A few weeks ago I was running regularly, moving up my max distance each week, a mile at a time, in preparation for my first half-marathon. While my ambitions have not changed, a sore Achilles has kept me off the path for a few weeks now. I'm going to re-engage Sunday, with the help of some Advil, tape, and friends. Not going to push it too hard.
But my sore ankle totally made me aware of my mortality yet again. It was kind off out of my mind for a good while. It comes and goes.
I often have dreams where all my teeth are falling out. I Googled what it meant one time. It supposedly stems from your subconscious mind worrying about mortality. I thought I got over that when I was six.
Some of us are growing mustaches for a Mustache March at Army-Baylor. Putting the ACHE in mustache. Good fun. Most of us look terrible about a week in. But, after have taken about a six year break from my last attempt, this time I'm noticing something new -- greys!
Today I was walking to my carpooler's car. An ever so slight twist of my torso as I rounded the car was enough to cause a sensation in my back. For the rest of the day, I was painfully aware of something tweaked in my back. More Advil.
Sigh.
I'm sure with some stretching and what not my back will be okay. Within a few weeks I will have run the half-marathon. And at the end of the month, I'll shave the 'stache. Hopefully time will help me erase the evidence of aging.
Until the next ailment.
I try to tell myself I look forward to getting old. My late twenties were definitely better than my early twenties. And my early thirties rocked. I seem to be having a better time in life each passing year. But, like a parametric curve in Quant, will I soon hit the apex and begin my downward slide? Hopefully later than sooner.
I just hope I can party like a rock star into the far reaches of the upper most limits of my (hopefully normally distributed!) tail.
"Putting the ACHE in mustache." That's got to be first use.
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