Dec 12, 2018 3 min read

They finally found me. There, in my mailbox, was the official notice that I wasn’t a spring chicken anymore. No one really needed to inform me of that, but in my mind I’m still eternally 25 years old. Aren’t we all? It’s just my right knee that tells me otherwise after too many decades of skiing and moguls.

You know that organization for older Americans that sends folks an invitation to join on a certain milestone birthday? Well, they finally dropped mine in the mail. I thought they had forgotten about me or that I had somehow managed to fly under their radar and that allowed me to ignore the whole idea.

There are other gradual signs of aging that I’ve noticed lately. The most obnoxious one is the person starting back at me in the mirror and when I take photographs. I’ve given up on skiing moguls ever again because I’d rather still be able to ski black diamond runs rather than nurse a swollen, achy knee after another failed attempt at pretending I’m Jonny Mosely.

That brings me to the topic of exercise and staying in shape. This, too, has evolved with middle age. I never was a runner or gym rat, but I’ve always been physically active, and I still ski, golf, scuba dive and do my own yard work. Gone are the days of me hitting up kickboxing class at the gym after work. In fact, the whole idea of going to the gym has lost its appeal for me right now. I’d rather walk miles around my neighborhood in blissful solitude than wait for my turn on the treadmill and have to wipe it down with antibacterial cloths in hopes of avoiding cold and flu germs. I’d also have to put on a bit of makeup or brush my hair in case I see someone I know there. Walking outside, I can wear a ball cap and sunglasses.

Now that the weather has turned cold and snowy, I thought about joining a gym but decided to try walking indoors somewhere nice and warm instead. Yes, I am now one of the (somewhat) faithful group of mall walkers. This has to be a sign that I’m getting old. I actually enjoy it and see plenty of other folks walking there right along with me. It’s fun to window shop as you walk, but I quickly learned never to take my wallet with me, else I’ll end up in bankruptcy court and not doing any exercise, except swiping my credit card.

The final nail in the coffin of my quest to deny middle age came with my last doctor’s checkup. “You’re at the age now where you should get a pneumonia shot,” he said. I turned around to see exactly who he was talking to, because it couldn’t possibly have been me.

Kristin Emery can be reached at kristinemery1@yahoo.com.