(Dance Dance Revolution)
Today my walk home took me by the Metreon, so I stopped in to play a game of DDR. The last time I'd played was months ago, which was months from the time before that, which was even farther from the time when I'd played regularly, back when my joints were basically functional. Last time I'd actually done quite well, and enjoyed myself. This time I was on an ITG machine, which is important because in ITG you get to finish the song even if you run out of energy. So I got to see at length and in detail how quickly my legs locked up when I tried to lift them, how erratic my balance was, and how I was breathing so hard that my throat burned, in a way I hadn't felt since before I started running.
After I failed out, I sat down against the wall and waited for the cloud of bitterness and defeat to descend on the world. I really didn't want to blow a perfectly good day on obsessive self-pity. Yet I couldn't imagine remaining self-possessed when confronted with the enormity of everything I've lost over the past three years. From marathon eight-foot sessions to barely being able to keep myself upright...
And then I heard myself think, The step that can be told is not the eternal step --
You probably thought I was being silly when I wrote that, back in 2002. But I meant it then and I mean it even more now. When you make something a part of your life, the way I did with DDR and running, then all bets are off. You get joy and successes and delightful, unpredictable little surprises, and you also get shit that you couldn't have expected, and that you can't just wave away. You're setting it on a path that's twisted, serendipitous, and gradually evolving, just like your own path through life. When I sit there and mope, I'm assuming that the story is over, and in this kind of situation that's the exact thing you should not assume.
After I failed out, I sat down against the wall and waited for the cloud of bitterness and defeat to descend on the world. I really didn't want to blow a perfectly good day on obsessive self-pity. Yet I couldn't imagine remaining self-possessed when confronted with the enormity of everything I've lost over the past three years. From marathon eight-foot sessions to barely being able to keep myself upright...
And then I heard myself think, The step that can be told is not the eternal step --
You probably thought I was being silly when I wrote that, back in 2002. But I meant it then and I mean it even more now. When you make something a part of your life, the way I did with DDR and running, then all bets are off. You get joy and successes and delightful, unpredictable little surprises, and you also get shit that you couldn't have expected, and that you can't just wave away. You're setting it on a path that's twisted, serendipitous, and gradually evolving, just like your own path through life. When I sit there and mope, I'm assuming that the story is over, and in this kind of situation that's the exact thing you should not assume.