Worse things happen at sea

I stayed up way too late last night reading The Answer Man by Stephen King. Like most of King’s work, it was the kind of enthralling story that I couldn’t put down until I’d finished it. While reading a good story, I often like to put myself in the shoes of the protagonist. This was the case with The Answer Man. I turned right into Phil Parker. I won’t give out any actual spoilers—there is much more to the captivating story than the blip I’ll share—but this small part of the story sort of resonated with me. Phil is a man who runs into some troubles in life and becomes depressed. Then, in the midst of his depression, he meets a woman who has it far worse than himself. Phil comes to realize that his life isn’t so bad after all and hangs a picture of the woman on his wall, along with six words he wrote in capital letters: ALWAYS REMEMBER OTHERS HAVE IT WORSE. This is something I try to remind myself of in my own life. That others have it worse. I am injured and can’t run. So what. There are people I see everyday at my job who have it much worse off than me. People born with cerebral palsy who are wheelchair bound. Infants who were shaken or mistreated by their abusive parents and, as a result, are cognitively impaired for life. People who jump off high ledges in suicide attempts, but end up surviving. And being paralyzed from the neck down. Or the neck up. There are so many people who are alive in the physical sense—they are breathing and their hearts are beating—but they are not really living. Spending all your waking hours in a bed with a feeding tube connected to your abdomen is no way to live. For so many people, the concept of running is as foreign to them as it is for Mr. Bass or Mr. Pike. They never even get the chance to experience the euphoric feeling that running provides. Always remember others have it worse. I can still read. I still have my imagination and can use it to escape into made-up stories. My life isn’t so bad after all. I certainly have a lot to be thankful for. I am alive and I am living. Really living. But still— When you’re born to run, it’s so hard to just slow down, as Winwood put it. So don’t be surprised to see me back in the bright part of town. Yes, I am going to try to remain optimistic.