Friday, January 15, 2016

Aging in the Daylight hours

There are days that I feel out of place. Over the hill.

 I love to run, but don't own anything neon that glows in the dark, to go on my feet. My running gear is grey. My pants are black, my shirts are white. I ran with a group this past fall, and felt the eyes on me as I blended in with the sidewalk. The dark night swallowed me up. The fashionistas in this running group had every neon colour imaginable. I led the pace for the most part, so for having 35-45 years on these kids, felt pretty good.

I have a couple of watches from ions ago, and wear them every Olympic year for a day or two. I notice now that my watch only tells the time, and how that must look to the smartie pants watch wearing people, whose smart watches figure out the flight paths of migratory birds at the least.

Accounting for the number of steps I take on any given day, and the calories I burn might be of some importance, but not enough for me to wear a calibration device to advise me that I need to eat less and walk more if I want to live into my 90's. Fact is, I really don't want see what 101 looks like.
I enjoy dinners at 4:45, relaxing in PJ's before 7, and lights out by 10. On special occasions I have been known to kick up my heels and see what goes on after 11, but that is rare.

I will run/walk and run and walk in my non-coloured gear during day light hours. Night time, I am discovering is for indoors and wearing PJ's
I will dine when I am hungry, and if it is 4:15, then so be it.
I will wear a watch that tells me the time, and if I need to know the number the steps I take in a day, then count me out.

When you become independent of the good opinion of others, as I am in the remains of my days, you are in a fine place my friend.



1 comment:

Unknown said...

excellent as always