Act Your Age

So okay, I don't understand it because I haven't done much of anything that's been different over the years but cripes guys, sometimes I just goddamn hurt in the morning. Like the base of my spine feels kind of weak when I first get up and sometimes there's a really ba-ha-had twinge that makes me wince a little bit when I get out of bed. For about three weeks the knuckle under my index finger felt like it was getting a great big case of arthritis and I couldn't get rid of the pain no matter what I took or did. Now it's gone. But I sure as hell can't eat greasy food anymore. Holy man, my stomach just can't take it. I don't know if that's a function of having been more careful about what I do eat over the past year or so and the body is just saying oh for God's SAKE or if the old gut - after years of abuse - is finally just not working like it used to. I cut grass yesterday and - in that humidity - I was wiped out. We had a local Taste Of... fest in our town this weekend and - the plan was - after taking MrsRW to the airport Sunday, I was to go home and cut the grass, shower up, and then head on down to The Taste to supply myself with dinner. I got as far as the shower... and decided to make a couple of hot dogs and collapse on the couch.

In my thirties I was dedicated to a workout regimen that resulted in a nice little six-pack mid-section and all that stuff. Bells and whistles and yadda yadda. Oh I was seriously ripped. We'd go on vacation & I'd still get up early to work out. That kind of thing. Even though I have never been completely UN-active I don't work out like that any more and I am seriously flabbed. I also notice that, when I get motivated and back into it for any length of time it takes, like, three times as long to see any results. But mostly I just make an excuse and go have a beer and put my feet up and forget about it. What motivates me now is seeing guys around my age have this gut that sort of juts out to what looks like an actual ridge above a cascading belly. Like, skinny legs and skinny arms and this great big tub with a detailed promontory just below their chest. It like has a sharp edge just before it bellies out. That's weird. I'll admit my mid-section needs a lot of work but it doesn't have that ledge so it's not all bad. Well, not usually. Cough. But what the hell are we thinking, guys? How one look at something near to that in the mirror doesn't get a person back to running is beyond me. And yet... it doesn't seem like my running does all that. And sometimes the best thing to do is just come home and have a beer. Oh well.

Anyway I do notice the same strength isn't in my fingers. I seem to need new glasses every six months or something. I'm not thirty and I'm not forty. In three years I hit the big 6-0. If I croak when my father did that means I have four years to live. As of last month both daughters are now in their thirties. Older women - women my age - are looking pretty damn good to me. I get winded faster. There are curious twinges once in a while in places I didn't know I had. I heal up from cuts and bruises slower. And it takes more and more vodka to get a buzz. And I can't drink like I used to without wanting to just go to sleep or take a couple aspirin because it gave me a damn headache.

But I've never been more at peace with shit in my whole life. Isn't that weird? Now if I could just get my wife to change her mind about not letting me get a pork pie hat life would probably be pretty damn near perfect.