Hard to Believe

 Next week is the week of my birthday. I will turn 68. Time is flying.

This past summer when I was in Maine I wrote about how time has no real meaning at the lake. It loses its power as a reliable measure. The names we give to the days of the week no longer matter at the lake. All of this is true. But when I come back to Short Pump time speeds up. I am completely baffled at the prospect of being 68 years old. I have a hard time believing that it’s true.

I battle daily against the greatest risk of growing old which is a retreat into rigid thinking, of becoming the angry guy yelling for the kids to get off his lawn. I also battle against the natural deterioration of the body which comes with age. I still relentlessly exercise five days a week. I refuse to go down without a fight.

But, there’s something else to this aging business. Yes, I want to stay open to new ideas, new experiences. Yes, I want to stay in shape. But I have no interest in trying to be younger. My hair is starting to be flecked with gray. My face has new wrinkles, but you know what? I’ve earned every one of them! I’ve got lots of scars because I’ve endured some battles. Those battles have made me who I am.

In many ways I feel just like I did when I was 30. Too often I forget that my body isn’t able to do the things it could do when I was 30 and I pay the price for forgetting. But I don’t want to be 30 again. I don’t wish I was 50 either. I was dumber then. I was in the middle of a valley of stress then. No…I’m fine with 68. It’s just hard to believe, that’s all.