Thursday, March 12, 2009

growing old

According to ABC local radio, 37 is when you stop being young. 43 is when you begin middle age. 37-42 is no-man's land. Neither young nor old.

It's Andrew's birthday today. Number 36. He is making the most of his last year of youth by running a marathon. I guess it's all downhill from here.

In the past I've never thought much about aging - or if I have its been a vague, mildly pleasant thought. Far enough away to romanticise.

But an honest friend told me the other day that she hates that she is getting old.

And I do too. Too keep on putting work in at the gym, but gradually having to lower your weights rather than raise them (See, it's the big stuff that worries me!) To find it harder to learn new things. To find your health is failing. Your mind compromised.

I hate that I can see my friends aging. Realising that they are slipping away and I won't be able to hold onto them. How awful that one day I'll lose them.

We really are 'but a breath'. We will pass away and the world will go on much the same without us.

Horrible, humbling, insulting stuff.

Inevitable though. Unless we die young or Jesus comes back right now.

I am looking forward to the new creation. Just a few short years till then.

2 comments:

  1. Running a marathon downhill sounds like cheating.

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  2. I hate it that I'm aging too. Being overseas for years at a time makes it even more obvious that my friends and family are aging. It can be shocking at times. (So can meeting those who've put on a lot of weight since you've seen them last, but that is more often related to childbearing than aging).

    The one thing I do like about aging is that I'm getting more clarity on who I am and feel less compelled to be who other people want me to be.

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