I had one of those Aha! moments this past weekend. You probably know what I’m talking about: one of those blinding flashes of the obvious (BFO), where you suddenly realize what’s really going on, and why you’ve been doing what you've been doing. Which, of course, has been obvious to everyone else in your life for quite a while. This particular BFO was triggered by a complete stranger. I was out last Sunday taking a ride on my bike, and was making a quick stop at the grocery store on my way home when I crashed. I didn’t think it was any big deal, just some scratches and bruises, and tried to head on into the grocery store as planned. But some bystanders firmly insisted that I should wait for the paramedics, who had already been called. I protested until a woman pulled a mirror from her purse and showed me my face, which was covered in blood from a fairly nasty looking gash near my temple. Fortunately, my injuries turned out to be less serious than they looked. But in the course of cleaning me up and checking me out for signs of a concussion, the paramedic grilled me about what had happened. I explained that I had been out on a long ride, and was angling into the store’s driveway when my front tire got snagged on the curb cut and I was thrown off the bike onto the sidewalk. We walked over so I could show him where it happened, and I saw that the curb cut was very high, which explained why it grabbed my tire. I told him I hadn’t noticed that, because I didn’t have my glasses on. Then he said: “So, you’re telling me that you’d just finished a long bike ride, you were tired, you weren’t wearing your glasses, you didn’t have your bike helmet on, and you decided to head downtown into traffic to go shopping. You see anything wrong with this picture? I see this all the time with the college kids who think they’re superman, but you really ought to act your age.” Talk about a hefty dose of toughlove! I was expecting some sympathy, and maybe some advice to go talk to a lawyer about that dangerous curb cut. Later on, after I got over being indignant and offended, I realized that what really bothered me the most about his comment was the “acting my age” part. I couldn’t object to his complaint about me not wearing a helmet, but the rest sounded to me like he was saying that a guy my age shouldn’t be doing what I was doing. I know myself well enough to know that, when I stay annoyed about something someone says for very long, it’s usually because there’s at least a grain of truth in there somewhere that I don’t want to deal with. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that taking long, hard bike rides and not wearing my helmet or glasses was a lot more about not wanting to feel or look or act my age than anything else. I do enjoy riding and the challenge of pushing myself physically and mentally to go just a little further or faster. And I don't think that getting older means you can't or shouldn't do that. But it probably does mean that further and faster needs to be relative to my current situation--not to what people younger than me are doing, or what I could do a year ago. The fact is that I haven't been adjusting my sights like I should. What I’ve been doing has been aggravating some age-related physical problems I have, and not really doing anything for me I couldn’t accomplish with less extreme rides and fewer negative consequences. And obviously it has its risks, as this crash has made painfully clear. But it’s hard for me to slow down or back off. I don’t want to see myself as one of those people who wear their glasses, take their “sensible” rides and otherwise “act their age.” In my mind’s eye, I still see a 17 year old guy who can push the envelope as far as he wants, not a 60 year old guy who needs to accept reality on its terms. Adolescent mind in a geriatric body--that's a dangerous combination, lol. A few years ago, I got into this same kind of situation because I was determined to get my weight down to an unrealistic level. I got over that, and accepted the fact that I’m just not going to be skinny, buffed, or look like I did when I was 20 again. I guess it’s time for me to do the same thing with this business of getting older. It's odd how those body image demons have a way of going underground for a while and then reappearing in a whole new way. I've never really understood why someone would worry a lot about a few wrinkles, or spend money to make themselves look younger. But here I am, doing the same kind of thing with my biking performance. How do you find the balance point between being prudent, pushing yourself to do your best, and accepting reality? Got any good advice on aging gracefully? |
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