Half time goes by, Suddenly you’re wise, Another blink of an eye, 67 is gone, The sun is getting high, We’re moving on…
I’m 99 for a moment, And dying for just another moment, And I’m just dreaming, Counting the ways to where you are
15 there’s still time for you, Time to buy and time to choose, Hey 15, there’s never a wish better than this, When you only got a hundred years to live- Five For Fighting “100 Years”
Let me paint a picture for you, I am an almost 60 year old man that rides a bicycle. On Saturday mornings I leave my driveway, turn-right and pedal for 50, sometimes 65 miles. I will turn left back up my driveway 4 to 6 hours later depending on the terrain, wind, cold, heat, heart and most importantly the legs.
Sometimes I ride with a group, or I ride with just one person, other times I ride by myself. No matter who I ride with or don’t ride with I don’t say a lot in those 4 to 6 hours, I just pedal and reflect. The few individuals that regularly ride with me understand that I am not going to spend the next few hours chit-chatting with them. They appreciate and understand the beauty of simply turning the pedals and exploring what’s in front of us without the commentary offered by the endless talking heads that seem to dominate our lives today be it neighbors, friends, co-workers or news anchors. Everyone seems to have an opinion, an observation that, for whatever reason, they feel a moral obligation to share. I just want to pedal.
I am on the tail end of the life curve and though I can’t predict the end I can certainly forecast that it is close, closer than it was when I was 40. I try to refrain from talking about this topic with my family. It seems to be a morbid subject. The typical response from my kids is “Dad that’s weird that you think about that” and I understand. If I were still a 25 year old I would probably say the same thing. I, on the other hand, find it to be a very reflective topic, one that that allows me to think ahead rather than behind.
Pedaling 4 to 6 hours creates a lot of space in your head with very little noise other than the wind whistling in your ears. Your focus is always on what is in front of you, the next turn, potholes, dogs with sharp teeth, blind-curves, dead possums (redneck speed bumps) or the next hill to climb. Sounds a lot like the road I will journey towards life’s twilight (except for maybe the dead possums). Rarely is the road ahead smooth but I know that before I clip-in and turn right from my driveway, but still I turn right. I hope I have a few more right turns in front of me. I would like to pedal for a little longer, just like I plan too today before the sun sets, before I pedal into the twilight.
For age is opportunity no less. Than youth itself, though in another dress. And as the evening twilight fades away. The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day. – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow