72

72.

SELF PORTRAIT

72.  For me this number is significant.  This month I will be 72 years of age -- I was born May 31^st, 1951. 

72.  Yikes!  Where did the time go!  Where did my life go!  My past now seems but a fillip, my future, too, soon to be a fillip!  Aging positively, I know, has a commercial spin rife with platitudes – yikes again!  Here are just a few of those platitudes along with some personal thumbnail annotations.  I'll begin with:

“Age is just a number."

Factoid:  Age is a number.  The average life expectancy for Canadian males is number 79.4. Seventy-two is on the continuum to 79.4.  (Drat.)

“You’re not getting older; you’re getting better.” 

With glee I am very happy to report there could be some truth to this.  As I gruntle along in this blog entry, I do want readers to know that over the years I have managed and still do, to treat my body with the highest of gravitas.  I was a daily Individual Medley swimmer in the ‘70s, swimming a mile every morning.  Then throughout the ‘80s and ‘90s I was employed as a swimming and diving instructor.  Also, in the ‘80s I started to run long-distance, completing over a dozen half-marathons and two full-marathons.  Certified by the YMCA, I was also free-weight trainer and aerobics instructor.  Filled with bluster I can certainly ramble on but suffice to state I am still running and weightlifting, and have added these last 15 years, martial arts training, specifically in Muay Thai.  Not-so-strangely, this past winter I discovered a love for winter cycling and keeping with winter, as soon as the ski hills open, my plan is to become a certified downhill ski instructor.  As for not-getting-older-getting-better reference, I may not be getting better, but I am maintaining.  Factoid: I’m really no worse for wear than I was when I was a young man. I’ve not lost my strength and I’ve still spring in my step.

“Seventy is the new 50.” 

This, too, could be true.  In my adolescence growing up in Vanguard, Saskatchewan, anyone over 60 was considered an old-timer.  I remember old-timers in my town being grey of hair, physically frail, feeble of mind.  These rather shallow and stereotypical descriptors are based only upon my personal and empirical evidence.  Factoid:  Sometimes in addlepated fashion when I gaze into the mirror, mirror on the wall, I see a rugged Hollywood-handsome type guy.  Never do I see the narcissistic fool.

THE MAN IN THE MIRROR

“Those aren’t wrinkles; they’re lines of wisdom.” 

Be it years or months or days or even moments ago, there is no doubt that I am socially smarter than before the present.  For example, better than before, I can read a room and can empathize better with the characters in the room.  Factoid:  This could be because I am more inclusive of different sorts of people, which in turn could be due to the confidence I’ve gained over the years.   

“You’re only as old as you feel.” 

I feel great.  I’m not on any prescribed medications and my physical mobility is superb.  However, from my perspective, I can only speak for me.  I guess I must feel like 72 because the only mind with which I feel is mine.  I do hear lots of my peers complain of their physical ailments with about as much frequency as they complain about the weather.  And whenever I hear such whining I always think of B.F. Skinner who stated that to get old fast, just act old, have people open doors for you and make sure you are known for complaining of your physical ailments.  Factoid:  I have no physical ailments.  NONE.

“It’s better than the alternative.” 

This platitude prompts me to write about one of my favorite themes:  Existential dread.  I know that my body is finite and that my death is inevitable.   Though not yet apparent, I know, too, that at 70 years my body must be breaking down.  Trite to say that I strive to make each day count for something.  Whether it be reading, writing or running, I am very conscious about my reluctance to squander even a moment, never mind a whole day.  Better than the alternative suggests better than being dead, and I am not yet ready for that.  Factoid:  It all comes down to my mental and physical health.

If I can keep my wit up and my weight down, 

I should last until 79.4