Hope I Die Before I Get Old...

Talkin' 'bout my generation.

Okay, I have to admit I had a tough time getting to 10. I also have a bunch of things I LIKE about getting old. I also think it is really a lot tougher on the ladies since society places a premium on looks in women more then men...and let's face it, the toughest thing about getting old is looking in the mirror one day and seeing your dad (or mom).

I also am lucky in that I don't suffer from ED (according to Mrs. Tilam, I have the exact opposite problem) and have all my hair. And since I have light hair without a lot of gray, I can pass off as being younger then 44. I am sure thinning hair, a silver mane and a broken Johnson will come eventually, but not yet. (Touch wood...so to speak.)

Warranty Expiration. It seemed like the warranty on my body expired at 40. What was a relatively smooth running machine developed all sorts of rattles and creaks. Knees hurt more, ankles clicked more, my back needed better feed and caring. I did a triathlon at 40 to over compensate, but I just can't maintain that training pace. Ugh!
A Step Slower. 15 years ago, I could run 8 miles at under 7 minutes per mile...not great, but not bad. Now my 4 mile times are on the heavy side of the 8 minute per mark. Ugh!
Prostate Exams. Moooooon River... No additional comment yesterday.
Age Spots. A small, but niggling issue. But I really dislike those little monsters.
Shifts. Echoing Tdub, things do seem to have sagged. My six pack has become a two pack. Very curable, but it takes a lot more work then before.
Longer Hangovers. This might not be age per se, but recover on everything seems to take forever. Have that 4th scotch...you feel it the next day. Play ball with the guys - hurt for three days. And the kids just won't let you sleep it off.
No Patience. When you are a baby, your world is all of three feet in diameter. As you age, it grows and grows, until one day you lose patience with all the morons and decide you can't change the world. Then it starts to shrink, until you are 90 years old and your world is all of three feet in diameter. I lost patience some time ago...but I am not proud of it.
Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda. I don't have a lot of regrets, but I have some. Most come under the heading of "I should have been nicer to so and so." I am trying to learn from this.
Pictures. I overheard some women talking about the Big Hair days of the 80s. HAH! I can do you one better: leisure suits. Nothing is more painful then pictures of me trying to look cool in the 70s.
Dating Myself. Beyond the collection of Kiss albums (I can remember when Strutter '78 was new), old 8 track tapes and Pong, I do seem to be years behind. Sometimes it works for me; Led Zeppelin is still cool, but mostly I am an analog guy in a digital age.

I watched the ESPN series, The Bronx is Burning, about the 1977 Yankee season. I really enjoyed it both as a story and as a reminder of that period. Howard Cosell, Keith Jackson and Bill White in the booth, Thurman Munson, Willie Randolph, Mickey Rivers and, of course, Reggie Jackson on the field.

And that's the best thing about getting old...some really great memories.