Hell of a Guy

How Old Am I?...


Last week our granddaughter sent a text to her grandmother asking for her and for me to participate in a school project.  She sent us several questions to answer with regard to our thoughts on aging.  I don’t remember them all, but I do a few.

The first question was “How old do you feel?”  I am not sure what The Nancy answered, I said fifty.  Another question was to the state of health we each felt we were in ranked one to ten, one being very healthy.  I said two, because I think I am in pretty good shape.  At least I thought so until shortly after I answered the question and then I re-visited it for a little while.  I originally selected a “two” because as I approach my sixty-seventh birthday, knowing I exercise nearly everyday, have very good stamina, believe I eat right most of the time (well, at least half of the time), watch my weight (The Nancy and I weigh in every Friday), I truly thought of myself as a healthy “hexagenarian.”  I should not be allowed to think, ever; my pondering gets me into all kinds of trouble. 

What had me vexed?  Firstly, I thought about how I wake up in the morning with AM pains.  I do not bound out of bed as I used to do; I sort of roll out slowly.  Then I thought about the back pains I have intermittently, which basically means most of the time.  From time to time I get aches in my knees and elbows, and have had tremendous leg cramps in the middle of the night several times a week for a few years. I notice sometimes when I awake in the middle of the night for personal relief (a nice way to say pee) I get a little wobbly as I make my way from the bed to the bathroom – a balance issue, no doubt, that I remember my dad suffered.  These days I don’t quite bend over as quickly to pick things up, and touching my toes if a laugher.  I even find myself grunting as I plop down in my favorite chair these days.  And we won’t even touch on “regularity.”

Another question had something to do with changes I would make to make my life better.  I could list them here, but I think you would succumb to boredom before you finished reading the list.  Briefly, I would get more sleep – at least sleep each night until daylight awakened me.  I would say I would give up any and all sexual activity if there were that much to consider giving up (hells bells, I am still working on the free six-pill sample pack of Viagra I got at the end of my physical in 2001).  I would eat abstemiously and healthily 100% of the time, and so on, and so on, blah, blah, blah…

Now maybe the above stuff is not the end of the earth, but I sure as hell didn’t experience any of that when I was fifty, back then I had enough hair I could brush from my eyes. I could jog for an hour or more, and did five-six days a week.  My weight was lower and I know my cholesterol was a heck of a lot better.  I was the picture of health.

If today I were able to compare the two pictures I have described side by side I would probably have to revise the answer I gave to Jessica for her report.  I now think I feel a lot like I did when I was 65.

And that is all I have to say about that…

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Well at least you can say you don’t feel your age, even if its only a couple years younger. My father has always said age is how old you feel. Decide how old you feel and decide that as truth. My father has been doing that so long that all four of his children argue about what his actual age is.

Posted by Boston DUI lawyer  on  12/24  at  01:29 AM

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