The thing I hate most about getting older is the ebb of effortless physicality. I hate, hate, HATE, HATE, HATE it! BIG FRICKIN' FROWNY FACE!!!
This morning is a good example. It was all I could do to keep my legs going long enough to get up on step and get the main circulating pump up into operating range. It took a good mile of trudging along on aching, quivering pins before I started to feel human. And it's not just the legs; it's the back and the shoulders and even the damn fingers. It's all old and creaky! Meine verdammten Körper aufgibt auf mich!
Only a decade ago, when I was pushing 50, I could still roll out of the rack and dive in to hard physical exertion. Today it takes a lot of priming.
I shouldn't complain so bitterly, for I'm really blessed. I'm in excellent health, particularly in light of the hard use I've made of my body over the years. And I can still get out and get after it, can still push really hard, can still put in a reasonable days work. It just takes longer to get going, and more effort and willpower to keep going. And then everything hurts at night.
Dammit!
Sometimes I dream about my salad days. I used to be able to drink until 4 a.m., sleep for an hour, get up, throw up, go run five miles, suck down 4,000 calories of grease at the chow hall, shower, work all day, then start the whole cycle again, fresh as a daisy. SMH. If I'd had good guidance and direction (well, if I'd followed that which was abundantly available) and left the hooch alone I could have ruled the world!
I had a nice compliment the other day from one of my (two!) local blog readers. Joe is a former navy AME (aviation structural mechanic) about 20 years my junior. Today he's in law enforcement and I work pretty closely with him from time to time.
Anyway, he went hiking with me the other day and was somewhat surprised to find it a bit more taxing than a simple stroll in the country. There's a lot of up and down out there, and the ground is quite uneven, and this year the tall grass makes it rather like walking in sand. It's a lot of work.
"I hope I'm in as good a shape as you when I'm your age," he said.
I hate to admit it, mostly because I like whining about my infirmities, but he's right. I have a number of peers -- and quite a few I played football with (mumble) years ago -- who can't take the stairs or walk across a parking lot without EMS standing by.
So what do I have to complain about? Not a damn thing. Not really.
But I still complain. I'm a right wanker, I am.
Ah yes, getting old, it's not for sissies.
ReplyDeleteNot that I'm saying you're old or anything.
:)
When I've got a good whine on I sure sound like a sissy!
DeleteAh, but there's nothing like a good whine to improve morale. (Or was that wine? Eh, either works for me.)
DeleteGonna eat the puffball?
ReplyDeleteHeh. Probably less painful ways to go.
DeleteAh, just read about them and they are allegedly edible. Not sure I really want to put my life on the line on the strength of wikipedia so I'll pass, but maybe someday...
DeleteThe black cow with he white blaze looks like" doubtful cow is being doubtful".
ReplyDeleteThat cow is grumpybull. He seems to hate the summer. I steer clear of him when hiking. Probably wouldn't do anything and I'm always armed, but no reason to tempt fate.
DeleteOkay, I have to verify this. I'm looking at your banner pics, and I'm seeing VF-84 Jolly Rogers, and HS-9 on the helo. This smacks of CVW-8!! As i was in VF-41 Black Aces from 87-91, I need to know if we've crossed the same decks! The airwing at the time I got to NAS Oceana was just arriving back from taking the Nimitz around the horn to the West Coast. My deployments with the Black Aces included the Theodore Roosevelt, as well as workups on the Lincoln and the Washington. I am an old Ordie. Got out as an AO2 in active duty, and up to AO1 in the Reserves. I was also CAG-ARM for the cruises; I armed and dearmed every damn bird we had at one time or another on the ship.
ReplyDeleteSo, have we looked at the same padeyes, shipmate? devincharles@charter.net
Yes we have looked at the same padeyes! I'll have to do a post on chronology, but long story short, the shore duty orders I got out of VF-84 sucked, so I got out, had a few beers, then went to the recruiter and got back in for sea duty with VA-65. I did the last three Coral Sea deployments with CVW-13 then workups on TR before the Desert Storm cruise. I went to HC-2 for DS.
ReplyDeleteRight on!! Okay, we need to sit down and swap lies some time soon! Sent you an email today, as well. Used the contact info on this blog. I thought you were SAR with HS-9, so I didn't get why you'd have Jolly Rogers up on the banner. Now the skull and crossbones makes a bit more sense. I'll still send you pics of Fast Eagle Tomcats. Just to get your goat. I have cruise books. This promises to be fun.
DeleteI logged a LOT of hours with HS-9. The navy was always kind of goofy with SAR corpsmen; to go to sea you really had to be a squadron corpsman (HM-8406) too. Most SAR HM's (8294) were station SAR and had to take DNIF sea duty! I lucked out after NACCS because there was a four-month window between the end of swimmer school and my reporting date. I didn't want to work in medical records at Pcola so I asked for and got a seat in the next 8406 class. Which ultimately changed my orders from west coast shore duty to east coast sea duty.
DeleteI agree on the sitting down and swapping lies idea. Maybe we should start a Panhandle CVW-8 Alumni Association. I think I still remember how to qualify for Charlie Liberty! ;)
Well no wonder you feel punee in the morning, and get all whiney, it's that damn lite (spit) beer, you need to be drinking Guinness for strength! Thanks for the cattle pics.
ReplyDeleteGood one!
Delete"Tastes great!" "Less Filling!" I found an intact 1957-era quart beer bottle in that same area a couple of weeks ago.