How Old Am I

Finally, May 4, the golf course opened. Many people had waited a long time for that. It was exciting to see people milling about the first tee box. Eagerly awaiting that first shot. The sun felt warm. A gentle breeze. Birds singing in the trees. What could possibly go wrong? Well, all the visions of grandeur, the dreams of the golf ball taking off in flight, disappeared quickly when many of us realized that muscle memory had gone the way of the dodo bird.

Not that I am complaining but there was something else missing that day. I quickly realized that not having used the treadmill all winter could create a problem. My first clue should probably have been the fact that doing up my pants had become more difficult. Then again, what is there to do in a long drawn out winter? Snow, wind and cold temperatures. Watch TV and snack , of course.

By the end of the second hole I was not entirely convinced that I would make it. My legs felt wobbly. I was having a difficult time breathing. I started coughing. Perhaps I should have treated myself to a cart this first round. But I knew that at some point I would have to face reality and realize the only way to fix this problem was to keep at it. Long story short, I made it. When I stumbled into the house after the round I literally threw myself on the couch. My wife took one look at me and started laughing. No sympathy there. I wonder why.

I did it again the following day. Not sure what I was trying to prove. Perhaps trying to fool myself into thinking I am still young. The fact that my grandson was over for night should have been enough to help me understand that I am not young. I am a grandpa. Perhaps that in itself should have provided me all the reasons in the world to ride rather than walk.

This getting older sucks. There are increasing limitations. Everything hurts a little longer. I wonder how much of feeling your age is mental. Read an interesting question this morning. “How old would you be if you didn’t know hold you are”? That got me thinking. Perhaps I need to change my perspective. Perhaps the fact that my muscles hurt, my legs ache, my back is stiff, and I get short of breath just using a key board, is just a figment of my imagination.

Who am I kidding? I am getting older. And getting older means I need to change things. I need to be cognizant of what I eat. I need to make sure I get physical exercise. I need to make sure I get mental exercise. I need to get with it. We have all heard of the golden years. Not sure when that is and whether I have arrived. I remember a short poem that addresses that and have added it at the bottom. Based on that I may have arrived. But then again I am going to change my thinking and everything else should fall into place. I hope. Make it a good one.

The golden years have come at last
I cannot see, I cannot pee
I cannot chew, I cannot s****
My memory shrinks, my hearing stinks,
My bodies drooping, got trouble pooping.
The golden years have come at last,
The Golden Years can kiss my a**!
(author unknown)