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Sunday, October 31, 2010

These are the days of lasers in the jungle

I've been running again. Not as much as I could if I were serious about it, but more regularly than in several years. I recently purchased a couple of new pairs of running shoes, which were long overdue, and I'm hoping to stay in halfway decent running shape, and injury-free, for a long time. The days in which I aspired to speed are long past, but the old man shuffle will do just fine as part of a program to keep body and soul together.

Yesterday I decided to try a maiden voyage with the iPhone providing the musical soundtrack. And there on the Eastbank Esplanade, just past the halfway point of my route for the day, a wondrous thing happened. The music faded out, and the phone rang! I knew what to do. I clicked on the little thingy on the earbud cord, and there was the melodious voice of our daughter. We talked for a minute or two -- said thingy also serving as a microphone -- and when we said goodbye, I clicked again, and the tunes resumed right where they left off. Pretty awesome.

Not to mention that it was my longest run (by a slight margin, but hey) since June of 2005. The knees may be a little grouchy today, but spirits are high.

Comments (8)

Aspirin for the knees and daily glucosamine chondroitin? Johnny Kelly kept running Boston in his 90s, but I've never read anything about the condition of his hips, knees, and ankles.

I loved running, but used up my allotment of strides. Now, like a lot of broken-down runners, I bike. It's not the same.

Did you see Vera Katz's statute? It was supposedly missing awhile back from the esplanade. Mayor Adams was suppose to check into its whereabouts, as it might be in a Parks and Rec warehouse somewhere.

I love the east bank esplanade. The trouble is though, on a nice day, I almost get run over by speeding cyclists once or twice during the loop. I think pedestrians need to form a sort of critical mass protest, get a huge group that blocks the way of cyclists. This would be to make a point of watching out for pedestrians, and for them to take a bit more caution.

Love the Paul Simon reference in the title.

pj, although one cannot learn to walk by looking at one's feet, a step at a time has proved an effective way of getting on with getting on. From the iPhone it is not a giant step to the iPad, which is turning out to be a remarkable instrument; for example, Emily Hager, in a compelling piece in Friday's NYTimes, noted:

"Since its debut in April, the iPad has become a popular therapeutic tool for people with disabilities of all kinds, though no one keeps track of how many are used this way, and studies are just getting under way to test its effectiveness, which varies widely depending on diagnosis."

I hope I'm not too late for you to miss this, Mr. Bogdanski. I remembered this piece from last summer; it might be worth a glance.


From the NYT (6Nov):

"Four days beyond his 90th birthday, it might be enough for Jon Mendes to celebrate having the original parts and warranty on his knees and hips.

Instead, he is running — well, O.K., walking — the New York City Marathon on Sunday, having procured his racing essentials: petroleum jelly to keep his feet and thighs from chafing, adhesive bandages to prevent his nipples from bleeding and a finish-line beverage that is not strictly considered a sports drink."


"Sunday’s marathon will be Mendes’s 12th in New York. In the 2005 race, his last appearance, he was the oldest finisher, at age 85. He would become the ninth-oldest finisher in the marathon’s history upon completing the course Sunday. The age record would be his alone if, as planned, he finishes again at 94 in 2014 — an impressive respiratory and vascular achievement for a man who began running at 46 after kicking a smoking habit of two and a half packs a day.

'You’ve got to have goals in life or you wither away,' said the elfin Mendes, who stands 5 feet 6 inches on his tiptoes, weighs 160 pounds, hums jauntily while he walks and inevitably draws disbelieving looks when strangers learn his age. 'It’s no disgrace to fail, only not to try.'”

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