carnival cruise to Cozumel, and career moves to TV stations in Austin and Portland, following stints in Lafayette and Central Illinois. European stops were Paris, Rome, Positano, Cannes, Montpelier (where a daughter studied), Sorento, and Capri.
Retirement meant the means of traveling more luxuriously and for longer periods of time. Viking Ocean and River Cruises became the staple with voyages to Normandy, Venice, Croatia, Santorini, Athens, Amsterdam, Vancouver, Alaska, Hawaii, and soon to come, a cross-Atlantic tour of South America, Africa (Casablanca), Gibraltar, and Spain/Mallorca. Marriott Vacation Clubs and Hotels took us to Wailea, Kauai, NYC, Washington D.C., Phoenix, Palm Springs, Tucson, Napa Valley, Las Vegas, Alabama, Orlando, Hilton Head, Cleveland, Nashville, Indianapolis, Austin, Miami Beach, Marco Island, Amelia Island, St. Augustine, Atlanta, The Keys, and many “points” in between. Long drives to Florida, Glacier National Park, Marfa, Walla Walla, and Mackinaw Island’s Grand Hotel, along with Hall of Fame Tours filled in the gaps.
Movies keep us entertained when we’re hungry to get away from it all but don’t have the means or time. I don’t typically like to watch movies for the second time even though I never remember what happened the first time. Of late, travel documentaries have become more important in determining where to go next, plus the thrill of seeing the places on the big screen we’ve been to through the years. It always brings back great memories.
With the world at our fingertips, I think back to childhood when all I knew was the neighborhood around me. We did some family trips to Florida, Yellowstone, the Black Hills, and Upper Michigan, but I had no idea how vast the world was or how much I needed to learn. As I learned to speak, there were odd phrases that I picked up from my parents that were mostly adaptions of “dirty,” profane, or cuss words. My Presbyterian Church upbringing made these words unmentionable, even in private conversation. I’ve since learned to cuss like a champion. They were often words you could switch to after the first syllable came tumbling out of your mouth or silly terms used instead of swearing:
“Go…sh da…rn, Holy Cow, Da…rn it, Pee-pee, Da…ng it, Jee…z, Sh…oot, Cr…ud, Tinkle Dance, Hamburger, He…ck, Fu…dge, Bottom, Cr…ap.
Writing stories like this gives me peace of mind. It’s a reminder of how far I’ve come in life. Like everyone else, my life is unique. It’s rewarding to recap all the places I’ve been and the related experiences. It feels good to get this all on paper before I’m gone someday. Hopefully, the grandkids and their children, if they read this, will see the world through my eyes as I try to recap my childhood, career, marriages, and adventures through these spontaneous trivial tidbits.
As I finish the final chapters of my personal memoirs, Storyworth, the publisher, prompted me to list my favorite possessions, assuming that spouses and family members are not considered as such. I’ve made a list (not necessarily in order):
Antique 1915 National Cash Register – last compensation from the bankrupt Middlebury Independent, my first job out of college. They couldn’t make payroll, so I grabbed it from their adjoining restaurant, the Square Nail.
1955 Sherm Lollar jersey – rare to find from this era and a gift from my wife, secured by our collector friend, Bill Allee.
Steuben Glass water pitcher – gift from foreign business acquaintances of my father when he worked for Miles Laboratories in Elkhart.
Dad’s Miles Lab 15, 20, 25, and 30-year service pins
1965 Mustang convertible model of Dad’s car that I drove to get my driver’s license in 1967.
Cuff Link box collection – sports, novelty, and antique that I stylishly wore to work each day along with a pocket scarf and suspenders.
Framed 2016 Cubs World Series tickets.
I.U. Assembly Hall replica – gift from Adam & Eliza.
1911 Tobacco Cards including Cubs double-play threats Tinker, Evers, and Chance featured in the poem Baseball’s Sad Lexicon.
Framed photo of Lincoln Hot-Air Balloon trip with dad as part of the Indy 500 Festival.
Memory Box from 2017 Daytona 500 Race w/grands.
Mark Buehrle autographed ball from perfect game on July 23, 2009.
Coins and baseball cards – memories of my childhood Herzberg neighbors on Carolyn Avenue.
Awards & Certificates – Running, Detroit Marathon, Crystal Business Journal Sales Eagles, and Toastmaster Honors.
Wrigley Field Brick – Three Generations: Mike, Adam, Gavyn – gift from my wife.
They also asked to briefly share some of what I remember about my grandparents Ross and Grace Hancher:
My mom was their only child, so we spent more time with them than my dad’s parents, who spread their time between their three children. The Hancher’s had a mobile home at Corey Lake in Michigan, and another in Englewood, Florida, plus a home on North E. Street in Elwood, Indiana, their pit stop between the two locations. The two of them were constantly on the go from place to place.
They took me to Benton Harbor Michigan to the Heathkit Factory so I could buy a walkie-talkie kit. However, they first forced me to pick blueberries with them before we could leave. I tried to speed up the process by stealing berries from their buckets to fill mine.
Hours spent playing Scrabble, Yahtzee, and Uno or going shell collecting. I remember making shell creatures and going to the Shell Factory near Ft. Myer/ for supplies, as well as a trip to the nearby Thomas Edison home.
Elwood Creamery and Mangas Cafeteria – buffet lunches together and ice cream.
Raking leaves for “Aunt” Edna Pulver every year and watching the assembly line action in her Corey Lake kitchen of baking and freezing apple pies.
I was shocked to hear my grandpa swear when he took me fishing and pricked his finger on a bait hook. Also, the stench of cleaning fish in the screened lakeside booths.
Late night trips through the woods to the Castle outhouse before they had flushable toilets in the trailer.
Photography was a hobby for both my mom and grandfather. They were never without a camera and used me too often as the subject.
Corey Lake Sundays – Chicken every Sunday on the grill, and visits to YMCA Camp Eberhart.
Grandpa was the Elwood Postmaster. We had to wait to open Christmas presents because he was working.
They took me to my first Florida beach in Englewood, near where we all now live.
My sister and I often spent time with their friends, the Kaufman’s, who also lived in Bay Palms Trailer Court.
Thanksgiving Day annual tradition with the Hizer’s in Frankfort, Indiana.
On my dad’s side of the family, grandparents William and Mildred Johnston were also a big part of my life:
Unlike the Hancher’s, they were homebodies who rarely left the city of Elkhart. Dad and Aunt Norma both lived there but Uncle Bill was in New York state.
After my grandmother died, I took my grandfather to the Indianapolis Speedway and to Gasoline Alley, followed by a visit to the Soldier’s and Sailor’s Monument. He liked Kellogg’s Corn Flakes for breakfast.
There were always large family reunions on the Fourth of July at Simonton Lake, Cook’s Ranch or Oxbow Park. It’s how I got to know all my cousins.
They lived on Maple Row house with big apple tree in the back yard that we liked to climb.
Grandmother loved to play Scrabble and card games.
She worked in the JC Penny store while he owned a laundry called Hoosier Cleaners.
These are all great memories and traditions that I treasure. I would not alter anything about growing up. My believe is that you can’t go back and change anything about life because it changes everything about the outcome.
Between my two marriages and raising a child we developed our own family traditions:
Siesta Key Fourth of July weeks with the McClure family games and special guests Julie and Kim.
Dining as a group at Phillipi Creek, the Oyster Bar, and Captain Curt’s.
Driving to Ft. Wayne every year as a family to celebrate Christmas or Thanksgiving until we eventually moved there.
Learning to ski as a family at Timber Ridge with the Clarks. Trips to Cannonsburg, Monarch, Swiss Valley, Steamboat, Mount Bachelor, and Indiana’s own Paoli Peaks.
Calmly watching or going to IU games.
Little league baseball games that lasted forever, BMX bike racing, and swim meets.
In my second marriage, nearly every Thanksgiving and Christmas were spent in Indianapolis at her sister’s house until we moved away to Texas.
Two Thanksgivings, one with each wife, were spent at the Maui Classic.
Cubs game outings to Wrigley, Pittsburg, and San Francisco. Indy 500 race adventures and memories like Mud Man, or Garage Tours with Beth, Derek, Grif and Jacque. A day at the Daytona 500.
‘Marc’s Party at Mike’s house’ was more about my work family at WISH-TV but still involved all of us.
Currently, we have weekly restaurant Date Nights and have started a new neighborhood tradition of celebrating the Chinese New Year.
I’ll pick this up in another post before I bore you with too many personal details. If you didn’t read this far then I’m sorry that I did!
I’m admittedly a bit bitter about this upcoming heart surgery. I want to feel sorry for myself and ask the question – Why Me? After all, I’ve sweated and strained all these years to keep myself in shape, and it seems all for nothing. However, my arteries were clear and weight gain controlled, even despite my reputation as the Cookie Monster. Diet has never been one of my strong points, since I eat everything in front of me, rarely close a snack bag once it’s open and ready for the trash and can’t get much satisfaction out of eating healthy vegetables. Give me ice cream, caramel, chocolate, or an Arby’s Jamocha Shake!
Outside of my parents and grandparents, who all lived long, healthy lives, I’ve never really lost someone close to me. If a friend passed away, they did so far away when they were not part of my day-to-day life. For example, I’m having trouble keeping track of the number of high school classmates that have recently died, but I haven’t seen or talked to them in years, outside of Facebook. All my cousins, aunts, nieces, nephews, kids and grandkids are present and accounted for. For this, I am very thankful.
There is at least a dozen of my neighbors and friends that are currently recovering from knee, hip, and rotator cup procedures. I’m not alone when it comes to repairs. It’s all a part of growing old, so it’s not surprising that the odds have caught up with me on having to go through major surgery, especially after proudly avoiding hospital stays all these years. I’m a little depressed, knowing that I will soon have to give up my running streak after fifteen years of strenuous strutting and go through painful rehab. This will be a new challenge.
I not currently comfortable in my sagging skin. I fight it with sit-ups, push-ups, and Chair Yoga, but I’ve gained some weight, especially after cutting my mileage back a third due to the hot summer mornings. Even though it’s cooled off a bit, I’m no longer motivated to go that extra mile. I’m also worried what will happen when the running addiction passes. Will I balloon into a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade attraction?
I’ve been advised that my diet will be forcibly changed after surgery. It’s probably best that I enjoy the Holiday trimmings before I turn into a skeleton. I’m thankful we have a pool that will be helpful in my recovery, and I won’t have to expose my scary scars to the public. I will have time for lots of reading, writing, and browning my relatively pale skin. It’s been cool of late, so I’m looking more and more like Casper the Friendly Ghost. A healthy tan, nutritious food, and swimming could turn me into an aging Greek God. I’m counting my blessings!