Heavy athletic respiration vs doleful sigh

For some reason today”ran around” instead of following my usual route. A reflection that: a day will come when I will not have,, or cannot use legs –will not have las piernas— so how nice, how exceptional, how rewarded I was, how grateful I should feel, to have observed this afternoon les jambs, my legs, on the one hand, rising and falling beneath me (if that’s descriptive of what legs do when one runs) on the other hand, transferring me through space at around the same rate that I would suppose such a raising and lowering would suggested. Even to be supported by ones legs is, if not quite a luxury, even still “pure bliss”. Etonnant. Tres supurbe. Let me not forget what I’ve had in being healthy, I thought. If I should become Job, let me not forget. (As Job didn’t.) (Person tried to tell me today to thank god for what is good, a logic I smiled at but resisted as being, at best, half the story.) (Remember the lord in the days of your youth: remember there was a time when you had it good.) The contrast of heavy athletic respiration and doleful sighs.

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