This morning, though my right knee was feeling wobbly, I did my morning run/walk and regained my previous best time, 11:21. I only got to the bus stop after Aston Street before breaking stride, but I spent more of the mile with my legs limber and stretching. The great impediment, I think, is my lungs, which is a bit scary (since my father died of lung disease), but pushing and making such progress as I can is presumably the best way forward.
After a two-week layoff to coddle my wobbly knees, I took a run again this morning and, although I was too winded to regain my personal best ‘before breaking stride’ point, I did get to Aston Street. My time — not bad, considering how much momentum I’ve lost — was 11:45.
A few minutes ago, I was typing at the small table on which I also keep miscellaneous papers, some Post-It notes, a Newman memorial card, and the remote that operates our Apple TV. As I was typing (vigorously), I heard the remote beginning to slide off the
heap orderly pile of papers. I heard, but did not see, because some of the papers lay between me and the sliding remote.
Without my looking up, while I still had not seen the remote, my left hand reached out under the edge of the table, roughly below the point from which the remote might fall. I caught the falling remote — before I even saw it.
Does this suggest anything about the relation of linguistic (and non-linguistic) expression and apprehension?