Along the Path

     I rarely go to see a doctor, but when I make my annual-visit rounds, I will bring up some health concerns.

     Over the past few years, the pat answer has been, "Well, you are in your forties."

     To which I respond (sometimes jokingly), "Well, if I'm falling apart in my forties, why would I want to live until I'm 90?"

     They chuckle, but they don't give me an answer. Sometimes I want to say, "That wasn't a rhetorical question. I need an answer."  But, I know they don't have an answer, so I let it go.

     The answer came to me yesterday in the form of a 90-pounds-dripping-wet elderly woman.

     Over the years when I take a mid-morning walk---either on a day off or a weekend---I pass this woman on the walking trail in my neighborhood.  She walks at a snail's pace, at first without any apparatus to support her, then with a cane, and finally yesterday with a walker.  Every time I cruise on by her on my power walk, we exchange pleasantries, but not too many because I've got to keep my pace to make it so-many-miles-in-so-many-minutes. In fact, I often get annoyed when I run into neighbors I haven't seen in a while who want to chat me up. Now, I have to stop my tracker. Thanks a lot.

     Yesterday was different. The arthritis in my left foot flaring, and I already felt the pain a quarter of a mile into my less-powerful walk.  I actually thought about throwing in the towel and going home.

     Then, I passed her.

     I smiled as usual, said hello, and asked how she was doing.

     With her usual smile and genuinely upbeat voice, she said, "I'm doing real good today."

     This lady might be small in stature, but she is a giant in positivity. It's as if her tiny body cannot hold all of it.

      Damn, little old lady. Now I have to keep going and you've forced me to re-assess my whiny attitude.

       Determined more than ever to put one foot in front of the other until I made it at least a couple of miles, I trucked along.  I normally don't pass her again on our walks because she covers a lot of ground, but she must have altered her course and turned around early.  This time, I was right behind her. I was forced to slow my pace because another walker was passing by her going the opposite direction, and I didn't want to be that rude jerk who stepped off in the grass in a huff just to get around the traffic jam.

      Then, I did something unprecedented for me. I walked along side her and started a conversation. I felt like I was walking through jello; we were going that slow.  We talked about how nice it was to be outside; how great morning walks are. Then, the cloudy sky started spitting some raindrops on our heads.

     "I hope we beat this rain home!" I exclaimed. "I knew I was taking a risk,  but I really needed a walk today."

     "I know what you mean," she answered. Then, "Over the years, I've been soaked many times."

     I don't know if she meant it metaphorically, but I got the sense that she did.

     She did it again. How can someone pack so much punch in a matter of mere minutes?

     I told her to have a good day, and continued on my now stroll. What was the rush?

     And, as I consciously reflected on her words, pushing the pain shooting through both of my feet to the back of my mind, it came to me: That is why I want to live to be 90. I want to be her.  I want to pass a woman having a mini-mid-life crisis on the pathway and give her words of encouragement.

     Thanks, tiny lady. Your big spirit made a huge difference. Now, I can say, "I'm doing real good today."

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