SCOTT LUDWIG: Living life by its finite numbers

I’ve come to the realization that the older I get, the more I tend to see things differently. For example, now I look at certain things in terms of whether or not they have become finite numbers.

Here’s an example. Formerly an avid runner, I ran my last marathon in 2018. It was my 208th race of 26.2 miles, and now that I’ve crossed over to the other side – that is to say, walking rather than running – there won’t be another. So, with respect to the number of marathons I’ll run in my lifetime, 208 is now a finite number.

One more. When the SEC championship football game moved from Birmingham, Ala., to Atlanta in 1994, Cindy and I were among the first in line to buy tickets. (Florida, our alma mater, beat Alabama in that game, incidentally.) We renewed our tickets every year through 2023, at which point two things became abundantly clear: The price increase for tickets was well ahead of inflation, and the hope for our Gators to make it to the big game – let alone winning it – was, at best, a long shot. Ergo, SEC championship game tickets for 30 years became another finite number.

One day other things will become finite numbers as well. And that’s the scary part. One day I’ll watch my last Florida Gator football game, eat my last piece of pizza, drink my last Diet Dr. Pepper, and take my last breath. At which point the story of my life will be – as they say in Hollywood – a wrap.

So that’s why I now wonder all the time about whether or not certain things will come to an
end. For example, when I hear Chicago’s “Beginnings” on the radio, a song that has always been “our song” but now isn’t played nearly as often as it was when Cindy and I first started dating in high school, will it be for the last time?

Does it make me choke up, even if just a little bit, when I hear it? Take a moment and put
yourself in my shoes before you answer. Now answer: wouldn’t you? Of course you would. And you know the reason why? It’s hard to accept that all good things will end on a finite number.

Granted, there are plenty of things that I wouldn’t mind becoming finite numbers. Cleaning out litter boxes. Having blood drawn. Bouts of vertigo. Pulling weeds. Calling a plumber.

On the other hand, there’s more than enough things I wish would never end. Taking our dog for a walk. Watching our grandson grow up. Sitting in the garden on a cool spring evening. Reading a good book. Listening to the music of Chicago. Most of all, spending time with the girl who was my sweetheart in high school. And today, after two sons, one grandson, six cats, and two dogs, she still is.

One day when you, like me, come to the realization that all good things must indeed come to an end, you’re going to do everything in your power to make sure those finite numbers are going to be the highest numbers they can possibly be.

Borrowing a lyric for another song that was really popular during high school, “Love the one you’re with.” Because one day, that too will become a finite number.