Marco, Madeleina and Basketball

Well, for most of you, the idea of being able to run a bit, even if you smoke cigarettes and have smoked them for 40 years as I have, is no big deal. For me it was nothing. I played New York City one-wall handball till '98 at least twice a week. I also rode my bicycle--a beauty outfitted by my great great brother Larry--to work at High Times daily--a 10 mile NYC street death defying daily run--played softball for High Times at shortstop a couple of times a week and would have traded anything to get even more time doing sports.
But the move to Texas curtailed a lot of that: No handball walls; no handball partner or NYC parks where you just run into strangers to play with. No lanes on my 60 mph two lane road with Barnett Shale water and rig trucks barreling down at 80 mph and not even one foot of shoulder. So bike riding was out. And no softball at my weekly alternative.
So I went to yardwork and gardening a 1/4 acre by hand (daily weeding and such), walking as I could, situps and pushups.
But last year set me back--the burst intestine, the peritonitis and the two subsequent surgeries to seal up my stomach and belly muscles after they herniated.
So I've basically been a basket case and now I'm trying to get back into a little shape and my body is fighting me. I'm doing situps and walking a lot, relatively speaking. I'm trying to run. But last week, on my second 50 yard hard run in more than a year I stretched out an instep muscle and thought I'd die.
So Marco, my wonderful son, Challenged me to play basketball today. I didn't have a chance. I can hardly walk, much less guard a 19-year old.
But somehow me and Madeleina beat Marco and Brooke twice. And now he's sulking and I'm sweating and thinking that maybe it's gonna work out after all. Maybe I can get back into shape. Maybe this is going to work afterall.
Sorry Marco. Never underestimate an emphasematic dad who has a will to breathe.