Getting Old Sucks

Getting Old Sucks

Today I have the energy level of a tree sloth on Quaaludes. I feel like a semi must have rolled over me while I was asleep but I can’t find any tire marks on my tee shirt. I’m pushing sixty; maybe that’s my problem. When I was a young man I could usually get myself back into shape in about a week. The first few days I’d be in pain but after I got over the hump it was pretty much smooth sailing. Not any more. No matter how much I exercise or how consistently I work out, the day after always feels the same. In other words get out the ice packs and the Tylenol and take your time getting out of your chair.

Yesterday was a good example of this. I went out for a bike ride in the morning only to get a flat tire when I got to my destination. Don’t you love those people that break glass bottles on the street? This meant that my return trip was going to be on foot and not by bike. It also meant that I would be pushing my bike home not riding it. It didn’t help that it was over 30 degrees Celsius. Like the true, aging warrior that I am, I gutted it out and walked a couple of miles to my local bike shop for repairs. After my bike was fixed the next thing on my agenda was a nap. Shortly after I got up I was enthusiastically greeted by both my Belgian Shepherd and my Blue Heeler. They communicated to me in dog language that it was time for a trip to the dog park. This, of course, calls for more physical exertion on the part of their owner. Wanting to maintain my good owners rating from my dogs I acquiesced to their demands. Where’s my pipe and slippers?