You know Washington, DC is a sports city when you walk around the White House on a winter day and you come face-to-face with flying hockey sticks and young men trying to recapture some of that High School glory. I have to admit that some of the hockey moves I saw there gave me some disturbing visions of medical traction equipment and year-long therapy sessions, but you have to admire anyone that can skate on concrete as if their feet were being moved by subterranean magnets. After all, I don’t think I could move that fast even if a tsunami were chasing me. But there they were, oblivious the the curious gaze of strangers, moving like Michael Jordan on ice (well, you get the idea), and reminding the rest of us of all the beauty and spontaneity of youth. Funny how that feeling never dies, or grows old, even if our knees are not what they used to be. I’m glad that there are things that time will never change.