normal

sky runner

I went for my first run in a couple of years this morning.

It took me a while to realize that it had been a couple of years since I last ran, but it had.

That’s a pretty long time.

Of course, I have read a couple of running magazines and watched a few races and films about running on TV…but I don’t think that it had much improvement on my body fat percentage and VO2 max to watch someone else exercise.

So this morning I ran. This morning I jogged. This morning I did something that was a little faster than walking.

It’s a grunt to get started again.

I ran up to the church and back…about a mile or so.

It felt kind of hard after being fairly sedentary and mostly just driving the mail around 6 days a week.

Except for mowing the lawn and occasionally chopping some wood, I don’t get a whole lot of exercise.

That’s normal, though…I guess.

I started thinking about “normal” on my run.

You hit a certain age and you put a little weight on…or redistribute the weight you already have….and people say, “Oh, that’s normal.”  Usually they follow that pretty quickly with, “….at your age”.

It’s like you’ve hit the point of starting the downhill part of the roller coaster and you’re just supposed to throw your hands up and say, “Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee” on the fast ride down.

I guess that’s normal.

Meandering back into running, I wonder if normal and status quo are things to settle for?

I’m not a runner again yet…but I start to get aware that “normal” may not be such a healthy thing.

I heard someone say, “How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were?”  That’s not normal to say something like that.

I think that normal would be more like counting every single day you’re alive…do the math…make the comparisons, run the numbers, consult the actuarial tables…and arrive at the conclusion that in order to keep the boat from rocking, it might be best to accept the fact that older dudes have some belly fat and borderline cholesterol readings.

Now that’s normal!

I don’t want botox.  I don’t want someone to lipo me or pull my lip over my head or smooth this or sculpt that.  I don’t need pec implants…no, I said that wrong….I don’t want pec implants.

I’m not freaked out about getting older…I’m just freaked out about acting my age.

How immature.

I make fun of the people who have become desperate about dodging the reaper and who take silly measures to do it. That’s kind of hilarious. It’s funny to see what a lot of money and a little desperation create when they collide.

There are some goofy looking people as a result of dissatisfaction.

But normal?  I doubt that the bulk of people…the majority of “bulky” people…have access to surgically enhanced living.

Unless they find a way to finance it.  You can always have augmentation if someone will help you set up an easy payment plan…or give you a really good amount on your title pawn.

I don’t think this fitness/aging thing is really a battle.  But it is a gentle and constant reminder that “normal” may not be the best way to go.

Like the Isley Brothers used to say….

Fight the Power!!!

07 – The Isley Brothers – Fight The Power Part 1

 

About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.

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