Hit the ball....

The MS walk yesterday reminded me of my dad’s old joke about the golfers:
“Wow, Jim, you look exhausted!”
“Yeah – tough golf game yesterday. There we were on the 8th hole and Ralph just drops down – dead – right after he birdies the hole!”
“Oh my god – how horrid!”
“Oh, you don’t know the worst of it. For the rest of the 18, it was: hit the ball, drag Ralph, hit the ball, drag Ralph…”

Overall the walk was a festive event, staffed by volunteers with cheerful faces and happy hearts. The walkers were cheery, too, and when I had to repeatedly step aside to let them go by, especially on the last half, they apologized, encouraged me, said "No, that's okay...".
I was chipper at the start, but as we walked further and further away from the starting point and as I realized how far it would be to get all the way back, my enthusiasm slipped drip by sweaty drip away. By the last 1/4 of the walk I was swearing like a sailor (under my breath) and weaving back and forth like the same sailor on shore leave.
But I made it. Through sheer determination and grit, if I do say so myself. And that was a good thing. I was so helped by my friends who donated so generously and by my walking buddy who caught me as I weaved to the left. Thanks, too, to the ever helpful Mavis (my cane) without whom the whole thing would have been an impossibility.