My old stomping grounds

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This evening I took a walk around Prospect Park in Brooklyn, pausing now and then to do bench dips and pushups. I followed the paths I used to walk, and then jog, about every morning during the months before Grace and I moved from Park Slope.

I was overcome with melancholy during the walk, for several obvious reasons. First, my body feels heavy and ponderous compared to how it felt when I was running up and down those trails six years ago. Second, it’s a reminder that I fought my way to physical fitness only to lose it all. Third… well, I’ve always been sentimental about old stomping grounds. It’s just how I’m wired.

The first picture shows a mother swan and her adolescent offspring swimming on the pond by the boathouse. The second shows the building where I used to do calisthenics in the morning. The third shows the woods where I probably picked up the tick that gave me my first case of Lyme disease.

The last six years have been interesting times. I’m not going to let my predilection for melancholy overshadow all I’ve accomplished during those years, and I’m not going to cast a pall over what I’m continuing to accomplish today. I’m getting back in shape through hard work and sensibility. I’m not the same person I was six years ago. I needn’t follow the same patterns.


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