Last year I had a work trip to Pittsburgh, my old hometown. While there, I arranged to have dinner with some friends who I hadn’t seen for several years.
We planned to meet at my hotel and walk to a nearby restaurant. Since it was summer, I took advantage of the great weather to take a walk before dinner.
As I was returning to the hotel, I saw 3 old guys get out of a car and thought to myself,
“That looks like my friend’s car. But that’s not them, those guys are all old and gray.”
It was them.
Then the same thing happened 6 months later in Florida when I met two other friends I hadn’t seen for a few years for lunch.
I was waiting by the front door of the restaurant when I saw these two balding, kind of paunchy, grizzled old dudes getting out of a car. Just as I thought, “I wonder when my friends are going to show up?” one of the old guys shouted “Hey Steve!”
I turned 50 this year. I’m in fairly good shape due to genetics, my exercise obsession and a good diet.
I feel like I’m about 35. I think I look like I’m about 35 as well. (Sometimes I still feel like I did when I was 17, but I know for sure I don’t look 17.)
None of my friends who are my age look 35. They all look like old men – even the ones who are in great physical condition and eat a healthy diet.
For a reality check, I decided to ask my wife what she thought. First I told her how shocked I was to see that my friends looked old. Then I explained how I felt I looked like I was 35.
She laughed and said,
“Honey, I love you. But you look your age.”
It’s a good thing I don’t really care.
I enjoy being 50. I have much more peace and serenity than I did when I was 17 or 25 or 35. I’ve always loved and respected old people. Now I get to be one.
I do miss being able to get away with eating a craptastic diet and staying slim. I’ve also realized that I don’t bounce back from injuries nearly as quickly as I used to.
All in all, living to 50 beats the alternative.