There are times when I feel my age. Other times I feel someone else's age. Most of the time I'm not quite sure what age I should feel. Like I told one of my co-workers earlier today who was nice and patient enough to hold the door open for me. Did I say this nice co-worker is much younger, therefor walked up the sidewalk at a much brisker pace? I thanked her and informed her that I'm not as fast as I used to be; and I used to be slow.
I don't know if it's a weather thing, or just the fact that I have completed very close to 61 trips around that big, yellow ball of gas in the sky. For some reason, I don't think that number should seem all that high. I consider myself to be in relatively good health. I still have most of my teeth. At least a slim majority of my mental faculties are still in place. I just don't move very quickly and too often, when I do move, it's with a slight bit of discomfort. I won't say I'm in pain, just a friendly reminder from my left ankle (yes, the same one, for those of you faithful readers who know my story) that I need not get in a hurry to go anywhere.
Even though the speed of many of my movements have slowed, I absolutely refuse to allow that to completely stop me. I still have far too much fun on the sidelines of the football games to simply sit in the stands. Of course, I am much more mindful of the faster kids running around me. I make every attempt to keep a respectable distance between my self and the “action” on the field. I have had a couple of recent “close calls,” but I've managed to stay out of trouble.
I do begin to feel “beyond my years” in the later stages of a ball game any more. I made the announcement recently, after the first ball game, “I'm tired, my butt's wet and my feet hurt; and it feels great!” After all, I'm still on the sunny side of dirt!
From the sunny side: I feel great
Share this: