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On aging

In my early 70s, not so very long ago, I was going on [pretty] wild Spin Rides at a gym on W49th.

It’s an experience I can’t imagine having now, although I can recall  it vividly.

The Spin room had a screen on which were projected travel destinations. Some were real and hilly. Some were fantastical (and hilly).

In my 50s, I felt vibrant. I was physically capable. We, Burt, and I, would walk to many of the many places we went. Burt was a goer.

For many years, we would routinely walk the 59th Street Bridge to catch the 7 to Shea. It was an easy walk for us. Then.

The changes were slow but steady. Some routines became more difficult. Some walks turned into strolls and then into ambles.

Burt walks with his walker now. Yesterday, I was so proud of the distance he accomplished. He moved with alacrity relative to his condition.