This body is not what it once was. It was once, my body, I almost entire, almost indistinguishable from me in those years
when I lived most fully and almost exclusively in it and through it. It has
acquired now an existence of its own, an independent, sometimes mischievous physicality over which I exercise less
and less control. For a former athlete, still actively living the motto mens sana in corpore sano, these
losses, this decapacitation strangely does not diminish me. It may yet, but for
now, I feel myself more me than ever. I have no particular desire to return to
the day or the body in which I could run a sub-5 minute mile, play ten sets of
tennis in the summer heat, get two finger joints over the rim, read without
glasses, pee quickly. Even if one could return these faculties merely by
wishing, I’d defer, settle for the restoration of my eyes and prostate, in that
order. A body for games less becomes an old man. He should spend his time
otherwise.
No comments:
Post a Comment