There’s a gentleman in my neighbourhood who I see walking some mornings. I first noticed him about a month ago. At that time, his appearance was very worrying.
He was large and breathless and lumbered along. Unsteady on his feet, he leaned forward as he walked and I was afraid he would trip over and fall flat on his face. So I watched him until he was out of sight. Every now and then he’d wipe his face with the towel draped around his neck. He had no mask on. A tiny lady, probably his domestic helper, walked two paces behind, so he wasn’t alone. One third his size, she would be of no physical help if he fell. But she probably had a handphone or she could run home for help.
I saw him again this week, and to me he seemed much improved. His gait was steadier, though still wide as he is slightly bow-legged. He didn’t look as breathless. His helper followed ten feet behind and was swinging her arms as she walked. She looked more relaxed too.
I wondered about his story. Was he a sedentary businessman, staying at home for months during these covid times and deconditioned from lack of movement? Which doctor told him he must walk no matter what or die? Was it a wife who sent him out walking with the helper, or a daughter or a son who nagged at him? Maybe all of them, together.
Maybe he is self-motivated after a health scare. Maybe it’s all himself.