It doesn't take much these days to remind me that I'm not as young as I used to be. Take today, for example. My twelve year-old nephew came to stay with us for a couple of days before he goes back to school. He looks forward to coming to visit (we do tend to go into overload planning fun stuff to keep him busy) and we love having him here. So why am I lying in bed at ten o'clock on a Friday night feeling completely and utterly exhausted? Maybe it has something to do with working a half day, hitting the driving range, playing a couple of sets of tennis and throwing the frisbee around. Factor in a fast food lunch and pizza for dinner and it's not hard to see why I've hit the wall.
Most of the time I don't mind the idea of getting older. Like they say, it beats the alternative. Like most of us, I wish I were in better shape but I don't seem to have the discipline and dedication to make that happen. Based on past performance, I think it's my destiny to start and stop at least a couple of hundred more fitness programs in my lifetime. But I'm too tired to beat myself up about any of that. I figure you can get down on yourself for not doing everything you can to feel your best or you can give yourself credit for the things you do manage to accomplish.
I may not do yoga every morning, but I still get out on the tennis courts as often as I can. I may pull into the drive-thru at Dunkin Donuts more than I should, but I try to eat enough fruits and vegetable to keep me out of the Metamucil aisle. And I may complain about a few aches and pains, but I also make it a point to regularly count my many blessings.
Can I help it if the only one that means anything to me at this very moment is my big, comfy bed?
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