January 19: I never really liked birthdays when I was a kid. I hated being the centre of attention and, to me, that’s what birthdays were all about: opening gifts while everyone watched; making appropriate approving noises at yet another pair of socks and so, for the most part, I have effectively avoided celebrating my birthday for many years.
This past week, I went to a small birthday celebration for one of my running buddies who is the same age as me. Over the last few years, he’s advanced from 5 km runs to completing his first marathon. Another friend in the same running group now has 2 marathons under his belt and is training for a third. He’s in his seventies. One of the younger women who run with us said that she found it inspiring that the “older guys” were running faster than most of the folks in the clinic, and while that’s a bit of a backhanded compliment – “You’re looking better since your face cleared up…” I took it as it was intended, and with some quiet satisfaction.
Both of these guys are role models for me. They are active in fitness outside of running. One volunteers at a shelter; the other is a great chef who loves swapping recipes. Both have many interests and are involved with lots of people. All of this reinforces the old cliché about being as old as you think you are.
My Mum passed away last Spring at 94. She was strong and in good health until the last two weeks of her life. She walked a lot and sang in a choir most weeks. As we cleared out her stuff, we came across a small bundle of death notices carefully cut from the newspaper. They included friends, relatives (4 sisters), members of the choir in which she sang and residents of the building where she lived. As I looked through this melancholy memorabilia, it seemed to me that she was literally the last of her generation left standing. How must it feel to look around and realize that you are alone, at least as it applies to life-long friends and contemporaries ?
From my own self-centered perspective, these questions have increasing relevance as my generation moves more rapidly than I would like down the great conveyor belt of life toward the sudden drop at the end. My friends and family are intact, at least for now, but we don’t know how long that might be true. My end is inevitable, and perhaps all I can do for now is to emulate my running buddies, run like hell and try to stay as interested and active in my life as I can. With luck, I too may live to 94 and have dozens of birthdays left to avoid.