Getting Old

I turned 43 Sunday. Birthdays are kind of cool, but I'm really not much of a holiday or "special annual day" kind of guy. I like events and happenings, so Christmas is fun because of the get-togethers. Thanksgiving dinner is always great. But I'd just as soon do without the vast majority of the obligatory purchases that come with holidays and "special annual days."

(Speaking of which, I would happily tell my wife she doesn't have to give me a Father's Day present in June if I don't have to buy her a Mother's Day gift this weekend. Oh, I'll go the extra mile...breakfast in bed and all that. But spending money just because, well, that's what people do? Ughh.)

So I sit here and ponder what to write about being 43, and nothing comes to mind. A birthday truly is just another day.

OK, one thing does come to mind. I still only feel about 25. That's a good thing I guess. I'm about 15 pounds heavier than I was when I was 25, my back gets more stiff after softball games, stays stiff longer, my left knee is showing some signs of aging (but still functions at 99% for most things I want it to do), and of course the gray hairs seem to be more present on my lap each time I get a haircut.

Actually, because I do feel wiser than I did at 25, I'd more accurately say I feel about 29. But physically, it's a few years younger than that.

Whenever I go upstairs at home, I don't limp, I don't walk...I run. Literally, sometimes with speed in mind, as in trying to see how fast I can do it.

As long as I have the ability to run up the stairs, I will feel young physically. As long as I have the desire to, I will feel young mentally.