It's Just A Block Or So...

So you know your getting old when...

Well last night Tracey and I were going to a surprise party for one of our friends...we'll call her Amy...cause thats her name. So our other friend...we'll call her Heather...cuz....well you know...tells us to park at her house and we'll walk over to Amy's house so our cars won't be visable. Great idea...except we don't know where either of them live. So Heather is this really spunky outdoorsy girl who has more energy than a nuclear power plant, but we agree to go.

Now mind you, I'm going to a party. I've got my dress up big boy shoes on, and my dressy party shirt with the sleeves rolled up for a little extra cool, and my slightly tightly jeans...oh I'm stylin. So of we set into the brisk November night, walking at an even brisker pace. Now it is a really beautiful night, full moon, clear and bright, you know those perfect fall nights, great night for a stroll. That's what I thought...for the first couple of blocks.

After a half a mile of brisk pace in the party clothes...I'm starting to feel a little...well...tired. My feet are sore and my pants are clingy...but Tracey seems to be doing fine, and Heather is just bolting ahead. We keep moving...I do have a shread of dignity left. We get to where I think Amy's house is and we just keep moving. We finally arrive at the house...oh yeah...it's like a mile. My feet are swollen inside my shoes, legs are tight, I'm cold, and not really in the mood for a party. But we pull off the surprise and Amy is stoked...it was really cool.

After lots of laughs and stories, Heater the Dynamo says..."Gotta Go" and off she goes...IN HER FRIENDS CAR!!! We hang out a bit and then decide we should go too. All of these young people...obviously concerned about us old people...offer to graciously drive us back to the car. And then...just then...the battle that middle aged people everywhere have to face...are you really "as young as you feel". I...the I inside me...still feels like I'm 18. But my feet and my legs were feeling more like 53. But off we set on the return walk...like a couple of young kids...we even held hands.

Cold, tired, needing to pee, feet throbbing, we arrive back at our car. We make it home and plop down on the couch. It gets you thinking you know. When did we get middle-aged. Wasn't it just yesterday we were 27. Where did that time go? How did we get here? 53 years old and walking two miles in big boy party shoes. What's next...Bermuda's and black socks...and those damned party shoes.