Monday, March 20, 2017

It's (more than) Halfway Over - 50 Years Young

In the cave man days, average life expectancy was between 25 and 30 years old.  By those standards, I'm like Methuselah.  By today's standards, I've got a few years to go.  Latest estimates say that a dude living in the United States will probably be around for 76 years.  That means Deanna, Hanna, Tyson, and Eli will be annoyed by me for another 26 years. Think about that for a moment.

After riding the Redline up to run the stairclub stairs, I came home to a nice, nice cheesecake and candles for my birthday.  Sweet baby Jesus, cheesecake!  Perhaps it will take one of those 76 years and throw it into the rubbish, but eating cheesecake is worth it.

 
Yesterday was supposed to be a grand Happy 50th Birthday ride for me at Greensfelder.  It was supposed to be so perfect.  That's the first place I ever rode (and raced!) a mountain bike, and I wanted it to be something special, something to remember.  Frankly, the day was off to a rocky start and I had decided by 3pm that I was not going to do anything but sit and bitch quietly to myself.  And I did sit and bitch, mostly quietly.  By 4pm, my mood had changed and I gathered my things to make good on my original idea.

Because of recent developments, I'm back to riding the blue shitbike.  Another sub-text of the day was to rock the shitbike like a boss.  I feel that I accomplished both missions.  I blasted the entire trail system, rocked the hell out of it in fact, 6 minutes faster than the last time I did the same task.  My Garmin did not upload any segments which caused me to revert to bitching when I got home, but I did get the overall result and I haven't felt that good on a bike in a long time.

Who knows how long we've got?  Should we want to live forever, or until we're satisfied?  And what is satisfying?  We each answer those questions in different ways.  I'm going to stick with the idea that the little moments, the great and not so great, add up to a lifetime.  So live those little moments.

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