I was walking yesterday during my daily recovery exercises. Then I started to run.
I now run four sets of 100 yards or so, in the middle of my daily exercise routine . . hoping to build up to become the physical specimen that I have always imagined was in this relatively skinny body.
I realized at about 50 yards into the run that, even though I was feeling good and strong, I could just fall over and pass on. Nobody would think that it was unusual. After all, they would think, it was his just-desserts for being a blackguard!
In addition, it has been only nine weeks since he had the open-heart surgery. They would think that this happens as part of the risk of having the surgery . . perhaps, there is a 10% chance there is a rubber glove in there that has finally, with the jostling from the running, entangled itself around my heart.
Or, what if a bug had wormed its way in during the operation. . un-noticed . . and decided to celebrate or, perhaps, have a family?
Or, what about the possibility that my heart just decided that it had enough of this abuse and wanted out so it could have a life with the rubber glove? It could happen, and while I don’t believe in superstitions, I am going to knock on wood to satisfy my mother’s memory.
So, I slowed down and started walking.
I realized that I had never done this before. I had always had the confidence that working harder, pushing myself physically, was the right way to develop long-term strength in my body.
Maybe I ought to figure out what this knocking-on-wood thing is.