Here’s a little story demonstrating two ways in which I am getting old…
I biked to the gym this morning to do my upper-body lifting.
Because the aerobics floor was vacant, I started by doing my stretching there. I touched my toes. I crossed my legs and touched my toes. I crossed my legs the other way and touched my toes. (Note that when I say “touched my toes”, I actually mean “reached toward my toes”. My doctor says I have the flexibility of a two-by-four. He’s right. I can’t even come close to touching my toes.) I stretched my quads. I stretched my IT band. I did some crunches. I did my pushups for the day.
When I’d finished, I went downstairs and lifted weights. I did dumbbell bench presses. I did some triceps exercises. I did some biceps curls. I worked on my shoulders. (The weights I’m lifting are relatively still light, but I don’t care. I’m getting stronger, and I know it.)
After working out, I biked home.
I checked my e-mail, checked the web sites, and then hopped in the shower. When I had scrubbed and shampooed, I stood at the sink to shave. I used my favorite lime-scented shaving cream. (I love the stuff. Love love love.) As I shaved, I thought about what I was going to write for the day.
When I’d finished, I used a damp towel to scrub the remaining shaving cream from my face. But it wouldn’t all come off. As I thought about Individual Retirement Accounts, I wiped my face again. Still the cream wouldn’t come off — it was stuck to my beard.
“That’s strange,” I thought, dampening the towel once more. I scrubbed harder. Still nothing. Lots of white cream on the beard.
Then it dawned on me: that’s not cream. That is my beard.
Man, I’m getting old.