Walking (and Writing)...Aimlessly

Cathay delivered me home hobbled thanks to the very apparent vendetta Hong Kong has against the club-footed.  I had almost forgotten how unforgiving it can be, my feet were no match for the vertical city-scape.   At the moment they’re shaded with an oddly familiar purplish hue that seems to dissipate a little each day and so I’m confident I’ll be back to my normal wobbly self in no time. 

That said, it’s forcing me to take my daily walks at lunch a bit more gingerly.  I typically try to get out of the office each day when I can to clear my thoughts.  Unfortunately, I’ve been saddled with more work than any small office staff could handle and so I’ve been forced to sit the past few months out.  With strong resolve, I took the occasion of my return from Asia to regain my stroll.  Now, when I am in good routine, most of the time I am joined by an old friend that I just so happen to work with at the same company.  One look at him and you’ll agree that he’s much less athletic than I, but I’ve learned to tolerate that in trade for the company.  I typically have to measure back a clip to ensure he’s able to keep pace, save for this week...I just haven’t been in top form. 

It seems the trip exacerbated the measurable degree of deterioration my feet and ankles have experienced over the past few years, and it has only reinforced the notion that managing them from here on out will require more than just toleration.  I’m finally resigned to the point that relief will undoubtedly require a healthy combination of stretching and medical oversight.   And I’ll be honest…it’s that latter measure that concerns me most.  It’s never easy for me to visit the podiatrist.  The amazement that the medical community has shown my feet over the years can, at times, be quite discouraging.   For instance, during the most recent appointment, my doc grimaced assertively at first sight and by the end of the examination had all but stopped short of suggesting that I’d probably be better off with hooves.  I kid of course; however, provided they were cloven, I wouldn’t necessarily disagree.  It wouldn’t exactly floor me to learn that my feet are actually more closely aligned anatomically with that of livestock.  Now, naturally I’m referring to function more so that form, yet I don't want to give the impression that it's foot off-coloring that will keep me from a foot modeling career.  I’ll spare everyone a picture…just on the off chance that any of you are eating.   

More substance to come shortly, bare with me on the writing...I'm still trying to get my feet back underneath me...

How About a Re-do?

Have you ever been in a crowd of approximately 150 Asian people and think to yourself, ‘I can say with 100% certainty that I’m the only person here listening to the Marshall Tucker Band on his iPod?’   Yeah… me neither.  Until earlier today, that is, as the thought dawned on me while waiting to board Cathay Pacific flight 890 offering service from Newark to Hong Kong.  In hindsight, the Asian modifier is probably unnecessary in the context, but they do represent the largest demographic at the terminal waiting to board the flight.  I’m returning to Asia nearly 4 years to the day of my departure and I hope the 5-day visit will provide me ample time to reacquaint myself with a city of which I grew quite fond.  As I’m sure the city has changed, so have I.  Since last reporting to you all, I have moved my home from city to suburb and accepted a new position within the firm.  However, underscoring all has been Lara, the beautiful woman I now call my wife.  For years she has urged me to return to the keyboard.  It is about time that I oblige – someone or something has smiled upon me since the day I met her and I recognize that for that…I owe.   

 

I type away from the business class cabin where a balding gentleman in khaki shorts is successfully wearing out a path in the carpet pacing from the nose of the plane to the back server galley.  I’ll give him late 40’s and 140 pounds, soaking wet.  He has now bumped into my arm rest causing my seat to jar for the second time.  If it happens a third, he may not see 50.  In all honesty though, I don’t fault him for the movement.  His activity is making him much less susceptible to deep vein thrombosis than me, for instance, who has spent the entire flight sedentary and making a full-hearted attempt to consume enough to last through hibernation.  My performance has not been for the weak-hearted.  It has taken only 10 hours to notice a pound per square inch change in the partially inflated inner-tube that finds a home atop my midriff.  And that development comes as no accident.  I wouldn’t exactly call the go/no go decision on that Black Angus cheddar burger an inner struggle, and I’ve thrown down no roadblocks on route to depleting the flight’s ration of Johnny Walker Gold.  Restraint just hasn’t been on the menu tonight.

 

The flight path is an interesting one.  A course due north is preferred over straight west as the earth’s curvature and rotation make the journey shorter in both time and distance.  It was originally counterintuitive to me, but I’ve learned to grasp it as the 777 is cresting over the northern pole, rounding route south set to breach what must be the most uninhabitable terrain on earth.  Through a squint I can faintly make out land below which is black and blue, and beautiful.   We’ll traverse the rest of Siberia before we reach the Mongolian border which, coupled with massive mainland China, seems to represent the final leg of the journey.  I’m anxious to touch down in the ‘Pearl of the Orient’ – I anticipate memories ‘so thick I’ll have to brush them away from my face.’  It’ll be Sunday morning by that time and my plan calls for a quick respite before setting out to retrace my steps from years gone by.

 

Check back for more commentary on the trip but for now let’s address the elephant in the room. 

 

I get it.  Either I’m going to write, or I’m not going to write.  It’s not fair of me to leave the throngs of people who continue to check this site daily disappointed. 

 

The furnace is lit…I’m taking up the hobby once more. 

 

I’ve come to realize that I do not need travel to use as an impetus for posting.  I’ve also resolved that I do not need significant life events to leverage in order to address this fever.  Rather, I really only need idiots like the one that has now smacked my chair a third time on route to logging his first mile at 37,000 feet to provide equal parts material and motivation.  There is never a shortage of incident, accident, or situation.  I promise to write about it regularly so long as you promise to enjoy…