Rethinking Priorities...

Things are slowing down. By things, I mean me. I was lighting the grill last evening and happened to notice the loose, wrinkled skin on my arms in the very unflattering setting sunlight. I have a few "age spots" on my arms and hands. I have cellulite on my legs and butt, pockets of fat deposited on my thighs, and lines around my lips. Some days my eyelids really droop, and I have beady eyes to begin with, so the effect is less than stunning. I have a cluster of spider veins on my calf that looks like a perpetual bruise. My waist is 4" bigger than it used to be. I'm at the high end of my weight fluctuation.

I can't exercise like I used to. It's not a matter of will, physically, I'm not capable of the effort. For over ten years I lifted weights at the gym, with and without trainers, three to five times a week. I'd precede or follow that with an hour of cardio. I added running to the mix ten years ago, and used to run to and from the gym (four miles each way) in addition to my workouts. My job was physically demanding. I've always walked a lot. I spent one summer with Tall One riding bikes. Now, I'm down to a half hour of exercise...most days. I took a yoga class that I really enjoyed, but I don't have the motivation to practice at home. I run three miles...occasionally. I take an hour-long cardio-kickboxing class once a week. I had been walking three or four times a week with Daughter and the boys, but now that she's pregnant, her hips have separated and we don't get out together as frequently or go as far. I haven't lifted weights in maybe two years, since I began training to run a marathon, which almost killed me. Seriously, I was sick or injured for the entire 10 months of preparation.

I have agonized over these changes. I have railed and fought, and pissed and moaned. I was committed to the fight. I read all the articles about all the seniors accomplishing incredible feats of strength and fitness; ultra-distance running, mountain climbing, triathlons. Have you heard about the man who runs marathons pushing his adult son in a wheelchair? The grandfather climbing Mt. Everest with his adult grandson? The wizened old 70 year old completing his 50th triathlon? Women have babies at 50 now, for crying out loud! WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH ME? What am I doing wrong, or at least, not right?

Well, last night, out at the grill, glancing at my aging arm, I thought, for the first time, "I don't care". And today, as I write the litany of deterioration, I think again, "I don't care". As I consider the accomplishments of those much older than I am, I think, "Good for them", not "What's wrong with me?". This is perhaps one of the most profound "thoughts", yet. My expectations are slowing down, too.

In my 30's the goal read, "Get better", in my 40's, "Stay good", now, in my 50's it reads, "Slow the deterioration", or "Manage the decline", or "Get out of bed and take a shower, you miserable wreck!". Increasingly, I'm thinking, "whatever". I wonder about our parents and grandparents. Parents in the "greatest generation" were old at my age. Really. They dressed differently and sat a great deal. They had friends their own age, listened to old music, and marked the days to "retirement". Granted, they had been through the Great Depression, World War II, and raising children in the 60's would have prematurely aged anyone! But, I'm wondering if we Boomers aren't the true mutants. We cling to our youth. We deny our maturity. We defy the natural ravages of age.

We've modified our diets, increased our aerobic capacity, monitored our bone density and muscle to fat ratio. We've nipped, tucked, and injected. We're experts at HRT, homeopathic medicine, and stress reduction. We change careers, take college courses, and start long dreamed of home businesses or "second" families. We move to "communities", or the mountains, or Spain. We're fabricating faux-youth at the expense of experience, maturity, and social ease.

WE NEED TO STOP! Take a deep breath and take inventory. I'm in my 50's. My children have grown and are fully functional. My grandchildren are stunning. My parents are aging rapidly and need quite a bit of extra consideration. I love my husband and he loves me. I can still run three miles. I practice controlled breathing. And I could die right now, this minute and have no regrets. That's good.

I want to climb Half-Dome with my son-in-law someday. I want to run with my grandson. I want to hold my new greatly anticipated grand-child moments after my daughter gives birth. But, I also want to read that great book with a glass of wine, sleep for nine hours and still take a nap if I need it, and at least once a week eat something that I shouldn't and not worry about it. I want to count "thinking" on my list of accomplishments for the day. And count "walking" as exercise. I want to cooperate with, not struggle against the inevitable decline. It's natural, normal, and inescapable. I'm not aging on purpose.

If I strive, I will strive for balance. Calm, mature, moderation. I will eat well, drink more than I should occasionally, laugh, watch movies, read, and write. I will not sacrifice the "good of the many" on the alter of "me, me, me". I will do the very best that I can...and I will enjoy everything that I have to do. I will be content.