It never seems to get easier, but I’m still in the fight. Barely. We did a pretty massive shortcut on the Hash trail yesterday, eliminating a climb to the top of Kalaklan Ridge. But the climb we did do was almost more than I could handle. Once again, I had a massive struggle in my head to overcome the urge to say “fuck it” and flatland it back to the On-Home. That was half the battle; the other half was actually getting to the top. It was slow going for me and almost painful, but I made it. I’m just not ready to give up the hills and the views you earn by climbing them yet. And to cut myself some slack, I’ll be sixty-nine next month. I reckon I’m blessed to still have the ability to get out there and try. The day will surely come when my get up and go has got up and gone, but until then, I’m going to keep on keeping on as best I can!
I walked the beach back to It Doesn’t Matter to partake in the after-Hash comradery. And stopped at Myleen’s before catching a trike home.
Facebook memories reminded me of a time when climbing came easier for me.
In today’s YouTube offering, Reekay speaks to the Filipino mortality culture. All Saints Day here is like something I’d never seen; families and loved ones pack the cemeteries to remember and honor the dearly departed. I’m pretty sure the dead don’t care, but it is another example of how family-centered this culture truly is.
Just cremate me and scatter my ashes on a Hash trail, thank you very much.
Humor time:
Tomorrow is another day, and I plan to be here then to tell you about this one. See you then!
And to cut myself some slack, I’ll be sixty-nine next month.
On the cliff’s edge of seventy. They say that life begins at seventy… in truth, they don’t say that. My French papa, who is around 88, tells me he didn’t start to feel he was slowing down until he hit 70. Meanwhile, in your neck of the woods, you’ve got 80-something fellow expats setting an example. That oughtta’ shame you into not giving up.
On-Home was at Tongue And Groove’s place on the beach.
The term comes from woodworking and carpentry, but “tongue and groove” sounds rather provocative.
Beats me
I like the dog’s expression.
That hits a little too close to home
For what it’s worth, unrealistic self-image is a problem for both sexes. But when the gut’s hanging out, and you’re seeing a handsome devil in the mirror, that’s when you might need a second opinion to bring you back to Earth. (“You” in the abstract, not “you” personally!)
Kev, perhaps one of the biggest changes as I approach seventy is a growing consciousness of impending mortality. I don’t obsess about it, but I know that my remaining time on Earth is dwindling. My goal is to match my father’s 83, but that will require some good fortune along the way. I always pause at the funeral banners I see on my walks, and more than half died younger than me. I also find myself increasingly thinking about the potential after-life. I’m not even religious, but I sometimes fantasize about what my heavenly eternal life would look like. Anyway, I will keep walking (and climbing) as long as my body allows. Once you are unable to do those things you enjoy, what’s the point of living? I suspect that if the day comes that finds me homebound, I’ll take joy in different things. Maybe I’ll even start watching TV again.
I may be writing our host’s Hash name wrong; it might be Tongue-In-Groove, which sounds more Hashy.
HaHa! I hadn’t even noticed the dog when I posted that cartoon.
Thanks for the link. I’m always a little shocked when I see a photo of me, especially in profile. I guess I’m in denial about how bad things have gotten. I do get frequently reminded when I encounter a bargirl I have seen for a while. Invariably, I’ll get a poke and a “When’s the baby due?” comment.