Truths and challenges ...

In many aspects of life, it helps to have a partner. Quit your giggling. I’m talking about a health regimen. Geez!

I had been at it for a little over four years now. I had gone from a 250-pound wheezing slug on the verge of cardiac arrest to a hunk. At least I thought so. I was pleasing the beloved country-doc in Brenda’s hometown of Lonoke. I was at what the experts called the ideal weight for a six-footer, around 190 pounds. He didn’t approve of my methodology, however. “You’ll ruin your knees jogging,” he said. It was his adult version of “You’ll shoot your eye out.”

Of course, I ignored him. He, his name was Byron E. Holmes, M.D. and he died four or five years ago. He was a wondrous man, maybe the last true country doc in our state. Other than his prejudice toward jogging, we got along fine. I think of him each morning now when I struggle to get my replaced knee functioning normally, but that’s another story for another day.

Back then, I only thought of three things on a constant basis. Work was going fine and my health was still improving. Each morning, around 5:00 a.m. my neighbor or I would call one another for confirmation and then meet on the sidewalk along South Broadway. It made it easier if you knew someone was depending upon you. We would normally make five miles, first east on 27^th Street, (this was pre-drug-gang days) and then through the National Cemetery up through Downtown and back on Spring Street. We would talk about the law, the military, literature, wives, and youth, among other things.

He would only speak of the law in generalities. Once I had a contract to appear as an expert witness on a zoning case and figured that he would enlighten me as to how I should act. No such luck. I don’t think attorneys like to give away “trade secrets” to Outlanders. The only advice he offered was, “Don’t live and die on every point. If you argue with the opposing attorney constantly, she or he will take it as a challenge and make your life miserable beyond belief. It also pisses the judge off.”

“What then? Just give up?”

“Hell no. Keep your basic kernel of truth inviolate. Just be willing to give up some worthless points. The opposing attorney will latch onto them like a dog on a burglar and then he will wind up pissing the judge off. Keep your truths inviolate and the meaningless worthy of debate.”

I’ve found that advice to be sound in many other aspects of life.

Anyway, speaking of life, mine was about to change. One morning, as we were running past the immaculately ordered rows of white tombstones honoring the dead who had served their country, he turned to me and made a suggestion that reverberates to this day. We were in a wondrously peaceful place, one most conducive to contemplating life's opportunities and failures.

“Let’s run a marathon,” he said.