Bop till you drop
It
wasn't the poetic association with autumn that got me thinking about
age. No it was my recent weekly visits to the physiotherapist who is
doing his best to push, pull, and fold me back into shape so that I
can continue mountain biking when probably I would be better off
sitting at home doing crossword puzzles. In Central Asia and many
other places they have a different attitude to age and ageing.
Elderly people are generally respected, looked-up to and looked after
by their families. They will proudly tell you their age without being
asked. They accept old age with ease and with dignity and, above all,
they act and dress accordingly.
Here,
in the West, it is somewhat different. It is considered impolite to
ask an older person their age. We pay people to look after our elders
in retirement homes. Older people have lost the right to be respected
in their attempt to remain young forever. They want to go on playing
tennis, running marathons, riding motorbikes and partying. They want
to carry on doing what they have always done...well...except for
working...and some even want to carry on doing that.
Personally,
I am not really searching, longing or even wishing for eternal youth.
I am, however, a product of my generation and environment. I do not
intend to, grow
old gracefully.
I will be fighting tooth and nail against the advancing years at
every stage. Yes,I know, it's very much a rearguard action and, yes,
there are plenty of obstacles on the way. Mirrors, for instance, or
the marshrutka
driver
in Bishkek who refused to take my fare because pensioners travel free
on public transport, both of these confirming that not only am I
getting older but I am also beginning to look my age.
I guess my white hair and
beard are a bit of a give-away.During our mountain bike trip this last summer the most frequently asked question was my age. Even back home it is apparent that, as a cyclist, I have slipped down a level. Until recently I was in the category: 'Wow, you're an amazingly strong cyclist for your age'. Now it seems I'm sliding into the 'Wow, it's amazing that you are still cycling at your age' category!
Observations that are not very helpful when one is trying to fight against time.
Luckily it's not all
discouragement and negativity - there are some encouragements too.
A small boost to my anti-
ageing campaign was given by a little old lady dressed in black, high
in the Caucasus. She stopped in order to slowly and critically study
me in my full Lycra cycling gear. After looking me up and down, from
head to toe and back again she gave me an almost flirtatious nod of
approval and winked before, bucket swinging, she went off to make
some more cheese. My circle of friends also provide some support in my struggle. If our conversations turn to the subject of aches and pains we will be exchanging anecdotes about sports related injuries or how minor ailments will possibly affect our athletic activities. These are young and active peoples pains not the aches associated with creaking and creeping old age! Despite our age most of us are still participating in a variety of sports... even if our pace is a little bit slower.
A bigger boost,however,
came just this last week ........ I was sent an item about cycle
couriers referring to them in the headline and throughout as Urban
Cowboys.
Now, for the last thirteen years I have supplemented my income by working as a cycle courier ...which means, according to this article,
that I am an URBAN COWBOY!...aha!...
now that IS cool... and
just what I needed to hear...
...keep
on rocking!
