Young and old

When I moved to Tucson, I was a relatively spry 32 years of age. Despite my status as a complete lardass, I could still bike down on the singlespeed and beer up with the microbrews with some level of abandon. I'm now 38, and despite weighing about 40 pounds less than I did then, I am nevertheless mortified that I am beginning to experience the vanguards of middle age such as a fragile spine and occasional knee pain. It takes more than a half day to recover from a hard bike ride. Dosing with Ibuprofen prevents me from imbibing. I'm skipping over the gray hair phase and going directly to white. My eyebrows are getting out of control and what is with this ear hair?

But there's still hope.

Late last week, I was very pleased to find that I had contracted conjunctivitis, aka pinkeye. Its something typically associated with being in your teen years, not the years where you're old enough to have a teenager (which I don't, thank Jah). I may be developing an early-stage geezer body, but I've got the eyes of a millennial, dammit! Or at least I will once they clear up. This gives me hope that I can move gracefully through my impending midlife crisis and then eventually make a seamless transition into being a gnarly old dude.

In more immediate news (i.e. this morning), Sweetwater's cool air and largely empty trails were absolutely wonderful. I followed my short trail ride with an even-shorter dog walk. Unfortunately, I split with the dogs without realizing BeanSS wanted to go with us. She's now out hiking solo in the steadily building warmth, but she's also getting the kind of workout one can only get when they don't need to stop every 10 feet to let the dogs sniff this or pee on that.

Now its back to the eye drops for me.