Had a busy schedule set for Saturday, ending the day taping the â€œHard Times for the Big Easyâ€ benefit in Floyd. But the schedule, and I, collapsed in an inglorious heap the second I stepped outside for my morning walk.
My right knee went numb during Friday nightâ€™s football game. Twice while kneeling I had trouble getting back up and it buckled a couple more times while running to keep up with the action. On Saturday morning, it gave up, sending my coffee cup flying and me into a painful lump on the cold, wet grass.
Runners call this â€œhitting the wall.â€ Others say â€œcrash and burn.â€ Iâ€™ve been there before. Itâ€™s exhaustion â€“ mental and physical: Total, complete and unavoidable.
I saw this coming a few days ago but tried to ignore it. Too many things to do. What, I rationalized, was a little weariness compared with the tragedy on the Gulf Coast? I could work through the sore muscles, the dizziness, and the inability to focus. Working long hours on various projects to help victims of Hurricane Katrina sapped my physical strength but I was sure I could press on.
Wrong. The wall came out of nowhere Saturday morning and knocked me on my butt. I crawled back into the house knowing the day was lost. Time to surrender to the realities of age, physical limitations and mental overstimulation.
Time marches on but, on this Saturday, I could not march with it.
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