Monday, August 29, 2011

I'm officially "Over The Hill"...

I dreaded it.  I tried to hide from it.  I even attempted, without success of course, to lie about it.  But I hit it...with my foot firmly on the gas pedal at full force on Friday morning at 12:00 am.  I am now 40 years old.  As I type that out, it still is hard to accept and be ok with it.  I mean, I don't think I look 40.  I don't have any gray in my hair.  Ok, I have a hair or two in a much lighter shade on my face if I let it grow for a few days but that's it.  My forehead does not have the deep crevasses of time etched into it nor have the crows feet latched on to the side of my eyes.  I'm fairly fit for a 40 year old white American male.  Could I be fitter? Yes, of course.  But I'm sure I'm in a very low percentile of 40 year old men that can go out and run 20+ miles in the mountains on a Saturday morning in the Alabama heat.  

So how did this happen?  You often hear people say "I don't feel (insert a certain age here)." or "I still feel like I did when I was 25."  I understand that completely now.  Obviously, I'm glad I'm not 25.  At 25, I had no direction, no future career planned out, and most importantly, I didn't have my two wonderful boys.  At 40, I have Ian and Noah, I have a wonderful career and I'm a reasonably happy kinda guy.  I have a beautiful home (actually two but one's an albatross that I currently call a rental property in Dallas that I just can't seem to sell) and I have a very small select group of close friends.

So why is this bothering me so much?  I don't know.  I wish I did and I wish 'it' didn't.  But it does.  Quite frankly, I don't want to be 40.  In my 30's, I could still convince myself of my youth and vitality.  40's....not so much.    In my 30's, the future seemed so endless.  40's....not so much.  Where I used to think about working for the love of the job and moving up the corporate ladder, now I guess I work for "retirement".  

Please rest assured that I'm not going to be one of those old tool bags that goes out and buys a hideous red Corvette and drive around with the top down and the Beach Boys blaring from the radio.  (Ok.  Yes, I might get a Porsche and have DMB blaring but come on, it's a Porsche and it's DMB.)  I know that within time, I'll become adjusted to the fact that I'm on the down swing of my life.  Maybe sooner than later.  Doubtful but maybe. 

But right now, at this moment, I am wallowing in self pity and denial with a Ketel One in hand and I plan to reside here for at least a few more days....

1 comment:

  1. Any time you're in ANY car blaring DMB, it's a good day - HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! :)