Outside her window, which looks southwest over the Atlantic, the sun is low and warm, the southerly blows through her white bedsheets on the clothes line. After an hour or so, she can probably tell by my fidgeting with my sunglasses that I belong outside, playing, as I always have. It’s a fine afternoon for a walk, so I bid farewell and beeline to Marine Avenue, a pocked dirt road that terminates on Newport’s stunning Cliff Walk. I’ve plotted my course well before I’ve even parked; I’ll walk south along the rocky shoreline, into the wind and the sun, so I can feel it on my face. I’ll reflect on the race that I didn’t win and what I’d learned. I’ll think deep and long about how fresh air, especially this ocean air, is so good for my soul.