Friday, January 6, 2012

Fortuitous Friday: Time Marches On

It may be a cheesy old country song by Tracy Lawrence, as well as an old adage, but time is marching on and today I really feel it. It's not a surprise to me that I'm getting older. Every time I look at my driver's licence and see '1970' as my date of birth I'm reminded that I am, actually, over 40 now. The impending New Mouth to Feed, the Real Job, and all the other adult-like things most of my friends had 20-years ago, are assurances that I'm 'all growed up'.

The only problem with all of that is that time, despite my best attempts at manipulation, is ticking along and I am not (despite my weekly sacrifice of a live chicken to the gods of youth) getting any younger. Forty is not old, but it definitely isn't twenty. This idea has been ringing around my head for a few days now after the discovery (thanks to a poxy, yet accurate scale at my gym) that I am now the heaviest I have ever been. Ever.

While that could be a testament to laziness (and booze....and food.....) rather than old-age I compounded the problem (of feeling old) by slipping on ice while walking my dogs this morning. A beautiful winter with bizarre above zero temperatures followed by a nightly freeze is making the streets pretty damn hazardous. And I fell. Hard. I actually thought I had broken my arm and the situation turned into a sick comedy sketch as I slid off the sidewalk and fell through said ice (just frozen over night) into a puddle of water. Not being able to move I could only lay there swearing, getting wet, and terrifying the dogs (who were strapped to me via a crazy lead system I have worked out). It's okay to laugh, honest.

If any of my neighbors had looked out I imagine it made for quite a site. It was 5 minutes or more before I could get back up and make my wet, bruised way home. The result of all this, then, is that I feel even older than I did previously. Falling down, or getting knocked down for that matter (I used to play ice hockey but you knew that, of course, as I'm Canadian and some stereotypes are true) was never a big deal. Now it seems in addition to the cuts and scrapes a new bruise, to my ego, has emerged. Knowing that you're older, even admitting you're older, and having your body prove you're older are very, very different things. Science isn't helping matters either as it appears I may become a drooling idiot in as little as three years.

As we get older our priorities change, of course. New demands on our time mean things get pushed aside, and after a long day it's easier to come straight home for a nice dinner and a glass of wine that it is to go to the gym. When I was younger I had a lot of anger and frustration that I used as fuel for a hectic lifestyle and a religious gym-schedule. Now that I'm older and my life is much improved, I don't have that anger to push me onward- which is, of course, a good thing. It's about give and take, I suppose, and setting realistic goals. If aging hasn't given me a defter foot on icy surfaces at least it has imparted a bit of wisdom.... or so I hope.

Happy Friday Everyone!

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