The unreasonable complexity of aging

I am rolling into a significant birthday this month.  And this aging process is more complicated than I gave it credit for.  Like everything else natural and human and organic – it is non-linear.  There’s no schedule and no rules.  I’m going to talk through it, and maybe you can take something away from the introspection.

I’ve been managing my broken collarbone for the last 5 weeks.  It forced me to change my plans.  I was going to run a 100K trail race on my birthday next week.  Intended to be one of those exclamation point events.  Me shouting at the void, shaking a gnarled old fist at the universe, screaming “I’m not done yet!”

And then the universe swats me like an annoying gnat dashed to the forest floor and broken of shoulder.  Because the universe has a malicious sense of humor.

When I first broke the shoulder there was some relief.  I was about to go into a significant build during a particularly busy time of year.  Multi-hour training runs would need to be managed with my writing and publishing and work travel and visiting family and…and…and…  Not having to schedule one more thing was welcome in a way.

Of course, as is the formula for these things I felt the loss of it keenly and was a bit low.  As a rule I don’t like missing my goals, no matter what they are.  I hold myself to unreasonable standards.  I’m my worst critic.  But, like I said, the pause ended up being good for my mental health.

It got me to thinking too.  Am I done running on those sacred trails?  Is this one more thing that age is taking from me?  This holy thing?  This apogee of meditative calm and serene mornings?  Will I never again emerge from the old shore road down by the pond and pause to admire the sun setting orange into the water?  Or sharing a moment with a herd of deer in the breaking dawn of a new spring day?

The forest is my church.  Has age conspired to take this?  Like it took my youth?  Like it took my hair?  Like it took my 7-day-a-week running and training?

Because that’s how it happens.  Some things it takes slowly.  It takes years for your pace and ability to recover to be slowly sanded off.  But it takes the flash of a moment to be lying face down in the trail crying into the pine needles and wondering if maybe, this too is gone?

Memento mori.

The end comes to all things.  We, the older folks, have a keener appreciation for that.  I see people in my peer group pass from this plane of existence all the time.  I have this sort of conversation.  “You remember Joe? From high school?  He died this week.”  It’s not morbid, it’s matter of fact.  We notice now that the clock is ticking faster and today or tomorrow could be our day.

Being closer to death makes people appreciate life.  It’s true.  You can’t put stuff off.  You have to do it now.  The window is closing.

Which brings us full-circle.  This is not about fearing death.  This is not about loss.  This is about gratitude.

You also become very thankful for each of those rich days in the tapestry.  You look back on the things you’ve done with true wonder.

And gratitude.

And going forward you keep doing the things that you can do.  That you are allowed. You keep reading, and writing, and running hard to keep the grim reaper guessing and live each day with a ripe beautiful fullness that would make a teenager blush.

Because as long as you’re drawing breath you can fight.  You can love.  You can embody kindness.  You choose to do the right thing.

And you don’t need to be perfect.

You never were.

But, you are free to be you.

So be that.

Be that 100%

Bring the joy.

Bring the love.

And find a way to get back, to get out, to win a few hands of the game before the bouncers drag you to the door and shove you to the curve.

This life, my friends is a celebration.

Make it so.