This morning was hectic for a retiree. Up early, doctor’s appointment, and not enough time to get in the full 3.1k. I did not sleep well last night, still reeling from jet lag. My appetite is not good and energy levels low. I spent the afternoon trying to get through the final season of “Sons of Anarchy,” disgusted with all the violence and unsavory characters that seemingly get away with everything. SPOILER: A son that murders his step-father/club leader with a mother that kills his wife. It’s a twisted tale of bloodshed. 

In two weeks, I go under the knife for the first time in my life, disturbed about sleeping upright, swollen features, black eyes, and stitches. I’m also not supposed to exercise for 10-days, so “The Streak” may once again be in jeopardy. I’m very lucky to have avoided injuries in the nearly 14-years of running every day, so why I would want to go thorough this voluntary misery is unexplainable? I will undoubtedly disregard the doctor’s orders and at least cover the daily mile to keep this silly record intact. 

We did get to a movie yesterday afternoon. Amsterdam was surprisingly entertaining, with a great team of actors, despite the reported pans. It was another reminder of how fortunate my life has been. I’ve avoided war, loss of property, discrimination based on race or religion, tornados, flooding, and now a hurricane. I haven’t had anything of value stolen, watched my parents live a good life into their nineties, found love/marriage twice, traveled the world, and have healthy grandchildren. Somehow, I’ve skirted tragedy (knock on wood) into my seventies, despite religious beliefs that are shaky. I do not want to give myself credit, while not really sure who to properly thank for my fortuitous existence. When so many suffer, my main question in life is why me?