Sometimes there's nothing to feel Sometimes there's nothing to hold Sometimes there's no time to run away Sometimes you just feel so old —Lyrics from Fight by The Cure I realized this last winter: the day after my sixtieth birthday, I would lead a group of teenagers on a mountain bike ride. Me, four … Continue reading Fight, fight, fight!
Aging
Blooms
“Oh no coach, you’re bleeding!” “I’m always bleeding.” I can’t believe I still have this conversation. Honestly, everyone should know by now. Back at the cars after a mountain bike ride, blood streaks my arms. A kid, usually one of the younger ones, approaches me with concern. At some point during the ride, I brush … Continue reading Blooms
Decline
My coworker Bob called them chapter breaks—those steps in our fitness level that we periodically tumble down, never to return. I noticed this first in my thirties. I lined up a string of successes, personal records in a couple of races—a 10K and a ten-mile—a respectable marathon time, twenty-third overall in a thirty-three-story stair climb … Continue reading Decline
Fragility
Pattern in sand left by thirty to forty mile per hour winds -- Jeff, are you OK driving? Is the drop-off too steep? -- Dad, you’re really off balance, are you good? -- Jeff, did you eat enough for this hike? -- Dad, are you still feeling dizzy? -- Jeff, be careful, don’t touch that … Continue reading Fragility
Too Old for HIIT
We grew too old, Susan and me. I worked at the fitness center, not in the gym or the pool, but upstairs with the management. I worked out the finances. Twice a week, I biked in before sunrise to instruct spin classes. These are in the news lately, spin classes, the online ones. Peloton made … Continue reading Too Old for HIIT
Proof of Age
Not my kitchen I couldn’t relax, or lie flat, or breathe. Susan googled heart attacks. We thought she should check, maybe, just in case. We carried the microwave—the new one—into the kitchen. It mounts under the cabinets, above the stove, doubles as an oven hood. It’s not too heavy, maybe fifty pounds, awkward, but manageable … Continue reading Proof of Age
Epiphany
Rud waits at obvious landmarks and forks in the trail. When I catch up, he rides off again, steering his mountain bike over rocks and roots or a log now and then. I follow, but each time, he’s quickly out of sight. I stop worrying about holding him up. I can’t ride any faster, I’m … Continue reading Epiphany
Dying to Win
I saw this meme near the start of the pandemic: A cemetery, stately, over crowded with graves on a bright, sunny day. Dialog bubbles pop up from two headstones, the words of the dead. “We owned the Libs!!!” “Hell yeah we did!!!” Kind of funny, really not. I read an article this morning. Conservative talk … Continue reading Dying to Win
The Dog Days
I see my vacation in the rearview mirror. A fading memory of a not-so-great week. (Eli’s injury, then illness, then an early return home. <<== Link). Susan scoured VRBO looking to rent a place at the beach for a few days as a family consolation prize. Apparently, a popular idea. No one vacationed last summer. … Continue reading The Dog Days
Pumped Up
I dreamed about ‘the woods’ last night. The woods were a sprawling swath of undeveloped land separating my neighborhood from Interstate 270. During my grade school years, my friends and I spent our afternoons and weekends searching for salamanders and crayfish under rocks in the rainwater stream bisecting the woods. We roamed well-worn paths and … Continue reading Pumped Up
Cliffhanger No. 3
Cliffhanger. Do people know this word? My generation does, and those generations before me. It’s old fashion-y, like nickelodeons and world’s fairs. Nickelodeons—I just stumbled on this word while I looked up the etymology of cliffhanger. The first cinemas were called nickelodeons—back around the turn of the century (the prior one, old fashion-y, remember). People … Continue reading Cliffhanger No. 3
O.L.D.
Susan and I walked the neighborhood loop this morning, the short version, just as the world heated up. I planned to go running, something longish—maybe eight miles on the road or seven in the woods. But I didn’t gather my stuff last night before bed, and I didn’t set an alarm for the morning. I … Continue reading O.L.D.
Vanity
Farmland elementary school. Named for the vast and plentiful fields they bulldozed to build my neighborhood. Me: eleven years old, sixth grade. My class produced a play—a scene from an Arthurian Court. My role was the Court Page. My single line: “Ho, the royal nurse!” which I couldn’t say properly. I couldn’t pronounce the letter … Continue reading Vanity
Expiration Date
I’m going to live forever. I’ve written that before. Five years ago when I was a shiny new blogger, fit, coasting in an easy job, spending at least eight hour per week writing, immortality looked like a good idea. My kids were younger, less complicated; my relationships were better, I still had friends. I couldn’t … Continue reading Expiration Date
Arc of an Athlete
My thirteen-year study: the effects of age on an athlete’s performance. I’ve recently expanded my use of the term athlete. There was a time I would only use it to describe an elite crowd. The professionals, the college stand-outs, the runners who win races but still need a day job because running doesn’t pay the bills. These … Continue reading Arc of an Athlete
Audio Immaturity
I’m oldish. Fifty-five. The sorry side of middle-age. When I hold open the door for a stranger, he always says “Thank you, sir.” Grey hair, wrinkles, balding. Oldish. But I’m not actually old. Not yet. I’ve got years ahead of me. I’ve got kids living at home. I’m still trying to build a career. These … Continue reading Audio Immaturity
Whitey and the Riff Raff
In 1983, my college dorm room was an important meeting place. Monday through Friday at 3:00, my roommate and four or five of our friends would gather to watch General Hospital. I write this in a way that implies zero involvement from me. But that’s only partially true. I rarely settled in to watch GH, but … Continue reading Whitey and the Riff Raff
The Blue Trail
A longish short story that I classify as Almost Fiction. A fairly dramatic departure from my usual writing. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Shovel in hand, part-way through the job of replacing my sump-pump drainage pipe, I first caught sight of Pat. I was still digging out the decayed tar-paper piping that was … Continue reading The Blue Trail
-itis
Sometimes, as the week winds down, you just don’t want to do anything. This is where I was sitting on Friday afternoon, more than an hour before the end of my work day. I was tired of work, tired of my office, ready to enjoy some free time. My work: I write all around this … Continue reading -itis
Carrie & George
Today, I’m revisiting a topic I wrote about over two years ago… I’m even starting with the same sentence: http://undercrust.blogspot.com/2014/11/pre-apocalypse.html I’m going to live forever. Ask my kids, they’ll tell you. They’ve been hearing about it for years. Immortality is my mantra; something I talk about constantly. For the past ten years, I’ve been boasting … Continue reading Carrie & George
The Other Stuff 