April 17, 2017
had an interesting exchange with my mother this weekend. She was down for a visit.
A few years back, my sister (3 years olders) hit 50 and absolutely REFUSED to talk about it. It was a black stain on her life for over a year. Even today she won’t talk about being over 50.
Mom decided to make me turning 50 her central discussion point over the weekend. “Oh, I can’t say you are going to be 50 soon….” and “let’s not talk about you turning 50 since I know how much it bothers you….” etc.
I’m not thrilled to recognize that my youth is gone, that I’m on the downhill slope of time, but I’m still here. Quite frankly, I earned this shit!
I’m hitting fifty feeling pretty damned good. My resting pulse rate is ~45 beats per minute. I usually hold about 12-13% body fat. I can deadlift over 400#’s. I can still run a mile with a 5 in time – last measure was 5:45. I’ve been married for 21 years. I still love my wife. I adore my kids who are incredible.
I’m in a better place at 50 than I ever was at 40 or 30.
in my vernacular, “50? Fucking bring it!”