Claiming My Age

A quiet reading.

I awoke feeling as if I had wrestled a bear.

That is clearly an exaggeration, but I was sore all over. And it was not just this morning. It has been several days now.

Last week my wife and I went mattress shopping. Definitely not my favorite pastime. I never thought I would spend so much energy on a mattress purchase. I remember days when an old mattress on the floor was enough.

I want to blame the new mattress for my morning aches and pains.

In truth, there are more likely reasons. Yard work. Long rides in the car. Maybe even an aborted attempt at changing a tire.

And here I am this morning, needing Advil to get going.

I want to believe it is the mattress. Or all the activity. And I am sure some of it is. But my thoughts quickly went to my age.

Five years ago, this would not have been true. Maybe not even a year ago.

Is this how it is going to be from now on?

I like being my age. But I do not always like what comes with it. Denial does not seem to be an option. The discomfort is too real.

I do not know if slowing down is the whole answer. Maybe it is not simply a matter of offering things up or pushing through.

Perhaps the better work is to claim the entirety of my age.

Not just the freedom of it. Not just the wisdom, perspective, and gratitude. But also the soreness. The limits. The mornings when the body tells the truth before the mind is ready to hear it.

Maybe that is not defeat.

Maybe it is simply a reminder that I am not in charge in quite the way I once imagined.

And maybe, if I can receive that without resentment, there is still something to be learned from the ache.

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