We recently went to the wedding of a friend, for whom I feel all avuncular, as I’m of the generation of her parents rather than her associates. After years of being too shy to dance at weddings, I’ve given up, and at this wedding I was one of the first (and only) men to dance, a development with which my wife is quite pleased. But, of course, it suggests that I’ve re-classified myself as a person of an age where I no longer care what people think of me.
There have been other suggestions of age, recently. I cut some of my fingers a bit over two weeks ago, and they’re just about healing now. It’s become increasingly difficult to keep off the weight that I lost about two years ago. We went on a long-weekend trip (partly so that we could eat a number of times at the Culinary Institute of America, which was a delight), and stayed at a hotel with a bed with a questionable mattress for two nights, and my back and shoulders have been aching ever since – it has been helpful to sit on chairs with hard backs, or on the floor, but my recliner actually makes the pain worse.
I went on a ride with the old guys yesterday (there’s a group of about two-dozen-or-so Freewheelers, almost all retired, who ride together three times a week in season; I ride with them when I can, either on holidays, or when my off day on my nine-workdays-in-two-weeks schedule allows me to), and while I’m faster than most of ‘em (not all; there are some remarkable legs, even among the over-70 boys), I’m feeling it today in my knees. It’s not muscle pain, it’s joint pain.
I’m feeling old & fat.
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