50 Shades of Brown

I’m in the prime of my life.  I feel incredible, look terrific, successful, moderately amusing, body in perfect health.  I’m hiking that steep 2 mile trail to my favorite lake on Mt. Hood carrying my fly rod and a float tube ready for a day of brookies and cutthroats assaulting my flies endlessly when….WHA WHA WHA WHA WHA WHA WHA…..my alarm goes off. 6 am.  Another day heading to work. I quickly turn it off.

As I lean forward to get up, my back reminds me of my body’s age. Ouch.  When did that happen? My left knee joins the chorus of pain as soon as my foot hits the ground.  This just isn’t right.  I limp off to the bathroom and look in the mirror.  A stranger greets me in the mirror.  Greying facial hair, balding, a touch overweight, and tired.  Who is this guy?  And why has he taken over my mirror?

I just don’t know how it happened. I’m 18 right?  How did I get trapped in this middle-aged body!  I remember being able to hike for miles without getting tired. The numerous hikes all around Mt. Hood, and the Columbia River Gorge were my stomping grounds.  7 miles of hiking was nothing to me.  Not too long ago, I was in a very active job, walking all day long, doing 20,000 steps before going home, and then I’d go bow hunting with my son and do another 5-7 miles of walking for a chance to see an elk. Now I’m happy to share the couch with a cuddly feline watching reruns of my favorite sit-coms. The thought of doing a lot of exercise after work seems foreign now.

We will all eventually come to the realization that our bodies aren’t 18 anymore.  Abs are a bit flabby, probably had a surgery or two, knees, or hips or ankles fail us.  Some of us are able to beat it, keeping incredibly fit through rigorous diet and exercise, but most of us will not wish to make that commitment. 

But here is where I will move away from talk of my body betraying me. My brain is still young, and vibrant!  I feel 18!  (My friends get annoyed at times when I act TOO much 18). I still listen to and enjoy the music I did at 18.  I love to do many of the same things I did when I was 18.  That’s it, I IDENTIFY AS AN 18-YEAR-OLD.  I can do that right? It’s time to take my frisbee out and head to the beach.

Staying young on the inside is so important to healthy living.  It means that you retain hope, courage, and a positive outlook on things to come.  It means that no matter what life throws at you (and life will, I promise you that) that you are going to look at the best outcome possible. 10+ years ago I was diagnosed with cancer.  They found a tumor, removed it, tested it and pronounced that I needed Chemo.  The chemo was successful, but it was the most miserable time of my life.  Toward the end, my oldest sister passed away.  All of this could have totally defeated me. But I refused to let it. I always had a smile for my kids, I always joked with the doctors and nurses (probably flirted, but that’s not important), and told everyone that I was going to beat this, even at the worst of the side-effects and complications.  C-diff, total hair loss, horrible constipation (TMI?) blood clot, pneumonia, massive fatigue, allergic reaction to one of the drugs, and the list goes on. I’m sure I temporarily allowed myself to feel the moment, but my youthful personality took over.  And I beat it!  I still get tested annually, but this cancer was not ever expected to return.   

I’ve seen plenty of people who let life beat them.  Why would anyone WANT to live like that?  Look for the possibilities and the positive in every situation, it will serve you well.  I’m reminded of a quote from Monte Python’s The Life of Bryan.  At the end of the movie, when the whole cast is being crucified by the Romans, one of the players starts singing “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life”.  One of my favorite parts of that song (besides being a musical number on a Roman Cross) is the line:  When life seems jolly rotten, there’s something you’ve forgotten, and that’s to laugh and smile and dance and sing! 

I think that someday, when I am a grandparent, and surrounded by a hoard of grandchildren (no pressure kids), one perceptive rascal will probably say, wow, you guys are old, how old are you?  18 my dear, 18.