Counting years

“Getting older is no problem. You just have to live long enough.” –  Groucho Marx

I can’t do some of the things I used to do, not just physically but mentally as well. I blame it on years, to many seasons. There is a male “toughness” I no longer exhibit. I used to be a “badass”, not all the time, just when I needed to be or wanted to be. But that “badass” spirit is tough for me to conjure up these days. It has been replaced with cautious, mellow and the worse one, nervous.

The “badass” spirit got me in trouble more than a few times. Some sins I still pay for today. Things happened either through spontaneity, opportunity or stupidity which, more often than not, was fueled by too many beers. Being a “badass” was not always a good thing, a smart thing, but there were moments, brief and fleeting when I felt very alive, Ten Feet Tall and Bulletproof” as the song goes.

The change seemed to happen quickly but in reality it didn’t. The process was a slow transformation, a portion at a time like a jigsaw puzzle with 1,000 pieces spread out on the kitchen table. I still feel vibrant, I have moments of “toughness”. Pedaling my bicycle up a 2,500 foot mountain and then descending the other side. But my warp speed on descents has dropped, cautious, there is more brake play, nervous, and less need to beat my companions down the mountain, mellow.

Viagra, Low TJust For Men Touch of Gray I understand. Trying to find it, whatever it is, whatever you think you have lost in a bottle, a potion, a pill or some magic elixir. But seasons pass, there is no time in a bottle, money can’t buy it back, or reverse it. I have learned to acknowledge this truth, though I still battle it, we all do. There are moments when my toes straddle the edge but I do it now for the view, to see where I have been, what I used to be. Then I step back and embrace what I have and where I am and count the years.

So scared of getting older
I’m only good at being young
So I play the numbers game to find a way to say that life has just begun
Had a talk with my old man
Said, “Help me understand.”
He said, “Turn 68,
you’ll renegotiate
Don’t stop this train
Don’t for a minute change the place you’re in
Don’t think I couldn’t ever understand
I tried my hand
John, honestly, we’ll never stop this train.”

John Mayer- “Stop This Train”

 

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About ends and beginnings blog

I am a frustrated writer and poet waiting to be discovered. A stand-up philosopher performing on a street corner near you. A Christian with questions but I don’t want to hear your answers. A Buddhist with a bumper sticker on my truck to prove it. A collector of quotes. A grower of lettuce. The Patron Saint of earthworms who name their children after me. A cyclist whose big ass strains the seams of his Lycra bibs. I am American by birth, Southern by the grace of God. My goal in life is to leave an imprint on the lives of the people I love not a footprint on the earth. I am a son, a husband, a father composed of 65%-Oxygen, 18%-Carbon, 10%-Hydrogen, 3%-Nitrogen, 3%-Diet Coke and 1%-Oreo.
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4 Responses to Counting years

  1. Smartygirl41 says:

    I’m only 41, but I can completely relate to your post. I went through, and probably still am, a couple years of realizing I’m changing. At times it’s been a bit depressing, and at other I’ve been able to accept. Thanks for sharing

    Liked by 2 people

    • Thank you for reading Ms. Smarty. Oh to be 41 again, black hair, more hair, and one less pants size. Some changes are good and some changes are bad. Your reaction to change, how you handle it will dictate your happiness. My wish and hope for you is more happiness than sadness. 🙂

      Liked by 2 people

  2. Patty says:

    “embrace what I have”…I find myself doing that more and more lately.
    Wish I had that wisdom when I was 20 or so 😉

    Liked by 1 person

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