I walked on the path by the railroad tracks until I came next to Sinsheimer Park. In the unimproved area on the fringe of the park is a frisbee golf setup. Frisbee golf course, I guess it's called, really. I watched a group of young adults - college students, I'm sure - playing the course, having a good time. I found a place to sit and watched them and the ease with which they moved and the easy way they had with each other. I envied them the physical ease.
On my way home I stopped to sit on a concrete wall for a bit, and I watched some children playing in the street. When I was that age I spent my time in the street, too. I played various types of ball games, mostly, with various neighborhood kids and my sister Mary. I think that in those days just living on the street gave you some kind of in to whatever kid game was going on. The farther I got from that block the more difficult it was for me to fit in, however. I was fat then, too. And not very good at keeping myself clean. And kids are, believe it, the cruelest people when they spot a victim like me.
Still, on that street I played. I wanted to fit in and I tried, and I don't remember actually hurting when I ran - oh, well, yes, once in a while if I had to run too far too fast I would get winded and get side splints. Most of the time the games were not that taxing physically. When I think back on it now I wonder how I got out there at all and did that. It's a kind of kid thing, I guess. I have seen Joey do that, just go up to other kids and play with them, not really thinking much about it.
I made it back, once again determined to get out there, again and again. Start over again and again.