So I'm out biking this morning and I feel this twinge in my knee. (My right knee, for the record, in case I ever need to report it to a doctor.)
It only lasted a minute or two, and wasn't really painful, but it was enough to get my attention -- enough to get me to think: "I'm not going to be able to do this forever. Any day now, God's going to say 'That's enough fun for him,' and just that quick I'm going to move from my golden years into my sunset years."
(Again for the record: I'm not ready.)
So I get to thinking that this is something I can blog about. And wouldn't "Intimations of Mortality" be a clever title?
I ride a little farther and along the side of the trail I see some scraggly bushes with brilliant yellow flowers. "What a coincidence," I think, remembering that I read somewhere that daisies were Chaucer's favorite flowers. "Here I am channeling Wordsworth and I get hit in the face with a reminder of [someone who is widely considered to be] another of Britain's greatest poets." And then I wonder: "Are they really daisies, those beautiful golden flowers? Wait a minute. Golden? 'Golden daffodils.' I'll bet they're daffodils. More Wordsworth! How great is that?!"
Not so great. Turns out they were daisies after all. (The web really is a great research tool.)
So I ride some more and (finally!) reach the overpass at Route 28, my usual turnaround point. And as I'm swigging some water on the overpass, looking down on CarMax, I notice shards of white glass and grey plastic on the route 28 exit ramp. And again, I'm reminded of mortality.
Weird.
Last night at 11:00, three deer were on our front lawn.
Postscript:
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