Elderhood Challenges and Choices
See the second picture, the one after that which is displayed? Well, together they point to the challenges and choices I faced this week, the week of Thanksgiving. I had signed up for a Turkey Trot, one where last year I won in my age group in the five-kilometer category. However, this year I had also invited my best friend and two good friends for the Thanksgiving feast. In the last few days that had turned into something a little bit larger as two other friends joined.
So, how was I going to cook for that wonderful little group and go for a ten o’clock run in a town that was at least twenty miles away? Now, twenty years ago I would not even have given it a second thought, as I would make the desert the day before, set the table the night before, and put the bird into the oven for slow cooking while I got into the car, drove up, ran, drove back, took a shower, dressed, and took the bird out when the guests arrived.
However, now at seventy-seven that just seemed a bit too much. Though I hate to admit it, I was overwhelmed at the very thought of doing that much. I used to get into bed and immediately fall asleep. Still do that sometimes but often find myself turning from side to side before finally dozing off. It happens even when I turn to melatonin. Besides, I now get up in the middle of the night for a necessary emptying of the bladder trip. Sometimes, I fall asleep immediately after that but sometimes it takes as long as an hour. So, guess, I am not always fresh and rearing to go in the morning.
On the Monday before Thanksgiving, I woke up too early and did not feel like moving but went running to my gym class and ran back. For an hour or so afterwards felt that I could do everything. Yes, I would win the five-kilometer Turkey Trot in my age group! I got into my car, an oldie but goodie like me, and headed for the store. Thought I had gotten everything but discovered I was missing a spice and cream.
As I got on the road little ‘clinks’ and ‘clonks’ shattered the melody of the classical piece over the radio. My Masi, the name of my very comfortable vehicle, was obviously having her own troubles. I had been told about it by the wonderful young woman who had taken the car for a drive while I was away about a month ago but had refused to take care of it before handing it over to my favorite garage man and friend while I go to the mountains for Christmas. Yes, the suspension needed work!
Was Masi going to make it for the run over twenty miles away? I pictured myself on the side of the highway on Thanksgiving Day, unable to get to either the run or make it back on time to take out the bird. Just so you know, it was a duck. The turkey I got for free by buying enough food and supplies to overstock the freezer and the pantry is going to be used for another occasion.
The decision was made. Yes, I will lose the registration fee and, though I have written to the organizers, do not know if I will get the race shirt, but the thought of being out in the cold with a broken car stopped me.
Thanksgiving Day was wonderful, the late lunch feast delicious, especially because my bestie brought a scrumptious peach pie as one of the many additions. It is Saturday and I am still not finished with the leftovers, even indulging in some pate and bubbly. But I need to let you know that I did that after running more than four miles. Yes, I ran yesterday and today, more than making up for the five kilometers. In fact, I calculated I have run more than twelve kilometers in the last two days.
You can see part of the table spread in one picture and me as I was crossing the finish line at the Turkey Trot last year. Guess it is not bad being seventy-seven as long as one has enough strength and good health to do things one loves, even if it is not exactly the way one would have done it some decades before.
Ah, yes, if you are wondering about ‘elderhood’. It is my way of dividing the time we spend on this little planet called earth. I call our first twenty-five years — youth, the next twenty-five — adulthood, the following twenty-five — maturity, and the one I am now in — ‘elderhood’. I like that better than ‘old age’. After all, I think I use a bit of wisdom to meet the challenges I face and choose the way to deal with them.Elderhood Challenges and Choices
See the two pictures side by side? Well, those were the challenges and choices I faced this week, the week of Thanksgiving. I had signed up for a Turkey Trot, one where last year I won in my age group in the five-kilometer category. However, this year I had also invited my best friend and two good friends for the Thanksgiving feast. In the last few days that had turned into something a little bit larger as two other friends joined.
So, how was I going to cook for that wonderful little group and go for a ten o’clock run in a town that was at least twenty miles away? Now, twenty years ago I would not even have given it a second thought, as I would make the desert the day before, set the table the night before, and put the bird into the oven for slow cooking while I got into the car, drove up, ran, drove back, took a shower, dressed, and took the bird out when the guests arrived.
However, now at seventy-seven that just seemed a bit too much. Though I hate to admit it, I was overwhelmed at the very thought of doing that much. I used to get into bed and immediately fall asleep. Still do that sometimes but often find myself turning from side to side before finally dozing off. It happens even when I turn to melatonin. Besides, I now get up in the middle of the night for a necessary emptying of the bladder trip. Sometimes, I fall asleep immediately after that but sometimes it takes as long as an hour. So, guess, I am not always fresh and rearing to go in the morning.
On the Monday before Thanksgiving, I woke up too early and did not feel like moving but went running to my gym class and ran back. For an hour or so afterwards felt that I could do everything. Yes, I would win the five-kilometer Turkey Trot in my age group! I got into my car, an oldie but goodie like me, and headed for the store. Thought I had gotten everything but discovered I was missing a spice and cream.
As I got on the road little ‘clinks’ and ‘clonks’ shattered the melody of the classical piece over the radio. My Masi, the name of my very comfortable vehicle, was obviously having her own troubles. I had been told about it by the wonderful young woman who had taken the car for a drive while I was away about a month ago but had refused to take care of it before handing it over to my favorite garage man and friend while I go to the mountains for Christmas. Yes, the suspension needed work!
Was Masi going to make it for the run over twenty miles away? I pictured myself on the side of the highway on Thanksgiving Day, unable to get to either the run or make it back on time to take out the bird. Just so you know, it was a duck. The turkey I got for free by buying enough food and supplies to overstock the freezer and the pantry is going to be used for another occasion.
The decision was made. Yes, I will lose the registration fee and, though I have written to the organizers, do not know if I will get the race shirt, but the thought of being out in the cold with a broken car stopped me.
Thanksgiving Day was wonderful, the late lunch feast delicious, especially because my bestie brought a scrumptious peach pie as one of the many additions. It is Saturday and I am still not finished with the leftovers, even indulging in some pate and bubbly. But I need to let you know that I did that after running more than four miles. Yes, I ran yesterday and today, more than making up for the five kilometers. In fact, I calculated I have run more than twelve kilometers in the last two days.
You can see part of the table spread in one picture and me as I was just about to cross the finishing line in last year’s Turkey Trot. Guess it is not bad being seventy-seven as long as one has enough strength and good health to do things one loves, even if it is not exactly the way one would have done it some decades before.
Ah, yes, if you are wondering about ‘elderhood’. It is my way of dividing the time we spend on this little planet called earth. I call our first twenty-five years — youth, the next twenty-five — adulthood, the following twenty-five — maturity, and the one I am now in — ‘elderhood’. I like that better than ‘old age’. After all, I think I use a bit of wisdom to meet the challenges I face and choose the way to deal with them.
