A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Leg hurt so much yesterday that I realized that I need to rest it for two days and not run ever again, or at least until the numbness encountered in the left leg disappears with the pain. For I was right: the numbness is the first sign, the necessary condition, of the pain since the numbness shows that the nerves of the left leg are screwed up at the sciatic source. This means walking with weights, swimming and free dancing, perhaps forever, since the first thirty minutes of yesterday’s “Tae-Bo” workout included running-like leg impacts stronger than in free-dancing.

Then I discovered that I’d not properly prepared for today’s CT scan by taking the required medication for the scan, which uses a radioactive medium. So, no scan would have been performed had I gone to Queen Mary. Instead of going in any way, I will wait for them to call me and yell at me for not making it in (again) at the appointed time. I will try to see if I can get the required CT scan from a private lab so as to get QMH the data it now needs.

…and the rain won’t stop…

Fortunately starting new work assignments next week that will better fill my time with useful activities, one of which is in Tin Shui Wai, the city of sadness at the ass end of beyond. Bring it on, I need to know I can make the long commute. I got over the pain of walking so running is gravy.

Reading a new book, Apollo’s Angels a new history of the Ballet. I never wanted to be ordinary running and dancing assured me I was not at the cost of a Nijinsky like estrangement. But I have to accept that maybe, my last run ever was my son’s birthday and perhaps make my workout something like air guitar conducting of Beethoven or wheel chair basketball in some sort of Home for Christ’s sake.

Or as my kid Peter (junglee Peter) said when he was little, we’re gonna put Daddy in a Home. He was good! At one point he prophetically replied to the banal question, what do you want to be when you grow up, that he wanted to travel around the country firing people like Daddy, prophesying the George Clooney film about the corporate outplacement specialist.

But give me a break. When Spinoza says that motion of a body is knowledge he meant, I think, not the set of motions you are capable of right now but of all motions you have made over a lifetime. Gratitude is owning the past, saying hey hey hey, that happened and it was good: it sends light out in all directions. I really did run up Page Mill Road to the Alpine Inn, and I don’t have to do so again to prove it…sure would be fun, I admit, to be able to do this, but that’s all gravy. We demand so much.


Why do you ask for so much? Why not ask for more? Story of my life.

Susan Sontag called the white race, rather infamously, the cancer of history and was stricken herself with leukemia. Perhaps we cultivate the black angel, Hopdance. Eventually a contradiction emerges almost of necessity.

The only salvation is getting real humble real fast. But that was the original message, give up, defer gratification. Basically, I started running in 1981 to be a better father because I felt like shit nearly all the time and I knew that this wasn’t going to work.

Think of it as a fun house. In the fun house you are pressed up against the mirror of mortality and then they let you go and in consequence you see eternity in the most finite grain of sand. “Hey! We’re walking!”. And you learn at some cost not to expect your best efforts to have the expected results.


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