WELCOME TO MY COUNTRY
i have a friend who thinks that he is going to live to 120 years old...the same friend who eats only mangos for a week straight until he "shits like a bird". me, i like steak.
turning 50 was anti-climactic but the aftermath has been a bit troubling.
this has not been the year i had hoped for; athletically that is. i raced once. i decided to pass on ironman this year because i just didn't feel like it. i bought several guitars. got into jazz...many weeks have seen less than 10 hours of training. maybe i have gained perspective and ironman shit is not so important, but i don't think so. i think it was a rebellion of some kind....
later today i am going for my first over 50 compulsory physical. i am a bit ashamed that i have put it off twice and now i am going, not having done my bloodwork yet. i have had a million excuses but the real truth is i am afraid to do it. afraid of what it might show, how it might change things. what if something actually comes back abnormal? what if i am faced with this person telling me i need to take something for my cholesterol or my blood pressure? what if my genetics are catching up with me? how can i feel like the omnipotent hero archetype if i need meds?
ridiculous i know...head in the hand stupidity. but i WILL go. it has has just been a bit of a road to get over all of the cognitive distortions in my head that have been tying me up.
the truth is, i don't want the ride i was on in my 40's to end. ironman, ironman training and so forth has been a fountain of youth, a post-modern religion, a center point of my life. i have so loved the pattern of train/eat/rest/celebrate/train. the past decade has truly been a homage to the concept of valhalla. this has allowed me to feel immortal, to celebrate my inner hero, to avoid real life.
problem is, we are not in the afterworld (nor do i really want to be there just yet). and the world of the living comes with certain rules, and a sticker price.
time keeps on slipping into the future, to quote steve miller. i AM getting older. i AM now a Master's athlete; no two ways about it. i can still pretend i am in valhalla but my cerebral cortex won't let me forget that this cannot last forever. it will not last forever. i must adapt as things decay.
ageism has existed in sports for a very long time. when i was young, i remember that "Master's" tennis tournaments were considered for men 35 and over. wow. i thought jimmy connors was old when he won the us open at the age of 31. it was old, then. but now we have roger federer at the top of the game well past 35 and how about andy potts finishing 8th in kona at the age of 40?.... humans are pushing the boundaries on all levels in terms of what is possible, and age is just one more boundary to push through.
but there just seems to be something irrevocably "masters'ish" about being 50. at best, you are on the peak about to descend the hill, at worst you have already crested and are gaining downward momentum, racing towards 60 and post andropausal reality.
this is the decade of: colonoscopies, ECG tests, annual physicals, needing "more rest", viagra, demented parents; none of these things are very sexy.
i can't help but ponder if fading narcissistic phallic omnipotence wasn't somehow implicated in several high profile (and some quite recent) suicides in men over 50. i wont' name names. but it can be hard to carry on when most of what you value is generally associated with youth. if we were living closer to nature, almost surely, some younger and stronger silverback would challenge us and we would be defeated.
at 50, i am dead center, front row for that show we call mid-life crisis. it is a show on a tight-rope, a balancing act of realism vs. fantasy, humility vs. grandiosity and many other things. hopefully i can grow and develop wisdom as other things fade. falling into the abyss does not seem like a viable option.
endurnaceanimal began with a musing about hubris as it relates to ironman questing. this new country, the country for old men, begins with another H word. humility. the older we get this becomes a necessity.
so, given all of this, it dawned on me that is was time to start a new blog. yes, i am still blogging self indulgently about ironman (yes i signed up for one next fall; i missed my religion this year), but with a different emphasis. this blog is for those interested in, or on the same path. the MASTER'S endurance athlete. the ultimate sisyphian (if there is such a word). the absurd life of the ironman after 50.....
turning 50 was anti-climactic but the aftermath has been a bit troubling.
this has not been the year i had hoped for; athletically that is. i raced once. i decided to pass on ironman this year because i just didn't feel like it. i bought several guitars. got into jazz...many weeks have seen less than 10 hours of training. maybe i have gained perspective and ironman shit is not so important, but i don't think so. i think it was a rebellion of some kind....
later today i am going for my first over 50 compulsory physical. i am a bit ashamed that i have put it off twice and now i am going, not having done my bloodwork yet. i have had a million excuses but the real truth is i am afraid to do it. afraid of what it might show, how it might change things. what if something actually comes back abnormal? what if i am faced with this person telling me i need to take something for my cholesterol or my blood pressure? what if my genetics are catching up with me? how can i feel like the omnipotent hero archetype if i need meds?
ridiculous i know...head in the hand stupidity. but i WILL go. it has has just been a bit of a road to get over all of the cognitive distortions in my head that have been tying me up.
the truth is, i don't want the ride i was on in my 40's to end. ironman, ironman training and so forth has been a fountain of youth, a post-modern religion, a center point of my life. i have so loved the pattern of train/eat/rest/celebrate/train. the past decade has truly been a homage to the concept of valhalla. this has allowed me to feel immortal, to celebrate my inner hero, to avoid real life.
problem is, we are not in the afterworld (nor do i really want to be there just yet). and the world of the living comes with certain rules, and a sticker price.
time keeps on slipping into the future, to quote steve miller. i AM getting older. i AM now a Master's athlete; no two ways about it. i can still pretend i am in valhalla but my cerebral cortex won't let me forget that this cannot last forever. it will not last forever. i must adapt as things decay.
ageism has existed in sports for a very long time. when i was young, i remember that "Master's" tennis tournaments were considered for men 35 and over. wow. i thought jimmy connors was old when he won the us open at the age of 31. it was old, then. but now we have roger federer at the top of the game well past 35 and how about andy potts finishing 8th in kona at the age of 40?.... humans are pushing the boundaries on all levels in terms of what is possible, and age is just one more boundary to push through.
but there just seems to be something irrevocably "masters'ish" about being 50. at best, you are on the peak about to descend the hill, at worst you have already crested and are gaining downward momentum, racing towards 60 and post andropausal reality.
this is the decade of: colonoscopies, ECG tests, annual physicals, needing "more rest", viagra, demented parents; none of these things are very sexy.
i can't help but ponder if fading narcissistic phallic omnipotence wasn't somehow implicated in several high profile (and some quite recent) suicides in men over 50. i wont' name names. but it can be hard to carry on when most of what you value is generally associated with youth. if we were living closer to nature, almost surely, some younger and stronger silverback would challenge us and we would be defeated.
at 50, i am dead center, front row for that show we call mid-life crisis. it is a show on a tight-rope, a balancing act of realism vs. fantasy, humility vs. grandiosity and many other things. hopefully i can grow and develop wisdom as other things fade. falling into the abyss does not seem like a viable option.
endurnaceanimal began with a musing about hubris as it relates to ironman questing. this new country, the country for old men, begins with another H word. humility. the older we get this becomes a necessity.
so, given all of this, it dawned on me that is was time to start a new blog. yes, i am still blogging self indulgently about ironman (yes i signed up for one next fall; i missed my religion this year), but with a different emphasis. this blog is for those interested in, or on the same path. the MASTER'S endurance athlete. the ultimate sisyphian (if there is such a word). the absurd life of the ironman after 50.....
Comments
Post a Comment