Changing always changing...

I once jogged a mile in eight minutes, every mile in eight minutes - not fast but constant that was how I went to work or jogged back home, nine miles at least at eight minute per mile pace. Ate up time, ate up ground. If you drive along the road you never see the rattle snakes in Oklahoma, unless they are crawling across the road to get to that chicken on the other side. But if you jog you find them, and horny toads and rabbits, small birds and big bugs. The difference between 7 plus miles per hour jogging with eyes about five nine above the ground and looking around the closest twenty feet, or sitting flying at sixty miles per hour about the same distance above the ground but concentrating on things beyond a hundred feet to a couple of miles down the distance - whole reason for looking is different, you don't stumble much in the car and the stray dogs only bark and chase a bit, no chance they will catch and bite you while driving.

As I got older the speed of the every mile, mile after mile got slower, the reason to be on the road wasn't the same and normally I don't have to be somewhere by a certain time, and there aren't any showers waiting at my new workplaces like there were in the old workplaces - and one doesn't want to worry others by not showering after jogging, although I have read that some joggers only toweled off saying sweat doesn't stink - and it doesn't but then humans do. I do think that keeping moving is critical to good health and peace of mind, I think too much as I trudge on, about things somewhere else, about the future and the past, lots to think about or nothing to think about but lots of empty in the mind to fill so I do. Weather is nice here, starts at upper seventies and goes to nineties when hot - I break into sweat early, long ago it always took a mile to break into a nice sweat (the body needed convincing that it was a real workout not just a dash to the post office?)

I return and walk around the block to cool down, legs are fine today, I am still fat and old but living with it. I have breakfast and coffee and watch Keegan, I like to see the movement of the arms and legs, the stretching, the wrinkled brow (does he feel the debt burden he is inheriting? nah) the large yawns, the rapid heart beats - little creatures always beat the heart faster, he turns to the voices he loves, Mom wins! always a good sign. His father has a great one hand arm hold for moving him fast between floors and rooms, he gets cared for well. And he sleeps, with all our best wishes and our efforts to make his world better than he will ever know.