I was never a great athlete. I wasn't particularly agile. I never understood how someone could bounce a ball and run at the same time. I was also ridiculously slow. A friend used to say, "When Marc runs, it appears as if he's running under water." i used to say, "When I run, somebody starts a telethon."
What I lacked in agility and speed, I compensated for in strength and intelligence. I was a big kid, and strong as an Ox. In Basketball and Hockey, nobody could budge me. I also acknowledged my limitations and employed my assets.
At nearly 54 I don't expect The Knicks or The Yankees to call, but I am having difficulty accepting the fact that the simple walks, that I used to cherish, are getting to be a struggle. My mind says "Yes.' My back and my legs say "No." I pushed it the last two days. I avoided the subway and walked. I stop often. I'm tired.
My mind is still very clear, yet very different, then it once was. Strange stories lived in my "Walter Mitty" existence, but I was too inhibited to reveal them. Now, whether due to the disease, the prescriptions, or my age, I write these stories. Some people like them, some just tell me they like them, some don't understand them. I write for myself. It's a form of therapy. I also love inviting people into my strange world.
It's sometimes hard to accept that tomorrow won't be as good as today, but there is no other choice. I was dealt this hand. Most have been dealt a far worse hand than I have. So I'll live with it as what it is, an inconvenience, nothing more!