…sorry. It happens, even to me.
Been working pretty hectically, and the physical therapy has been wearing me down. The good news is I "graduate" from 11-and-a-half months of physical therapy tomorrow. Today I started my first week of "physical training," the next step. I picked a trainer who doesn't believe in machines or fancy health clubs or loud music and self-esteem…just a small gym, steps, sandbags, kettle balls, barbells, ropes and a dash of pain. Funny, I'm remembering the Michael Bane I was once, versus the Michael Bane I am now. Interesting.
Do the work. Do the work. Do the work.
Part of it is I am flying to Philadelphia this weekend to be a part of Walt Rauch's memorial service. It is an anchor on my heart, a darkness on the world. It is a part of growing old, I suppose. While I was at the Carry Optics Nationals for USPSA filming for SHOOTING GALLERY, Mike Foley, the new President of USPSA and a super nice guy, asked me how many of the "old guys," the people who helped start practical shooting, were left. Dan Pretrovitch was on the squad shooting, so I said Dan, Kenny Hackathorn, a few more. The coolest thing was while I was eating lunch at PASA, a person joined me…Bob Emerson, who I'd chased for years in Florida, and I could never even come CLOSE to catching him1 He was great, and here he was at the first CO Nationals.
"I just turned 80," he said, "and I'm still pulling the trigger."
Hell yes! "There is no fate but what we make for ourselves," as John Conner might say.