Thirty, thirty-five and forty didn't bother me. They were milestones to be celebrated. Add one and suddenly I'm beyond the abyss. Which isn't to say I'm bothered today as I celebrate forty-one years of age. I'm quite happy actually, but I can't say I am entirely excited to state my age. It comes with a little interior tremor of, Really?
I ran this morning through Victoria BC, catching up to my family who were visiting the petting zoo in Beacon Hill Park while I had some alone time to gaze across the Straits of Juan de Fuca at the Olympic Mountains back in our suite before my run. I'm finally able to run comfortably after four years of rehabilitating a severe tendon injury in my right ankle. Running makes me feel light on my feet and young. I'm much slower than I was but minus the burn of the pack a day plus I used to smoke even when running competitively. I've been running all week with no pain in my joints. My muscles on the other hand are feeling the burn. My lungs, however, feel quite young.
I have mucho to be grateful for, obvious to my intellect but difficult for my psyche to accept. Oh, the great mystery of life! No sense in trying to sort it all out, better to live as mindfully and courageously as possible and leave the rest up to the universe.
feliz cumpleanos a mi,
Signore Direttore
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