There’s just no spring in my legs anymore. I watch other runners with envy as they stride along like gazelles. I sometimes have trouble lifting my legs over the curbs and worry about tripping over a sidewalk crack. I watch my reflection in the store front windows and wonder how silly I look to others? This morning I could feel the extra slice of pizza that I tried not to eat last night. There was a sense of relief when I finally got to the stretch of “B’s” (See Post # 1458). Yet, another day goes by with the satisfaction of completion. It’s a love-hate relationship.

I did get out of the house yesterday for lunch at Buffalo Wild Wings. The Leadership group has lost its status as regulars, with six weeks having passed since our last visit. Many of my traditions have changed over the last six months. “Date Nights” are rare, while carry-out more frequent. Baseball card shows have moved to a new location. Get-togethers with friends are at an all time low. The only thing that really hasn’t changed is my morning run at 4,290 consecutive days. I didn’t use to count them as much as I do anymore – a clear sign of boredom. They are often the only thing that distinguishes one day from another. 

Watching sports continues to occupy the time between runs. The Celtics stay alive, the baseball playoff picture is almost complete, and college football takes another step towards full participation, with the SEC starting play. The dreaded virus halted Notre Dame travel to Wake Forest. They are not yet playing high school football here in Oregon, but back in Indiana, the Elkhart Lions remain undefeated. The regular season-ending Cross-Town rivalry continues in Chicago, so one of my teams is bound to lose again today. The Bears tackle with the Falcons tomorrow, while the Colts meet the Jets. LeBron can lead his Lakers into the NBA Finals tonight. There’s plenty to see on TV.

My mother-in-law’s words many years ago remain in my mind: “You’re no longer a spring chicken!” It put me in my place as “someone who is no longer young, probably past his young adulthood, and sometimes doesn’t realize it and tries to look and act younger than his age.” As they often say in the world of sports, “the legs are the first to go.” Tom Brady and Drew Brees apparently still have their legs, but that too will change. Sadly, with no Spring – you Fall. It’s the changing of the seasons, as I continue to plug along at age 69.