No easy answers

Sometimes the simplest questions pose the biggest challenges.

I had to fill out a registration form recently for an upcoming 5k race. The form asked the usual questions: name, address and age on the day of the race.

Simple enough, but I still had to think for a second.

Did the race organizers want me to include the age I feel I should be? Easy, 21 of course. If put on the spot, I’d probably tell them 25. While it’s been a few years since I’ve seen my twenties, I still think of myself as a young father, coming home from work, greeted at the door by my young kids.

Despite what my head might say, my kids aren’t so little anymore. In fact, my kids are bigger than me now. Much bigger.

If the race organizers wanted me to list the age my body felt when I woke up earlier that day, I would have had to list my age as “ancient.” Ugh.

Shamed into telling the truth

Against my better judgment, I wrote down my actual age. I figured it would be wrong to try to steal an age-based award from another deserving runner. (I’m assuming I would out-kick someone older than me. However, if my last race serves as a gauge and the grey-haired guy who passed me at the five-mile mark that could be wishful thinking.)

The age question still got me thinking: Why are they all different numbers? I’m sure my sore muscles from my previous day’s run played a role. I suspect too that a full night’s sleep, a couple days of vacation, and a call from my college-aged daughter would fix most of my issues.

It ‘s only logical

While that’s all well and good, I’ve never been one to get caught up with age. I’ve long drawn on my inner Spock from Star Trek fame and have taken the viewpoint that it is what it is.

You can’t change it. You can’t push back time. You need to deal with it.

If nothing else, I once spoke with an elderly gentleman well into his 90s. I asked what got him out of bed each morning. Without missing a beat, he said: “The same thing that gets everyone out of bed, I can’t wait to see what new toy I’ll find in my crackerjack box or what trinket will be a the bottom of the cereal box.”

Maybe there’s some truth in that. Take life as it comes. Enjoy it while you can.