This morning I returned to an early morning walk, starting out before five a.m. but only doing two-thirds of my usual walk. Yesterday, in lieu of a walk, I drove my entire route, using my car's odometer to check the distance, and I made a devastating discovery. I have been touting this early morning ritual as a "three mile walk," but it seems I been lying. It is not three miles at all. It is 2.85 miles. It is said that confession is good for the soul but I find that rather little consolation.
There is in old expression in baseball to describe an aging outfielder who has slowed down in his pursuit of fly balls. "He has lost a step," they say. It seems I have lost a good many steps as the years have gone by.
The good news is that my back is mostly healed. I have been touched, but also somewhat depressed, by how many of you also have back trouble, much of it worse than mine. Inasmuch as we tend to reproduce before we develop back trouble, there is no evolutionary tendency for strong backs to drive out weak. Judging from current political trends, the same it seems could be said for intelligence.